"Hephaistion."
The voice that called his name was unfamiliar and held no respect, and Hephaistion glanced over his shoulder with a quick move. His eyes grew dark. "What?" he snapped.
The young man standing in the doorway of his tent was one of Alexander's squires, he knew, one of the few that still held the king's favour. That was bound to make anyone more arrogant than they should be, but it was not like Hephaistion had the right to call upon any respect these days.
"King Alexander demands your presence. Now."
So it was finally time.
Hephaistion reassuringly rested his hand on Bagoas' shoulder as he noticed the Persian stiffen, then turned his back to the squire. "Does he. How interesting." Without paying any further attention to the young man, he resumed his previous activity of moving the simple comb through Bagoas' dark hair. Now that they had finally encountered a river, finally reached the beginning of what had to be fertile land, the whole army had come to a halt and had set to drinking the cold water and cleaning all the dirt that clung to their sweaty bodies after their long march. Hephaistion had waited until the first crowd was gone, then pulled himself and the young eunuch over for a bath as well. But Bagoas was not very inclined to clean himself. Or do anything at all that concerned his own well-being.
He sighed in frustration as he still sensed the squire's presence behind him. "Was that all, lad?"
"I have brought you the message of your king," the other responded on a haughty tone.
Hephaistion's lips formed a bitter smile. "Of course you did, that's what you're for. Now get out."
After an annoyed huff they were finally left alone, but it was not two seconds later the tent flap was pushed aside again. Hephaistion spun around, ire finally flaring up in his eyes, then came to a an abrupt halt. "Ptolemy."
It had been long since he had spoken to the other man. It had been long since he had had any company besides silent Bagoas. Ptolemy looked stern, his eyes held a hardness that Hephaistion had never seen before in there. There was a strength in this man, he knew, that matched his own, and even in these hard times his loyalty had never faltered. But no one had kept a light spirit in this army the past weeks, and certainly not those close to Alexander.
Hephaistion glanced backwards, but Bagoas just sat still. He sighed, and there was a sharp edge to his voice when he addressed Ptolemy. "Let me guess. You… overheard."
"I followed Alexander's… lad over here," the general responded with a friendly if somewhat rough voice.
Their eyes met. He means no harm. Remember the old times that are no longer. Hephaistion's face softened, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "So?"
"I do not deny you the right to tell his squire off, but Alexander's orders are not to be taken lightly these days."
Hephaistion sent the other a humourless smile, but his words were not unfriendly. "I appreciate your concern, but I can assure you not even I would be as foolish as to ignore his command."
He had expected Alexander would not ignore him forever. They were a too big part of each other to just – let go. Without a second thought…
Ptolemy's light eyes rested on his own, calm and serious. "I realise that."
A deep tiredness suddenly overwhelmed Hephaistion, caused by long weeks of travel, and above all long weeks of frustration. No one had helped him. He had kept himself isolated. It finally seemed to be taking its toll, even on someone with a will as strong as his own… Leave me alone, Ptolemy. Leave us! We don't need your advice, not anymore. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I have to ask you, Ptolemy, but what is it you're doing here then?"
He eyed the shorter man warily as he stepped closer, Ptolemy's face still in its constant frown. The general hesitated, then dropped his voice. "You realise your power."
"My power." The dark-haired's voice held a trace of sarcasm.
Ptolemy's frown deepened. "I would never try to blame you, but ever since you and Alexand-"
"Ptolemy," Hephaistion interrupted curtly, understanding and a hint of irritation showing in his eyes. "I hold no such power over him. I did not cause his madness, nor can I cure it." Was he Ptolemy's last, hopeless try? His mouth tensed as he turned away from the other man's gaze. Had there been something he could do, wouldn't he have done it right away?
And his eyes rested on Bagoas. The Persian beauty, still sitting with his back towards them, had turned his head to the side and stared at the inside of the tent. Listening. Thinking. An alertness in his form that Hephaistion hadn't seen in a long time.
He grimaced slightly. "You'd better go, or Alexander may come to think you're helping me plot something against him."
"You won't give up now!" Ptolemy told him, his voice stern and relentless its conviction.
"Give up?" Hephaistion snickered. There was little to give up. What he had, he protected. If I can… He shook his head, and his voice was brisk. "I tell the truth, Ptolemy. There's more to this than you know of... I don't know what will happen." From what he had learned of this new Alexander, there was little hope. The poison that was power had crushed the person he once was, as a climber would be crushed when the rock he tried to lift himself onto suddenly broke and dragged him along into the cold and dark depths beneath. Death.
"I ask nothing you are not willing to give, Hephaistion," the other man spoke from right behind him. "I just ask you to try."
Hephaistion could almost feel Ptolemy's eyes joining his own on the form of the young eunuch, and he had to suppress his rising anger. The general would not dare say aloud what was on tip of his tongue, Hephaistion knew, and that was the only good part of this whole conversation. "We will see," he replied.
Ptolemy left.