Title: What Price Fury

Author: Rothalion

Summary: Hmm. After a dreadful deed Alexander and Hephaistion deal with the reality of Kingship. I guess.

Rating: Lets go with PG-13

Disclaimer: Well, there's a bit of movie verse and a bit of history so…I don't own them regardless. Thanks Mr. Stone and thanks to history sort of as it's not been kind to Hephaistion.

Xenos ducked down and twisted a bit to the left as he stepped through the door into Alexander's chamber. The burly Celt chided himself. Even after being gone from his homeland for eleven years he still found himself hunching up to accommodate the doors of the smaller structures he'd been raised with. These Persian dwellings were huge in comparison to the low slung stone and sod lodge houses of his childhood, the entries afforded him more than enough height and width, but out of habit, still he ducked. Straightening up, he blinked his eyes at the sudden dimness, and waited for instructions. Without looking up from his work Alexander beckoned him in and pointed to a chair. As Xenos sat down he noticed Milos sitting on the rug strewn floor off to the left. Alexander pointed mutely to the boy and then to the wine service. Milos stood with a hasty glance at the Celt and went to fetch them wine.

The big Celt couldn't help but feel for Milos. The boy looked terrified. He was certain that Milos' summons had been as vague as his own. A terse order to go to their King's audience chamber. No reason, no room for refusal. Only that Alexander expects you, that you be there at first guard change and that you be prompt. For Hephaistion's sake Xenos would be sure to be prompt, but for any other man…he'd come when he pleased. Milos, the Celt wondered why the boy felt fear. He was well liked by Alexander, had been promoted to Hephaistion's second by Alexander, why would the boy be so afraid and unsure. Had something occurred that Xenos was not aware of. Was Hephaistion injured, missing again? He had gone on a short recon mission six days ago, nothing too dangerous but then one never knew. Xenos looked up when Alexander coughed, but still the blond kept scribbling on his scroll. It was at times like this that the Celt hated Alexander and wondered by his gods and the Greek's how and why Hephaistion tolerated Alexander's often callous demeanor. The man might be the King but damned his bad habits. It was rude to keep a man waiting, rude to frighten the boy, rude to demand audiences without reason.

Xenos could search his memory and think of countless instances that Hephaistion had told him of describing how Alexander's arrogant disposition had pained him. One in particular always takes the forefront. A time when he and Alexander were dining with dignitaries from Thebes. They were twelve and Philip, still ecstatic over Alexander's taming of Bucephelus, was uncharacteristically touting his son as a wonder among boys his age. The praise, fueled wine had buoyed Alexander's burgeoning confidence in his superior position and he'd flaunted it over the easiest target, Hephaistion. The prince spent the night ignoring his devoted comrade but also demeaning him by sending Hephaistion for wine, and food despite being surrounded by servants. To further push his point home he began asking that his devoted friend wipe his lips when he laughed and spluttered his drink, and used him as the butt for his sarcastic comments about foreigners and lesser class men rising to rank in Macedon's great army. Hephaistion suffered the abuse and played the part of the gracious first companion until Alexander brazenly offered him to a Theban general as entertainment for the remainder of the night, mimicking what he'd just seen Philip do with a favored young page of his own. Hephaistion had quietly spoken out against his friend's offer only to be soundly silenced with a slap and a warning about minding his station. The visiting general and an appalled and frightened Hephaistion departed from the festivities, quickly forgotten by Alexander and Philip both. Hephaistion, out of honor and a enormous sense of pride, had never complained or told Alexander what had occurred that night, but he had confessed his pain and disappointment over the long past the incident to Xenos. The young Hephaistion had also told his father of his sadness and sense of betrayal by both him and Alexander; but Amyntor responded by reminding him of his position. The boy was caught in a confused blur of burgeoning love, a fierce sense of duty and seemingly abandoned by the man, his father, who he still looked to for protection and advice did the only thing he saw fit. He doubled his effort to prove his devotion and love for Alexander, working tirelessly to show the young prince that he was far too important, as a friend and advisor to squalor as a gift for diplomats as Philip so often did with his own personal attendants.

"Linnaeus! Get your sorry ass in here!"

Xenos turned to the door as a frantic page rushed through, bowed to Alexander and snapped to attention. " This memo," Alexander waved it at the boy, "It needs to be in Eummenes' cursed fist before morning. He is camped north of here near the river. Do you know the place?"

"Yes, my King."

"Then fly like the wind lad. I will not tolerate failure in even the youngest of my staff. Mount your self appropriately."

The page spun round and fled the room. Xenos noted the fear in the boy's eyes and the glint of the mischievous in Alexander's.

