Story: Tales of the God (Challenge Response)
Okay, I warn you - this is not perfect by any means. My knowledge of this period is lacking!
Response to hephaestion's storytelling challenge.
TITLE: Tales of the God
AUTHOR: Demon Faith
BASIS: ‘Alexander’ (Directed by Oliver Stone)
PAIRING: Alexander/Hephaistion
TIMEFRAME: During Alexander’s stay in Babylon (I am totally useless at this! That’ll teach me to jump into a period I don’t know…)
RATING: PG
WARNINGS: Fluffiness
SUMMARY: Alexander is suspicious - where does Hephaistion keep disappearing to? One night, he resolves to follow him…
DISCLAIMER: No disrespect intended to Oliver Stone, Jared Leto or Colin Farrell. And I’m sure the Great Man himself would be mostly bemused at all the fuss - ‘He’s simply philalexandros.’
NOTES: So, I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. This is no surprise to me - I don’t study the Hellenic period and most of what I know about Alexander the Great is from the film. Hence what lies within will reflect this, I would imagine, so my apologies.
In response to Hephaistion the Writer’s Challenge: someone tells a story about Alexander to a group of people.
By the fifth night, Alexander was insatiably curious and increasingly annoyed.
They had made it to Babylon and Darius was on the run. This was meant to be their well-earned respite from making war for a season before they resumed their hunt of that Persian coward. And where was Hephaistion? Vanished once more from the royal quarters, leaving Alexander all alone in his rooms and wondering what so important as to interrupt their precious time together.
Soon he would have to take a wife, soon they would be out in the field again, and before that time came, Alexander had hoped to be able to worship his long-suffering Hephaistion in the manner he deserved.
Which would be so much easier if the man could actually be found.
One night every week, he would disappear for hours, leaving the Great King to sleep alone and try to ignore the insistent attentions of his eunuch slaves. He had not confronted Hephaistion about it - he was a free spirit, he was not bound to Alexander’s will. If he wished to spend some time apart from him, Alexander was gracious enough to allow it.
Of course, there was always that tiny, nagging doubt that perhaps Hephaistion had found another. That loving a king had proved too great a strain and this was his way of breaking free.
It was this faint qualm that finally forced Alexander into action. Hephaistion was free to do as he pleased - as long as Alexander knew what it was. And, perhaps more importantly, with whom.
With a stab of guilt, Alexander resolved to follow him. Bagoas, with a hint of reluctance, informed him that Hephaistion had been seen heading for the slave quarters. That had stung - what business could Hephaistion have there? All thoughts of an innocent explanation rushed from his head and he donned his cloak, moving through the shadows of his own palace to the hidden back rooms that housed the workforce.
Alexander entered the clean, well-swept rooms that spoke of pride taken even in a master’s house and he hastily silenced those he passed - they were all in awe, nodding vigorously at his order and throwing themselves to the floor. He ignored the rather embarrassing, though flattering, show of loyalty and headed for the large room at the very back, where the women spun and the slaves conversed together.
It was oddly quiet as he approached, only one voice speaking, a gentle tone that held the cadence of storytelling. He remembered well the wandering poets that had visited Macedonia when he was a child, retelling Homer’s great stories of Achilles and Patroclus and other great heroes of old. Why would the grand state of Persia lack such a tradition? It’s presence made sense to him.
Thoughts of Hephaistion’s infidelity temporarily forgotten, Alexander drifted closer to the room, spell-bound by the rhythm of that voice. It took him a few moments to realise that the words weaving that magic were Greek, and another moment to recognise the voice as belonging to his beloved.
Lurking in the doorway, he listened, chancing a glance at the room. Hephaistion was sat cross-legged on a cushion, leaning forward as he told his tale. Around him were a crowd of young children, entranced by his words and further back the adults also listened, intrigued by the softly-spoken words.
“The oracle had made a prophecy that for the one who could untie the knot that bound Gorius’ oxcart to the Temple of Zeus the empire of all the world was reserved. The Great Alexander gathered his armies at Phrygian Gordium, where the cart rested, still bound by the intricately twisted knot. While I and the Companions gathered round, studying this relic in Midas’ city, Alexander strode up and drew his sword.”
Hephaistion stood then, his shadow leaping into a huge monster against the wall. He brandished a sword of his imagining, a look of intense concentration on his face.
“He stared me straight in the eye and said, ‘No rope of man shall keep my kingdom from me.’” Hephaistion lowered his fist, staring off into the middle distance, before suddenly raising it and swiping a blow at the offending air.
“And thus the rope was cleaved, the knot unravelling before our eyes. In awe, only I dared approach the man who’d just inherited all the earth. He met my eyes and lowered his sword.” His arm fell to his side and he crouched back down to the cushion.
