Sorry, this gets a bit soppy. And very graphic.

Alexander and Hephaestion were sitting silently in the darkness of Philip's camp. For six weeks they had toiled with the army through the Thracian mountains in the summer heat, imposing Philip's rule and crushing all opposition. Now the evenings were beginning to cool and soon they would be heading back to Mieza and Aristotle. Aristotle would educate their minds in the theory of excellence over the winter, as Philip had educated their bodies in the art of excelling at war through the summer.

Both boys were exhausted, their backs resting against a wagon wheel, the discarded bowls and platters from their supper on the ground around them, the small fire at their feet lighting their tired faces in the darkness.

"Are you not hungry?" Alexander asked, casting a glance at Hephaestion's half-finished platter. Alexander was sitting with his arms clasped loosely around his updrawn knees.

Hephaestion rolled his head against the spokes of the wheel. His legs were spread out tiredly on the ground.

"No," he breathed. He was watching Alexander intently despite the exhaustion of his body.

"Is your stomach still upset?" Alexander asked, leaning forward to clasp his knees tighter. He craned his head over his shoulder to meet Hephaestion's eyes.

"A little," Hephaestion said.

Someone had given Hephaestion a cup of neat wine earlier. He had promptly thrown up in front of everyone. It had occasioned much laughter and ridicule, mostly directed at the giver, who should have known that neat wine would be far too strong for a nervous and over-wrought boy on the day that he had first bloodied his hands in war.

Hephaestion watched Alexander, who looked back at him with deep, dark eyes. Hephaestion had not told Alexander that he also lost his breakfast through nervousness before they had even started this day of blood.

Alexander looked away and picked up a piece of beef from Hephaestion's platter. He had heeded old soldiers' warnings and not eaten breakfast before the fight today. Yet he was not as hungry now as he thought he would be. He had thought he would be ravenous. He began shredding the beef in his fingers.

"Do you think he has anyone to mourn him?" Alexander asked, watching his fingers move without thought. His mind was clenched in on itself.

"Yes," Hephaestion said intently, still watching Alexander.

"Who? His mother? A lover? His wife?" Sensing the rising hysteria in his own voice, Alexander shut his teeth on the words.

"You," Hephaestion said.

"I do not mourn him. He was my enemy. My death, if I had not been his," Alexander said. He threw away the shredded beef in disgust.

"If you had not killed him, I would be mourning you," Hephaestion said. He was too exhausted to convince Alexander with passion.

Alexander's throat tightened. He needed the distance Hephaestion was giving him. He dropped his head.

"The man was careless, and thought I was no threat. He stumbled, or I would not have had the reach to take him," Alexander said to the ground.

He had killed a man. His first kill. Gone was the euphoria of the daylight when he had been cheered and congratulated. Now the shades of night walked and there were unseen eyes in the darkness.

Alexander threw back his head with a loud breath as if to dispel the creeping fingers of death.

"I could not find him again among the dead," he said to the bright stars in the night sky, his voice ragged with bitterness.

"I did," Hephaestion said softly.

Alexander looked round at Hephaestion, his eyes wide with wonder.

"I closed his eyes," Hephaestion said quietly. His voice was calm and level but his eyes were wide with fright and fear.

"Why?" Alexander breathed.

"For you. Because you could not," Hephaestion said. "You were with your father."

Alexander looked at Hephaestion, tears glittering in his dark eyes.

"I laid a coin on his tongue before the dead-collectors came with their wagons," Hephaestion said. "His shade will not walk."

A sob shook Alexander suddenly. "You would," he said, but his voice broke. "You would have taken him," he said, getting his voice under control with difficulty. "If he had taken me down. Next time you will make a kill."

"Yes," Hephaestion said, exhaustion dragging at his voice.

Alexander stared unblinkingly at his friend as the bright tears slowly spilled from his eyes and ran down his cheeks in the firelight. His throat was too full for words, his heart too full for thoughts.

Fear flickered for a moment in Hephaestion's eyes as he raised a hand to wipe Alexander's cheek. His fingers were cold against Alexander's warm skin. His eyes warmed as he smiled at Alexander. "Achilles' tears," he whispered.

