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Without Reservation
[by victoria p.]
Rating: G
Summary: "I think you have your reasons, beyond the obvious, which are known only to you."
Notes: Thanks to Devil Doll, who puts up with me and my shaving kink, for looking it over. More notes at the end. This version of Alexander and Hephaistion is heavily influenced by Judith Tarr's portrayal in Lord of the Two Lands, which you should all read.
Date: August 22, 2005
Faith is not belief without proof, but trust without reservation. ~anonymous
*
Alexander growled as the razor dragged against his skin, drawing blood. His left hand, injured two days ago when the Tyrians had set fire to the mole, was still too stiff and swollen to grip the slender bone handle, so he was attempting to shave with his right, and making a mess of it.
"What in Hades are you doing?"
"Shaving." He didn't turn around, but grinned at the horror in Hephaistion's voice, and met his eyes in the mirror.
"More like trying to slit your own throat. You have servants for this." Hephaistion took the razor from his hand and set it on the table with a precise click.
"None of them are particularly sure-handed with a blade."
Hephaistion shivered at that, but all he said was, "You're bleeding."
Alexander dashed at his face impatiently. "A small cut, nothing more." He picked up the razor, smiling defiance.
"The first of many, if you keep on with that."
"Afraid I'll ruin my pretty face?"
Hephaistion snorted. "Something like that." He reached out for the razor again, and Alexander let him have it. He brushed his other hand gently over Alexander's damp, sparsely stubbled jaw, and Alexander closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed, still, after all these years, affected by Hephaistion's touch. "Leave it be. It's barely noticeable."
"Insulting my beard now?" Alexander laughed. There was something enjoyable about teasing Hephaistion. He always gave back as good as he got.
Hephaistion lifted Alexander's chin and peered at it, lips twitching as he tried not to smile. "What beard?"
Alexander's clever retort died on his lips as a brilliant idea came to him. "Perhaps I oughtn't shave myself," he said slowly, "but you could do it for me."
"I'm no barber," Hephaistion replied, putting down the razor and backing away, hands held up in protest.
"You shave yourself."
"And made a mess of it for weeks when I started, if you'll recall."
Alexander laughed at that, remembering the nicks and cuts they'd all worn until they'd learned the topography of their own faces, and the proper way to handle a blade when the intent was to shave, not to kill. "I do. It feels so long ago." He shook his head, refusing to become maudlin. He offered the blade to Hephaistion. "Come. Let's do this."
Hephaistion shook his head. "You can go a day or two without shaving. No one will find it strange. Your hand--"
Alexander ran his good hand over his chin, scratching. "But it itches like bloody hell."
"Ah." Hephaistion smiled knowingly. Damn him. "Now we come to it."
"So if you'll please--"
"I don't like the idea of holding a blade to your throat." All mirth was gone from his voice.
Alexander gave a small huff of laughter. "I'm pleased to hear that, actually, but there's no one I trust more."
"And I, in turn, am pleased to hear that," Hephaistion replied, heat flashing in his grey eyes, "but I'd rather not put it to the test."
Alexander cocked his head and smiled, knowing exactly what effect it had on Hephaistion. "Hephaistion, please?"
Hephaistion grumbled, but took the razor, and Alexander let his smile widen into a grin for a brief moment.
They fell into a companionable silence for a few moments, as Hephaistion moved the razor over Alexander's oiled, stubbled skin. Alexander closed his eyes, forced himself to remain still. Hephaistion's breath ghosted over his damp skin, making him shiver. He slowed his own breath to match it, imagining their hearts beating in time, as well. Others might well call him foolish for indulging in these romantic dreams, but he sometimes thought that if Hephaistion's heart stopped beating, his own would as well. He certainly wouldn't want to live any longer than it would take to avenge Hephaistion's death, empire or no. And he knew the rest of his general staff would be horrified by that, but he didn't care. Their opinions about what little private life he had left only meant so much to him, and no more, and this was too personal, too private to share.
Only Hephaistion's opinion mattered on some things.
"You think I'm mad, don't you?" He wasn't talking about shaving, but if Hephaistion chose to take it that way, he would allow it.
Hephaistion stilled, his hand gentle on Alexander's face. "I think you have your reasons, beyond the obvious, which are known only to you," he said finally.
"And the men?"
"They love you, and they'll follow you, madness or no. But I don't think they do."
"We must break Tyre--"
"And we will." Hephaistion's long fingers caressed Alexander's jaw, and Alexander felt heat stir low in his belly. He searched Hephaistion's clear grey gaze for understanding, and found it. "Now, stop talking. I'm almost done and I don't want to cut you."
Alexander subsided. He let his eyes fall closed, lulled by Hephaistion's gentle touch on his skin, his familiar scent. And then he was done, and gently wiping Alexander's face clean with a warm, wet towel. Alexander felt the soft touch of Hephaistion's lips against his, more a breath than a kiss, and he sighed, reaching out a hand to keep Hephaistion from pulling away.
"It won't be long now," Hephaistion murmured against his lips, and Alexander smiled.
"Yes," he said, and wound a hand around Hephaistion's neck to hold him close and kiss him properly.
Tyre would fall soon; nothing could withstand Alexander. And as long as Hephaistion was by his side, the world would be his.
end
***
Notes: 1. There's no evidence Alexander was left-handed, though traditionally he's included on those lists of famous and brilliant lefties. *shrugs* I'm not wedded to it; it was just easier than not identifying the injured hand. And the injury? Fictitious.
2. I have no idea what the ancient Greeks used to shave. Some kind of specific instrument, yes, but I don't know exactly what (strigil? straight razor? special knife?) so I´ve just gone with the term razor. I also don't know if they used soap or oil or water or some combination, but oil seemed most likely. If you know, please tell me. If you don't, cut me some slack.~*~
If you liked this story, feel free to leave a comment.
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Disclaimer: This version of Alexander and Hephaistion is based on Judith Tarr’s Lord of the Two Lands. This piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.
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