“He said to me then this: ‘Hephaistion, my dear friend - now we are ready to claim the world.’”
A gentle smile broke the spell and Hephaistion rose to his feet, taking a step away from the crowd. “That is all for tonight, young ones. We will return to the great conquest of Persia next time. I bid you good night.”
As Hephaistion turned to leave, a few elders approached him, offering him wine and asking polite questions in stuttering Greek. Alexander watched their interactions carefully: Hephaistion attempting answer in both Greek and an attempt at their native tongue brought smiles from the slaves and it was a clear the young Macedonian was favoured by this crowd of lowly Persians.
Eventually, he managed to extricate himself and moved towards the door. Alexander pressed himself into the shadows, allowing Hephaistion to draw level with him before snaking out an arm and grabbing his wrist.
Hephaistion whirled on him but his expression quickly shifted from surprise to muted horror. He bowed his head immediately, a colour rising to his cheeks as Alexander beheld him.
“My quarters. We should speak.”
Alexander set off back to his rooms, confidant that Hephaistion would follow despite whatever misgivings he might hold. Once he was safely within his chamber, he dismissed his attendants and turned to face Hephaistion, who was carefully bolting the door behind them.
“Do not be angry, Alexander. They only wished to hear of your great deeds.”
He stood with his back to Hephaistion, staring out of the wide window and trying to hide his smile. So beautiful, in that cast of half-light, telling stories for children of their great battles and their hardships, their victories and their glory.
“If I have displeased you, I can…retire to the camp. You should not keep a Companion who keeps himself from you.”
Alexander turned then, unwilling to let his game drive Hephaistion from his presence. Instead he moved forward, with the graceful power of a tiger, and claimed his lover’s face with his hand.
“You are magnificent. One day we will sit in these rooms and you shall tell our sons those stories with such light in your eyes - and you will make them warriors.” Alexander leaned close, lips barely an inch away from Hephaistion’s. “Tell me our tale, philalexandros.”
Hephaistion smiled then and closed the distance between them, a chaste kiss before pulling back and meeting Alexander’s eyes with a smile.
“Now that, Alexander, is a story best told without words.” His hand trailed down Alexander’s torso, eyes following with searing heat.
Alexander, he who cleaved the Gordian knot and inherited all the earth, grew weak at the knees.
“You know best, my Hephaistion.”
Response to hephaestion's storytelling challenge.
TITLE: Tales of the God
AUTHOR: Demon Faith
BASIS: ‘Alexander’ (Directed by Oliver Stone)
PAIRING: Alexander/Hephaistion
TIMEFRAME: During Alexander’s stay in Babylon (I am totally useless at this! That’ll teach me to jump into a period I don’t know…)
RATING: PG
WARNINGS: Fluffiness
SUMMARY: Alexander is suspicious - where does Hephaistion keep disappearing to? One night, he resolves to follow him…
DISCLAIMER: No disrespect intended to Oliver Stone, Jared Leto or Colin Farrell. And I’m sure the Great Man himself would be mostly bemused at all the fuss - ‘He’s simply philalexandros.’
NOTES: So, I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. This is no surprise to me - I don’t study the Hellenic period and most of what I know about Alexander the Great is from the film. Hence what lies within will reflect this, I would imagine, so my apologies.
In response to Hephaistion the Writer’s Challenge: someone tells a story about Alexander to a group of people.
By the fifth night, Alexander was insatiably curious and increasingly annoyed.
They had made it to Babylon and Darius was on the run. This was meant to be their well-earned respite from making war for a season before they resumed their hunt of that Persian coward. And where was Hephaistion? Vanished once more from the royal quarters, leaving Alexander all alone in his rooms and wondering what so important as to interrupt their precious time together.
Soon he would have to take a wife, soon they would be out in the field again, and before that time came, Alexander had hoped to be able to worship his long-suffering Hephaistion in the manner he deserved.
Which would be so much easier if the man could actually be found.
One night every week, he would disappear for hours, leaving the Great King to sleep alone and try to ignore the insistent attentions of his eunuch slaves. He had not confronted Hephaistion about it - he was a free spirit, he was not bound to Alexander’s will. If he wished to spend some time apart from him, Alexander was gracious enough to allow it.
Of course, there was always that tiny, nagging doubt that perhaps Hephaistion had found another. That loving a king had proved too great a strain and this was his way of breaking free.
It was this faint qualm that finally forced Alexander into action. Hephaistion was free to do as he pleased - as long as Alexander knew what it was. And, perhaps more importantly, with whom.
