Ficlet: Alexander/Hephaistion
Feb. 5th, 2008 08:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
arysteiaIn honour of Day 4 of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
14valentines. Today's subject is reproductive rights. There's an essay on the subject here. This ficlet correlates only insofar as the boys are kids in it.
It was originally conceived as one chapter of a series grandiloquently titled "Five things that doubtless never happened in Macedon (or Asia for that matter) but fangirls might enjoy anyway", the idea being that each was inspired by a different Alexander book or movie. I only ever wrote three of them, and the other two seem silly now in the cold light of day. I still like this one though. From a foolish line, in a foolish movie, that somehow touched me all the same.
"You used to dress me up like a little sheik..."
The heavy silk gives under the blade with a sharp, tearing sound, startlingly loud in the dusty silence.
"Are you sure she won't miss it?" Hephaistion asks desperately, unsure why he's whispering when they're as far from the royal quarters as it's possible to be without breaking their word and leaving the palace. He's only met the Queen once, the first time he came to Court –
"A fine child, Audata, your husband must be proud."
– but he's heard enough about her temper to be afraid. Not for himself –
"I don't want him to go, Amyntor."
"He'll be fine. Think of the prince, shut up alone there with her. Anyone can see he's lonely."
– but for his friend.
Alexander, though, is fearless.
"She never wears them twice," he says confidently. "You should see how many there are. There's barely room in the nursery for Kleopatra."
Hephaistion smiles at that, the thought of Alexander's chubby, freckled sister surrounded by her beautiful mother's cast off clothes. He'd felt sorry for her at first, so plainly unloved even in this house where love is a strange and fevered weapon, but then she'd poked her tongue out at him, and crowed that she was a year younger than Alexander, and an inch taller.
"Noone will want to marry a beanpole!"
"Noone will want a midget for a king!"
"I'll send you to the Thracians to be their queen!"
"You'll never get a queen! You'll have to marry Hephaistion. He's pretty enough. Pretty as a girl."
"He's prettier than you, that's certain!"
And Hephaistion had felt obscurely betrayed, though he couldn't quite tell why, and stormed out of the room where they were playing and back to his father's temporary quarters, the sound of slaps and Alexander's miserable voice following after.
"Well anyway," he says resolutely – he's ten now, not eight, and things are tense enough with the King expected back any day – "What's done is done. There's no turning back."
"I'll never turn back," Alexander states cheerfully. "Ever. Come here."
His hands are hard on Hephaistion's shoulders and ribs, pulling and poking, arranging him as he sees fit.
"You'll have to take this off, it won't sit right otherwise," he says, tugging at the pins in Hephaistion's chiton without waiting for permission.
The silk of Olympias' ravaged peplos feels strange against his bare skin, slippery smooth and cool. The thought of wearing women's clothes is stranger still, but by the time Alexander's done twisting and tucking and forcing through brooches that look suspiciously like the ones the Queen was wearing at dinner last night... Hephaistion glares into the mirror Alexander holds up for him, and while he's not convinced he looks like a Persian, he maybe likes it anyway.
"I chose the green one to match your eyes," Alexander says. "You look beautiful."
Beautiful's different than pretty, and two years is long enough to know it, so Hephaistion just smiles. Besides, it makes him feel good, warm and a little breathless, like he's spent too long in the sun, or stolen a sip from his father's wine cup instead of his own thrice-watered mug. Alexander's fingers on his jaw make him shiver despite the heat.
"Hold still," Alexander snaps, tipping his head back and deftly affixing a pilfered emerald earring. It smarts when it snaps shut, but not as much as Lanike's switch will when the Queen finds her ravaged jewel casket.
"Perfect." Alexander's beaming smile is worth the indignity of being dressed up like a doll, and possibly even worth...
"I'm not a girl, am I?" Hephaistion demands suspiciously, suddenly remembering the last time they invaded Persia, and Ptolemy made Leonnatos play a harem girl.
"Of course not," Alexander snorts. "Why on earth would I want that?" He hands Hephaistion the jewelled scimitar he was given as a present by the Persian envoys. "You're the prince of Susa, and after I defeat you in battle I'm going to make you my ally."
Hephaistion laughs out loud. Ptolemy might have discovered girls for real, and decided he was too old for childish games, but Alexander will never change. "Who says I won't defeat you, and make you my ally?"
Alexander goggles, as though the thought had never occurred to him.
"Oh, all right," Hephaistion takes pity. "And then we'll pacify the Sogdians." Poor Leonnatos. The sheepskins itch like mad.
"Yes!" Alexander seizes his hand and drags him out into the garden. There are rumours of a new school teacher on the wind, and, whispered more cautiously, tales of a new lover in the King's bed, but on a hot summer's day, in the calm before the storm, ten's not so very old after all.
14valentines. Today's subject is reproductive rights. There's an essay on the subject here. This ficlet correlates only insofar as the boys are kids in it.It was originally conceived as one chapter of a series grandiloquently titled "Five things that doubtless never happened in Macedon (or Asia for that matter) but fangirls might enjoy anyway", the idea being that each was inspired by a different Alexander book or movie. I only ever wrote three of them, and the other two seem silly now in the cold light of day. I still like this one though. From a foolish line, in a foolish movie, that somehow touched me all the same.
