Not but a Name
He had called his mother a whore and him a bastard. Alexander had every right to loathe the old man with his entire mind. The sweet uncle of Eurydice; the real whore who seduced his father into marrying her and spreading his seed into her, her uncle had called him a bastard. Yet that did not fathom him as deeply as his father's words had. Exiling him from the kingdom in a drunken rage had not only lost his respect in his son's eyes, but also hurt him. This made him realize that as well as his father had claimed he was no son of his, that man was no father of Alexander's. Still, it cut him deep. Leaving him the young prince, standing at the edge of a large lake pondering both of the men's words. Did all the other subjects to the kingdom think him a bastard? His mother a whore? How dare they think such! His mother was a sexy woman, still beautiful in her age that had done what was necessary to give her son great power. And yet Alexander still had not fought his father with her behalf on mind.
While he was mulling over the depressing matter in his mind, a faithful friend and sweet companion had walked slowly to join him. Even though a foot or two apart, the boy in mental turmoil instantly noticed Hephaistion's warm body was next to his own. With comforting concern, Hephaistion softly placed an arm around Alexander's shoulders, "What bothers you, my Achilles?" Admiration and regard ran thick in his voice, "Might I be able to help you with it?" At these two questions asked in such a manner, Alexander could not suppress a smile to show Hephaistion, "I was just thinking of what happened and what those drunken fools said." This reopened the cut, causing it to hurt worse than it did before. The other young man searched his eyes and immediately saw how it was affecting his mind and didn't like it. Not one bit. He himself was puzzled at how the king could throw away his son so easily without even a flinch or a second thought of regret. But he did not let this get in his way of comforting Alexander.
"Do not let it trouble you so, Alexander, Attalus is but an arrogant man; one who should not get to you. Especially not like this." Hephaistion rubbed the young warrior's shoulder, "Tell me what truly is plaguing you." The blonde haired man gave in and laid his head upon the strong shoulder beside it. He never could keep anything from Hephaistion. Nor would he now, he knew how to heal the wounds of his mind. Fresh salty tears rimmed his eyes and he choked out his thoughts, "Do you think it true? Their words, their opinions?" The gentle pressure upon his head told Alexander that Hephaistion had laid his head on his own. It always had amazed the prince how such a good fighter could be so sensitive. This didn't stop him from pouring out his mind, "Do you too think me a bastard? Do you think I covet my father's throne? If I have I knew not. I love my father! Do you think he meant what he claimed?" He would have gone on all night with questions, had a relaxing 'sh' sound not stopped him. It was of course Hephaistion, who was by now holding him within an embrace more consoling than that of his own mother's. Taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes, Alexander settled into his arms, to which his body did all but complain.
"How you think such astonishes me," Hephaistion stopped rubbing his shoulder only to rub his back, "Phillip had only filled himself with too much wine; Attalus did likewise with pride and conceit. Why would I think those things, Alexander? Have I so much in common with a drunk and an ass? Be at ease, for I could never even think about having such an opinion." If Alexander assumed that his heart had melted completely before, he was ever so wrong now. And with the flaming sensation within his chest, he knew that exactly. Once again he had been convinced the truth from the man he wished to call his lover. It was at that moment that he surrendered for the first time to what was inside. Not a liver nor a kidney, but an instinctive mind and a quickly beating heart. One that was in fact, beating so rapidly that he wasn't sure whether he could reply over this delightful weakness that consumed him like a fire. The flames and cold embers of this emotion licked him slickly and left him shaking in the cold air.
The silence made Hephaistion fear that there was tension in the air, but when he felt Alexander shake he pulled him closer in haste; as though he would shatter into many pieces if he didn't. Indeed it was cold and the moist mist arising from the lake was solid evidence of that, but were they exaggerating the cold to give them a little taste of what they desired? Whether they were or not it mattered none to either of them, for it was late and the trauma of the wedding brawl were good excuses to do so. It was so encumbering to them both to be so important even if it was just by association. In moments like this, the best thing for either of them to do was to be with the other. It was a bond, a friendship, a comfort and a love. Never had anyone in Macedonia seen or experienced that deeply of an alliance. Though they did surrender to their feelings sometimes, the people of both Macedonia and Greece thought that doing so was weak and undid the character of a man. But these two had never abided such rules and thus it did not matter.