"So, my good friends you have arrived." He clapped his hands, as he stood and Bagoas entered with food and fresh wine. Milos leapt to his feet and bowed. Xenos remained seated, shaking off the shudder that always seemed to plague him when Bagoas was near by. His failure to stand when acknowledged by the king won him a grunt and chuckle from Alexander. "Aye, that's right. The big brute of a Celt who bows to no man. I have kept you waiting, Xenos, and you are peeved. Well my dark Celt, it could not be helped." He bellowed and sat on the corner of his desk just in front of Xenos. "It seems that your cohort, our short tempered Hephaistion, has been once again feuding with my old secretary Eummenes. What is your opinion of that dear Xenos. Bagoas, serve now please."

"Hephaistion has little respect for Eummenes' abilities Alexander; and little trust, as of late, for the man's motives. General Hephaistion is not a man who wishes to be false in his actions or treatment of those around him. Your Hephaistion simply continues to give Eummenes his due. The old fool gets annoyed when his many failings are put before him to face by a younger more adept man and then he attacks your Hephaistion." He looked sidelong at his king and took a lump of meat from the platter Bagoas presented him.

"I see." Alexander said quietly then paused and pointed at Milos who sat dumbstruck by the big man's words; a piece of meat inches from his slightly open mouth. "You, eat! For the love of the gods Milos why do you insist upon fearing me! Yes, you were taken by," he motioned to Xenos, "my Hephaistion but I love you no less. Eat boy!"

"Why have you summoned us, Alexander?" Xenos asked his annoyance plain, "In my country it is rude to keep a man waiting."

"And in mine the king can do as he chooses. In mine his men refer to him as lord or my king. Yet I belay that requirement for you, dark Celt."

"We are beyond that drivel Alexander. We fuck the same man." Milos' gasp was audible and both man cast the boy a scowl. "I have work to attend to. Work that your Hephaistion ordered completed in his absence." He stood to go. "So with your leave…or without if that's the path you choose, I'll be off to my…"

"Sit, you brute of a rude but painfully honest fool." Alexander said with a loud laugh. He liked the Celt, the big man never cowed to him and that was trait he respected. "Damn you man sit and eat. I brought you here to talk about Hephaistion, mine, yours, ours take your pick. Both of you will soon accompany him south to through the great pass. He will be apart from me for a long while. The road will be dangerous." He stood and began to pace. "You," he pointed at Milos, "will be my hands and heal him. You, dark Celt, my heart and love him, and my strength when he has need of that. Do you both understand?"

Xenos took a bite of melon and studied Alexander. Why make them wait and then spout out his demands so quickly. Hephaistion was more than capable of taking care of himself. The man was every bit as good a fighter as Alexander and as shrewd as the vilest court assassin so why this sudden desire to shadow him with what the Celt knew was far more than mere moral support, but an order to be Hephaistion's personal guard as well. He looked to Milos before speaking again.

"Alexander, what is it that concerns you? Eummenes? Hephaistion is more than capable of this mission and more than capable of defending himself against the intrigues of that old fool. What worries you?"

The king sat in a chair near them. "What concerns me, Xenos, is that I still fear his will to live, or rather lack of it. Something is broken in his soul and I fear that he is slowly giving up. Letting his sand run out. In my presence he seems strong and willful but something is not at peace within him."

"What has occurred with Eummenes, Alexander?" Xenos asked waving off Bagoas, with a sneeze after cursing the creatures sickly sweet perfume.

"The fool told Hephaistion that Bagoas was in my bed again! Lies all damned petty lies!" He stood and began to pace. Sill Hephaistion reacted quite badly, striking him and drinking himself dumb for two days. He promised the gods that he'd not return from this mission, that getting me into India would be his final push to find the encircling sea. That after that if he survived, and that he really cared not to, he wanted to go home."

"He means to die!" Milos yelled jumping to his feet. "My master is not that foolish! He lives for you, Alexander, breaths for…he…"

"Is very tired, Milos. A man must live for himself."

"Then keep him here, Alexander, send another!" Xenos, frustrated stood and face Alexander. He knew well what Alexander was speaking of. Ever since their fight, the death of Amyntor and the wedding Hephaistion seemed at times depressed and disconsolate. As though seeking something that he never seemed to grasp entirely and so was disappointed again and again.

"No, Xenos, that would wound his pride. I ask that you keep him focused and strong. I ask that you be the vessel of my love. I will deal with Eummenes. I will make an announcement before you all depart that will resolve any conflict between them. Do you accept my orders?"

