The pain was always just below the surface. There was nothing that didn't remind him of the way things were, and the way things should have been. He buried that part of his feelings time and time again under layers of anger and frustration, which did not make things better but at least stopped people from approaching him, from thinking him weak. It was the one thing the conqueror of the world would never allow himself to be anymore – weak.
Alexander stared with unseeing eyes down to the river, licked absentmindedly over his ever dry lips – they were maddening! – and reached up with his hand to scratch at his clammy, frowned forehead. Why couldn't you just be who I wanted you to be, Hephaistion? As if things aren't difficult enough as they are! His hand turned into a tense fist as he lowered it.
Soon, he would be free. Free from the invisible confines of a love reaching beyond friendship, beyond what a mere mortal could choose to put aside. Hephaistion could not stay, but he would never be allowed to leave either. Your life has always been mine! If you think that by leaving you can change that, your end will prove you wrong!
Even these thoughts were torture, and the roots of a feeling that never failed to cause panic to build inside of him, had grown so deep that it took every bit of his willpower to suppress his fears. I am not weak! He focused his eyes to search for a victim, feeling how a faint trembling had taken over his body. "You! Stop your damned daydreaming and do as you have been told! Should I have you executed to make an example for the others!"
The young soldier dropped the pile of wood he had been carrying in shock, but had the wits to immediately start collecting the branches again after mumbling a frightened apology. It had been an order from the king himself, to gather as much wood as possible…
It will be a great pyre, if the rest of this damned army will cooperate. Alexander thought. When did I allow my guards to become this slow? Have I not threatened them enough, and meant it? He swirled around and found himself faced with a brown-haired man with stern, dark eyes, who immediately bowed and addressed him softly but clearly: "My king."
Alexander sent him a vicious look and turned his attention to the small horse the other had been leading by the reins. The brown beast held his head high, and looked with alert eyes and ears to the men who were working near the cool water in the distance. The mount was almost a mockery of the great task upon the shoulders of its master… Alexander would have sent him back to get another, had the preparations not already taken way too long. The rush of panic that spread through him at the thought that Hephaistion might escape made his heart hammer in his chest. He swallowed hard.
The guard looked at him, his intelligent eyes serious and his lips a thin line. It was a hard man who had not shown any hesitation as Alexander had voiced his plan earlier. Someone cold-blooded, who took his king's ill temper with grace, without annoying him further. Without reminding him of Hephaistion. Someone he could actually stand being around… At least normally.
"Well!" Alexander lashed out with a wild motion of his hand as the other didn't move. "Don't tell me I need to explain it to you again! You said you could do this!"
Oh, if only the world would cooperate!
The man nodded, then took a deep breath, his eyes glinting with eagerness. "My lord, another matter needs to be spoken of. What to do with the Persian, should he be with… him."
Alexander gritted his teeth, realising he had not yet thought of that. The whore, my little Persian eunuch. After a moment he replied, a look of disgust still on his features: "It matters little. Let him go free and find his own death. Or attack him first so that Hephaistion may die defending him, I'm sure he'd appreciate such a noble death."
"For your own safety, my lord, I'd advise ending his life as well. He will know that.. the other's death was not by the hands of the barbarians."
"You know the truth, should I end your life!" Alexander bit at him in exasperation, glad that he finally had a reason to teach someone a lesson. He drew his blade with frightening speed and the soldier backed away in a quick reflex as the cold steel reached out for the sensitive skin on his neck. But in a mere second the man stopped himself and drew himself tall.
The point of his sword was an inch from the other's neck. Alexander knew the man was a brilliant fighter, one of the best, one who could make anyone's death a quick one. Someone who fought best under pressure. And someone who was so loyal he would not run from his king, even when his life was threatened.
His anger ebbed away - if ever for a short moment - and was replaced by hard resolve. "Take my sword, and do it." The man looked at him with a hint of surprise, but reacted swiftly and took the offered weapon, then drew his own sword and tossed it aside. Alexander motioned to the horse. "Go. Do with the boy what you see fit. I care naught about him."
I can rid myself of two burdens at once, and start again in a new world.
"Thank you, my king." A ferocious grin spread over the other's lips.
Alexander wondered at this reaction, the dark tone in the other man's voice, hearing the hate in his voice that seemed to spoke of a personal grudge against the Persian. It would once have upset him.
But only a bitter laugh left his mouth when he discovered the boy's dark eyes looking at him from behind one of the tents, right after his personal assassin had cantered off in a cloud of dust.