Lots of thanks to Aebbe, Gif, S0phea and delos13 for your kind reviews, and a special thanks to Zophiel Lagace, who I hope enjoys this chapter because it covers some of our previous conversation about Hephaestion and Alexander, as will the next chapter as well ;)
Reviews would be lovely thank you, it's great to know what people think :)
Part Six
Night was falling fast, and Alexander watched from his window with tired eyes, as he had been doing for what felt like hours. Hephaestion's horse had not been in the stables when the prince had returned to the palace, and so Alexander had decided to wait and watch for his beloved's return. As the sky darkened, he began to fear that Hephaestion would not return at all.
As his hope slowly diminished, however, he heard the clattering of hooves against stone. Peering through the dim light he saw a figure galloping straight to the stables, slowing only as he reached the doorway, where he dismounted to lead his horse by hand. Though he had not been sure at first, when the young man had exited the stable once more Alexander was in no doubt that it was Hephaestion.
For one foolish moment he considered shouting down to him.
He stopped himself just in time, content instead to watch as the young man walked towards the building where his own bed chambers were situated. Alexander watched Hephaestion's retreating back with a fond smile, and presently allowed sleep to take hold as he sank deeply into the silken sheets of his own bed, his mind at ease now that his beloved was home safely.
Upon waking to the soft golden light of dawn, Alexander's first thought was of food. The second was of Hephaestion, and he smiled. Dressing hastily, the prince vacated his room and walked as quickly as etiquette allowed down towards Hephaestion's room, growing more and more delighted with every step he took.
He ran through his speech again in his head, wondering whether or not he should make it shorter, or whether or not it would have been better not to prepare a speech, and simply speak spontaneously instead.
He was so distracted that he barely noticed the young girl walking with her head bowed towards him. They collided with some force, due to Alexander's haste, and the girl tripped. A reluctant cry escaped her lips as she fell, and Alexander caught her wrist before she hit the ground. Staggering to her feet, the girl blushed and stared at the prince's hand enclosed around her arm with wonder.
"Th-thank you, I'm sorry," she mumbled. She was very pretty, Alexander remarked; she seemed somewhat familiar, but he could not put a name to her face. Her dark hair curled around her neck and reaching her waist, which was slim like the rest of her body; she surveyed him with violet eyes that widened as they met his own. She licked her pouting lips nervously.
"It was my fault entirely," he said, and made to walk past her, but she was standing in the way, and did not move.
"I've been told to bring you to the Queen's chambers," she spoke delicately, and Alexander clenched his teeth. He didn't want to show his anger towards the girl, who was not many years his junior; it was not her fault.
"Please tell the Queen that I shall visit her as soon as possible," he said firmly, and the girl's eyes, which had been attempting a look of seduction, widened in horror.
"P-please sir…I beg you. The Queen wishes to see you urgently."
There was something in her expression that stopped Alexander from simply barging straight past her. It was as if the girl feared dreadful consequences should she fail to present the prince to his mother.
"Tia," he said quietly, and the girl's blush deepened.
"Yes, my lord."
He remembered her now. She was the first girl that had been sent to his bed chambers by his mother – much to his fury and embarrassment. He had given her a kind word and then sent her back to her mistress, guilt flooding him at the tears that she had held in her eyes as she left. His sister had told him not a week later than one of their mother's slave girls had been laid up for almost two days the week previous after a beating. Alexander swallowed, glancing down the corridor that would take him to Hephaestion, and then nodded.
"Very well," he said. His rejection had already been the cause of one beating for the girl, he felt cruel subjecting her to another.
Relief graced the girl's lips in the form of a tender smile and she turned on her heel, leading to way to the queen's quarters. Alexander entered with his head held high and Olympias stood at the sight of him, smiling as she barked at the girls surrounding her to leave immediately.
"Alexander," she cooed, shaking her dark red hair from her shoulders and reaching up to cup her son's face.
"Mother," he said, and he kissed her cheek with some reluctance.
"You are to see Antipatros today, are you not?" She smiled sweetly, but Alexander's eyes narrowed.
"Since when did matters concerning my father and his men interest you?" he asked, and Olympias laughed softly, shaking her head and wrinkling her nose a little at her son.
"You are important to your father's success; I would not want you to fall short in your duties."
"I was planning to see Antipatros later today, if you must know," Alexander admitted impatiently. "Happy now?"
"Not to worry," Olympias said delightedly, "I have already sent word to him. He is expecting you," she explained, and though her smile was innocent, her eyes glittered as she saw the irritated flush in her son's cheeks deepen.
"I am perfectly capable of handling my own schedule thank you very much, mother," he snapped.
"I'll bear that in mind, my darling," she said. "But it would be rude to keep the general waiting. You should go now."
