Wedding Day by Kizzykat

I wasn't too happy with the ending of this, but after months of editing, finally gave up on it.

Hephaestion walked towards Alexander's rooms through the Persian palace at Susa with a light step, his body still tingling with recent sexual activity, his nerves still singing with the day's nervousness, excitement and anticipation. Today was the culmination of weeks of planning and persuasion, of convincing ninety reluctant bridegrooms to marry foreign brides whom they thought were beneath them, and of persuading dubious Persian and Median fathers that marrying their daughters to their Macedonian and Greek masters was an honour, not an insult. All was to please Alexander, and bring to fruition his dream of ending the conflict between Greece and Persia forever by uniting the ruling families on a personal level.

Hephaestion drew a great breath, expanding his lungs in relief as he walked, his long legs brushed by his sumptuous wedding robe of midnight blue embroidered with silver acanthus leaves and stars. There was even an air of triumph in his step. He had done it, he had planted the seeds of a future aristocracy, he was a married man, a member of the Persian Royal family, allied to Alexander by marriage forever. There was no higher place he could reach, and he could not be prouder.

In imagination, he wanted to leap in the air and shout in triumph, but in reality, just a very broad smile spread across his supple lips as he reached the doors to Alexander's rooms.

Alexander had sent for him before the evening's celebrations began. The wedding ceremony and the wedding breakfast in the great pavilion were over, and the nuptials had been performed. The bridal sheets had been displayed to the waiting family and friends as proof of the marriages' consummation and of the brides' purity. Alexander had had to do it twice, once for each of his royal brides, and Hephaestion had been anxious that he would find it stressful, but Alexander had assured him that each of his brides deserved the honour on her wedding day, and it would have been disrespectful for him not to marry both Persian princesses on the same day.

In sending for him now, Alexander was far too much of a gentleman to want to compare performances, but he would want to know that the day had been a public, as well as a private, success. It had, although Hephaestion had his personal reservations. His bride was very young, she had been scared, and he had pitied her. He had been as gentle and careful of her as he possibly could, and at least he had not left her in tears. As he had left her side, she had looked up at him from her wedding bed, the blood-stained marriage sheets drawn around her young body, her dark eyes suffused with the softness of sex. Perhaps he had managed to please her.

In essence she was a prisoner of war, with no real choice in whom she married. She had no father to stand up for her and make sure that she married a decent man. It behoved Alexander therefore to prove himself an honourable king and deal rightfully with her and her older sister. Hephaestion swore that if he and Drypetis had any daughters, he would not give them up to be married until they were at least twenty, maybe twenty-five, no matter what Alexander might want. Maybe he never would give them up. But no, that would be unkind. At least though he would consult them in the choice of their husband, as well as their mother, and not act like a tyrannous and uncaring father.

When he had left his bridal bed he had dressed, wondering if he had timed his stay in their bridal chamber appropriately. Too short a time and the womenfolk waiting outside to witness the deed would be shocked, too long a time and they would find equal reason for conjecture. He had turned around to his wife – how strange that sounded- words of gratitude and commendation ready on his lips. Drypetis had already risen and demurely slipped a gown over her young body. She was holding up to him the golden wreath of myrtle flowers which Alexander had given him this morning. Alexander's generosity never failed to astound him.

Hephaestion smiled, and his wife had raised her slender, girlish arms and placed the golden flowers, tied at the back with purple ribbons, onto his dark hair. She had surveyed the result solemnly and Hephaestion had bent and kissed her soft cheek. He had turned away, cherishing hopes of his young wife, and she had watched him leave with wondering eyes.

He had left her to the tender mercies of the babbling women clustered outside the door, and headed for Alexander's rooms, his heart still light for all that he had achieved this day.

Alexander was standing on the far side of the room as Hephaestion entered, full in the light from the great window arches, and he looked wonderful. Magnificent and handsome in his crimson and golden wedding gown, a rosy, warm, sexual afterglow flushed his cheeks. It softened his skin and eyes, and made him look like a boy again. He looked completely edible to Hephaestion, whose heart melted at the sight of him.

As Hephaestion approached him, Alexander's eyes were bright, dark pools like a peaty mountain tarn in sunlight, impenetrable in their brown depths. He gazed at Hephaestion like a boy seeking confirmation from a trusted friend that he had done what was right.

