pseudy (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} pseudy) wrote,@ 2004-11-20 22:35:00 |
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Title: Legend (2/2)
Author:pseudonihilist
Fandom: Alexander the Great
Pairing: Alexander/Hephaistion
Rating: R? maybe
Summary: Near the end of the summer at Ekbatana, Alexander and Hephaistion attempt to close the rift that has opened between them. Follows Alone, aka the bitchslap!fic, so might help to read that first.
Beta:semyaza. Thank you so much for your support all along <3
A/N: Based on Mary Renualt’s fictional account of Alexander's life as told in her novel, The Persian Boy. I think I love Bagoas because he knows that everything he cannot say is being said by Hephaistion, but he still doesn't hate him. Hopefully you all won't hate me for putting what Bagoas wants to say to Alexander in Hephaistion's mouth. As sad as it is for our poor eunuch, I'm afraid that's probably how it really went down. At least, when I read Renault. and a big thank you tocapella_fic, as always, without whom i would never have come to know Renault, or Hephaistion. IN CONCLUSION this is all for pink_pants ;)
Warnings: Due to some protest last go around, I have to warn you that Hephaistion CRIES in this fic. okay?
Disclaimer: The Persian Boy belongs to Mary Renault, and Alexander and Hephaistion AND THE CONVENIENT PATCH OF GRASS belong to themselves. This is fiction.
There came a day of change. His face was smoothed with joy; he could talk about nothing long without, "Hephaistion thinks..." or "Hephaistion was saying..." Somewhere, perhaps up in the mountains riding alone, they had broken the wall, cast themselves into each other's arms, were once again Achilles and Patroklos; they would begin forgetting.
Now that [the legend] was restored, polished and shining, I was aware of a relief. He’d not been himself without it. He had lived so long at stretch, in labors and wounds and sickness and endurance, it did not do for him to have the roots of his life disturbed.
Hephaistion must have known it; he was not a fool. I expect, indeed, in his heart he was still a lover. He'd felt he should be upheld against Eumenes, right or wrong. Just so the Macedonians felt about the Persians. Just so I felt, but had the sense to keep it quiet. Alexander attracted jealousy. He was much beloved; and he never turned love away.
-Bagoas in The Persian Boy
Hephaistion called for his horse. It was nearing the end of a hot day; as the summer waned it grew more vehement, seeming to know it would soon fall prey to the chill hands of its successor, and calling on its last reserve of strength. The vehemence was a gentle one, though, merely a subtle concentration of the seasonal radiance gifted to Ekbatana by right. Nor did anyone but Hephaistion seem to begrudge the summer its final display of brilliance; it had been a peaceful, generous few months, full of warm, languorous days whose only fault lay in passing too quickly. For Hephaistion, it had been the longest summer of his life, each of his days passing more slowly than the entire march in the desert.
He had never despised solitude for its own sake, because it had never seemed as permanent as it did now. In his youth it had been time for devising ways to make himself indispensable to Alexander. During campaigns it was a time cherished for its rarity, a time when he could shake the weariness away and find himself, or what Alexander made him. Never had they been the moments of complete isolation and despair they had become over this summer at Ekbatana.
Often, then, he would exhaust them in bursts of strenuous physical activity, which served the double purpose of making him focus on something other than his own misery and allowing him to enjoy a relatively untroubled sleep. His solitude always overcame him more quickly than did his fatigue, however, and so tonight he had chosen riding, which would at least afford him the company of his horse.
As he rode, he could not help contemplating his situation, though he had promised himself many times that he would cease to think of it. He thought, for the thousandth time, of how different it could have been, had Alexander been with him, how they must have lingered, and talked, and perhaps held each other, if Alexander were willing.
They had spoken many times since the quarrel in the tent, but it had been the conversation of friends merely, the space between them palpable, the preservation of their respective ranks making Hephaistion feel as if his every word were leaden, never able to reach the consummate king who stood in place of his other half across so great a distance. He reflected bitterly on his naïvete in thinking that nothing could ever come between them, let alone the petty affairs of such a man as Eumenes. It had always been a risk, being so close to Alexander. Hephaistion had therefore prepared himself to face the anger and annoyance of his peers, but somehow the possibility that Alexander himself would be the one to deliver the blow had never occurred to him. Perhaps he had been too secure. He had gotten complacent.
He had not been riding long when he heard the sound of another approaching from behind. Hephaistion wheeled his horse around, wondering who would dare follow him, wildly speculating on who might even now have designs on his life, though he no longer enjoyed the king's full favour.