Alexander balled his hands into fists by his sides. He knew it would be very wrong to hit his own mother, and the gods would punish him for it – though perhaps not his father – but it took a great deal of willpower to refrain from doing just that. His breaths were heavy as he nodded mutely, turning without another word to walk out of the snake's lair with all the dignity he could muster.
She infuriated him. His thoughts would have been stronger, but he did not know a single word that described exactly what he was feeling in that moment.
Infuriated would have to do.
His patience was past simply wavering as he stormed through the palace, but he worked to reign it back in before he met with Antipatros, who was a good man, and did not deserve the wrath that Alexander felt like unleashing at his mother's manipulating, conniving schemes, no matter how small and petty they seemed to be.
The day was young when Hephaestion awoke, the grey light of pre-dawn still filled the eastern horizon, and he cursed himself. He could not waken Alexander so early, not when the prince was finally able to enjoy the luxury of sleeping until a reasonable hour for once, now that his duties as Regent had settled down upon the king's decision to return to Pella.
He would simply have to wait.
He placed his hands comfortably behind his head and stared upwards at the sandy coloured ceiling. It was not long before he grew restless, though with nerves or excitement he couldn't quite tell.
Probably both, he thought to himself as he stood and began to dress as slowly as possible, unable to wait idly but not wanting to arrive too early. By the time he was walking towards the palace, the air was tinged with gold as the sun struggled to break the horizon.
"Hephaestion!" the young man turned to see Perdiccas jogging towards him and he smiled as best as he could, trying not to sound impatient as he hailed his friend.
"What can I do for you, Perdiccas?" he asked politely, hoping he didn't to sound distracted.
"I wouldn't normally ask, but can I borrow your horse?" the older man pleaded, sounding almost desperate.
"Why on earth would you need my horse? Your own is a mighty fine creature."
"Aye, she is that," Perdiccas agreed, "but it's my sister's son. I agreed to teach him to ride while I have the chance, but I didn't realise he has no horse of his own."
"I do not think Perros is the best choice for an amateur, Perdiccas, he is obedient only to myself, Alexander and you. He can rival Bucephalus with his stubbornness. Not a good choice to learn on at all."
"I know," Perdiccas said quickly. "But my Mendi is very tame indeed. The lad can ride her, and I shall take Perros."
Hephaestion smiled, nodding kindly.
"Then in that case of course you can take him. Good luck with your tutoring," he bade his friend, and with many a gracious word of thanks Perdiccas turned to the stables, leaving Hephaestion free to carry on his route towards Alexander's chambers.
The corridors were silent, and Hephaestion was quickly at the door to his beloved's room. When his knocking received no answer he timidly entered, expecting to find a still sleeping Alexander.
Instead the bed was cold, the room empty; Hephaestion sighed in disappointment.
"Gone already, have you?" he said to himself in a small voice.
Antipatros, as expected, had been helpful, accommodating and informative in his conversation. Alexander could not fault the man.
One of the best things about the general, Alexander thought to himself as he sped his way out of the palace, was that he was happy to remain wilfully ignorant in matters that did not strictly concern him.
Any fool would have noticed that though charming, Alexander was far from happy throughout their talk of strategy and planning, and much less enthusiastic than he normally was. But Antipatros hadn't said a word on the subject; hadn't even asked more than once whether or not the prince was alright; because, as he had said in the past, it was not his place to have an opinion on matters outside of warfare when it came to the king, or even the prince.
So Alexander hastened to Hephaestion's quarters – private, unlike many of the young soldiers, thanks to insistence of Alexander – feeling at ease once more, now that he was back on schedule.
He reached his destination and knocked gently, calling out Hephaestion's name. When he wasn't answered he entered without invitation, surprised that Hephaestion had not yet risen. The man was normally awake far earlier than the prince.
But the room was empty.
"Where are you Hephaestion?" Alexander asked the cold and vacant bed, frowning in disappointment.
Unsure what to do with himself, or where to start looking for Alexander without his horse to search further than the palace, Hephaestion wandered listlessly down the corridors at a leisurely pace. His eyes did not stray far from the ground in front of him; his thoughts of where the prince could possibly be were taking up the majority of his concentration.
It was not until he heard, as if from a great distance, his name being called in a gruff voice that he wrenched his gaze from the floor and up towards the figure stood watching him.
"My lord," he said, bowing a little in respect to the king.
"Where is my son, Hephaestion?" Philip asked, his voice husky, and Hephaestion fought the urge to shrug sulkily. It must be important if the king thought it worthy of searching for him, rather than sending someone.
"I don't know sir," he spoke politely, and Philip nodded.
"Nobody has seen him since Antipatros spoke to him earlier today. If you do see him, tell him I need to speak with him."
"I will do sir," Hephaestion bowed his head again, and when he looked up he saw that Philip's eyes were raking over him with an intent stare. But rather than blush and back down as he had done at fourteen, he stood defiantly, waiting for Philip's gaze to return to his face.