So they sat there, not knowing how precious this time together would be in the future. Oblivious to what lie ahead, they enjoyed the serene feeling of security with each other. Brief relationships between men were common, but this was nothing brief. It had started when they were young and would not stop when they were old. They both were determined not to let anything corrupt these emotions of passion between them. Not war, not fools, not the public, not even death. Sure they were young, and often the young exaggerate or make mistakes; but this was neither. Though they weren't aware of how powerful it was, it was extremely powerful and it was there.
Finally Hephaistion raised his courage to talk some more, "A bastard is merely a name, Alexander. It may be a stab to the mind and cause it to crash, but the body lives on. No matter how hurt this leaves you, you'll go on." For once Alexander wanted to surrender to death and not live on. This was very unlike himself and he knew it. Perhaps speaking with Hephaistion would help clear his mind, "Indeed, but must I go on alone?" After that he felt Hephaistion give him a small squeeze and a smile, "Now who, pray tell me Alexander, told you that you had to go alone?" This squeezed out a chuckle and a wan smile from Alexander, who still had cold tears streaming down his face. The man sweeter than the finest wine raised his hand and tenderly guided the tears away from his face.
Alexander had not yet expressed his admiration and feelings for Hephaistion, so was very cautious in how much affection he let slip incase it was too much and he scared him away. Though he doubted that would happen he would not take that risk.
Slowly from behind, Ptolemy crept up to the men who were comforting each other. Steadily his feet carried him until he saw that there were two men instead of one. Guessing that Alexander was still upset, he froze in his tracks. After seeing him fight with his father fearlessly, Ptolemy did not desire to feel his wrath first handedly. Just because he took mercy on his father did not mean so for him. The philosopher in the making was just turning around when he heard them mumbling and his curiosity lulled him back so he could hear them. Even young, Ptolemy knew better than this, but he could not resist the urge to stay and hear the mumblings that grew louder with each step.
"We should probably go back and get supplies to find someplace outside of Greece to camp. As much as I hate to remind you I've been banished." Ptolemy knew this to be from Alexander. "No, your father didn't mean it. We don't have to go anywhere. Obeying your father will have taken all that courage and fury and spin it into nothing. Do you want your valiant efforts wasted? No, no. We don't need to go anywhere. I'll stay with you out here." This was undoubtedly Hephaistion, so eager to support Alexander. Ptolemy wondered to himself about these two. Why was it that whenever something was wrong Hephaistion was always first to be by his side? And why was it that Alexander always allowed him into his mind when he wouldn't even his own mother? It had always been so. Even in their days with Aristotle had they been inseparable. Why? Was there more between them than they let on? Yes, there had to be. That would explain so much if there was. All the girls in Macedonia had spread rumors of this, but Ptolemy never thought the rumors true until now. Why would they not admit it? Was it because they were ashamed of what they felt? No, Alexander was too strong headed to be ashamed of anything. Well except perhaps his father's wild behavior. Any son would be ashamed of that. Suddenly the truth dawned on him brighter than Apollo's view of the sun. What if they did not realize how much the other cared? Yes, yes! That had to be it! What else?
Ptolemy, thinking too hard as usual, had blinded himself and ran quickly back to the palace; forgetting that if he ran too hard onto the moist grass that he would attract attention. Still, he knew a secret of Alexander's! And even though he was not one to use the evils of secrets, he wondered if it might come in handy.
Author's Note: Okay my dear readers! This is it for chapter one! It may be too fluffy, but that's because I originally intended for it to be a one-shot. That is until a plot struck me. I know, I know, how could I get a plot out of this? Well the point is I did and I will continue this more later. Until then, keep reading!
The Empress of Whispers