Title: "The Son of Alexander" 1/WIP
Chapter One: "A Great Spark"
Author/pseudonym: CharlieMC camelotslash-1 at qwest.net
Fandom: Alexander the Great
Status: part one -- WIP (work in progress)
Date: October 3, 2004
Archive: Sure, contact me first, please [template must stay with fic]
Archived at: CamelotSlash.com -- http://www.camelotslash.com
Category: slash
Disclaimer: Don't own them and mean no infringement or disrespect. Hephaestion and Alexander belong to the ages and not to me! No money made, it's merely for fun.
Summary: Hephaestion writes a history -- and reveals he is with child.
Warnings for this chapter: Slash, mpreg, somewhat graphic sex, angst, discussion of terminating life.
Beta: Thanks as always to Mistress Marilyn for her wonderful help. Any mistakes are my own, as she's always guarding my fic to avoid putting any mistakes off on readers...
Dedication: To Jennifer (darkmalik) -- from the two Alexander the Great lists I co-moderate at Yahoo! groups. (You can visit them here: Alexander mpreg list -- Alexander fanfic list)
Author notes: The problem when studying ancient history is that the best we can do is read the oldest manuscripts available and try to access and compare multiple sources. But when these sources are rarely (if ever) those of eye witnesses, it's clearly impossible to speak in terms of FACTS. We have to speak, rather, of possibilities -- even then there are numerous factors we would want to know, but never can. We can make 'guesses' based on the available data and surmise how people felt, reasoned and reacted -- but we're very likely to use our modern values and beliefs as standards for people from a distant past. Personally, I try to keep in mind that the truth is I'm actually ignorant of the ancient past. I can only create a fanfic based on my best research and personal speculation -- and hope that the tale I tell is good enough to involve you -- the reader -- in spite of my historical inaccuracies. If the story speaks to you, I'll count myself happy...
Research: Massive! I'm somewhat a 'student' of Alexander the Great (a life-long interest), but I spent some time coming up with two lengthy timelines, attempting to track down specifics regarding Hephaestion and Aristotle (basically as he relates to Alexander) and so on... As I noted above, the details are incredibly sketchy, at best! Even though I think many people of our current time period would take it for granted that Alexander and Hephaestion were lovers, there is actually no definitive proof this was true. Anyway, seeing as I'm all over research, I'm glad I did it -- and hope the reader will appreciate what comes of it...

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I have little time for setting down my words, these days -- and little inclination (if I'm being honest). Lately I find that after spending my days in battles -- or in the training of other men -- that I wish for my free hours to be used in the pursuit of pleasures and relaxation.

Yet with my current problem, I've found myself drawn to sit alone inside my tent; I am most unwilling to trust my thoughts to the hands of a scribe. But I've long enjoyed writing, when not fatigued, so perhaps it is well that I've been driven back to it from this necessity. (And one day I may wish to know what I've recorded here inside this small history.)

Of course you know of me, but surely not for my own sake. If, indeed, you have heard my name it will be due to him I follow and loyally serve; I am Hephaestion, son of nobleman Amyntor (from an aristocratic Macedonian house). I am sturdy and fierce in battle -- and certainly proud enough of my own feats. Yet these feats pale when seen beside the man who leads me!

If you have not heard the name of Phillip II, former King of the Macedonians, I would wonder at it -- and perhaps shake my head. But if you say you do not know the greatness of his son, Alexander, then I would call you a liar! For even now at 26 the whole world trembles before him...

So, you may ask, have I written to Athens to share my woes with the brilliant Aristotle, who was teacher to both Alexander and me in our youth? Though I correspond frequently with him, I find myself reluctant to communicate this matter. For he is a student of nature and his treatises only extol his expertise in matters that range from philosophical problems to biology and physics and from  morality to aesthetics (and yes, even to politics). How dare I try to tell him of this thing which would defy nature? How dare I ask his advice on this thing that would send the most sane of men reeling?

For I have of late discovered that I am with child. I am filled by a great spark of life.

You will jeer at me and say I drink too deeply and too well; you will say I need more water with my wine. But it is several weeks since I have touched wine not cut by ten times the water!

