Baranduin (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} baranduin) wrote in ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} baranduinfics,@ 2005-05-22 13:48:00 |
|
Fic: There Is Truth in Wine, 1/1
Fic: There Is Truth in Wine, 1/1
Author: Baranduin
Pairing: Alexander/Bagoas, Alexander/Hephaistion
Rating: PG
Summary: While Alexander is away hunting Bessos, Bagoas and Hephaistion drink a little wine together.
Disclaimer: Don't own them and don't make any money from them.
Author’s Note: This is in response to a community fic challenge to write a jealousy fic in which the jealous one at some point says: “I hoped that we could be closer." The text in italics is taken from Homer’s The Iliad, Book XXIV. It can be found on-line at http://www.online-literature.com/view.p
There Is Truth in Wine
Bagoas poured himself a cup of wine and took a long drink from it, settling comfortably into a chair in Alexander’s tent. Perhaps being a little tipsy would improve his ability to read the old Greek of The Iliad. While he could get the gist of what he was reading, his Greek was not sufficient yet to understand all the various nuances that were in the text. And with Alexander being away, hunting Bessos, he could not ask him and did not like to trouble Philostratos this late in the evening.
Really, though, reading this particular passage positively demanded a healthy dose of wine since his jealousy of Hephaistion rose thick in his throat. Again. As it always did, more often than he cared to admit to himself.
Bagoas felt more than heard someone entering the tent; he was concentrating that hard on the text. When he looked up, he saw Hephaistion standing just inside the entrance, holding the opening aside with one hand and a jug of wine in the other.
A nervous frisson rippled through Bagoas’ body, as if he’d just been caught doing something wrong. Which he hadn’t since Alexander had told him more than once that he was free to read his personal, cherished copy. Not to mention that it was his right to be here, and probably a good thing considering that Alexander was away. Just in case some villain got past the squires on duty and crept inside to try to strip the place.
But it was awkward. He and Hephaistion rarely saw each up close unless Alexander was also there.
Bagoas said in a formal tone, “He has given me leave to read this.”
Hephaistion nodded as he came further into the tent. “I did not dispute that.” He smiled a little and kneeled for a moment to pat Peritas on the head. “I was thinking I might read one of his books myself.”
Bagoas glanced at the flagon of wine in Hephaistion’s hand and said nothing but raised his eyebrows. An interesting way to read something scholarly. Though considering he too was drinking barely-diluted wine while he read ...
Seeing the object of Bagoas’ gaze, Hephaistion scowled as he crossed the tent to the trunk where Alexander kept his books. He rooted around and picked one out, taking it to a chair next to Bagoas’ and settling into it. Fortunately, there was a table between them, a nice little barrier. He started reading after pouring himself a cup of wine and downing it in one go. Bagoas watched him discreetly through his eyelashes but apparently not discreetly enough when he found Hephaistion staring back at him. Yes, it was a stare. Not quite a glare but definitely a stare.
Bagoas returned to his reading after drinking another cup of wine. How nice and warm it felt in his belly.
“Is something wrong?”
“No,” Bagoas answered hastily. How stupid of him to be careless of his reactions with Hephaistion sitting close enough to him that Bagoas could hear him breathe. The man must have heard his involuntary hiss of distress. Perhaps the wine hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
“Do you want me to leave?” Hephaistion had a pleasant look on his face, but there was something in his voice. Bagoas recognized it for it was a tone that he always worked to suppress when he spoke of Hephaistion or Hephaistion was close enough to Alexander to make it hurtful for Bagoas to see.
“No, of course not.” Bagoas took another swallow of wine. “May I ask you something?”
Hephaistion nodded and took another drink of his own.
Bagoas licked his lips, closed the book and wrapped his hands around it tight. He might as well. The Wise God well knew he hadn’t had the nerve to ask Alexander. “At Troy ... did you and Al’skander really take off you clothes and run around their tombs?”
Hephaistion threw his head back and laughed. “Always the little Persian prude, aren’t you?”
Bagoas’ face grew hot. “I did not mean that. I only wanted to know ...”