Alexander closed his eyes and his chest rose with a deeper, easier breath, loosening the tightness around his heart as he let Hephaestion wipe his other cheek. He felt Hephaestion's cool lips press against his and for a moment he leant into the pressure.

"Alexander," Philip's voice said out of the blackness of the night on the other side of the fire.

Alexander's head jerked back from Hephaestion, but he controlled the rest of his body, not to move suddenly and betray him. Hephaestion slowly moved away and sat in his former position against the wheel in Alexander's shadow.

Philip stood on the other side of the fire, his hands on his hips, his eye moving from one boy to the other. Men stood on the edge of the firelight, watching, attendant upon the King. Philip turned and waved them off. Most of them melted into the darkness, but the King's bodyguard were still out there.

Philip moved around the fire, his bulk shutting out a lot of the light from the fire. Even though he was not a big man, his presence was strong as he squatted beside Alexander, bringing with him the musky scent of sweat and the faint tang of blood, metal and leather. His breath smelt of meat and wine.

"You did well today, Alexander," he said, his voice low. "I was proud of my son." He laid his hand on Alexander's knee, willing him to be his friend.

Alexander watched his father, his eyes huge, feeling the communion with his father in this man's world but unable to express it in thought or word to him.

Philip smiled at his exhausted son, knowing Alexander was in a place he had long since forgotten about. He smiled, his own buried memories beginning to stir. He touched Alexander's cheek, his hair, in pride.

"Get to bed," he said, his voice warm. "There'll be no drinking or celebrating tonight. We have to clear that town over the ridge yet. Get some sleep. Both of you. You look shattered, Hephaestion," he said, smiling at the other boy, thinking he was far too young for this. "Your father would have been proud of you."

Hephaestion regarded him with big bright eyes, knowing that Philip could scarcely remember his father's name at this moment. He smiled a polite smile.

"I want you and the other boys to head back in the next few days, Alexander," Philip said, standing up. His legs were beginning to cramp from squatting.

Alexander raised his head, looking up at his father, his chin stiffening in defiance.

"No arguing, Alexander," Philip said, raising a finger in warning. "I am not paying Aristotle a king's ransom to preach to empty air. Go learn everything you can from that man. Pick his brains. And then maybe you can teach me something. Teach me how the Greeks think. Teach me how I can beat Persia. Make me King of Asia, boy, with you by my side."

Philip watched the eagerness grow in Alexander's face like a hound on the scent. That was the way with Alexander: set him a challenge and he would not back down.

"You would have been going back anyway once the first frosts came," Philip said. "You've only lost a couple of weeks. But," he said, squatting down again. He began drawing a map in the dust. "I'm going to split the army into three columns. We're going to advance here to the north, here over this river and through this pass here. I'm sending half the heavy cavalry back with you and the rest I'll use as skirmishers. I need speed and mobility: I'm going to chase these Thracians eastwards out of their mountains into the sea and give them nowhere to hide."

Alexander looked up from his father's map to his face, his eyes bright. "You are not coming home for the winter?"

Philip grinned at his son. "Not at the moment. We'll see how bad the weather gets. But I want these Thracians to know that I will not give up until they submit to me."

Alexander matched his father's wide grin and Philip caught his hand around the back of Alexander's head, pulled him to him and kissed his forehead. He ruffled Alexander's hair. "Get some sleep," he said. "You too, Hephaestion." He levered himself to his feet with a hand on his knee. "Sleep well, both of you."

As Philip moved off into the shadows beyond the firelight, Alexander turned to grin at Hephaestion. Hephaestion returned his smile, but he was not quick enough to hide the loneliness in his blue eyes.

Alexander's smile faded as he dropped his hand to cover Hephaestion's where it lay on the cold dust of the ground. Alexander pressed his hand gently. "Let's get to bed," he said.

Hephaestion's eyes changed, a certain stubbornness coming into them.

"What about the Thracian plain to the north of the mountains? Once they see that Philip's intent on taking the whole mountain range, they've got to know they're next. Won't they come up into the mountains after him?"

"The tribes don't cooperate with each other," Alexander said. "They won't fight for another's land when their own might yet be threatened."