The figure could not be mistaken at any distance. Hephaistion contemplated riding away from him. There were few who would have dared. He dared, but found he had no desire to.
When Alexander reached him, both merely sat astride their horses for a moment, not knowing how to begin.
Finally, Alexander spoke. "May I ride with you?"
A part of Hephaistion felt a twinge of satisfaction that he had not yielded and spoken first, and the other part was ashamed.
"Of course. I would not dare object to the king," he replied sardonically, acknowledging that the satisfaction was more than a mere twinge.
Alexander looked stricken. Outwardly it was not much, merely a tightening of the jaw and a slight movement of his chin. It was the way his eyes flickered and seemed to deaden that did more to humble Hephaistion than any words of reprimand could have.
But the words were not long in coming. "Have you not punished me enough?" Alexander asked plaintively.
"I? Punish you?"
"Do not play the fool. You know of what I speak."
Hephaistion's pride kept him from capitulating. "I know that you threatened me with execution, and that I forgave you because I understood. But it cost me, Alexander. If anyone has been punished it is I. A thousand times over, I have been punished and suffered."
"You were pardoned, and that night, in your tent—"
"I have paid for much more than a quarrel with Eumenes."
Alexander's horse shuffled suddenly, but it did not take long for him to still it. His voice was low. "What have you paid for?"
"For loving you." Hephaistion knew, then, that he had been preparing this speech for the whole of the summer. "You talk of being punished because I do not seek you out, because I am not forever at your back. For only a few weeks I have not been within an easy distance to be called when it pleases you."
"Yes, and I suffered for it!"
"Suffered! You will know nothing of suffering until you have stood in my place. Yes, I have watched you suffer – you suffer nightly and with great enthusiasm."
"Zeus, Hephiastion, how can you talk this way? It has been an age since we..."
It hurt Hephaistion that Alexander shied away from saying it, and the bitterness welled up to colour his words more than he intended. "It is well that it has been, else I should not suffer so quietly. We are no longer... lovers, then, but neither are we brothers. When we talk now, you talk as if to a child, both too careful and too careless. You seem afraid of hurting me, and yet we exchange only trivialities. I cannot live by you this way, Alexander! I have fought so long for you, with you, alongside you. Is it so wrong, or unnatural, that I should be selfish and desire that you love me best of all?"
Alexander's face was unreadable, the only sign of distress showing in the pinched look around his nostrils. "I do, you must know it! You must!"
"I don't. And by the gods, I have battled with this selfishness. It makes me feel so unworthy, so low. And yet... and yet, how can I help it when you are what you are?"
He felt himself caving, knew it would not be long before he broke and forgave without question. He had done it many times before, in his own mind, and he knew it would be no different with this argument spoken aloud. He turned his horse and rode away from Alexander.
But Alexander was Alexander, and would not accept defeat that easily. He rode after Hephaistion, his horse catching up easily. They rode side by side, until the incline of the mountain became too steep and the horses were frothing.
"Enough!" Alexander said, turning his horse so that it crossed Hephaistion's. He dismounted in one swift movement and let go the reins, instead wrenching Hephaistion's out of his hands, causing the horse to sidle restlessly in protest.
"How shall I humble myself, then? Tell me, and I shall do what you please, since you claim that you are forever pleasing me."
Hephaistion resented him then, and resented his own childishness in being unable to answer.
"I shall please you!" Alexander repeated. "What shall I do? Shall I go on my knees before you in the stadium? Shall I cast Bagoas off? Roxane? What more do you want from me? My kingdom? You have it. All of it."
Hephaistion could only look at him, and think about how beautiful his face looked in its impassioned state.
"You have it already, if you but knew it." The words were spoken very softly. "Please, Hephaistion. Tell me how I can show you that I love you most."
Hephaistion felt the first prick of tears, and he slid down from the horse so that he was standing before Alexander, looking down at him.
"It has been a very long summer, for me."
Alexander reached out, resting his hand on Hephaistion's neck where it met his shoulder. "For me, too. We don't have time for this. Forever is not long enough for us."
They drew closer as if compelled, and Alexander wrapped his arms around Hephaistion’s back.
Hephaistion's voice cracked as he spoke. "I suffer such agonies of jealousy. I love you so, and it makes me greedy. Ungenerous." As he said the words, a great possessiveness welled up in him and he clutched at Alexander's shoulders.
Alexander's mouth was at his ear, and though he spoke softly his voice seemed to hold all of his vitality. "You have given your life to me, and no one knows better than I how great a sacrifice that is."