“Yes, we did,” Hephaistion broke in before Bagoas could continue. “It meant much to us to be able to honor them so.” He put his book on his lap and leaned back against the couch, stretching out his long legs. “My turn.”
Bagoas said nothing but gestured with his hand to indicate his assent.
And now Hephaistion flushed a little and lowered his gaze, which frankly alarmed Bagoas for Hephaistion was always so self-assured and nonchalant in his presence. When Hephaistion looked up, he took a deep breath and expelled it with a loud exhalation. “Why do you hate me? I have done nothing to you. After all, you’re the one in his bed.”
Of all the things Hephaistion could have asked, Bagoas had not expected that. He kept his expression open and straight, though his hands were a little unsteady when he reached to pour himself another cup of wine, ignoring the fact that his head was already spinning. Finally he said, “I ... I try not to.”
Hephaistion smiled though there was a bitter downturn to his mouth. “At least you’re honest.”
“Why do you want to know such a thing?”
Hephaistion held out his hand. “I was curious. We are both bound to him and must live our days near to each other. I hoped that we could be closer ... or at least not outright enemies.”
Now the fear came back to Bagoas, thick and heavy and cold in his belly. “My lord, I am not your enemy. If I’ve done anything at all to make you think so ...”
Hephaistion leaned forward, his eyes intense. “No, you haven’t. But I cannot deny ...” He shook his head. “It is not always easy to see you two together.” The look on his face hardened as though he realized he’d said too much. He leaned back again and pulled his book closer, shielding his chest, his generous impetus masked for now. “Quite convenient for you, wasn’t it?” He paused to drain another cup of wine.
And now Bagoas was irritated though it might be more correct to say that he’d drunk enough wine that he allowed his irritation to show. When he spoke, his voice was slurred a little bit. “Convenient? What was convenient?”
Hephaistion shrugged and put his cup down again though to his surprise he found he was a little clumsy and the cup rocked back and forth, threatening to fall over until he steadied it. “Well, to go straight from Darius to Alexander. Not a bad life.”
Bagoas spoke in a low voice, biting out the words. “You know nothing of my life. My lord.”
“Stop it. I’m just Hephaistion. And I know you were taken from your home at an early age and terrible things done to you. But you can’t deny that you’ve done well for yourself in spite of that and that your masters have been pleasant to you.”
Bagoas closed his eyes and the smell of that vile man came back to him, the one whose stink was imprinted forever on Bagoas’ senses no matter how many years had gone by. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Hephaistion had leaned forward again and was reaching out to pat him on the knee. But Hephaistion stopped when he saw the expression on Bagoas’ face. And what Bagoas then saw written on Hephaistion’s face made no sense, for it seemed a mixture of shame and condescension all at once though Bagoas realized his vision was a little muzzy from all the wine. Muzzy or not, he still had the use of his tongue.
Bagoas said, his voice growing louder the longer he spoke, “My masters? Oh, yes, He’stion, I have had kind masters. So kind that my first master in Susa, once I’d turned twelve, sent me out every afternoon to be used by his clients as they would. Though you are right. He was kind. The ones who beat me in addition to using me ... he never sent me back to them. Though I suspect it was a question of having the merchandise in good working order ... a twelve-year old boy covered in welts would not bring in so much gold. Yes, he was very nice to me. I would kill him if I could.”
Hephaistion’s eyes widened as Bagoas blurted out the story of his first master. When the boy finally ran down, he sat with his neck bent, and for a few minutes the only sound in the tent was that of his harsh breathing.
Eventually, Hephaistion said, “I am sorry. I did not know.”
Bagoas shook his head though he kept his eyes fixed on the ground. “It does not matter.”
“I think it does. We could do something about this. You have only to tell Alexander the name of this man and where he is.”
Bagoas looked up, his eyes wide and dark. “No! You must not.”
“He does not know?”
“No! I have only told him my first master was not a good man. Do not tell him, I beg you.”
Hephaistion smiled with a lopsided lift of his mouth. “I will not. But why did you tell me if you have not told him?”
Bagoas said, “Perhaps I hoped that we could be closer.”