"They're stupid then," Hephaestion said dismissively.

Alexander smiled. "Yes," he said, pulling on Hephaestion's hand and drawing him to his feet with him. "They cannot see beyond their own noses. They do not have a leader like Philip."

"No," Hephaestion said, his face serious as they stood before each other. "They don't have an Alexander either."

Alexander blinked. After a moment, he said, "Hephaestion, I have to prove to everyone that I am worthy to be Philip's son, Philip's heir. I have to be better than everyone to make them remember who I am. I have to win the army's respect so that they will follow my command. I have to win their admiration so that they will award me the throne after my father's death."

Hephaestion regarded Alexander silently. "Yes," he said.

"Hephaestion, you too will be a great man. Even if you have to wait until next year to kill a man, you too will be an Alexander."

Hephaestion smiled and opened his mouth a little tearfully to say something.

"Hephaestion," Alexander interrupted him, watching his face anxiously. "A great warrior is not a solitary man. He fights for his peers, to win their esteem, and the greater his peers, the harder he will fight to outdo them and the greater will be his renown. He will be a hero among heroes, a king among kings. You will be first among the heroes when I lead Philip's army, Agamemnon's army, into Asia."

Hephaestion smiled, his eyes filling with tears, unable to speak.

Alexander placed a childlike kiss on Hephaestion's cheek, still holding his friend's hand "I have faith in you," he said.

They walked slowly over to Alexander's tent, lit within by an oil lamp at the bedside and a small brazier of burning logs. At the entrance, Hephaestion stopped, about to go to his own tent, but Alexander tugged gently at his hand.

"Stay. Please," he asked, uncertain entreaty in his voice.

Hephaestion bowed his head and submitted, allowing himself to be drawn into the prince's warm tent.

Alexander dropped Hephaestion's hand and moved to the sideboard where he poured them each a small cup of well-watered wine, the lamplight reflecting on the reddened water. He brought the cups and handed one to Hephaestion.

Alexander stood before Hephaestion and, holding onto his eyes, raised the cup to his own mouth and drained it in one go. Still holding Hephaestion's eyes, he tipped the cup and poured the last few drops onto the bare earth between them. "To Ares, the god of war," he said.

Hephaestion took a large mouthful from his cup, struggled for a moment to swallow it, then poured a trickle onto the ground. "And the lover of Aphrodite," he said.

Alexander moved to replace his cup on the sideboard. He acted as though Hephaestion was not there as he poured water from the large silver jug into the washbasin. But the set of his neck and shoulders told both of them that he knew Hephaestion was watching him as he stripped off his clothes.

He stood with his bare back to Hephaestion and submerged his hands in the cool water. He squeezed the water from the washcloth and slowly wiped his face, then his arms. Again he wet the cloth, but as he squeezed it, Hephaestion's hand reached to gently take it from him.

Slowly, with wide questioning eyes, Alexander turned to face Hephaestion. Hephaestion stood before him, naked, pink-cheeked with embarrassment as he met Alexander's eyes. He smiled nervously but caught his lower lip between his teeth as he reached carefully to wipe Alexander's chest with the wet cloth.

Slowly he worked lower, wiping Alexander's ribs, stomach and hips with regular downward strokes as though he were grooming a horse. He bent down and, without hesitation, wiped the warmed cloth around Alexander's erect penis.

Alexander drew his hips back from the fiction with a deep shuddering breath. Hephaestion looked up at him in alarm, thinking he had done it wrong, his moist lips parted. Alexander stared back down at him: he had almost lost it at that touch before they had even started.

Hephaestion stood up. He wet the cloth again and wrung it out. Alexander almost snatched it from him and stood facing Hephaestion, breathing quickly, animal instinct wild in his brown eyes for an instant. He mastered it, concentrating on wiping Hephaestion's face with the utmost gentleness. He moved the cloth to Hephaestion's shoulder, across his chest to the other shoulder, then down to his ribs and stomach.

Alexander raised his hot eyes from Hephaestion's erect penis, not daring to touch it. He met Hephaestion's eyes beseechingly. He could not wait any longer or he would burst from the ache in his loins.

