Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5533877.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Historical_RPF, Greek_and_Roman_Mythology
  Relationship:
      Alexander/Hephaestion
  Character:
      Alexander_the_Great, Hephaestion
  Additional Tags:
      School, Military_Training, Outdoor_Sex, Greek_Mythology_-_Freeform
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-12-25 Words: 2998
****** Mieza ******
by Berty
Summary
     Alexander knows what his birthright means, but it's a spring day and
     court life can wait for now.
Notes
     Written for Pepe's birthday.
Alexander squinted as he stepped out into the bright spring sunshine. He lifted
his face to the warmth, closed his eyes and breathed, stretching out shoulders
that were cramped from too long crouched over maps.
"Did the old man finally let you go?" asked a warm, amused voice.
Alexander didn't need to open his eyes to know who addressed him with such
familiarity, but he did so anyway, smiling as he took in the exaggeratedly
nonchalant slouch and bored air of his friend.
"If he thought it would do any good, Master Aristotle would keep you behind
too, 'Phaestion. Sadly you are a lost cause," Alexander said with a sorrowful
shake of his head.
"Indeed. He told you so, did he?"
"He did. I tried to persuade him of your better qualities..."
"Of which there are many," Hephaestion interrupted.
Alexander pretended not to hear. " ...but he would not be swayed. Alas."
"I see. It is a good thing that it is you then who is destined to rule and not
I," Hephaestion smirked, detaching himself from the wall he'd propped himself
against and coming over to stand before Alexander.
"A very good thing." Alexander agreed quietly. "Who knows what might become of
the kingdom otherwise."
Alexander began to walk, knowing that Hephaestion would fall in at his shoulder
as he always did. Within two steps they walked abreast and Alexander glanced
across to look at his dearest friend, noticing again how broad his shoulders
were becoming and how the couple of fingers in height that had separated them
only last year had grown to leave him a good hand shorter than Hephaestion now.
"Regardless of the hours you study, Alexander, I am still his favourite,"
Hephaestion shrugged, detouring to lean over a wall to admire the day.
Alexander stood beside him, leaning his back against the cool stone while his
friend stared out across the valley spread below them. "You're right, of
course," he admitted. "My dedicated learning and honest respect are no match
for your charm."
Hephaestion chuckled. "My charm is all I have, Alexander, don't begrudge me the
spoils."
Alexander turned to look at the familiar curve of his beloved friend's smile,
his long dark hair that curled around his ears and brushed his shoulders and
the strong jaw that he was still growing into. Even though Alexander had seen
Hephaestion every day since they were whelps looking for trouble in the palace
at Pellas, it sometimes took him by surprise to recognise that his best friend
was no longer a child; that he himself was on the threshold of manhood and all
that entailed. Soon they would return home to his father's palace, their days
of study over and the responsibilities he'd been born to shoulder waiting for
him, and he experienced an intense wave of sorrow, sudden and unexpected. If
Alexander could have stopped the sun in the sky at that moment and made the day
last for all time, he would have done it in a heartbeat. Their time here in
Mieza had been filled with happiness. Out of the glare of his illustrious
birthright, away from the scheming of the palace, Alexander had known true
contentment; learning at his Master's shoulder by day and revelling in
Hepheastion's friendship once their studies were completed.
"I'd never begrudge you anything, Pheas, you know that," Alexander murmured,
catching and holding his friend's gaze and relishing the slight flush that
graced his cheekbones in response. Hephaestion was the most handsome of his
companions and had been since childhood. Where the others looked gangling and
awkward in their adolescence, himself included, Hephaestion possessed a poise
and grace that was rare and unmistakable. It was true, he was never going to be
a great scholar, but he had a quick mind, good eye for detail, a calming
demeanour and a way of dealing with Alexander that was the envy of his friends.