Hephaistion raised his eyebrows. “Or perhaps the wine is strong, especially when it’s not diluted very much. Though I prefer your reason, Bagoas.”
They stared at each other and burst into laughter, each one lolling back against his chair. They laughed long and loud. Eventually, Bagoas sat up, wiping tears from his eyes, and took the book away to the tent’s sleeping-place and tucked it beneath Alexander’s pillow in its silver chest. He was distinctly wobbly on his feet.
When he lurched back, Hephaistion stood up, a little shaky himself, and said, “I’ll see you to your tent.”
Bagoas said, “No, that’s not necessary.”
“Oh, but it is.”
“Why?”
“Alexander would kill me if something happened to you and I had been able to prevent it. He loves you very much.”
“Does he?”
“Oh, yes. He speaks of you all the time to me.”
The emotions in Bagoas’ heart were twofold. It pleased him that Alexander spoke to Hephaistion about him. But he felt the bitter knife twist in his heart at the same time for Alexander almost never spoke of Hephaistion to him. He said softly, “Let us go, then. It is late.”
Hephaistion put his arm around Bagoas’ waist, drawing one of Bagoas’ arms around his shoulder in the familiar gesture. They made their way in silence to Bagoas’ tent, where Hephaistion seated the boy on his bed and kneeled down to take off his shoes.
He looked up at Bagoas, and Bagoas felt something stretch in his heart though it had no name, or least no name that he cared to see clearly. Bagoas murmured, “Thank you. You are kind.”
Hephaistion nodded, just quickly as though he were embarrassed, which was quite wonderful to Bagoas. He could not quite fathom it. He watched Hephaistion bring a water jug and set it on his bedside table.
When Hephaistion spoke, his voice was a little gruff. “Can you undress?”
“Yes, of course.”
Hephaistion went to the tent’s entrance but turned back. “Does this change anything?”
“I do not know.”
“I will not tell him, I swear it to you on the love you and I bear for him. Sleep well.”
He did not wait for any response from Bagoas but turned and left. Bagoas undressed slowly and got into bed. He drank a big cup of water and smiled to himself in the darkness. He had not thought any good truth could arise from drinking too much wine in the wrong company, but then, he had not thought he would ever grow accustomed to the Macedonians’ ease in running about naked. Musing on the things he’d learned during his time with Alexander, he fell asleep.
Alexander returned two days later. He strode into his tent, eager for a bath since he was covered in dust and sweat, but he stopped in his tracks at what he found.
Hephaistion and Bagoas were seated at Alexander’s writing table, their heads bent over a book and Bagoas reading aloud in a halting voice. They looked up and smiled.
“Welcome back,” Hephaistion said as Bagoas stood and hurried to Alexander’s side.
Alexander nodded at Hephaistion, but when Bagoas reached him and started to undo the brooches that held his cloak, he said, “Not yet.” Bagoas, perplexed, started to back away but was stopped by Alexander’s arm wrapping around his waist and pulling him close.
That was odd since Alexander, while open in his regard for Bagoas, nevertheless was modest and discreet with physical embraces when others were about. Especially Hephaistion.
With one hand around Bagoas’ waist, Alexander reached with the other to pour himself a cup of wine, not bothering to dilute it. After taking a big swallow, he set down the cup and asked Hephaistion, “Good book?”
“I was helping Bagoas with The Iliad. The old Greek is quite a challenge though he’s coming along very well.”
Alexander raised his eyebrows and said to Bagoas, “Is Philostratos indisposed?”
Bagoas swallowed hard and said, a flush staining his throat, “No, not at all, my lord Iskander. He’stion has been kind to take time from his duties to help me.”
Alexander looked from Bagoas to Hephaistion several times, his eyes narrowed. He picked up his cup again and drained it. The smile that flitted across his face was tight, closer to grimace than full-hearted smile; it came and went in a matter of a few seconds.
He said, “That’s good. I hoped that you two could be closer.”
Fic: There Is Truth in Wine, 1/1
Author: Baranduin
Pairing: Alexander/Bagoas, Alexander/Hephaistion
Rating: PG
Summary: While Alexander is away hunting Bessos, Bagoas and Hephaistion drink a little wine together.
