Title: A Public Ritual
Author: Qaddafi the Ripper
Summary: The Macedonian army visits Troy, and Hephaistion and Alexander's relationship becomes public knowledge.
Notes: The order of events here is somewhat skewed, but I prefer the way it flows from a narrative perspective. Feel free to disagree.

It didn't look like he'd expected it to look. He'd grown up hearing the story about the Trojan War and the heroes who'd fought in it. He'd expected to see topless towers, a strong wall, and a throng of powerful people. It would be old surely, but the grandeur wouldn't have faded any more than the wonder of Homer's words had.

What he saw was a small village with a large shrine to Athena on a nearby hill. Sheep covered the grass outside the village and the houses inside were modest. It wasn't impressive at all. Hephaistion stared in disappointment.

He should have expected it. He'd learned his history well enough to know that Troy hadn't been a major power for years and that the topless towers of Illium had never been rebuilt after they'd fallen. But surely something more than a poverty-stricken town and a dilapidated shrine should remain to mark the whereabouts of one of the greatest wars in history.

At least he wasn't the only one who found it anti-climactic. Most of the men stared at the village, doubt and contempt written clear on their faces. Maybe they didn't even believe that this was Troy. But it was in the right place, so it had to be. It was such a let down that for a moment Hephaistion wished they'd never come here.

Then he turned and saw Alexander's face. The young king looked like he'd received a revelation from the gods, as if he alone could see Troy as it had been at the height of its power. Hephaistion smiled and decided he was glad they'd come here.

The small column of men marched up to the village. They were met by a group of five men, who stared at the Macedonians cautiously. Each men was dressed in what was surely his nicest clothes; they'd heard word that Alexander of Macedon might be stopping here.

The man standing in the middle, whom Hephaistion guessed to be the one in charge, stepped forward as their troop approached. He address the column as a whole. "Welcome to Troy, king of Macedon."

Alexander smiled pleasantly. "Thank you, sir. I have longed to visit Troy for a long time." The men from the village looked both relieved that Alexander was a reasonable man and proud of their once-famous city. Hephaistion briefly wondered what sort of stories were circling about Alexander. He was sure that some painted Alexander as a cruel, heartless savage and the Macedonians as barely more civilized than beasts.

"Then," continued the same man, "as you have wished to enter Troy, please do, and with our blessings." And so they all entered the city. The villagers looked out at them from the safety of their homes, suspicious of any invading army, no matter how peaceable their intention might be.

Once inside, the men offered Alexander gifts, proclaiming him king over Troy. Alexander, smiling benevolently, accepted their tribute. The men jostled some, pointing out the crown he'd already worn, given him by Menoitis after crossing the Hellespoint. When the village ran out of gifts (which was quick enough, considering how poor the place was), the same group of five men offered to lead Alexander to the shrine of Athena where he could see the last resting place of the heroes of the Trojan War.

Alexander agreed graciously and without seeming eager, even though this was the reason he'd wanted to come to Troy in the first place. The shrine was famous for housing artifacts from the war, original armor and weapons that some of the heroes had used. The more cynical part of Hephaistion's mind wondered if the artifacts would be real, or just cheap replicas made to fool tourists. Here, too, was supposed to be the tombs of Achilles, Ajax, Patroklos, Priam king of Troy, and more. Those, at least, he hoped were there. It would be terribly disappointing if they weren't.

The men of the village lead the Macedonians into the shrine. The heavy doors creaked loudly as they opened. Though large, the shrine wasn't in very good upkeep. The floor was dusty, the large door creaked when they opened it, and there were cobwebs up near the ceiling. Hephaistion surveyed it all, dejected. How often he and Alexander had dreamed of coming here, and this was the reality that they found. Inside, they were met by a priests and priestesses that served the shrine.

The high priest, after being cordially introduced, lead them over to a dusty suit of armor. "You must be interested in this, sire," he spoke. "I have heard rumors that you are a descendant of the great Achilles." Alexander nodded. "Wonderful! You will be pleased to hear that this is the armor that Achilles himself wore during the war. And this is his shield."