Only Hephaestion had the ability to soothe him when one of his rages came upon
him, to distract him when the weight of the world lay squarely upon Alexander's
shoulders, and their friends made use of these skills when arguments
threatened, pleading with Hephaestion to intercede on their behalf. Only his
teasing would be borne by Alexander's pride, only his smiles would be returned
without hesitation. Alexander knew that some would consider his bond with his
friend a weakness, but of Hephaestion's loyalty, and his love, Alexander had no
doubt.
"Come on," Hephaestion said, nudging Alexander with his shoulder and breaking
the spell. "There's still time before we eat. Let's go and see if your sword
arm is as well formed as your considerable brain. My guess is that the weight
of your massive intellect will slow you down."
With a quick stop to collect their weapons, they walked out of the village and
further up the road that lead into the foothills behind the town. It was a
place they knew well and they often sparred there, alone or with their fellow
students. Circled by trees, the place must once have been a temple to a
forgotten god or goddess, and here and there among the long grasses, pieces of
masonry lay scattered, white like bones left out in the sun.
They discarded their cloaks and began as they had been taught, with sequences
of attacks and defences aimed at the empty air in front of them, each
transition in stance slow and considered, until their muscles were warm and
their movements smoothed and flowed.

Alexander glanced across at his partner and grinned when he over extended,
causing Hephaestion to scramble for balance. "You fight like you dance,
Phaestion. You're more likely to cause hurt through your clumsiness than
through the bite of your blade."
Hephaestion scowled, but his flow was interrupted and he skipped a move so he
could catch his friend up.
Alexander laughed delightedly. "You are slow like a man three times your age.
It would be funny if it wasn't so sad."
"Nonsense!" Hephaestion called, describing a series of quick arcs through the
shining air. "I am the finest swordsman who ever lived."
Alexander scoffed. "Then you are Alexander surely?" he offered, speeding the
pace of their practice, pushing Phaestion to do the same.
"I am!" Hephaestion declared with an unnecessary flourish. "And you must be the
noble Hephaestion from your place at my side, my constant and best beloved."
Their pace was dizzying ,months of practice keeping their steps in time and
their arms true. The sun glinted harshly on the bronze of their practice blades
like bright sparks of flame, there and then gone. Alexander could feel his
muscles sing and his blood thrum, not needing to look across to know that they
moved in perfect unison as they swept low, stepped in and thrust one final time
at neck height, the fluidity of their movements stilled as if frozen.
Panting slightly, Hephaestion looked over his shoulder. " Although I seem to
have caught you on a bad day for I heard that Hephaestion was a better
swordsman than your skills suggest."
Alexander stepped back and slapped the broad of his blade across Hephaestion's
arse. "I am mistaken. You cannot be Alexander," he declared. "His wit is
keener."
"You are not mistaken. I am Alexander, or I am as close to Alexander as any man
can claim to be."
Hephaestion's clear guileless gaze spread a warmth through Alexander that had
nothing to do with the heat of the spring sun or their exertions. "That is the
first truthful thing you have said this day," he said softly and curled a palm
around the back of the taller man's neck, pulling their foreheads together to
knock gently.
Letting him go, Alexander stepped over to the edge of their arena and sank down
onto the ground, dropping his sword beside him. Hephaestion joined him a moment
later, slapping a skin of water against his head which Alexander took
gratefully, unstopping it and pouring a good amount into his dry mouth.
Hepheastion lay back in the grass and began to crunch on a pouch of almonds
he'd pulled from his tunic. Alexander enjoyed the ease he felt with his closest
friend. Being who he was, Alexander was never certain if it was himself that
secured the love of his friends or his title and the favours he could bestow
upon those who pleased him best. Hephaestion had never given Alexander any
reason to think that his love was anything but honest. No one could read him
the way Hephaestion could, no one else would dare his terrible tempers, no one
else would survive them. Hephaestion was his one constant, his touchstone and
he knew in that instant that no one would ever come close to making him feel
the way Hephaestion did, no matter how long he lived. It was a bittersweet
realisation.