Disclaimer: Don't own them and don't make any money from them.
Author’s Note: This is in response to a community fic challenge to write a jealousy fic in which the jealous one at some point says: “I hoped that we could be closer." The text in italics is taken from Homer’s The Iliad, Book XXIV. It can be found on-line at http://www.online-literature.com/view.p
The assembly now broke up and the people went their ways each to
his own ship. There they made ready their supper, and then
bethought them of the blessed boon of sleep;
Bagoas poured himself a cup of wine and took a long drink from it, settling comfortably into a chair in Alexander’s tent. Perhaps being a little tipsy would improve his ability to read the old Greek of The Iliad. While he could get the gist of what he was reading, his Greek was not sufficient yet to understand all the various nuances that were in the text. And with Alexander being away, hunting Bessos, he could not ask him and did not like to trouble Philostratos this late in the evening.
Really, though, reading this particular passage positively demanded a healthy dose of wine since his jealousy of Hephaistion rose thick in his throat. Again. As it always did, more often than he cared to admit to himself.
Bagoas felt more than heard someone entering the tent; he was concentrating that hard on the text. When he looked up, he saw Hephaistion standing just inside the entrance, holding the opening aside with one hand and a jug of wine in the other.
A nervous frisson rippled through Bagoas’ body, as if he’d just been caught doing something wrong. Which he hadn’t since Alexander had told him more than once that he was free to read his personal, cherished copy. Not to mention that it was his right to be here, and probably a good thing considering that Alexander was away. Just in case some villain got past the squires on duty and crept inside to try to strip the place.
But it was awkward. He and Hephaistion rarely saw each up close unless Alexander was also there.
Bagoas said in a formal tone, “He has given me leave to read this.”
Hephaistion nodded as he came further into the tent. “I did not dispute that.” He smiled a little and kneeled for a moment to pat Peritas on the head. “I was thinking I might read one of his books myself.”
Bagoas glanced at the flagon of wine in Hephaistion’s hand and said nothing but raised his eyebrows. An interesting way to read something scholarly. Though considering he too was drinking barely-diluted wine while he read ...
Seeing the object of Bagoas’ gaze, Hephaistion scowled as he crossed the tent to the trunk where Alexander kept his books. He rooted around and picked one out, taking it to a chair next to Bagoas’ and settling into it. Fortunately, there was a table between them, a nice little barrier. He started reading after pouring himself a cup of wine and downing it in one go. Bagoas watched him discreetly through his eyelashes but apparently not discreetly enough when he found Hephaistion staring back at him. Yes, it was a stare. Not quite a glare but definitely a stare.
Bagoas returned to his reading after drinking another cup of wine. How nice and warm it felt in his belly.
... but Achilles still
wept for thinking of his dear comrade, and sleep, before whom all
things bow, could take no hold upon him. This way and that did he
turn as he yearned after the might and manfulness of Patroclus;
he thought of all they had done together, and all they had gone
through both on the field of battle and on the waves of the weary
sea. As he dwelt on these things he wept bitterly and lay now on
his side, now on his back, and now face downwards, till at last
he rose and went out as one distraught to wander upon the
seashore.
“Is something wrong?”
“No,” Bagoas answered hastily. How stupid of him to be careless of his reactions with Hephaistion sitting close enough to him that Bagoas could hear him breathe. The man must have heard his involuntary hiss of distress. Perhaps the wine hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
“Do you want me to leave?” Hephaistion had a pleasant look on his face, but there was something in his voice. Bagoas recognized it for it was a tone that he always worked to suppress when he spoke of Hephaistion or Hephaistion was close enough to Alexander to make it hurtful for Bagoas to see.
“No, of course not.” Bagoas took another swallow of wine. “May I ask you something?”
Hephaistion nodded and took another drink of his own.
Bagoas licked his lips, closed the book and wrapped his hands around it tight. He might as well. The Wise God well knew he hadn’t had the nerve to ask Alexander. “At Troy ... did you and Al’skander really take off you clothes and run around their tombs?”