He pulled back and he held Hephaistion's face between his powerful hands, gazing deeply into his eyes. The look in them caused Hephaistion's knees to tremble. "You cannot know how I have needed you."
"I know. I do not think I kept away to punish you as much as to punish myself." To himself, he thought, I have been more than selfish. If I could not have him, I could not bear that anyone else should have him. I sought to deprive them all of him and what he is. He closed his eyes and bent forward so that their foreheads touched, and he silently sought forgiveness of both Alexander and the world.
It was Alexander who first pulled Hephaistion's hand to his lips and kissed the palm, the look in his eyes was unmistakeable. Hephaistion smiled, finally. "Who am I to deny you?" he asked, and they found a bed of grass nearby. Alexander pulled Hephaistion down and it was as if they were youths again, limbs tangling, frantic and desperate in their need. They had been too long apart. There was no finesse in the way they stroked and thrusted, no practiced method or polished caresses. There was only the raw and unbound love they shared and would always share, and it was enough to consume them both. Hephaistion found that all his anguish burnt away in the heat of Alexander's body, and as he touched the pale shoulders and put his hand to Alexander's flexing thigh, he felt all the power and triumph of knowing that only with him could Alexander feel this. It was the memory of this, and all the nights like it years before, that he would have over everyone. Alexander could never turn love away, yes, but there would only be one place where he sought it as he did now. As he held Alexander on the brink, he slowed, wiping a drop of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
"Is... this... for me?"
Alexander could only shake his head, his chest heaving, and he pulled Hephaistion down and kissed him. "For... us."
It took only a short while before both were exhausted, their rage and torment finding outlet in the fierce coupling, leaving them sated and boneless. Hephaistion cradled Alexander in his arms and they lay together on the grass, the cool air of the night blowing over them. He had no way of knowing whether or not it was the last time they would enjoy this kind of fatigue together, but it mattered less, now. The price of loving the king was a high one, but how else was he to know such ecstasy?
"Hephaistion?"
"Alexander."
"I am nothing without you."
"You are everything to everybody."
"That means nothing if you are not by me. They must have us both, or neither."
Hephaistion decided not to dwell on the strange closeness pain and pleasure seemed to share in his psyche. The words made him feel something akin to an ache, a happiness so acute that it must surely pierce through the walls of his heart.
When they rode down the next morning, it was side by side. And, Hephaistion thought, for his sake, it must always be thus.
***
Author:
pseudonihilistFandom: Alexander the Great
Pairing: Alexander/Hephaistion
Rating: R? maybe
Summary: Near the end of the summer at Ekbatana, Alexander and Hephaistion attempt to close the rift that has opened between them. Follows Alone, aka the bitchslap!fic, so might help to read that first.
Beta:
semyaza. Thank you so much for your support all along <3A/N: Based on Mary Renualt’s fictional account of Alexander's life as told in her novel, The Persian Boy. I think I love Bagoas because he knows that everything he cannot say is being said by Hephaistion, but he still doesn't hate him. Hopefully you all won't hate me for putting what Bagoas wants to say to Alexander in Hephaistion's mouth. As sad as it is for our poor eunuch, I'm afraid that's probably how it really went down. At least, when I read Renault. and a big thank you to
capella_fic, as always, without whom i would never have come to know Renault, or Hephaistion. IN CONCLUSION this is all for pink_pants ;)Warnings: Due to some protest last go around, I have to warn you that Hephaistion CRIES in this fic. okay?
Disclaimer: The Persian Boy belongs to Mary Renault, and Alexander and Hephaistion AND THE CONVENIENT PATCH OF GRASS belong to themselves. This is fiction.
There came a day of change. His face was smoothed with joy; he could talk about nothing long without, "Hephaistion thinks..." or "Hephaistion was saying..." Somewhere, perhaps up in the mountains riding alone, they had broken the wall, cast themselves into each other's arms, were once again Achilles and Patroklos; they would begin forgetting.
Now that [the legend] was restored, polished and shining, I was aware of a relief. He’d not been himself without it. He had lived so long at stretch, in labors and wounds and sickness and endurance, it did not do for him to have the roots of his life disturbed.
Hephaistion must have known it; he was not a fool. I expect, indeed, in his heart he was still a lover. He'd felt he should be upheld against Eumenes, right or wrong. Just so the Macedonians felt about the Persians. Just so I felt, but had the sense to keep it quiet. Alexander attracted jealousy. He was much beloved; and he never turned love away.
