The Order Chapter 1: Awakened, an alexander fanfic

Title: The Order

Author: Baliansword

Rating: PG-13 to Mature Audiences

Chapter: 1 of 3, "Awakened"

Summary: After Hephaestion falls in battle Alexander begins to question his campaign –or whether Hephaestion should be there at all.

Drawing in a quick breath of air his eyes opened, focusing on nothing at first, but soon he saw the canvas of the tent above him. For a moment he did not understand, but slowly it began to come back to him as he heard sand hitting the sides of the tend around him. Again he found himself drawing in a ragged breath. He heard nothing but the wind outside and muffled voices, and slowly he lifted his head. The world spun and he felt bile building up in the back of his throat. Before he retched he lay back down and blinked a few more times, and then the sound of boot crushing into sound pounded in his head. Someone entered, but he could not find the desire to move his head. It hurt too much to breathe, let alone move. Yet he already knew who had come for him, it was unmistakable.

"Hephaestion," the king whispered softly as he sat down on the small stool next to the elevated pallet. He reached down and Hephaestion heard him wring out a small cloth, then felt the coolness upon his forehead as he blinked, trying to find himself in the haziness of the world. He felt his jaw tighten as he tried to push words out, but Alexander then reached out, placing his hand against his warm cheek.

"Shh," Alexander said, shifting so that he could better allow Hephaestion to see him. Hephaestion smiled slightly and felt his body loosen. "Do you remember what happened? Hephaestion…Zeus, I am so sorry."

Alexander tightened his hold on Hephaestion's hand, bowing his head and placing it against Hepahestion's muscled chest. Hephaestion drew in another breath and then raised his hand, placing it over Alexander's head, gently running his fingers through his hair. Slowly his mind was piecing together what actually had happened, something that he honestly could not remember until now. He recalled the battle, or was it a small skirmish? Alexander's forces had been moving, and suddenly he had turned his horse to the east. Riders were approaching, a few at first, but then clearly enough to start an attack. Hephaestion remembered calling something out, and as he'd expected, a fight broke out. He remembered fighting, then seeing a flash of a sword in the light, turning. The blade was meant for Alexander. What exactly happened next he could not recall, but knew only that he had pulled his horse to the side, rushed forward, and somehow his sword failed him. He leapt from the horse, fought, and then blackness. Thinking, thinking, nothing, nothing.

"I was knocked down," Hephaestion said slowly, as if unsure. "I hit my head…on a rock?"

Alexander lifted his head, unabashedly wiping a tear from his cheek and slowly drew in a breath, as if he had been injured, or worse, as if Hephaestion was not going to survive the injury. Hephaestion felt Alexander take his hand, gently weaving his fingers within his own. There was a silence between them as the king did nothing more than stare, slowly sizing Hephaestion up is seemed. Hephaestion took his free hand and touched the gash on his forehead through the cloth. It would leave a nasty bruise when it healed, but it would not need any stitching, and eventually all evidence of the incident would be erased. It was not something to fret so much over. Hephaestion wondered how many Macedonians lost their lives, and here was their king, consoling a man with only a small bump on his head.

"What is wrong," Hephaestion asked, his voice no longer haggard, but melodic to Alexander's ears. There was something between them, an invisible wall that Hephaestion was having trouble seeing past. He had felt it before at times, but Alexander would easily release it, telling him immediately what was wrong. This time, however, Alexander slowly shook his head, explaining nothing.

"I was worried about you," was his reply, which was far from a complete answer. Hephaestion felt restless, lying about while there were others to help. Slowly he began to push himself up, and Alexander leaned forward and helped him as if he were a fragile child. Alexander backed away as Hephaestion placed a hand between them. He then placed his hands on Alexander's cheeks and kissed him softly, quickly, on the lips before looking at him. Blood covered his chiton, but apart from a few cuts here and there it was not his own. Hephaestion looked at him again, deep into his eyes, and asked again.

"You can tell me," he assured him. "There has not been a day when you did not tell me what troubled you. I wonder, has that changed in battle?"

"No," Alexander quickly interjected. "No, no, it is not that Hephaestion. You will forever be my confidant, my best friend, my lover, my soul. Everything that I am, you are, and there is nothing that I would not tell you."

"Apart from what you think of now?"

"No, what I think of now I must reflect on myself. Tomorrow, tomorrow when you have had some time to rest, I will tell you what it is that troubles me. For now I am just glad that you are alright."

