A/N: So here's the second chapter. It deals with a flashback to Philip's wedding and both Alexander and Hephaistion's feelings toward what happened. Super duper special thanks to my reviewers... here's your nect taste.

I don't own them, never will.

Chapter 2

Many years later, Alexander and I departed for Persia. His father, King Philip, had said he wanted to conquer the state long before Alexander took the throne. But by the time Philip had attempted such a feat, he was too much of a drunkard to even stand up straight, let alone conquer a nation.

I can recall his wedding, and how drunk he had been even then. The festivities had just gotten underway. We all drank, of course, t'was the custom, but Alexander and I, as taught by Aristotle, knew that we had to be moderate in all things, thus including the consumption of wine. Alexander's mother, Olympias, had not attended, I still do not know of her plans that night, but all was fine.

Oh no, that should read that all was fine until Philip's bride's uncle Attlus, intoxicated from the copious amount of wine he had consumed, proclaimed that Macedonia should have a more suitable heir now that Philip had married a true Macedonian virgin. Alexander, enraged at such a thought and or comment, whichever you prefer, threw a goblet through the air, very narrowly missing Attlus.

"What am I, you son of a dog!" Alexander cried.

"Come now, before you dishonour me!" I heard Philip cry as a brawl almost ensued. This from a man whom Alexander had looked up to all his life. I could practically see the hurt in Alexander's eyes. It cut me to the very core.

"Say you this in defense of a man who called my mother a whore and me a bastard! And I dishonour you!" Alexander shouted before refusing to apologize to a man who was surely no kinsman of his. Philip right then and there disowned Alexander, and I know Alexander showed that he felt no regrets as he left the room.

I followed Alexander back to his chambers, where he first refused entry to anyone but those who were truly close with him. It took several knocks to his chamber door before he would admit me. I cannot deny that I felt hurt by his actions, but I cannot say I blame him either. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was in pain.

I stepped into his chambers and shut the door behind me.

"Alexander," I said to him as I poured myself a splash of wine into an empty goblet. "You cannot let what Attlus says about you drag you into a depression. You make everyone proud of themselves because you are Prince of Macedonia…" I watched as he poured yet another goblet full of wine as well. I worried for him, I had never seen him so upset.

"Are you proud of me, Hephaistion?" he asked, the tear welling in his eyes as he sipped at the goblet.

"Yes I…" I stammered.

"No, I want you to think about it, Hephaistion…" he insisted. "Do not simply say you are proud of me because I am Prince of Macedonia. That title means nothing to me." He paused, and when he felt ready again, he continued. "Tell me, Hephaistion, are you proud of me?"

My mouth hung open as I struggled to find the words that would make him happy. All my life I had struggled to make my best friend happy. Soon after Father and I went to the palace to visit King Philip, Alexander had begged me to stay. Father had begrudgingly allowed it, and it had made Alexander happy. As we grew and studied together, I lived in the palace with him and his family. I had had a beautiful time there, and of course, as part of our schooling, we learned how to wrestle.

I remember Alexander insisting that one day he would defeat me when it came to wrestling. I must tell you that I am failing miserably in trying to stifle my laughter. To this day that is the one thing Alexander has not accomplished.

But I am digressing. I still did not know what to say to him, so I turned away. I did not wish to hurt him any more than he had been that night, so I kept my mouth shut.

"I shall think about it, my lord." I answered. This was the first time in a very long while that I had addressed him as such. To me he had always been Alexander, never his station above mine.

But now, as we grew older, I realized that our stations determined everything. He was Prince of Macedonia, and my father was once a general in Philip's army. All this meant was that my family were only a few stations above being commoners, and surely this would not sit well with the court. The Prince of Macedonia shall ne'er consort with those below his station unless so dutifully instructed. If this was true, then why was it that he still spoke to me? Not just on occasion, but every day.

I left his chambers as from his mouth he uttered my name.

I did not look back, and I had no intention of doing so.

Not tonight.