He asked studying one and then the other.

Xenos sighed. He knew too well that one man could not keep another alive if he wished to die. "Of course, My lord." He pledged solemnly. "You have my word that I will keep our Hephaistion safe."

"I too Alexander. I will make certain that my gentle master, Hephaistion, is contented and strong."

"Good then. Milos you are dismissed. Have Hephaistion's quarters in order, he arrives mid day tomorrow. Speak naught of this meeting to him. That is a command."

Milos gone, Alexander dismissed Bagoas and any other pages left behind. Xenos sat back down and picked at the fruit remaining on the platter as Alexander straightened up his desk.

"Come, Xenos, we will retire to my private quarters."

Xenos stood and followed Alexander through the palace corridors curious as to what the man had planned for the rest of the night. Neither spoke as they made their way deeper into the palace. The evening had been odd at best and the Celt felt strongly ill at ease with Alexander's invitation to his private chambers. He'd never been there before. He liked to think of the set of rooms as Hephaistion's and Alexander's place, where as his own or Hephaistion's battle tent was theirs. This invitation went against his every instinct. This was an act that he felt betrayed Hephaistion's trust of him. There would be talk and Hephaistion's spies would report it to their master.

Xenos hesitated when Alexander opened the heavy timber door. "Come, Xenos, I only wish to talk of Hephaistion. Come, I would never betray his trust in you."

Aye, Xenos thought, but you have often betrayed him foolish Alexander. Little things mostly but betrayals none the less. He nodded, hunched up a bit and stepped into the large room.

"Please, my trusted friend, sit." Alexander motioned to the dark haired man and set off to get wine and wood to prod the brazier back to life.

"What do you wish to discuss Alexander?" Xenos asked hunched forward warming his huge hands over the now bright flames. "I would think that there is not a secret left between you and Hephaistion."

Alexander handed him a cup and sighed. The big man was a constant reminder of everything he wasn't. He matched Hephaistion's height, yet was broader, thicker; Alexander knew that his lover liked that attribute in the Celt. He'd often let on that, despite their familiararity with each other, Alexander's shorter stature made him feel uncomfortable, as if he was somehow taking advantage. With Xenos they were nearly matched, Xenos being the larger man. Once he had allowed his curiosity to rule his judgement and he snuck into Hephaistion's timber camp and into his tent. The big Celt had Hephaistion wrapped in a secure embrace. Smothered completely in a way Alexander could not manage due to his smaller stature. He sat on the floor and wept silently for a time before he noticed that the Celt had awoken.

The westerner was also a treasure trove of tales, grand stories of places to the far west, places that, as a boy, Hephaistion had wished, with the same intensity, to visit as Alexander's desire to go east. The stories of misty mountains and dragons and the great cold sea, had always filled Hephaistion's fantasies and Xenos had the color pallet to paint the inquisitive Athenian picture after picture. He was also benevolent in a way that Alexander could only wish to be. Xenos, despite being a warrior had maintained an innocence, a purity of heart and soul that at some point Alexander had forsaken for his dream of conquest. This odd trait sang out to Hephaistion and it is that song, Alexander knew, that had opened Hephaistion's troubled heart to the older Xenos.

The king handed Xenos a doe skin parcel and sat down shrinking a bit into his heavy wool tunic. "I had it crafted for him. A symbol I suppose of my acceptance of you in his life. I would appreciate your opinion of the workmanship. I wish only the best for Hephaistion. Though he does thwart my efforts time and again." Xenos studied the man with keen green eyes, and slowly unwrapped the gift.

"Tell me about the two of you." Alexander went on as the Celt studied the item. It was beautifully wrought flute. Xenos put the instrument to his lips and began to play a sad dirge like melody.

Xenos actually flinched at the request, missing a note. He continued to play as he pondered Alexander's question. 'Tell me about the two of you.' What to tell. In all his travels from the highlands of the far west through the bulk of the lands west of Greece and now across the Persian frontier he'd never come across anyone like Hephaistion. The man defied description. He was something god sent, created for him and yet previously claimed by the most powerful man in the world. Still he'd opened his heart to the gentle Celt's solace.

Xenos felt himself blush as he pictured Hephaistion in his mind. He was beautiful in the way a molten ball of glass was beautiful. It captivates you in its rawest unshaped, constantly undulating form. Sets your mind afire with possibilities for it; so you desire then to tame it. Gently, breath by breath, by breath you blow life into it. Lock it in place. Squelch its heat and form it into something you can touch and hold and call your own; despite knowing in your heart that to do so will smother the very essence of its life. Stealing the heat that scorches your soul. In its end form you fear that you may no longer love it, so again you crave it to be molten. Hephaistion was beautiful like that. But too often he'd been blown and cast and heated and cast again to meet the desires of Alexander. Now he was so stretched and thin that the merest sand peppered breeze threatened to shatter him, irrevocably destroying his essence.