Hephaestion's eyes were bright and firey with desire. Alexander dropped the cloth and tentatively laid his hand in the middle of Hephaestion's back, moving him in the direction of the bed. Hephaestion came with him willingly, and they quickly slipped beneath the covers of Alexander's narrow bed.

"We need something," Hephaestion whispered as they lay facing each other.

Alexander reached out an arm for his body oil.

"Can I go first?" he whispered.

Hephaestion nodded wordlessly and turned over, his back to Alexander as he lay on his side.

Alexander was trembling as he tipped a little oil into his hand. He moved back down into the bed where he could feel the warmth of Hephaestion's body. Quickly, he ran his oiled hand up his penis, not daring to linger over the tingly touch.

He hesitated, not sure if Hephaestion would like being touched intimately. But he was burning with desire and quickly he pressed his oiled hand between Hephaestion's buttocks, smoothing the oil there.

Hephaestion made a small sound of impatience mingled with pleasure, pushing Alexander's doubts out of his mind. Alexander moved closer against Hephaestion and pressed his erection against him.

"It won't go," he whispered against the back of Hephaestion's head.

"Push," Hephaestion said in a fierce whisper.

Alexander did, then stopped, holding his breath open-mouthed at the tight, hot sensation of Hephaestion's body around the head of his penis.

He couldn't breathe, afraid he would explode in violent thrusts and hurt Hephaestion.

He told himself to breathe: he had started this and he could finish it.

Hephaestion made a sound like a muffled moan and Alexander felt the muscles inside Hephaestion's body ripple, tighten and then loosen against his penis.

Alexander's breath came out in a quivering groan. Slowly he pushed further into Hephaestion. He felt a deep tremor run through Hephaestion's body.

Suddenly Hephaestion moved, his buttocks clenched as his hips thrust forward. There was a contracting wave of tightness through his lower muscles and a small pained moan escaped him as he ejaculated.

Alexander, overwhelmed by the spasm shuddering through Hephaestion's body and vibrating throughout his own, thrust his hips and came into Hephaestion's body, burning heat spreading throughout his whole body from his groin.

Panting, sweating and his heart beating fit to burst, Alexander held himself still, not sure if he was about to die. He wasn't at all sure this had gone right. He laid a tentative hand on Hephaestion's trembling shoulder.

As he did so, a sob shook Hephaestion's whole body.

Appalled, Alexander raised himself up on his elbow to peer at Hephaestion's face buried against the pillow. Hephaestion was sobbing his heart out.

"Did, did I hurt you?" Alexander whispered in a frightened voice.

Hephaestion shook his head vehemently and pressed his face further into the pillow, raising his hand to cover what was still visible of his face.

All Alexander could do was rub his arm comfortingly.

Slowly Hephaestion's sobs eased, and Alexander said quietly, "I'm sorry. We shouldn't have done it."

"No, I wanted to," Hephaestion said as he rolled onto his back. They shifted to make room for each other in the narrow bed. They regarded one another uncertainly.

"I don't know why I'm crying," Hephaestion said, wiping at his reddened cheeks. A sob which turned into a hiccup shook his chest.

"It was too much," Alexander said, still raised on his elbow and watching Hephaestion anxiously. "We're both too tired."

"I couldn't," Hephaestion said. "I couldn't even hold on to give you pleasure."

"That doesn't matter. You can have your turn later."

"Do you think," Hephaestion said suddenly, his voice wavering, "that that man had a lover who's sleeping in a cold bed tonight?"

Alexander's heart and mind stopped. He didn't want to remember.

"Don't," he said thickly. "I don't want to think about it."

"He had a necklace," Hephaestion said, raising his eyes to Alexander's. "I didn't know whether to take it for you to remember him by. But I didn't want to rob the dead." His eyes dimmed with tears.

Alexander stared at Hephaestion wordlessly. He could not speak through the suffocating tightness in his chest and throat. His head hurt with the pressure not to let his thoughts loose.

"I won't ever forget him," he said, his voice strained.

Alexander laid his head on Hephaestion's chest, his eyes staring at nothing. Strength was in silence.