"You used to dress me up like a little sheik..."
The heavy silk gives under the blade with a sharp, tearing sound, startlingly loud in the dusty silence.
"Are you sure she won't miss it?" Hephaistion asks desperately, unsure why he's whispering when they're as far from the royal quarters as it's possible to be without breaking their word and leaving the palace. He's only met the Queen once, the first time he came to Court –
"A fine child, Audata, your husband must be proud."
– but he's heard enough about her temper to be afraid. Not for himself –
"I don't want him to go, Amyntor."
"He'll be fine. Think of the prince, shut up alone there with her. Anyone can see he's lonely."
– but for his friend.
Alexander, though, is fearless.
"She never wears them twice," he says confidently. "You should see how many there are. There's barely room in the nursery for Kleopatra."
Hephaistion smiles at that, the thought of Alexander's chubby, freckled sister surrounded by her beautiful mother's cast off clothes. He'd felt sorry for her at first, so plainly unloved even in this house where love is a strange and fevered weapon, but then she'd poked her tongue out at him, and crowed that she was a year younger than Alexander, and an inch taller.
"Noone will want to marry a beanpole!"
"Noone will want a midget for a king!"
"I'll send you to the Thracians to be their queen!"
"You'll never get a queen! You'll have to marry Hephaistion. He's pretty enough. Pretty as a girl."
"He's prettier than you, that's certain!"
And Hephaistion had felt obscurely betrayed, though he couldn't quite tell why, and stormed out of the room where they were playing and back to his father's temporary quarters, the sound of slaps and Alexander's miserable voice following after.
"Well anyway," he says resolutely – he's ten now, not eight, and things are tense enough with the King expected back any day – "What's done is done. There's no turning back."
"I'll never turn back," Alexander states cheerfully. "Ever. Come here."
His hands are hard on Hephaistion's shoulders and ribs, pulling and poking, arranging him as he sees fit.
"You'll have to take this off, it won't sit right otherwise," he says, tugging at the pins in Hephaistion's chiton without waiting for permission.
The silk of Olympias' ravaged peplos feels strange against his bare skin, slippery smooth and cool. The thought of wearing women's clothes is stranger still, but by the time Alexander's done twisting and tucking and forcing through brooches that look suspiciously like the ones the Queen was wearing at dinner last night... Hephaistion glares into the mirror Alexander holds up for him, and while he's not convinced he looks like a Persian, he maybe likes it anyway.
"I chose the green one to match your eyes," Alexander says. "You look beautiful."
Beautiful's different than pretty, and two years is long enough to know it, so Hephaistion just smiles. Besides, it makes him feel good, warm and a little breathless, like he's spent too long in the sun, or stolen a sip from his father's wine cup instead of his own thrice-watered mug. Alexander's fingers on his jaw make him shiver despite the heat.
"Hold still," Alexander snaps, tipping his head back and deftly affixing a pilfered emerald earring. It smarts when it snaps shut, but not as much as Lanike's switch will when the Queen finds her ravaged jewel casket.
"Perfect." Alexander's beaming smile is worth the indignity of being dressed up like a doll, and possibly even worth...
"I'm not a girl, am I?" Hephaistion demands suspiciously, suddenly remembering the last time they invaded Persia, and Ptolemy made Leonnatos play a harem girl.
"Of course not," Alexander snorts. "Why on earth would I want that?" He hands Hephaistion the jewelled scimitar he was given as a present by the Persian envoys. "You're the prince of Susa, and after I defeat you in battle I'm going to make you my ally."
Hephaistion laughs out loud. Ptolemy might have discovered girls for real, and decided he was too old for childish games, but Alexander will never change. "Who says I won't defeat you, and make you my ally?"
Alexander goggles, as though the thought had never occurred to him.
"Oh, all right," Hephaistion takes pity. "And then we'll pacify the Sogdians." Poor Leonnatos. The sheepskins itch like mad.
"Yes!" Alexander seizes his hand and drags him out into the garden. There are rumours of a new school teacher on the wind, and, whispered more cautiously, tales of a new lover in the King's bed, but on a hot summer's day, in the calm before the storm, ten's not so very old after all.
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no subject
Date: 2008-02-07 03:43 am (UTC)Yes. Girls' clothes. Hmmm. Not a kink I had until recently...
no subject
Date: 2008-02-06 03:12 pm (UTC)\o/
Awesome stuff!
no subject
Date: 2008-02-07 03:45 am (UTC)Glad you liked it, hon.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-07 03:05 am (UTC)and eye makeup."*dies laughing*
I enjoyed it all, and especially Alexander goggling and Hephaistion saying, "Oh, all right." So very in character.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-07 03:29 am (UTC)Why yes. This is exactly how I teach them to generations of schoolboys.
What's that you say about the English boarding school tradition?
no subject
Date: 2008-02-07 10:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-09 05:21 am (UTC)