You may say that I mistake some grave illness for the signs of pregnancy, but I would easily shout you down. (And we Macedonians are masters when it comes to this, as all the world knows!) This belly that begins to grow is not filled by some black tumor -- nor are these breasts that swell with milk a sign of ill humor.

The gods know I spent many a day in hiding the sickness that came over me for week after week. The mornings saw the worst of that, though sometimes my stomach turned at later hours, as well. Those wretched days of dizziness and vomiting are past, now -- though I little knew nor cared then about the cause! I only wished to spare my lover from worry, for his shoulders are burdened enough, say I.

You did not know that Alexander and I were lovers? I tell you this is so. Certainly all know it is common enough for men to take another man to bed -- and more so when these men are in their youth. (Our union is a long one, forged early as we sat side by side in study and rode side by side to practice battle.) Gaining manhood did not weaken our ties, though perhaps now we spend less time impassioned than in days gone by...

No, it is not true I envy Bagoas, the Persian eunuch Alexander has taken as a lover. For my love for Alexander runs deep; I would wish Alexander anything -- or any person -- that might give him joy. I have seen the light in his eyes when Bagoas is with him -- I would not be so petty as to deny my friend and lover!

Why do some think I must have all of Alexander to be satisfied? For he is like Fire -- you dare not go too close too often, for fear you will be burned! So it is in all things with my dear love; you may share his bed, but dare not do so too often -- he is too great for a mortal man in large doses.

I was his first. This means the world to me, I do willingly admit. Though he may find comfort in the arms of mistresses and boys, I will ever be important to him. And he is a King -- and such men have needs beyond those who do not rule. So would I wish him to have less than any nobleman to succor him? I think not!

But I have gone afield, I fear. I spoke of my condition -- a condition I would well deny if I dared!

You will ask how this might happen and I would have no good reply. I suspect I know the night, though, as Alexander and I had not been together for many weeks before then -- and our passion burned bright and high on that occasion...

I found some small way in that day to assure Alexander I did not begrudge his love for Bagoas. It was a thing I felt a great need to express, though in truth fine words failed me. But words are not a thing two lovers rely on, so we managed well enough to understand each other.

When it was time to dine we sat to sup with our closest friends around us. There were no guests to join us and the drinking started early -- even while the food was still before us.

It is true that too often Alexander will drink more than is best for him. As his friend I normally do what I can to encourage moderation, yet this night I fell in with those present and lifted cup upon cup of wine to my own lips.

After, Alexander and I went arm-in-arm back to his tent, singing as we staggered along. (It's true he has a beautiful voice of the purest high tenor; we make a fine harmony together, for my tones are more bass and blend well enough with his.)

Bagoas greeted us in the entrance and helped me to undress the King and see him to his fine, Persian bed. But when I would have turned to go, Alexander sat upright and beckoned me back. It was Bagoas who moved silently from the bedchamber while I undressed and climbed in naked beside him.

I had thought him too drunk to manage, for I found myself unable to grow hard. But he was a lion, carrying me along on an amazing wave of lustiness! Though between us it is normally I who would penetrate him, this night found our roles reversed -- partly from necessity. (As I said, though I did feel great passion, my manhood was numbed by too much wine.) He mounted me with a colossal energy; again and again he filled both my bowel and mouth with copious quantities of his hot seed! I was speared by him; I was willingly impaled. For not one instant did I think of resisting a single overture -- or variation -- of his advances.

He had learned new means of pleasure in the arms of Bagoas. I felt a certain grudging gratitude to the comely youth when I thought upon it, even in the throes of passion!

We coupled long and hard through the night and into the morning. The sun was rising before he finally quieted, nestled in the circle of my arms.

We both awoke in ill humor in the late hours of morning. The noon sun was readying to take the sky when I stood to make water in the chamber pot. My head felt close to bursting and my mouth was dry and bitter. From Alexander's groan I could tell he felt as bad, or worse.

Bagoas had returned. His deft hands made quick rights to both the room and my lover, tending the morning needs of Alexander and aiding him to dress. But more astonishing still, he offered me his aid, as well! I gladly accepted it and allowed him to ease my discomfort. (Bagoas' skilled hands rubbed my temples -- then turned to massaging my scalp. I cannot recall a feeling more luxurious -- nor one that better eased a headache! It gladdened my heart to think of Alexander in his daily care...)