His heart soaring in happiness, knowing his Alexander, his king, had made the best possible choice for the future of his kingdom with these marriages, Hephaestion flung his arms around Alexander's neck.

"Here I am," he said, smiling at him with adoration and in anticipation of a kiss.

Alexander's face changed. It acquired the concentrated focus it did when he lunged in battle with a spear. He wrapped his arms suddenly and tightly around Hephaestion's ribs, crushing him against his body.

For a moment, he stared wildly at Hephaestion, their faces almost touching. Panic reared in Hephaestion at the mad whiteness showing around Alexander's eyes like a frightened horse's. Yet a look of pain passed across Alexander's face and he bent his head, burying his face against Hephaestion's neck and bare shoulder.

Startled and confused, the breath crushed from his body by Alexander's embrace, Hephaestion could feel Alexander's heartbeat thundering through his body, his breath hot against his skin. He could only guess that Alexander was overwrought from the strains of the day.

He tightened his arms about Alexander's neck, lightly touching his lips against his rough hair.

"What is it?" he murmured.

"Don't do that again," Alexander mumbled. "Don't ever do that again."

"Do what?" Hephaestion asked, unconsciously trying to draw back.

"Nothing," Alexander muttered, pain and anger congesting his voice as he pulled Hephaestion closer to him.

"What did I do?" Hephaestion asked, resisting the urge to break free despite the discomfort of Alexander's grasp. He had no recollection of having done anything to offend Alexander; he wouldn't for the world have wanted to spoil Alexander's day of dreams.

"Don't do it again," Alexander said, exerting pressure as if he could squeeze the life out of Hephaestion.

"Alexander, let go. You're hurting me. Tell me what I did."

Alexander's fingers dug into Hephaestion's ribs, hard enough to bruise. "You smell of her," he said accusingly.

"Of course I do!" Hephaestion said hotly. "I've just come from my wife, Alexander, as you have from yours!"

He squirmed to break free, using his hands to push against Alexander's shoulders, finding it difficult to breathe. "Alexander, let go and look at me! Tell me what's wrong!"

Alexander loosened his grip suddenly and stepped back, his face pale now and contorted with anguish. "Yes! Look at you! Look at you when you want me to!"

Thrown off balance, Hephaestion could only ask, "What do you mean?"

"You didn't look at me!" Alexander cried, as if that explained everything.

"When? When didn't I look at you?"

"All day!" Alexander's face was pained. "I looked towards you again and again, all day today and you ignored me!"

Hephaestion stared at Alexander's distress in bewilderment. He had no idea what was going on inside Alexander's head.

"I didn't ignore you!" he protested. He had a distinct recollection of meeting Alexander's eyes, of wishing him heartfelt joy as Alexander had turned from kissing his new wife Stateira for the first time. He knew Alexander had met his eyes and seen him, even though the change in Alexander's smile would have been barely perceptible to anyone else. He knew he hadn't ignored Alexander.

"You kissed your wife and didn't look up!" Alexander cried in accusation. "You had eyes for no one else except her!"

Hephaestion stared back at Alexander in disbelief, and a growing sense of uncertainty. "I did look up!" But his strongest recollection was of the amber-brown colour of Drypetis's eyes, so different from Alexander's. "I did look up, but you had looked away, and were raising a toast!"

"Only because I was tired of waiting for you! Waiting for you to stop gazing into her eyes!"

A sense of indeterminate guilt fired Hephaestion's indignation. "It was her wedding day, Alexander! I married her, not you!"

He saw the check of affront in Alexander's eyes and pursued his advantage, justifying himself. "A girl only becomes a wife once in her life, Alexander, and I owed it to her to make the day special for her, to make her feel I cared for her; that I did not see her as a piece of meat to be bartered for!"

The distance between them widened slightly as Alexander straightened. He still looked angry and obstinate, but less impassioned and headstrong. "I gave her to you!" he cried, jealousy and possessiveness flaring in his eyes, justifying himself too. "I made you what you are!"

Hephaestion paused, and regrouped his defences. "I know you did, Alexander," he said, anger still in his voice. "And I am deeply grateful to you for having given me such a treasure. You know how grateful I am to be so honoured by you. And if I have not shown you how grateful I am, I apologise. I will get down on my knees to you to show my gratitude to my King."

He bent to kneel before Alexander, but Alexander moved with the speed of lightning and hit his shoulders with the heels of his outstretched hands, pushing Hephaestion backwards and stopping him from kneeling.