-Bagoas in The Persian Boy
Hephaistion called for his horse. It was nearing the end of a hot day; as the summer waned it grew more vehement, seeming to know it would soon fall prey to the chill hands of its successor, and calling on its last reserve of strength. The vehemence was a gentle one, though, merely a subtle concentration of the seasonal radiance gifted to Ekbatana by right. Nor did anyone but Hephaistion seem to begrudge the summer its final display of brilliance; it had been a peaceful, generous few months, full of warm, languorous days whose only fault lay in passing too quickly. For Hephaistion, it had been the longest summer of his life, each of his days passing more slowly than the entire march in the desert.
He had never despised solitude for its own sake, because it had never seemed as permanent as it did now. In his youth it had been time for devising ways to make himself indispensable to Alexander. During campaigns it was a time cherished for its rarity, a time when he could shake the weariness away and find himself, or what Alexander made him. Never had they been the moments of complete isolation and despair they had become over this summer at Ekbatana.
Often, then, he would exhaust them in bursts of strenuous physical activity, which served the double purpose of making him focus on something other than his own misery and allowing him to enjoy a relatively untroubled sleep. His solitude always overcame him more quickly than did his fatigue, however, and so tonight he had chosen riding, which would at least afford him the company of his horse.
As he rode, he could not help contemplating his situation, though he had promised himself many times that he would cease to think of it. He thought, for the thousandth time, of how different it could have been, had Alexander been with him, how they must have lingered, and talked, and perhaps held each other, if Alexander were willing.
They had spoken many times since the quarrel in the tent, but it had been the conversation of friends merely, the space between them palpable, the preservation of their respective ranks making Hephaistion feel as if his every word were leaden, never able to reach the consummate king who stood in place of his other half across so great a distance. He reflected bitterly on his naïvete in thinking that nothing could ever come between them, let alone the petty affairs of such a man as Eumenes. It had always been a risk, being so close to Alexander. Hephaistion had therefore prepared himself to face the anger and annoyance of his peers, but somehow the possibility that Alexander himself would be the one to deliver the blow had never occurred to him. Perhaps he had been too secure. He had gotten complacent.
He had not been riding long when he heard the sound of another approaching from behind. Hephaistion wheeled his horse around, wondering who would dare follow him, wildly speculating on who might even now have designs on his life, though he no longer enjoyed the king's full favour.
The figure could not be mistaken at any distance. Hephaistion contemplated riding away from him. There were few who would have dared. He dared, but found he had no desire to.
When Alexander reached him, both merely sat astride their horses for a moment, not knowing how to begin.
Finally, Alexander spoke. "May I ride with you?"
A part of Hephaistion felt a twinge of satisfaction that he had not yielded and spoken first, and the other part was ashamed.
"Of course. I would not dare object to the king," he replied sardonically, acknowledging that the satisfaction was more than a mere twinge.
Alexander looked stricken. Outwardly it was not much, merely a tightening of the jaw and a slight movement of his chin. It was the way his eyes flickered and seemed to deaden that did more to humble Hephaistion than any words of reprimand could have.
But the words were not long in coming. "Have you not punished me enough?" Alexander asked plaintively.
"I? Punish you?"
"Do not play the fool. You know of what I speak."
Hephaistion's pride kept him from capitulating. "I know that you threatened me with execution, and that I forgave you because I understood. But it cost me, Alexander. If anyone has been punished it is I. A thousand times over, I have been punished and suffered."
"You were pardoned, and that night, in your tent—"
"I have paid for much more than a quarrel with Eumenes."
Alexander's horse shuffled suddenly, but it did not take long for him to still it. His voice was low. "What have you paid for?"
"For loving you." Hephaistion knew, then, that he had been preparing this speech for the whole of the summer. "You talk of being punished because I do not seek you out, because I am not forever at your back. For only a few weeks I have not been within an easy distance to be called when it pleases you."
"Yes, and I suffered for it!"
"Suffered! You will know nothing of suffering until you have stood in my place. Yes, I have watched you suffer – you suffer nightly and with great enthusiasm."
"Zeus, Hephiastion, how can you talk this way? It has been an age since we..."
It hurt Hephaistion that Alexander shied away from saying it, and the bitterness welled up to colour his words more than he intended. "It is well that it has been, else I should not suffer so quietly. We are no longer... lovers, then, but neither are we brothers. When we talk now, you talk as if to a child, both too careful and too careless. You seem afraid of hurting me, and yet we exchange only trivialities. I cannot live by you this way, Alexander! I have fought so long for you, with you, alongside you. Is it so wrong, or unnatural, that I should be selfish and desire that you love me best of all?"
Alexander's face was unreadable, the only sign of distress showing in the pinched look around his nostrils. "I do, you must know it! You must!"