Alexander took Hephaestion's hand and kissed his knuckles, then released his hand as others approached the tent. Hephaestion gave him an ever-knowing smile. He was a king, and others would need him, now more than ever. Alexander nodded as he rose, but turned back to Hephaestion before leaving. He could not explain all that he was feeling, the horror that had crept over him when he saw Hephaestion lying on the field of battle. He could not explain what he was thinking now, that perhaps this could all have been avoided. However, he knew that he could not leave Hephaestion without reassuring him that everything was alright. He could not leave Hephaestion without reassuring himself that nothing had changed.

"Had something happened to you, I would have changed places in Hades' hall in an instant."

"Had something happened to me," Hephaestion replied, "I would have refused your offer, and dined alone."

Alexander basked in Hephaestion's love for a moment before turning. As he exited the tent Hephaestion caught a glimpse of the awaiting generals. He recognized Ptolemy and Cassander, Cleitus, a few others. The battle had not been so destructive then, if the generals were still standing, and so far he did not hear many screams of wounded soldiers. Perhaps there were only a few injured. He hoped that this would be the worst circumstance.

Four days later…

Hephaestion ran a hand through his hair as he stepped out of the tent. Alexander had long since decided that a few days of rest would benefit all of the campaign. However, Hephaestion had noticed that Alexander had been distant. He had spent time with him yesterday, but Alexander seemed more interested in his soldiers than anything. Hephaestion could not fault him, and he knew that it was not the time to require attention from his king, but from his friend it was unusual not to spend time together. Alexander had also never told him what it was that was troubling him. Hephaestion had asked again, but the question fell upon deaf ears. Perhaps he would never know, and mayhap he did not need to know. Still, the distance growing between himself and Alexander was enough to upset him ever so slightly, not with anger or unease, but rather with a sharp pain.

He thought about all of this as he made his way to Alexander's tent. He still did not know what he was going to say, but he knew that something was wrong. Slowly he was coming around to the idea that Alexander's thoughts centered around him. All the more reason he would like to know what they were. Pausing just outside of the tent he turned and stared at the vast deserted region around them. The sun was high in the sky, and no one seemed to pay attention to the fact that Hephaestion was standing outside of the king's tent. His guards even looked away from Hephaestion, knowing that he had access to Alexander at all times. Hephaestion then entered the tent, crossing his arms over his chest when he saw Alexander sitting before a pile of parchment, most likely old letters from his mother, or other courtesans. Alexander did not greet him, did not even lift his eyes.

"Have I done something wrong," Hephaestion asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He stood, unwavering, and watched as Alexander's head snapped up. He dropped the letter and stood, crossing the distance between them. Alexander wrapped his arms around him, pulling him to him, and Hephaestion dropped his crossed arms and wound up hugging him back.

"You have done nothing wrong," Alexander said, realizing his fault in not better explaining to Hephaestion what he felt. He stared at him as he pulled away and gazed at the gash on Hephaestion's forehead. He frowned slightly, and then turned.

"You should leave the bandage," he said.

"What troubles you, Alexander?"

"There are no words," Alexander said, turning back to Hephaestion, who stared at him longingly. Yes, there were no words, however, Hephaestion did not deserve nothing. He deserved an explanation. Alexander would lose him without one, and he knew this. Already he had spoken to Ptolemy, who advised Alexander speak to Hephaestion on the previous day, or that he bury the feelings he was having forever.

"I feared losing you," Alexander said as he took a seat. Hephaestion took a seat across from him, which seemed so far away. It seemed too far away. "I wanted to keep you close, so close Hephaestion, but I did not realize that in doing so I would be risking you to these barbarians. I…I don't want you fighting. I don't want to lose you."

"Alexander," Hephaestion said, the fog clearing in his head, "you will never lose me. I knew what I was doing when I fell in love with you. I knew what I was doing when I leapt from that horse. Alexander, look at me, you knew what war was when you decided to come here."

Nothing else was said. Hephaestion leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Alexander's forehead. He then stood and left, saying nothing more. Alexander watched him go, and then planted his face in his hands. Hephaestion was right, he was a soldier. However, Alexander did not love his other soldiers in quite the way he did Hephaestion. He mourned the loss of those that fell, but if Hephaestion fell, if he allowed him to fall –it simply could not be.

A/N: As always, reviews and comments are appreciated and welcomed.

For those of you that have been waiting for me to write something, I am sorry for keeping you waiting. Nothing else I produced seemed to be good enough, so here is something to begin with. A short fiction, and then, following, a much longer (and likely better) Alexander and Hephaestion epic.

Baliansword