"Don't you dare! Don't you dare!" Alexander cried. His face was pale and his red-rimmed eyes were glittering with tears as he hit Hephaestion's shoulders again. The force of the blow dislodged the golden wreath from Hephaestion's head and it fell unheeded to the marble floor behind him. "You know that's not what I want!" Alexander cried. "You know I don't want your duty and affection! I want your love, your unadulterated love!"

Hephaestion straightened slowly, protest constricting his throat. He knew what Alexander was asking and it was unfair.

"You have my love, Alexander," he said evenly, his voice quiet, "as you always have and always will. And as I trust I will always have your undivided love and attention."

For a moment Hephaestion thought Alexander was going to hit him. Alexander made a sudden move and then stopped, his hands balling into fists, his face white and the muscle along his jawline clenching beneath the skin. His eyes were blazing through unshed tears, and Hephaestion wished his words unsaid.

"I didn't..," he began, opening his hand to Alexander in apology.

"No, no," Alexander said, turning away, chastened at the fear which had momentarily shown in Hephaestion's face. His head bowed, he said, "You are right. I have no right to your love. I don't deserve it."

"You do have a right to my deep and abiding love," Hephaestion said, moving forward, catching Alexander's arm and turning him round, knowing Alexander was getting just what he wanted, and knowing that he would give it to him anyway, no matter the cost, simply because he loved him, and he needed it.

"You have the true and steadfast love of my eternal friendship, Alexander, as you always have and always will. But I know, I know," he said, touching one hand to his heart as the other held onto Alexander. "I know that that there are corners of your heart that I can no longer fill. Roxane and Bagoas, and maybe children, and your new wives, can fill and satisfy those quiet, intimate moments that we no longer share. All I hope,… all I ask, is that maybe I can have someone to fill the empty corners of my heart too."

"Empty?" Alexander looked up at him with the intensity and pain that only Alexander seemed to show so nakedly and wholeheartedly in his face. Alexander's emotions were always storms, never gentle rains.

"You're not always there anymore, Alexander."

Hephaestion stood looking at him, feeling hollow. Only Alexander's love could fill him totally and make him feel alive. Anything else was mere comfort.

"I never am anymore, am I?" Alexander asked in a helpless voice.

"Yes, you are," Hephaestion said with a small smile. It was his god-given place in life to serve Alexander, to feed his spirit and give him the strength to carry on. He had so many people to carry as King, he deserved someone to help him carry the load. Hephaestion's smile broadened. "Yes, you are."

A quiver of newborn hope ran over Alexander's face, but his heart was too vulnerable and exposed to gaze for long into the innocent love and belief in Hephaestion's blue eyes. Hephaestion's faith in him had always given him the strength to believe in himself, to believe that he could do all he asked of himself and others. Hephaestion made him believe he could love more than one person, even if it caused pain to Hephaestion's heart to let him go. Hephaestion knew he had to love everyone as much as he could in order to serve them as King, and he knew that sometimes the boundaries between the different sorts of love got blurred. Yet Hephaestion could make him believe he was a god: make him believe he could do it.

But at times he knew he was a very fallible man. He just hoped Hephaestion would forgive him for that.

He stooped and picked up Hephaestion's golden wreath from the floor, because he didn't know what else to do to apologize.

"I broke your wreath," he said, holding it out to Hephaestion with uncertainty in his brown eyes.

Hephaestion took it from him with a wry smile, and moved away to sit on the end of Alexander's huge bed, the wreath in his lap. He was trembling slightly and needed a moment to let the passions pulsing through his veins run their course. To distract himself, he began trying to straighten the gold leaves that were bent to one side. Alexander asked for a great deal, but Hephaestion hoped he would never have to ask of him in vain.

Shaken himself, Alexander stood and watched him, loving him for having the patience to stay with him and bear with his tempers. He knew his emotions were raw today with the added pressure of two new wives to care about, to take into his heart and cherish, but he had seen Hephaestion walking inexorably away from him today. He had seen his boyhood passion and youthful ideals of honesty and purity in love fading into memory. He would be lost if that happened, and he would no longer know himself. He couldn't let him go; he just couldn't.