"I don't. And by the gods, I have battled with this selfishness. It makes me feel so unworthy, so low. And yet... and yet, how can I help it when you are what you are?"
He felt himself caving, knew it would not be long before he broke and forgave without question. He had done it many times before, in his own mind, and he knew it would be no different with this argument spoken aloud. He turned his horse and rode away from Alexander.
But Alexander was Alexander, and would not accept defeat that easily. He rode after Hephaistion, his horse catching up easily. They rode side by side, until the incline of the mountain became too steep and the horses were frothing.
"Enough!" Alexander said, turning his horse so that it crossed Hephaistion's. He dismounted in one swift movement and let go the reins, instead wrenching Hephaistion's out of his hands, causing the horse to sidle restlessly in protest.
"How shall I humble myself, then? Tell me, and I shall do what you please, since you claim that you are forever pleasing me."
Hephaistion resented him then, and resented his own childishness in being unable to answer.
"I shall please you!" Alexander repeated. "What shall I do? Shall I go on my knees before you in the stadium? Shall I cast Bagoas off? Roxane? What more do you want from me? My kingdom? You have it. All of it."
Hephaistion could only look at him, and think about how beautiful his face looked in its impassioned state.
"You have it already, if you but knew it." The words were spoken very softly. "Please, Hephaistion. Tell me how I can show you that I love you most."
Hephaistion felt the first prick of tears, and he slid down from the horse so that he was standing before Alexander, looking down at him.
"It has been a very long summer, for me."
Alexander reached out, resting his hand on Hephaistion's neck where it met his shoulder. "For me, too. We don't have time for this. Forever is not long enough for us."
They drew closer as if compelled, and Alexander wrapped his arms around Hephaistion’s back.
Hephaistion's voice cracked as he spoke. "I suffer such agonies of jealousy. I love you so, and it makes me greedy. Ungenerous." As he said the words, a great possessiveness welled up in him and he clutched at Alexander's shoulders.
Alexander's mouth was at his ear, and though he spoke softly his voice seemed to hold all of his vitality. "You have given your life to me, and no one knows better than I how great a sacrifice that is."
He pulled back and he held Hephaistion's face between his powerful hands, gazing deeply into his eyes. The look in them caused Hephaistion's knees to tremble. "You cannot know how I have needed you."
"I know. I do not think I kept away to punish you as much as to punish myself." To himself, he thought, I have been more than selfish. If I could not have him, I could not bear that anyone else should have him. I sought to deprive them all of him and what he is. He closed his eyes and bent forward so that their foreheads touched, and he silently sought forgiveness of both Alexander and the world.
It was Alexander who first pulled Hephaistion's hand to his lips and kissed the palm, the look in his eyes was unmistakeable. Hephaistion smiled, finally. "Who am I to deny you?" he asked, and they found a bed of grass nearby. Alexander pulled Hephaistion down and it was as if they were youths again, limbs tangling, frantic and desperate in their need. They had been too long apart. There was no finesse in the way they stroked and thrusted, no practiced method or polished caresses. There was only the raw and unbound love they shared and would always share, and it was enough to consume them both. Hephaistion found that all his anguish burnt away in the heat of Alexander's body, and as he touched the pale shoulders and put his hand to Alexander's flexing thigh, he felt all the power and triumph of knowing that only with him could Alexander feel this. It was the memory of this, and all the nights like it years before, that he would have over everyone. Alexander could never turn love away, yes, but there would only be one place where he sought it as he did now. As he held Alexander on the brink, he slowed, wiping a drop of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
"Is... this... for me?"
Alexander could only shake his head, his chest heaving, and he pulled Hephaistion down and kissed him. "For... us."
It took only a short while before both were exhausted, their rage and torment finding outlet in the fierce coupling, leaving them sated and boneless. Hephaistion cradled Alexander in his arms and they lay together on the grass, the cool air of the night blowing over them. He had no way of knowing whether or not it was the last time they would enjoy this kind of fatigue together, but it mattered less, now. The price of loving the king was a high one, but how else was he to know such ecstasy?
"Hephaistion?"
"Alexander."
"I am nothing without you."
"You are everything to everybody."
"That means nothing if you are not by me. They must have us both, or neither."
Hephaistion decided not to dwell on the strange closeness pain and pleasure seemed to share in his psyche. The words made him feel something akin to an ache, a happiness so acute that it must surely pierce through the walls of his heart.
When they rode down the next morning, it was side by side. And, Hephaistion thought, for his sake, it must always be thus.
***