Finally Bagoas had food brought in to break our fast. We were both resistant, though he managed to scold us into eating. I must admit that once we'd done so, we both felt better for it!

Then I waited while Bagoas busied himself in the main portion of Alexander's tent. The youth is always seemly in behavior, so if you have heard differently I tell you you've heard lies! Though there are days when I might wish to take his place in Alexander's arms, there are no days I wish him dead -- or even departed from my lover's side. For, in truth, it was not Bagoas that pushed me from Alexander's embrace; we are ever friends and more, but of our own accord have loved less in the flesh now that we are men grown.

I kissed Alexander and offered the words that lovers share when such a night has passed between them. We both felt some embarrassment, I think, that our needs had been so hard to fulfill. But our leave-taking was happy, as always.

Yet even as I bid him farewell to return here to my own tent, I felt a strangeness inside me. There is no way to explain it -- no words sufficient to express what I experienced in body, mind and heart. But even then I knew that something significant had transpired -- something of grave import. As I have related, time marched on. We had many a campaign to wage and numerous tasks to busy us from day to day.

I wearied more easily than in the past, but as there was good reason for weariness, I gave it little enough thought.

I spent much time (as always) with my lover -- both in public and private. Bagoas and I have easily come to an understanding between, for he is of the same mind as I -- we both love Alexander and would deny him nothing that gives him joy (as I have mentioned of myself before this).

I've found it simple enough to conceal the swell of my belly and breasts and have stood many times in front of the great silver-back mirror I keep here in my tent, studying myself from every angle. I see nothing visible that might give me away -- or not to most. But I admit I wonder if the sharp eyes of Bagoas have noticed these changes I so carefully hide.

And is there something in my eyes that might reveal me?

I know I must soon approach someone for assistance with this matter. I've wandered a few times among the camp followers, curious as to what is done there when some woman is with child. I knew well enough that many children had been born and joined our ever-swelling ranks. But I suspected as many had been left on the rocks to the will of the gods (usually meaning they would die). Or had even been smothered and quickly buried (for who among us had not on occasion come across the shallow grave of a newborn infant?).

It's not uncommon to leave a babe to the will of the gods, yet I was interested in something different; I wondered about ending a pregnancy only newly begun. I knew this, too, could be managed -- for I'd heard tell of it. But I also knew there was some risk involved, and I wished to know more should I seriously entertain pursuing such termination.

Last night while sleeping I was sent a dream; I knew at once that I was visited by the god. I will not speak at length of it (for I believe the god would forbid it), yet I now know that I must not think of ending this life that surely glows inside me. And, yes, the god revealed to me that I do bear a son -- the son of Alexander!

So it is time for me to go to him and share my news. And yet I fear his words. Oh, I know without his saying that there can be no way for him to acknowledge a child born of another man! Though we two are blood sworn to each other, we certainly cannot be married; Alexander will surely marry more than once, I believe -- and those unions needs must bear fruit.

There is but little shame (if any) in having a child outside of wedlock, so I care not that our son will be illegitimate. Nor do I care if he should ascend the throne of his father one day, for in truth I would not wish him to live with the harsh burdens of a king. I've seen enough of what it does to Alexander -- I've no desire to wish it on my offspring.

Listen to me -- already my thoughts turn to after my child is born.

Why does this fear chill my heart? I have known Alexander since an early age and know that he would never deliberately offer me pain. Yet I tremble at the thought of finding dismay in his eyes; I shiver at the possibility of even brief denial in his voice. Though I am now resigned to this fate, how dare I expect the same of him?

There are many details that jab at me as I sit unable to seek even the small comfort of sleep. How can I function as I must while I grow bigger daily with this child? Who will I trust to help me bring the child when my time is come? What then becomes of him? Who will be nursemaid to my babe -- who can I entrust him to?

My head spins and tears fall. I can write no further on this night. I must seek Alexander soon, or surely I'll be overcome!

-the end part one-