His legs felt weak with reaction and he moved over to the window and sat on the ledge, watching Hephaestion's head bent over the golden wreath. Hephaestion's long hair had strands of gold in it, caught by the light from the window. His mother had blonde hair, which accounted for his blue eyes and fair skin. His brown hair looked darker than it really was, and, especially when it was long, there was a strand at the back that, about halfway down, turned almost blond. Alexander sat there, his hands holding on to the hard stone of the window, recording the little details about his lover that he knew so well, yet seemed to be seeing anew, as though Hephaestion had been reborn in his eyes. He didn't deserve him.

"Do you still love me?" he asked with forlorn hope.

He was rewarded with a quick lift of Hephaestion's head, a ripple of his hair, and a tiny smile. "Sometimes," Hephaestion said, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

Alexander's heart began beating faster. He left the window ledge and came and sat on the end of the bed beside Hephaestion.

"Why is everything so complicated?" he asked, fingering the gold leaves in Hephaestion's lap. "Am I a child that I must have everything I see? Am I greedy and selfish that I want so much? That I want you, when I already have so much, and I cannot let you go to your wife?"

Alexander raised his head to look at Hephaestion, his longing naked in his eyes, reaching after consolation.

Hephaestion struggled to find his voice. "You gave me a wife to love for her duty to me; as the mother of my children and as the keeper of my home. Not..." His voice shook as he looked into Alexander's eyes. "Not," he repeated, "as the reason for my life."

He gazed into the depths of Alexander's eyes, scarcely daring to believe that Alexander could want him so much after so many years. A luminous glow grew in Alexander's eyes at what he saw in Hephaestion's, and a small smile moved his lips.

"I want to spend tonight with you," he said, "but I should spend it with Roxane so that she does not feel slighted. But if I do, Stateira and Parysatis might feel that she is their enemy, and Bagoas will feel left out. What do I do to keep everyone happy?" He paused hoping Hephaestion might come up with a solution to let him have what he wanted. Hephaestion would also have the grace not to say that he should have fewer lovers, and not to care so much about them.

Hephaestion looked fondly at his pale face. "Go to bed alone. What you need is a good night's sleep."

"No, Mother," Alexander said with affection. "What I will do is get so drunk that I'll just fall into bed, and then no one will get offended that I didn't choose them."

"You don't need to justify yourself."

Alexander considered, reaching to touch the dark hair framing Hephaestion's face. "You could just sneak in when no one is looking and sleep with me. Just sleep. I promise I won't touch you."

"The chances of you doing that are non-existent," Hephaestion said with half a smile as Alexander's fingers continued to touch his hair and cheek with tantalizing deftness. "You've never been able to resist temptation."

"Then you shouldn't tempt me," Alexander with a quick, deep smile.

As one, they leant towards each other and their lips met. Alexander's hand found its way onto Hephaestion's arm as he deepened the kiss possessively. Hephaestion submitted to Alexander's desire, suddenly finding he wanted this, wanted Alexander to pull him down onto the bed and take possession of him, proving that the past was still present between them.

As they lay on the bed, Alexander slid his hand up Hephaestion's smooth thigh, his skin shaven and softened by fragrant oils for his wedding. He pushed Hephaestion's clothing above his hip with a caress as their bodies pressed against each other. Hephaestion disentangled a bare arm from Alexander's embrace and reached for the oil Alexander kept beside his bed. He couldn't reach and wriggled further up the bed. Alexander reached too, rolling Hephaestion around and rescuing the vial from his hand.

"I want your body," he whispered into Hephaestion's ear.

"Yes," Hephaestion whispered as Alexander's fingers touched him like trails of fire on soft and sensitive skin. "Oh, yes," he shuddered.

As he surrendered to Alexander's magic, all that he was faded like the night before the clear blue sky of dawn, leaving him face to face with the vastness of the gods. The powerful wind of love swept through him with a searing intensity, engulfing him in burning flames such as he had not felt since he was a boy, potently discovering his body's pleasure for the first time in Alexander's arms.

He lay still like a new-born child in Alexander's embrace, breathlessly aware only of the rise and fall of his chest as air entered his body anew. Baptized in fire, he was still alive.

Yet sense followed swiftly on the heels of awareness as he realised Alexander was lying unnaturally still, pressed tensely against him.

At the involuntary turn of his head to speak, Alexander tightened his hand on his arm, stilling him. With a half-murmur of mingled pain and laughter, he said, "I couldn't."