Hephaistion threw his head back and laughed. “Always the little Persian prude, aren’t you?”
Bagoas’ face grew hot. “I did not mean that. I only wanted to know ...”
“Yes, we did,” Hephaistion broke in before Bagoas could continue. “It meant much to us to be able to honor them so.” He put his book on his lap and leaned back against the couch, stretching out his long legs. “My turn.”
Bagoas said nothing but gestured with his hand to indicate his assent.
And now Hephaistion flushed a little and lowered his gaze, which frankly alarmed Bagoas for Hephaistion was always so self-assured and nonchalant in his presence. When Hephaistion looked up, he took a deep breath and expelled it with a loud exhalation. “Why do you hate me? I have done nothing to you. After all, you’re the one in his bed.”
Of all the things Hephaistion could have asked, Bagoas had not expected that. He kept his expression open and straight, though his hands were a little unsteady when he reached to pour himself another cup of wine, ignoring the fact that his head was already spinning. Finally he said, “I ... I try not to.”
Hephaistion smiled though there was a bitter downturn to his mouth. “At least you’re honest.”
“Why do you want to know such a thing?”
Hephaistion held out his hand. “I was curious. We are both bound to him and must live our days near to each other. I hoped that we could be closer ... or at least not outright enemies.”
Now the fear came back to Bagoas, thick and heavy and cold in his belly. “My lord, I am not your enemy. If I’ve done anything at all to make you think so ...”
Hephaistion leaned forward, his eyes intense. “No, you haven’t. But I cannot deny ...” He shook his head. “It is not always easy to see you two together.” The look on his face hardened as though he realized he’d said too much. He leaned back again and pulled his book closer, shielding his chest, his generous impetus masked for now. “Quite convenient for you, wasn’t it?” He paused to drain another cup of wine.
And now Bagoas was irritated though it might be more correct to say that he’d drunk enough wine that he allowed his irritation to show. When he spoke, his voice was slurred a little bit. “Convenient? What was convenient?”
Hephaistion shrugged and put his cup down again though to his surprise he found he was a little clumsy and the cup rocked back and forth, threatening to fall over until he steadied it. “Well, to go straight from Darius to Alexander. Not a bad life.”
Bagoas spoke in a low voice, biting out the words. “You know nothing of my life. My lord.”
“Stop it. I’m just Hephaistion. And I know you were taken from your home at an early age and terrible things done to you. But you can’t deny that you’ve done well for yourself in spite of that and that your masters have been pleasant to you.”
Bagoas closed his eyes and the smell of that vile man came back to him, the one whose stink was imprinted forever on Bagoas’ senses no matter how many years had gone by. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Hephaistion had leaned forward again and was reaching out to pat him on the knee. But Hephaistion stopped when he saw the expression on Bagoas’ face. And what Bagoas then saw written on Hephaistion’s face made no sense, for it seemed a mixture of shame and condescension all at once though Bagoas realized his vision was a little muzzy from all the wine. Muzzy or not, he still had the use of his tongue.
Bagoas said, his voice growing louder the longer he spoke, “My masters? Oh, yes, He’stion, I have had kind masters. So kind that my first master in Susa, once I’d turned twelve, sent me out every afternoon to be used by his clients as they would. Though you are right. He was kind. The ones who beat me in addition to using me ... he never sent me back to them. Though I suspect it was a question of having the merchandise in good working order ... a twelve-year old boy covered in welts would not bring in so much gold. Yes, he was very nice to me. I would kill him if I could.”
Hephaistion’s eyes widened as Bagoas blurted out the story of his first master. When the boy finally ran down, he sat with his neck bent, and for a few minutes the only sound in the tent was that of his harsh breathing.
Eventually, Hephaistion said, “I am sorry. I did not know.”
Bagoas shook his head though he kept his eyes fixed on the ground. “It does not matter.”
“I think it does. We could do something about this. You have only to tell Alexander the name of this man and where he is.”
Bagoas looked up, his eyes wide and dark. “No! You must not.”
“He does not know?”
“No! I have only told him my first master was not a good man. Do not tell him, I beg you.”