Alexander ran a finger along the armor, picking up dust. Despite the age, the armor and shield both were of good quality and decent upkeep. Give it a vigorous oiling and Hephaistion thought it would be as good as any other armor. Alexander's thoughts were no where near as mundane. "The armor of Achilles," he murmured. He turned to the priests. "I would like to take this armor and shield for myself. In return," he continued before they could make any protests, "I offer my own armor and shield."

Their hosts exchanged reluctant looks. Finally, they turned back to Alexander. "Of course, sire," continued the high priest who. "We would be honored if you took this armor and shield for yourself and we gladly accept your own in exchange."

Alexander smiled. "Good." And with that he stripped off his armor, one of his squires scurrying to his side to help. He wore a tunic beneath his armor so he didn't have to strip, but Hephaistion enjoyed the show regardless. When one of the villagers handed him the armor of Achilles, he didn't put it on, but handed it to his squire. He had no desire to wear dusty, dirty armor that probably smelled.

"Would you like to see some of our other relics, sire?" another priest asked.

"You have more?" Alexander demanded, intrigued.

"We have one that I am sure you will be interested in," the man continued, voice oily. "Your namesake, Alexander, also called Paris, left a lyre. We still have it for you to see."

Hephaistion winced. Alexander turned on the villagers and priests, scowling. "Why would I be interested in that? Paris was only interested in courting women, not riding to war. Have you Achilles' lyre instead?" Now Hephaistion found himself stifling a grin. Alexander could be so predictable at times.

"We don't have Achilles's lyre, sire," the men apologized, crestfallen.

Alexander waved a hand. "No matter. We will now make our offering to the gods." He walked out of the shrine and met his men where they waited. "Are you ready to honor the gods and the heroes of Troy?" he called to them.

The men sent up a resounding cheer. They'd been bored, waiting for Alexander to finish looking at artifacts. This was something they knew and enjoyed. As one, the men began stripping off their armor and clothes, standing nude beneath the cloudy sky, Hephaistion among them. The villagers watched with horrified fascination, doubtless fearing some barbaric Macedonian rite. "Which way are the tombs of the heroes?" Alexander asked them. They pointed shakily at the path that led further up the hill. When all the men were naked, Alexander called, "Come! Up yonder lies the tombs of the heroes of old! Let us go to them!"

The men cheered again and were off, a mass of bodies running full speed up the hill. Hephaistion fell in step alongside Alexander, taking a moment to admire his figure. "Nice speech," he said. "Short and to the point. You're getting better."

Alexander grinned at him. "Thanks. What do you think of my new armor and shield?"

"It's very grand, but have your squires clean it thoroughly before you put the armor on. Otherwise, you could find it crawling with bugs when you wear it."

Alexander shuddered. "Good idea. You always think of everything." He smiled at Hephaistion again. In his eyes, Hephaistion could see the anticipation for what they'd planned. Not much longer, and it would be time.

"Someone has to," he said, smiling back. His heart began to speed, from running and from remembering what they had planned. "Once you get an idea in your head, you don't always stop to think if it's practical." Alexander smiled ruefully, and they both turned back and focused on where they were running. The road was steep and bended a great deal. One soldier laughed as he passed them by.

Hephaistion was a bit surprised when he felt Alexander reach out and grasp his hand. He turned to look at his friend. He rarely saw such doubt on Alexander's face. "Are you sure you still want to?" Alexander whispered.

He took a deep breath, feeling his own insides churn with nervousness. "Yes. I'm still sure." For a moment he held Alexander's hand in a crushing grip. "I want people to know."

Alexander relaxed. "I'm glad," he said. He let go of Hephaistion's hand and increased his pace, determined not to be among the last to reach their destination. Hephaistion smiled and stared at Alexander's bare back, keeping his own steady pace.