Hephaestion stared numbly over his shoulder at Alexander's shamed and distraught face. He was humbled that Alexander had not shared his experience. He felt worthless, although he knew that was unfair. It was not Alexander's fault. His body had failed to excite Alexander to passion.

He saw the devastation in Alexander's face, and compassion moved him. Lifting his hand backwards, he touched Alexander's cheek with his knuckle. "What did you expect?" he said hoarsely. "It's been a long day."

Alexander clasped his hand and pressed it to his lips. He closed his eyes tightly and a crystal tear trickled down beneath his dark lashes.

Hephaestion turned on the bed to face him. On a moment of shame, he pulled his clothes down from his waist, covering himself. Dismay made him want never to place himself in this position again, yet he knew he was being unrealistic. He experienced too much pleasure from it.

"You expect too much from yourself," he said quietly, taking Alexander's hands in his own. "You're overtired, that's all."

Alexander's eyes opened. "I'm sorry," he said helplessly.

"For what?" Hephaestion said. "For trying, and failing, to scale a mountain for the third time today? You're only human."

Alexander's lips quivered. "I'm a god," he whispered like a lost child.

Hephaestion held himself very still. This was an area around which he trod warily. He didn't know what Alexander's real thoughts were and hesitated to draw them into the open unless they should solidify and become immutable.

He leant forward and placed a light kiss on Alexander's softly parted lips. "You are as fallible as I am, Alexander," he said quietly. "And here, in my arms, you can be a man. Not a king, not a god, not a hero; just you. Without fear."

With a sudden strength of movement, Alexander lunged across the bed and clasped Hephaestion to himself ferociously. "I wish I could crush my bones into yours and make myself part of you," he said against Hephaestion's hair. "I want to be you. I get so tired of being me."

Struggling to free his face enough to draw a breath, Hephaestion said, "And who would I have to love then? I would have no one."

With a final bone-crushing clasp, Alexander slowly loosened his grip. "I gave you a wife to love," he said in a low voice.

Hephaestion stared at him, fearing Alexander was trying to let him go, to say goodbye. But Alexander did not see and, heaving a sigh of weary impatience, rolled onto his back, flinging an arm wide. He turned his head to stare at Hephaestion.

The vulnerability on Alexander's face silenced Hephaestion. The wounds of love exposed naked nerves to the touch. But true love's wounds healed into sinews of strength.

Alexander stared silently at him, then suddenly pulled himself off the bed and stood, his clothes falling down around his legs, rubbing his face in his hands.

Hephaestion slowly sat up. The world settled ordinarily around him: nothing had changed, although it felt as though it should have. He felt crumpled, a little bruised, and tired. He picked up the golden wreath again from where it had slipped unheeded to the floor and stared at its beauty blindly.

"I love you," Alexander said through his hands. "No matter what you might think, I love you very much."

Hephaestion got up and went to him. Alexander lowered his hands to look up at him and Hephaestion smiled at him. "Here," he said, raising his hands to set the golden wreath onto Alexander's head.

"But I gave that to you."

"And now it's mine to give back to you. With love. You are not going to lose me, Alexander. I won't let you. You mean too much to me." He kissed Alexander's cheek.

A quiver ran through Alexander like a horse about to break into a gallop. His head lifted in anticipation, his eyes glittering like the golden leaves of the wreath which trembled with his movement.

"For my sake, you must not neglect your wife though," he said quickly. "Because in twenty years time, I hope to hold my grandson in my arms, and he will have your eyes."

A little startled and pleased, Hephaestion laughed. "He will be my grandson too."

"Yes, and if by good fortune I have a daughter as well as the son who will marry your daughter and give me your grandson, you will have a second wife too, my daughter."

A little bemused, Hephaestion said, "Alexander, let's not count our chickens before they're hatched."

Alexander fixed the wreath a little more securely on his head and said, "Why not? We can but dream and plan." He slipped his arm through Hephaestion's, looking up at him with hopeful eagerness. "We have our wedding party to attend," he said. "We will wet the heads of our unborn children with Dionysus' gift. We will count our blessings, yet ask the gods for more, and hope they do not refuse us."

Hephaestion forbore to say that toasting the unborn dead seemed to him an unlucky omen, but he laughed instead. Forgetting oneself in the cup of the gods and not thinking or feeling anymore seemed safer than passion or jealousy. Tomorrow could take care of itself. He caught hold of Alexander's hand. Let today be their dancing day.