"Pheas? Who would you be if you were not who you are now?"
"Celerus," Hephaestion replied instantly. "His skill in the hunt has to be a
gift from Artemis herself. I've seen the way you watch him when we practice."
Hephaestion looked at Alexander from beneath his eyelashes, his lips pulled up
wryly.
"And if you were not the son of a nobleman?" Alexander asked, avoiding the
tease.
"Why, then I would be the keeper of the tavern closest to the palace and each
night I would save the three finest jugs of red for my most illustrious
client."
Alexander laughed aloud. "And when I fell over dead drunk?"
"Then it would be my honour to carry my prince home to bed." Hephaestion
grinned unrepentantly and threw almonds into the air, catching them in his
mouth.
"And if I were no prince, Phaes? Then what?"
Hephaestion paused and watched Alexander more closely. "We would own a vineyard
and make the finest wines in the kingdom. We'd tend the grapes by day and drink
the proceeds by night. We might be poor, but by the gods, we would be happy."
"We would," Alexander agreed, but pressed on with his point. "But if there were
no Alexander, rich, poor or otherwise. Where would you be then?"
Hephaestion shrugged and crunched noisily on his almonds. "Well nowhere,
Xander."
"How so?"
"For I cannot conceive of a place for me in a world without you."
It was the way he said the words that made something in Alexander's chest tear
loose. No pause for thought, no hidden meanings, no attempt to gain favour with
empty flattery. An answer from the heart if ever Alexander had heard one. It
was hard to breathe.
"So without me you are nothing?"
Hephaestion looked back from his contemplation of the sky. "You must know that,
Xander, or you are not the scholar Master Aristotle takes you for."
The silence that stretched between them was less comfortable than those they
habitually shared. So much had been unsaid but neither of them had failed to
mark the changing of the seasons that brought them closer to the day they must
leave this life of ease and self-satisfaction and become who they were to be.
Alexander had no doubt that Hephaestion
would be at his side for as long they lived, but the place he would take would
be very different from the role he had here in Mieza. And his words, said so
lightly, with such ease let Alexander know that Hephaestion knew that too.
"Sometimes I wish that things had been different," Alexander admitted quietly.
"But they're not," Hephaestion murmured in response though his voice held no
bitterness. "You are who you are. You will be a great king, Xander. You will
lead fairly, choose wisely, inspire your people and marry well." He rolled onto
his side, blocking the sun from Alexander's face. He leaned down and kissed
Alexander's mouth, soft and sure. "And I am who I am. And I will be right
beside you."
"Forever," Alexander murmured.
"Of course," Pheas replied, flopping down onto his back again and bringing up a
forearm to cover his eyes.
Alexander rolled onto his side and laid a hand on Pheas' belly, feeling it rise
and fall beneath his palm. He traced lazy circles with a finger, drawing a
smile onto the lips of his friend. It was the work of a moment to slide his
fingers down Pheas' flank to his thigh and brush them across the hairy, warm
skin there. Pheas shifted his arm and peered at Alexander above him with one
amused eye. Never one to ignore a dare, even an unspoken one, Alexander spread
his fingers wider and slid them beneath the hem of Pheas' clout following the
line of soft hairs on his beloved's thigh to where it became smooth again.
"We are hardly well hidden," Pheas said softly, his eyebrow quirked in
question.
"Then tell me no," Alexander returned, stroking closer and closer to his aim
with each pass of his fingertips.
Hephaestion drew his arm away now and looked steadily at his prince. "That will
never happen, Xander, you know that."
"I know," Alexander agreed and watched Hephaestion's face as he took his
manhood into his palm. Pheas' eyes fell shut and his mouth softly opened on a
pleasured breath. Pheas was beautiful everywhere and Alexander had to see his
perfection when the time came. He quickly loosened Pheas' clout and pushed it
aside. He greedily eyed Hephaestion's hardness, but the fabric was marring his
view. Impatiently, he fumbled with the ties, only leaving go when Pheas' clever
fingers easily unpicked the knot and removed the clout, bearing himself for
Xander.