Eventually Philip nodded, and then retreated back down the corridor, no doubt to speak with Antipatros again. Hephaestion raised his hands to his face and ran them down his cheeks, pulling at his chin and squeezing his eyes shut. He counted five slow, calming breaths before carrying on his route out of the castle, wanting more than anything to accidentally run into Alexander as he walked aimlessly out into the brightening sunshine.
"You could be Prometheus, laid like that."
Ptolemy looked up from his position; he was lying flat out on a rock, arms stretched out and chest bare.
"Perhaps not," the olde man said with a grin, sitting up as Alexander sat down with a sigh on a boulder beside him. He saw Bucephalus tied loosely to a tree a little further down the mountain slope alongside his own steed, and the prince's forehead was glistening with sweat from the climb. "What brings you here?" he asked, and Alexander huffed in imitation of a moody child.
"I thought you were perhaps Hephaestion. Your horses are very similar, and I thought yours was Perros because he isn't in his stable, which means Hephaestion is out riding again."
"And your keen interest in the whereabouts of Hephaestion is due to…?" Ptolemy asked, resuming his relaxing pose on his rock.
Alexander rolled his eyes at him; Ptolemy twisted his lips and sighed deeply.
"Alexander, your nightly activities with the boy are not my concern. Please do not come to me with such issues."
"I'm not!" Alexander cried innocently. "Though you could be nicer to Hephaestion, he's under the impression you hate him." Ptolemy smirked, eyes closed against the sun as it rose steadily in the sky.
"I don't hate him," he said, "Though I am not what you could call a fan of his."
"Why?" Alexander demanded indignantly, and Ptolemy made a noise of irritation and opened his eyes again to look up blearily at the prince.
"Alexander, do not ask me why the world works as it does. Hephaestion is a beautiful young man, and the fact is men do not trust beautiful men. Maybe it is folly, or maybe there is truth behind their jealousies and envies, either way, I am yet to find a man that will trust a man with a face like your Hephaestion."
"So you are jealous of him?" Alexander scowled at Ptolemy, who chuckled, making a gesture somewhere between shaking his head and shrugging.
"I'm surprised you trust him, Alexander, though you are handsome yourself, so perhaps it's a good match." He dodged the soft blow Alexander tried to deal him with a lazy fist, catching the prince's arm and pushing him to the side fondly.
"Ptolemy?" Alexander asked after a moment of silence, and the older man replied with a noncommittal noise. "Remember when I was younger and I asked you about us being half-" he paused at the sharp look Ptolemy threw him. "Half-brothers," he finished firmly. "There's no-one around to hear, is there?" he said with a sigh of impatience.
"No, but I'd still rather you didn't say it aloud. You could bring great disgrace to my mother, saying things like that. I don't care if the entire world seems to know it already."
"But you remember?" Alexander insisted, and Ptolemy nodded reluctantly.
"And we swore always to fight for one another?"
"Yes, Alexander. Get to the point."
"Did that include my family members?"
Ptolemy let out a barking laugh that was loud enough to startle Bucephalus, who began snorting and stamping.
"By Zeus boy, are you planning to overthrow your father?" he asked, still chuckling. Alexander smiled ruefully and shook his head.
"No," he muttered, "I just want a way of stopping my mother from interfering with Hephaestion."
Ptolemy rolled his eyes and lay back down, settling to go back to sleep.
"That's easy Alexander."
"How so?" the prince asked incredulously.
"You're a prince!" Ptolemy cried in an obvious tone.
"Your point being?" Alexander asked impatiently.
"Just declare Hephaestion your eromenos and she will have no right to separate you. If she pulled you apart, declaring him your eromenos and then abandoning him would bring a deal of disgrace you, which she would hate to do. She'd have no choice but to accept Hephaestion. Not willingly, perhaps, but she'd still have to do it."
When the silence stretched Ptolemy opened his eyes to glance at the young man, and grinned at the sight of Alexander's lit up expression. Abruptly the prince's arms were wrapped around his neck, hugging him tightly, and he shook him off with a gruff scowl.
"No need, Alexander," he said firmly, frowning when he couldn't find the comfy position Alexander had jostled him out of with his display of affection.
"Thank you Ptolemy," Alexander said breathlessly. "You're a genius."
"I know," Ptolemy said with a casual smile, and he listened contentedly to the shaky steps of Alexander racing back down the mountain, slowly getting quieter and quieter, until eventually they turned from footsteps to hooves beating the ground as the prince sped away in search of his new eromenos. Ptolemy pushed all thoughts of the two boys from his mind. The last thing he wanted to think about was the mood Queen Olympias would be put in at the news of her son becoming Hephaestion's erastes, or what she would do if she ever found out whose idea it was.