The Celt finished his song. "Alexander, we, I, we are close. You know just how, I…"

"What is your true name, Xenos of the far northwest lands?"

'Ah,' Xenos thought, 'so that was it. Not about Hephaistion and me but about me.'

"Its a past better left behind." He answered firmly, but with a quietness that unsettled Alexander. "What matter does it make?" He handed the flute back to the king. "It is one of the finest I have ever seen. He will love it, Alexander, of that I am sure."

"You have such great mastery of our languages, and of Persian, and of the language of the Roman tribes. How is that you are so well versed in these things? The flute, your love of music." Alexander pressed. The Celt was an enigma of sorts. Intelligent, and a brute of a fighter, yet he spoke no fewer than five languages and was oddly literate for a wanderer. "Are you a prince, a noble in your land? You have an odd bearing about you, Xenos. It draws men to you, they follow and yet you continue to disdain true command. What is your story, Celt? Have you told Hephaistion?"

"Aye. Hephaistion knows much of my tale. He has a great curiosity for my homeland."

"He loves you."

"Aye." He replied; sadness tinged with pride colored his voice. Xenos studied his feet. The leather creases of his boots jumped out at him and seemed to map the many paths he'd ventured in his life. Paths that had led him inexorably to Hephaistion. But for Hephaistion he'd have set off already in search of new lands. "He does, and I would apologies for that Alexander but, it brings him peace…. to love…me."

"And to love me?"

"Gives him life." The reply begged no question. Life.

Alexander shuddered at the Celts response. Life, what if that love was taken away? Life. "And so my dark haired friend which is the purer love, one that brings peace or one that brings life?"

"You have no need to fear me Alexander, your trust in me to keep him safe is proof of that. So why these questions?"

"I seek the fault that lies in my heart. The fault that you seem to have escaped. I see the way he looks at you. I feel him when he returns from time away with you. I hear him when he dreams and now it is you he now calls out for when his nightmares bring him torment. Where, Xenos, does this innocent benevolence that you exude come from? What secret do you have for holding his soul that I have lost? What is your true name Xenos? Does he know? Did some angered god send you?"

"No angry god, Alexander. No secret. I am simply a lesser man than you. My only greatness is my ability to play a flute." Xenos sighed, drank the rest of his wine in a gulp and stood. He took up the flagon and refilled his cup. " I was afraid if I told him all it would wound him deeply, so I tried to just tell parts. He saw through me though, as is his way." He removed the bracer from his right wrist and offered it to Alexander. "These are the symbols of my clan. My father was chieftain. I would succeed him. I proved myself worthy time and time again in battle and I became feared and revered at a young age. I…was a good leader and I managed to keep a strong group of close companions around me much as you do. It was winter, I was in my fourteenth year. I still had not taken a woman. None called to me, none caused my blood to warm…I…kept it a close secret, it was expected for me, if nothing else, to take a spoil woman,to prove my manhood. This I did with revulsion. My father began to ask what woman of the clan I desired, he wanted grandsons. I put him off. Then…" He paused to refill his cup. Alexander studied the well worn bracer, his thumbs rubbing the smooth relief's of men hunting Elk and fighting each other and waited for the Celt to go on. "Then Kiran, my closest friend for my entire life and I found the true depth of our love. We…we knew we were of the outcast ones. We tried to hide it. Some of my people are tolerant of the love between men, my father was not. Therefore my clan was not. My companions knew and defended my secret for ten years, then I was betrayed by my brother. He was jealous of a gift that my father presented me with. He told him about my relations with Kirin. We were taken and beaten, they butchered Kirin and my loyal friends in front of me. Then I, more dead than alive, was cast into the wild."

Alexander stirred. He could not allow his mind to grasp such a horror. Hephaistion butchered as he watched. "Butchered?"

"It is our way. They were strung up and gutted like stags. I pleaded to be butchered with them, but my father knew that for me to live with the loss of Kirin, my friends and my clan would be a far worse fate than death.

So you see like you Alexander, I was raised to be a prince. The chieftain's fine son. My father kidnapped Romans, and even an occasional lost Greek and they were my tutors. Claudius was my favorite he was butchered alongside Kirin, blamed for allowing such desires to grow with in my heart. He was the first to take me. I loved him too, in my own way. He loved me.