With a stab of guilt, Alexander resolved to follow him. Bagoas, with a hint of reluctance, informed him that Hephaistion had been seen heading for the slave quarters. That had stung - what business could Hephaistion have there? All thoughts of an innocent explanation rushed from his head and he donned his cloak, moving through the shadows of his own palace to the hidden back rooms that housed the workforce.
Alexander entered the clean, well-swept rooms that spoke of pride taken even in a master’s house and he hastily silenced those he passed - they were all in awe, nodding vigorously at his order and throwing themselves to the floor. He ignored the rather embarrassing, though flattering, show of loyalty and headed for the large room at the very back, where the women spun and the slaves conversed together.
It was oddly quiet as he approached, only one voice speaking, a gentle tone that held the cadence of storytelling. He remembered well the wandering poets that had visited Macedonia when he was a child, retelling Homer’s great stories of Achilles and Patroclus and other great heroes of old. Why would the grand state of Persia lack such a tradition? It’s presence made sense to him.
Thoughts of Hephaistion’s infidelity temporarily forgotten, Alexander drifted closer to the room, spell-bound by the rhythm of that voice. It took him a few moments to realise that the words weaving that magic were Greek, and another moment to recognise the voice as belonging to his beloved.
Lurking in the doorway, he listened, chancing a glance at the room. Hephaistion was sat cross-legged on a cushion, leaning forward as he told his tale. Around him were a crowd of young children, entranced by his words and further back the adults also listened, intrigued by the softly-spoken words.
“The oracle had made a prophecy that for the one who could untie the knot that bound Gorius’ oxcart to the Temple of Zeus the empire of all the world was reserved. The Great Alexander gathered his armies at Phrygian Gordium, where the cart rested, still bound by the intricately twisted knot. While I and the Companions gathered round, studying this relic in Midas’ city, Alexander strode up and drew his sword.”
Hephaistion stood then, his shadow leaping into a huge monster against the wall. He brandished a sword of his imagining, a look of intense concentration on his face.
“He stared me straight in the eye and said, ‘No rope of man shall keep my kingdom from me.’” Hephaistion lowered his fist, staring off into the middle distance, before suddenly raising it and swiping a blow at the offending air.
“And thus the rope was cleaved, the knot unravelling before our eyes. In awe, only I dared approach the man who’d just inherited all the earth. He met my eyes and lowered his sword.” His arm fell to his side and he crouched back down to the cushion.
“He said to me then this: ‘Hephaistion, my dear friend - now we are ready to claim the world.’”
A gentle smile broke the spell and Hephaistion rose to his feet, taking a step away from the crowd. “That is all for tonight, young ones. We will return to the great conquest of Persia next time. I bid you good night.”
As Hephaistion turned to leave, a few elders approached him, offering him wine and asking polite questions in stuttering Greek. Alexander watched their interactions carefully: Hephaistion attempting answer in both Greek and an attempt at their native tongue brought smiles from the slaves and it was a clear the young Macedonian was favoured by this crowd of lowly Persians.
Eventually, he managed to extricate himself and moved towards the door. Alexander pressed himself into the shadows, allowing Hephaistion to draw level with him before snaking out an arm and grabbing his wrist.
Hephaistion whirled on him but his expression quickly shifted from surprise to muted horror. He bowed his head immediately, a colour rising to his cheeks as Alexander beheld him.
“My quarters. We should speak.”
Alexander set off back to his rooms, confidant that Hephaistion would follow despite whatever misgivings he might hold. Once he was safely within his chamber, he dismissed his attendants and turned to face Hephaistion, who was carefully bolting the door behind them.
“Do not be angry, Alexander. They only wished to hear of your great deeds.”
He stood with his back to Hephaistion, staring out of the wide window and trying to hide his smile. So beautiful, in that cast of half-light, telling stories for children of their great battles and their hardships, their victories and their glory.
“If I have displeased you, I can…retire to the camp. You should not keep a Companion who keeps himself from you.”
Alexander turned then, unwilling to let his game drive Hephaistion from his presence. Instead he moved forward, with the graceful power of a tiger, and claimed his lover’s face with his hand.
“You are magnificent. One day we will sit in these rooms and you shall tell our sons those stories with such light in your eyes - and you will make them warriors.” Alexander leaned close, lips barely an inch away from Hephaistion’s. “Tell me our tale, philalexandros.”
Hephaistion smiled then and closed the distance between them, a chaste kiss before pulling back and meeting Alexander’s eyes with a smile.
“Now that, Alexander, is a story best told without words.” His hand trailed down Alexander’s torso, eyes following with searing heat.
Alexander, he who cleaved the Gordian knot and inherited all the earth, grew weak at the knees.
“You know best, my Hephaistion.”