He could not tell Hephaestion that the necklace and the coin he had placed on the dead man's tongue would have been stolen from the man as soon as his back was turned. Yet maybe it was the thought that counted and the ferryman of the dead would count the toll as paid. Hot tears scalded his eyes.

Hephaestion touched Alexander's hair, pulling strands of it soothingly through his fingers. For a long moment neither of them said anything.

"Do you think that fighting is better than sex?" Hephaestion asked. "Today a group of soldiers were getting really excited and said that sticking a sword or a spear into someone and seeing the fear in his eyes and the blood flow was better than sex."

"They were just working themselves up for the fight," Alexander said, his voice muffled.

"I hear men say all the time that things are better than sex. Once it was a groom on an unbroken colt, and I heard two wrestlers say it to each other. Do you think that maybe they've done it so many times they don't like it anymore? Or do you think they're just real old? Like twenty five maybe, or even thirty?"

"I don't think I can live till I'm thirty," Alexander said, his voice tight. "Not if it feels like this all the time. It hurts too much."

Hephaestion wrapped his arms tightly around Alexander's head and shoulders. Alexander squeezed his eyes shut at the warm strength in Hephaestion's arms.

"We'll help each other," Hephaestion said quietly.

He began stroking Alexander's hair, comfortingly. Gradually his touch became exploratory, his fingers threading their way through Alexander's hair. He brushed the hair back from Alexander's cheek and ear. He craned his head forward and whispered, "Can I do you?"

Alexander raised his head and looked at Hephaestion. Given the flush on Hephaestion's cheeks and his still tear-bright eyes, he wasn't sure it was a good idea. But he knew Hephaestion had an erection and he was getting wound up. Alexander smiled at him.

"I'll do it right this time, I promise," Hephaestion said.

Alexander disentangled himself from Hephaestion's arms and reached for the oil. He handed it to Hephaestion with a triumphant grin.

With a nervous grin back at him, Hephaestion poured a little oil into his palm and reached his hand under the bedcovers. Alexander snuggled back down under the covers, his back to Hephaestion. He felt Hephaestion's hand move hesitantly between his buttocks. The oil felt cold, but the light tickle of Hephaestion's fingertips sent vibrations through his sensitive skin. His muscles contracted and blood rushed to his penis, sending a small groan from his throat.

Alexander held his breath as Hephaestion slowly pushed his penis inside him. He didn't think he could take this without moving, but he didn't quite know what he was supposed to do. He pushed backwards, wanting all of it inside him. Hephaestion pushed forward to meet him, then began thrusting rapidly in and out of Alexander. Alexander held still, wanting to open up to this but wanting to thrust at the same time. He began to move and for a brief moment they moved together. Then Hephaestion came and the heat inside him pushed Alexander over the edge too.

They lay together, Hephaestion resting against Alexander's back, waiting for their heartbeats to slow.

"Did you like it?" Hephaestion asked, his voice still breathless.

Alexander moved his head in Hephaestion's direction. "I think I liked it," he answered. "It felt … odd. But good."

"I liked it both times," Hephaestion said, his eyes closed as he nestled against Alexander.

"We need to practice," Alexander said. "Then we'll get better at it."

"Mmm, lots of practice," Hephaestion said sleepily, pressing his lips against Alexander's shoulder. "Love you," he murmured. His body was getting warm and heavy with sleep against Alexander.

Alexander lay still as Hephaestion sank into sleep, images from the day appearing before his mind's eye. They were fuzzy though and his brain was too tired to process them. He saw the face of the man he had killed again and again, but it meant almost nothing to him, even though the image would not go away. He had not lied when he said he would never forget the man.

Hephaestion slipped away from him and lay on his back. Carefully turning around so that he would not wake him, Alexander looked at the sleeping Hephaestion. The flush had faded from Hephaestion's clear skin and he lay asleep so peacefully he could be dead.

Alexander watched his chest rise and fall gently as Hephaestion breathed. Alexander could not have borne to be alone tonight, but he did not know who he would have turned to if Hephaestion had not been here.

He laid his head on Hephaestion's chest so that he could just listen to him breathing. He closed his eyes, at peace with himself. He did not think any ghosts would dare to trouble him tonight while he had Hephaestion's presence to guard his dreams.