I wandered the land alone, healing, remaining always just on the edge of my clan's holdings. Too weak to live too weak too die, I was a shameful creature. I learned in my third year of banishment that my father had been killed and that my brother had become chieftain during a particularly brutal clash. I hurried homeward; he was not fit to lead. I was too late. My entire clan lay butchered by a northern tribe and my village in ruins. I was totally alone. My love for Kiran had destroyed all that I cared for. I sought peace and absolution in my travels. That was the past, I am here now. I took no pleasure in another until I met Hephaistion. He was so lost and pained, I opened my own wounded soul to him and…my name is Galen of the lost Clan of Loch Sedwich. I've no living blood relations, I am a wanderer and a warrior, a musician. I vow to never leave Hephaistion's side even after death. Then I will reside in the afterlife with Kirin and my new mate and comfort them for eternity."

"You and Hephaistion for eternity? And me?"

"Just as now Alexander your love comes before mine, just as mine comes first for Kirin should another ever claim him."

"And he knows of this, Kirin? Of your Clan? Hephaistion knows."

"Aye, You have lost a father and some comrades Alexander, but I have lost my entire clan. All that defined my being. If I could let you, but for a moment, feel my pain and isolation I would, so that your lust for conquest might by quenched. But you can't feel that type of grief Alexander. Only one thing will allow you to realize such agony but you are afraid to face it. That is what drives Hephaistion from you. He can feel it and does. That is the fault that lies in your heart. It silences the song of love so that you can no longer sing it to him honestly. You've put glory above grief, pride before pain, victory before the plight of your victims. Hephaistion pleads to the gods that they will grant salvation to your soul. That is his battle, and it is one that he is willing to die for.

I've traveled and fought for many kings in many lands Alexander and it is always the same. Glory turns to glut. You have no business taking India by force. Make your way to the sea in peace. Backtrack to a land that is yours and follow the edge of the earth eastward. You stand to loose everything once you cross that river. Hephaistion knows this. Allow yourself to feel the agony of loosing him, King Alexander, only then will you know and be able to admit and present your humility to your gods."

Alexander stood and walked to the bust of Hephaistion that held court near his bed. It was positioned in a way that Alexander could see it when he awoke in the morning and as the last thing before he slept. Lose Hephaistion, the Celt was right, it was an event that he refused to truly face. The last difficult months had taken him close to that sense of loss but not nearly close enough. He ran his thumb across the cool stone cheek and trembled. His breath caught in his chest and he staggered back a step. Cold, cold and still, devoid of life, dead. The Celt was telling him that his ambition was destroying the thing he loved more than his own life. Hephaistion was dying by his hand. Xenos' love for Kiran cost him his clan and Alexander's love for glory was costing him Hephaistion.

"What would you have me do? He returns tomorrow. I intend to name him Chilliarch two days later in a banquet in his honor. He will build my bridges and follow me despite his claims that he will not go farther. What would you have me do?"

"It seems your decision is made. To India then. I will guard him for you in your absence. Just remember Alexander, the difference between 'blind ambition, and being blinded by your ambition'. Good night."

He stood to go and paused at the door, his curiosity overcoming his need for air. It had taken a lot out of his stout heart to tell his tale. "Tell me Alexander, the banquet, with the Thebans when the two of you were twelveish…you gave him to a Theban general." He heard Alexander gasp. That was not a memory he wanted to revisit. Only then did Xenos turn and face the young man who was his current king. "Do you have any idea what that man did to him? How you tested Hephaistion's love, his loyalty?"

He watched Alexander pale as his words cut through years of denial. "You thought you were his first, no? At best you'd like to think that your father's generals were the ones who took his innocence and began the shuttering of his heart. Maybe you wanted to blame his father. Yes Alexander, am I close? No?" The king stood stricken, tears streaming down his cheeks. "It was you that laye dthe very first brick on Hephaistion's wall. You in your very first attempt at acting kingly. You in your very first attempt at imposing your will upon another man. You won that night, you earned your father's approval, showed him that you could be as hard as he was, proved that you were willing to sacrifice friendship, love for your duty despite the cost and you did so all at Hephaistion's expense. Do you recall that for the next long weeks you catered to the Ox Head almost continuously, ignoring Hephaistion unless it was to ask him for something. Yet he stayed at your side Alexander. He was true to you and to his love of your soul. Forget India, go round. Goodnight, My Lord."

He stepped out of the door and noted that he'd neither ducked or turned, but stood tall, his full height. As he made his way down the dim corridor he could hear Alexander calling for his return. No guards came though and he continued on his path.