Disclaimer: if they were mine there would have been definitely more action than hugging in that movie between Alexander and Hephaestion.
Summary: two of Alexander's wives think of Hephaestion just before his pyre is about to be put on fire.
Warning: slash. As it it beta-read now. Thank you Dreamer46! You're the best!
She stood there, faithfully by her husband's side, watching the funeral pyre of one of his generals.
It's a mockery in itself, in many an aspect, she supposed. For she was his wife in the name only. He forbid her to ever touch him again, almost mad in his grief for the man. She was nothing now, except a wife for show, except means for his child to be born. Stateira was more, the marriage to her was very strong politically.
And yet, she stood there, an image of a perfect wife, watching the pyre of the one man her husband had ever loved. That one person he would have given the world to. And she was to stand there, pay him her respects, when it was because of him she had lost Alexander. When it was that man, who made her commit those drastic actions, but not before she was with a child. She knew that otherwise she would have died that day. Or the next one, as a traitor, a murderer. But his revenge had reached her, even after his death. Alexander wanted nothing to do with her.
She remembered the time, when she saw them, after the ceremony, before the wedding night. She remembered them standing so close to each other, comforted by the mere presence of the other one. Roxane had felt so jealous then, how DARE he interrupt her first night with her husband like that.
He had marked the whole night. First with the ring, one Alexander had taken to wearing constantly, then, when she threw the ring away, with a ghost of a presence. Somehow Alexander smelled like him, and she knew he did not think of her that night.
Hephaestion was there, every time she sought her husband. He was there, when Alexander would not see anybody, not even her. But THAT man was allowed to see him.
He had always been more important than her. Alexander had time for his friend always, in every situation, even when he did not have time to visit his wife's chambers.
She was, after all just a means to an end, in this case, an heir. All while, Hephaestion was both the means and the end, was the goal waiting faithfully at the end of every day, like some sort of reward.
She did not understand what that man could give Alexander that she could not, for she knew that her husband did not succumb even to him. No, it was Hephaestion, who surrendered each and every time she had spied on her husband. Or had someone do it.
She could understand him finding pleasure within his body, the respect he would have as a warrior. But she could not understand that love. For it had to be love, otherwise, Alexander would have sent him away, as he had Bagoas, more beautiful and skilled than anyone would have imagined. For, if it had not been love, why would he stay with the corpse for days, completely mad, forbidding anyone to touch or even go near the body of Hephaestion?
Hephaestion took her husband from her, if ever he was hers. That man had reclaimed Alexander, after her wedding. And even after the king had taken two more wives, he still belonged to his blue-eyed general.
And now his general was dead, laying there, on his pyre, the coin under his tongue as a payment for Charon, who will finally divide those two. There will be no more Alexander and Hephaestion.
But neither will there be more Alexander and Roxane.
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