Hephaistion smiled with a lopsided lift of his mouth. “I will not. But why did you tell me if you have not told him?”
Bagoas said, “Perhaps I hoped that we could be closer.”
Hephaistion raised his eyebrows. “Or perhaps the wine is strong, especially when it’s not diluted very much. Though I prefer your reason, Bagoas.”
They stared at each other and burst into laughter, each one lolling back against his chair. They laughed long and loud. Eventually, Bagoas sat up, wiping tears from his eyes, and took the book away to the tent’s sleeping-place and tucked it beneath Alexander’s pillow in its silver chest. He was distinctly wobbly on his feet.
When he lurched back, Hephaistion stood up, a little shaky himself, and said, “I’ll see you to your tent.”
Bagoas said, “No, that’s not necessary.”
“Oh, but it is.”
“Why?”
“Alexander would kill me if something happened to you and I had been able to prevent it. He loves you very much.”
“Does he?”
“Oh, yes. He speaks of you all the time to me.”
The emotions in Bagoas’ heart were twofold. It pleased him that Alexander spoke to Hephaistion about him. But he felt the bitter knife twist in his heart at the same time for Alexander almost never spoke of Hephaistion to him. He said softly, “Let us go, then. It is late.”
Hephaistion put his arm around Bagoas’ waist, drawing one of Bagoas’ arms around his shoulder in the familiar gesture. They made their way in silence to Bagoas’ tent, where Hephaistion seated the boy on his bed and kneeled down to take off his shoes.
He looked up at Bagoas, and Bagoas felt something stretch in his heart though it had no name, or least no name that he cared to see clearly. Bagoas murmured, “Thank you. You are kind.”
Hephaistion nodded, just quickly as though he were embarrassed, which was quite wonderful to Bagoas. He could not quite fathom it. He watched Hephaistion bring a water jug and set it on his bedside table.
When Hephaistion spoke, his voice was a little gruff. “Can you undress?”
“Yes, of course.”
Hephaistion went to the tent’s entrance but turned back. “Does this change anything?”
“I do not know.”
“I will not tell him, I swear it to you on the love you and I bear for him. Sleep well.”
He did not wait for any response from Bagoas but turned and left. Bagoas undressed slowly and got into bed. He drank a big cup of water and smiled to himself in the darkness. He had not thought any good truth could arise from drinking too much wine in the wrong company, but then, he had not thought he would ever grow accustomed to the Macedonians’ ease in running about naked. Musing on the things he’d learned during his time with Alexander, he fell asleep.
Alexander returned two days later. He strode into his tent, eager for a bath since he was covered in dust and sweat, but he stopped in his tracks at what he found.
Hephaistion and Bagoas were seated at Alexander’s writing table, their heads bent over a book and Bagoas reading aloud in a halting voice. They looked up and smiled.
“Welcome back,” Hephaistion said as Bagoas stood and hurried to Alexander’s side.
Alexander nodded at Hephaistion, but when Bagoas reached him and started to undo the brooches that held his cloak, he said, “Not yet.” Bagoas, perplexed, started to back away but was stopped by Alexander’s arm wrapping around his waist and pulling him close.
That was odd since Alexander, while open in his regard for Bagoas, nevertheless was modest and discreet with physical embraces when others were about. Especially Hephaistion.
With one hand around Bagoas’ waist, Alexander reached with the other to pour himself a cup of wine, not bothering to dilute it. After taking a big swallow, he set down the cup and asked Hephaistion, “Good book?”
“I was helping Bagoas with The Iliad. The old Greek is quite a challenge though he’s coming along very well.”
Alexander raised his eyebrows and said to Bagoas, “Is Philostratos indisposed?”
Bagoas swallowed hard and said, a flush staining his throat, “No, not at all, my lord Iskander. He’stion has been kind to take time from his duties to help me.”
Alexander looked from Bagoas to Hephaistion several times, his eyes narrowed. He picked up his cup again and drained it. The smile that flitted across his face was tight, closer to grimace than full-hearted smile; it came and went in a matter of a few seconds.
He said, “That’s good. I hoped that you two could be closer.”
