Alexander: Deserve
Holiday request #5. I'm not satisfied with it, but I hope people like it anyway.
Deserve
Author: Qaddafi the Ripper
Fandom: Alexander the Great (oringal)
Summary: For florachan. Craterus and Hephaistion fight in India.
India was a hot, rainy, and thoroughly miserable country. It was no wonder that tempers flared, although he recalled briefly that such hadn't been the case in Egypt, which was even hotter. Perhaps it was the rain, obscuring the sun and putting them all in miserable moods. Perhaps it was the distance from Macedon. Other men, Alexander foremost among them, might enjoy the thrill of adventure and a new horizon every day - and, to be truthful, there were times when he did too - but he'd been harboring an urge to go back home for some time now. He called the hills and valleys of his home fondly, the neighbors and family he hadn't seen in half a lifetime, even the poverty of owning but one woolen cloak.
Coming out of a dream of Macedon to look upon damp, miserable India put Craterus in a foul mood.
Many of his men felt the same way. Some of the commanders of the army were given younger troops, still fresh from home and shaved of beards. It vexed him, to see Ptolemy or Perdiccas looking over their boys, running about in the warm rain without a care in the world, proudly. Some commanders of the army had even been given foreign troops, strange in their ways and not nearly as out of place in India as the Macedonians. It grated on him, to see Hephaistion's troops, and on how the man was just as proud of the barbarians as he was of the Macedonians.
He had asked Alexander once or twice or thrice how much further he intended to travel. Alexander had laughed the laugh that no one, least of all Craterus, could resist, and asked if Craterus had grown old and weary already. The traveling was not so bad. Craterus didn't mind seeing new lands, he just minding staying in those new lands with foreigners. He didn't even mind the constant wars; war was one of his talents, and he would practice it on any field he encountered. But he was getting tired, young though he might yet be.
It was no wonder he was in another foul mood this night. A party had swung into into full gear, and Craterus was into his cups already. The wine helped him think less, sometimes. His latest mistress lounged beside him, a presence that cheered him slightly. He squinted dourly across the room, eying the other revelers. His gaze, as it so often did, fell on Hephaistion.
Craterus was a powerful and competent man who was well liked by his men and well liked by his king. He had accomplishments enough to make any man proud enough for two lifetimes. But when he looked at Hephaistion, all he had faded in comparison. He had more talent in commanding a battle than the other man, every man in the army knew that. They had been given the same power by Alexander, all because Hephaistion was closer to the king than Craterus was.
It made his blood run swift, sometimes to choleric rages, to think that Hephaistion was closer to Alexander than he was. He prized his friendship with Alexander, and not just because he was his king. Alexander had a presence, one that drew men to him helplessly, almost like sailors to a siren's call. Why anyone would wish to resist that lure was beyond Craterus, though a few did try. Alexander was the sort of man who could be friend to every man in the army. It was one of Craterus's greatest pleasures to say that Alexander counted him as one of his few close friends.
No matter how close he was to Alexander, Hephaistion was always closer. And how could Craterus compete? He hadn't grown up with Alexander, hadn't been tutored alongside him, hadn't gone into exile with him, hadn't ever shared his bed. That last one caused him to think at times. True, his preferences ran to women, but he would wonder what Alexander was like in bed, and envied Hephaistion for knowing the answer.
Hephaistion wandered in Craterus's general direction. The wine that lay inside him now, and the rage that always lay inside him, called on Craterus to hail the other man. “Ho, Hephaistion!” he called. The other turned towards him and frowned. Craterus motioned him over, and, reluctantly, the other came. “Not sitting with Alexander tonight?” he asked in a nasty tone. It had been years since Hephaistion had sat with Alexander at parties. Not for any lessening of desire or closeness, Craterus suspected, but because it disturbed the Persians and the other foreigns in the army to see such things. It made him angry, that Hephaistion and Alexander would act differently just to appease barbarians.