He was slender, with a neat waist and defined hip bones that Xander loved to
leave his marks on. His skin was paler here than the warm brown of his arms and
shoulders and the trail of downy hairs that Xander had traced were dark against
the smooth cream of him.
Pheas' head tipped back when Alexander grasped his length again and he thrust
up into his prince's fist, his teeth pressed into the softness of his bottom
lip. He was perfection in Xander's eyes, blessed by the gods. He gave so
sweetly, so willingly whatever Alexander demanded of him. Already his eagerness
beaded at the slick tip of him and when Alexander dragged his thumb through the
wetness, Pheas groaned and twitched in his palm.
Xander longed to kiss Pheas' swollen lips and to lick the subtle sweetness of
the almonds from his tongue, but then he would miss the perfect moans and the
way Pheas' back arched just so when he released. The pace he set was fast, torn
between keeping Pheas whimpering so beautifully and greedy to watch him spill
onto his own belly. The play of muscle in Pheas' thighs fascinated Xander
momentarily before the pulsing of his manhood described his imminent release.
He slowed his hand now, savouring, and wrung every drop from Pheas' hardness,
first in great spurts onto his tunic and stomach, then in feeble trickles that
coated his knuckles. Pheas panted and growled through it, shuddering each time
Xander coaxed more from him before slumping back onto the grass, his belly
heaving with each breath.
Xander wanted to watch the way the sun caught on the spill that slid sluggishly
down Pheas' side, but his own desire was too great and he lay down beside him,
releasing his own manhood and slicking it with Pheas' spend. Pheas had
anticipated him already and was positioning himself astride his prince,
reaching behind to spread himself for Xander's girth.
The first brush at Pheas' hole was like the rush of a good wine. He longed to
push up into that welcoming clutch, to bury himself within, but Pheas had no
preparation and nothing to ease their joining but his own spill. With gritted
teeth Xander held himself still as Pheas sank down upon him so slowly but with
every indication of pleasure not pain. He scarcely breathed as Pheas took him
inside and made a place for him. Tightness and heat rewarded each hard won
fraction of his length until he was fully seated within his beloved, Pheas' sac
and softened manhood cool and sweetly heavy on his lower belly.
Pheas leaned forward now, his eyes warm and unfocused. Xander lifted a hand and
sank into the dark curls at the nape of Pheas' neck, pulling him in for a
gentle kiss. Pheas began to rock, tiny movements of his hips that were
maddening and delightful at once. Catching his rhythm, Alexander met him with a
thrust of his own, and again, and each time it was harder until they bucked
together with all the might they could muster, grunting and moaning, Pheas'
hands pinching and grasping at Xander's tunic as he sought to match each push
with one of equal force. Pheas' manhood began to rise, waving before him with
each jolt of their bodies.
His release, when it came, was sweet torment; his desire to make the moment
last conflicting with his need to complete. Hephaestion arched above him,
perfect and beautiful with the sun on his shoulder, stroking his dark hair with
gold.
Xander watched as Hephaestion opened his eyes, a smile instantly on his lips,
slow and sated. He lifted himself unhurriedly off of Alexander, stretching like
a waking cat before rolling himself into the grass at his side again. He made
no move to cover himself and the sun gilded where their sweat and their spend
slicked his skin. They stole slow kisses and lingering glances as the day's
heat began to wane and the mundane sounds of the village below rose to their
secluded spot.
"We should go," Pheas said finally, swatting a fly from his face and reaching
to fasten his clothing.
Alexander reached out a hand and caught Pheas' wrist, stilling him again and
pulling him a little closer. "Not yet, " he murmured, smiling to himself as
Hephaestion subsided without question. "There's time yet. There's a little time
yet."
Fin
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