He reached the end of the path soon enough. There, in orderly rows, lay a group of ancient tombs. Signs had been staked out in front of each to identify them. To the far right was the tomb of Priam. Hephaistion gave it a quick nod, feeling superstitious. Next to Priam's lay graves to other Trojan heroes. Hephaistion's gaze didn't linger but moved on. There was a gap between the graves; those on the left belonged to Greeks. Most prominent among them were the tombs of Ajax and Achilles. Hephaistion's breath caught. Sure enough, right beside the tomb of Achilles was the one for Patroklos. It was as they'd hoped it would be.

When the last of the men had arrived, breathing hard but grinning, Alexander turned to Hephaistion expectantly. He stepped up besides Alexander, standing in front of Patroklos' tomb as Alexander stood before Achilles'. The men murmured behind him, wondering what they were doing. Everyone knew that he and Alexander were friends and some knew they were lovers. But most people didn't know how close they really were. After this, they would know.

Hephaistion's nerve almost deserted him. The soldiers in this army clung to Alexander like a lover. The men were jealous of those Alexander favored. Each of them wanted to claim him just for themselves, but only Hephaistion had succeeded. Once the army knew that, he would surely become a source of rivalry and contention.

Another part of him wanted to do this, to proclaim for all the world to hear that he was Alexander's and Alexander was his. Let them mutter and glare and nurse grudges if they so chose. He had no fear of losing Alexander to anyone. He and Alexander had dreamed of doing this ever since the plans for invading Asia had called for crossing the Hellespoint. He had no intention of backing down now.

He smiled and took his place where he belonged, next to Alexander, where all the world could see them. Alexander grinned at him and they ran, Alexander around Achilles' tomb and Hephaistion around Patroklos'. The grumbling of the men watching might have grown louder; Hephaistion didn't hear it. There was only him, Alexander, and the rite they performed, joining them together forever. It was as public and as binding as a marriage ceremony.

They each ran three circles around the tomb, ending at almost the same time. Alexander grinned broadly at Hephaistion before turning to his men. "Come!" he yelled. "Let us celebrate!"

The men cheered and surged forward, laughing and dancing and singing. Like a man waking from a beautiful dream, Hephaistion barely saw the way some of them glanced at him. If trouble was already brewing, or if there would be trouble in the future, at the moment, Hephaistion cared for none of it. He had Alexander, and he never planned to let him go, and together they were straonger than they were alone.

For hours, the Macedonian army gave praise to the gods and the heroes of old. They made sacrifices to the gods: to Poseidon for the easy trip over the Hellespoint, to Ares for victory in battle, to Athena so she wouldn't smite them for being Greeks in Troy. The Thessalian cavalry capered among the festivities, barely evading the tombs and a number of soldiers. Hephaistion barely noticed any of it. All he saw he Alexander, when they came close together, and the wild, slightly disbelieving, but enamored smile on his friend's face. They had done it. There was no going back now.

The mad revelry eventually died down. The army trooped back down the path they'd run up earlier, back to the small village that was once the mightest city in the world. The same stars that had once hung above Achilles and Patroklos still shone down. Men found their discarded clothes, drifted off to sleep, or to more private encounters. Hephaistion turned to find Alexander standing beside him, still lit up from within by love. "We really did it," Hephaistion murmured. He took Alexander's hands in his own. "I can hardly believe it."

"I know," Alexander said. He gripped Hephaistion's hand and led him away from the other men. Hephaistion followed eagerly, having recognized the look in his friend's eye. Two of Alexander's older squires followed them at a discrete distance. There was a large clump of bushes that had an opening in the middle. The grass there was soft. Alexander sat down, pulling Hephaistion with him.

Hephaistion went smiling. "Are you sure this is a good place?" he asked. "Anyone could walk up and see us here."

"Let them," Alexander mumbled, already busy covering Hephaistion's face with kisses. "We have announced to them already how we feel. Should they be surprised if we consummate our relationship?"

"We've already consummated it," Hephaistion pointed out, running his hands down Alexander's chest. Already they were both hard. He decided he didn't care either if anyone saw them. He leaned down and started his own worship. If anyone saw them that night, he never noticed.

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