“Not tonight, no,” Hephaistion replied frigidly. “Did you want to say something important?”
“Yes, I do,” Craterus growled out. The wine in him, and the hate and jealousy in him, made him heady with his words. “I don't like you. I don't like it when you're with Alexander. I don't like it when you're not with Alexander.”
Hephaistion gave him a cold, superior look. Craterus guessed that it wouldn't take long before Hephaistion became just like the Persians, looking down on all Macedonian men, as if they were the barbarians. He thought he was so much better than everyone else, just because he was close to Alexander. “Then it seems I can't do anything you do like,” the other man countered smoothly.
“There is one thing,” Craterus sneered. “You can go away. I don't ever want to see you again.” He took another large gulp of wine as he watched Hephaistion grow angry from his words. “You're a good for nothing. Alexander only keeps you around because he's sleeping with you. You know nothing of war. You don't deserve to be a general!” Hephaistion was shaking with anger now. Satisfied, Craterus knew it would take only one more insult to push him over. And right now, he wanted a fight, so he used that last insult. “You don't deserve Alexander!”
Without a moment of hesitation, Hephaistion charged headlong at the other man, as Craterus had guessed he would. There was a reason why Craterus was the general. What he hadn't anticipated was how hard Hephaistion would slam into him, sending them both crashing to the floor. Craterus locked hold of Hephaistion's arms, grappling to fight the other man beneath him. He sneered cruelly into Hephaistion's infuriated face.
It was a fight that wasn't meant to last. Hands reached down, pulling both men off the floor and prying them off one another. Hephaistion was panting, and Craterus realized he himself was little better off. He wished the fight had gone on longer. He still had frustrations he wanted to take out on the other.
But that wasn't to be. Their fight had caught the attention of them one whom they'd been fighting over.
“Stop it, both of you!” Alexander snapped, coming to stand between the two of them. He was glaring fiercely, his presence alone enough to douse the fire of the hottest argument. A touch of impatience crept into his expression. “Are you fighting over me?” he demanded, making it clear he'd heard some of the argument. It wouldn't be the first time men in this army had fought over who was closest to him. It was the price Alexander paid, Craterus knew, for being the sort of man he was, a man who drew others to him so strongly.
When Alexander looked over to him in disapproval, Craterus had to look away. True, men fought over Alexander, but he hadn't wanted to see it among his officers, among his closest friends. It was hard to look at Alexander, knowing he'd disappointed him. He continued to look down even when Alexander turned his look on Hephaistion. It wasn't until Alexander sighed with a hint of amusement that he dared look up.
“You don't need to fight each other,” the king said, with surprising patience for him. “You know I love you both.” He turned to Craterus alone and said, “You are the nearest and dearest friend to the king,” he told him softly. “How could I not love you?”
Craterus smiled back at him, feeling his rage melt away. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I do know that, but sometimes I forget.” Alexander smiled back, nodded to him, and walked away from both men, most of the crowd drifting away with him. Enough stayed to keep a wary eye on the combatants, to ensure that they did not begin to fight again. Hephaistion remained, shoulders faintly hunched, shifting his feet around. Alexander had had no extra words for him.
“Why are you so depressed?” Craterus asked darkly. Alexander might have quelled some of his own fears, but that did not mean he liked this other man. There would never be a time, he thought, when he could be friends with Hephaistion. Hephaistion looked up at him when he spoke, and glared. “Don't look that way at me,” Craterus snapped. “Alexander doesn't need to say anything to you. He loves you more than me, and everyone knows it. Now go away, I don't like you.”
The other man glowered at him a moment longer, before turning and walking away, leaving Craterus to his well-earned and well-preferred solitude. Alexander hadn't said it in as many words, but Craterus had heard it even if Hephaistion hadn't. Craterus might have been the closest man to the king Alexander, but Hephaistion was the man closest to the man Alexander.
For that, Craterus didn't like him. For what he did have, he couldn't openly hate him and fight him, and for that he disliked him all the more.