Aristotle, upon finding him, demanded why he wasn't playing with the other boys. When he learned that Alexander had been studying his annotated copy of the poem, he was deeply impressed.

"It's yours," he said when Alexander tried to give it back. He knew Alexander was a special boy, that he would go on to do great things. Every hero had their tutor. He would be honoured to be Alexander's.

"I want to know more," Alexander beseeched him.

So Aristotle taught them the thoughts of other philosophers.

He spoke of Aeschylus and his tragedy The Myrmidons. In it, the great tragedian wrote of Achilles, erastes, and Patroclus, eromenos. He wrote of how fond Achilles was of "the reverent company" of Patroclus' thighs and how Patroclus was "ungrateful for many kisses."

The ancient Greek lyric poet Pindar spoke of them too, Aristotle recounted. He drew an analogy between his characters Hagesidamus the student and Ilas the trainer to Patroclus and Achilles in the Olympian, and even compared Hagesidamus to Zeus' lover, Ganymede.

"Plato himself," Aristotle imparted, "writes of your esteemed Achilles in his Symposium. Perhaps you've read it."

"He presents them as an example of divinely approved lovers," Alexander recites solemnly.

"That's right. But he contradicts Aeschylus and suggests that, in fact, Achilles is the eromenos and Patroclus the erastes."

"So who was right?"

Aristotle chuckled.

"How shall we ever know? Homer never specified. Aeschylus, Plutarch, Theocritus, Martial, Lucian, Aeschines... They all say that Homer's audience at the time would have understood implicitly. That is why he is so vague."

On and on their discussions went. Alexander's ambition and curiosity knew no bounds. He would conquer the world, if only by learning all of it.

By night, he slept with the copy of Homer's Iliad under his pillow. By day, he practiced spear-throwing, sword-fighting and wrestling. His skills improved steadily, becoming sharply honed for battle. He fancied he was the great and ferocious Achilles.

***

When they were fifteen, Alexander and Hephaestion requested permission of Aristotle to sail together to the town of Pisa, in Peloponnesus. Aristotle chuckled. "One soul abiding in two bodies," he called them, and bade them go.

The boys sailed off together, laughing and cheering and pretending they were off to conquer the world.

After a few hours of smooth sailing, they took to gossiping about the other boys. They were delighted to be able to have some privacy.

"Perdiccas is nice," Hephaestion posited. "I don't like Craterus, though. And Nearchus is dreadfully dull."

"I hate Cassander," Alexander muttered. "If he were not Antipatros' heir, he would not be here."

"You don't seem to like Philotas very much, either."

"I don't."

Alexander laughed, watching his friend's profile. The sun was at its zenith. The wind ruffled Hephaestion's shoulder-length hair, which gleamed like burnished gold. Alexander noticed that his eyes sparkled in the sunlight, glittering blue like the scintillating ocean.

Hephaestion turned to Alexander after a long stretch of silence.

"Do you miss home?"

"I'd never tell anyone else this, but I don't miss my parents. They bade me to sleep with women - I refused, of course - and they were constantly quarrelling about this and that..."

"I'm sorry," Hephaestion murmured sympathetically. "You know, most boys would've been thrilled to have such...opportunities as you."

Alexander blushed.

"Well, I am not most boys."

Hephaestion regarded him for a beat. At length, he replied:

"No, you are certainly not."

After a pause, Alexander stared with consternation off into the distance.

"Women are a frightful bore, Hephaestion. I have greater ambitions than their diminutive brains could every fully comprehend. I will travel, explore, conquer, reign... I don't have time to play with girls. I seek only the company of fierce, ambitious men."

Hephaestion looked at him, eyes bright.

"I will be there with you."

"Of course you will," Alexander affirmed readily. "I'm Achilles and you're Patroclus."

The sun was setting when they spotted land up ahead.

"Look, we made it!" The boys cheered and embraced.

They descended onto the shores. Beyond the rocky outcrops, they could see low marshy ground and black fir.

Alexander and Hephaestion strolled inland together.

"This is where King Oenomaus lived, the great-grandfather of the Atreides, Agamemnon and Menelaus from the Iliad," Alexander exclaimed, animated. "And King Pelops, who arrived here after the Trojan War and beat him in a chariot race. It is in celebration of Pelops' victory that the Olympic Games were created."

They did not venture too far, exploring the natural landscape and observing the forest animals eat and mate and play from the cover of the dense shrubbery and foliage.

Lying on their backs side by side on the beach that night, they sought to identify the constellations Aristotle had taught them.

Alexander dreamt of watching the same constellations in the night sky from the lands he conquered.

Hephaestion turned his head to face him.

"I will kill anyone who hurts you," he vowed.

Hephaestion looked prettier than any of the girls Alexander had ever met. He tried to remember when the burning had started, but could not identify a specific time.

The boys had been learning, playing and growing over the months. Alexander observed Hephaestion's body lengthen and broaden and knew his was doing the same. They had begun to shave. There were many changes.

Alexander now craved a warm body, an intimate touch.

He felt a stirring, alongside Hephaestion's heat.

His eyes searched Hephaestion's for affirmation, and found it. He sidled closer, until their noses were touching. Alexander kissed the lips that had filled his dreams of late. Hephaestion remained unmoving, staring at the prince with his eyes wide.

Alexander rose swiftly to his feat, and began to run. He heard Hephaestion's footfalls behind him, and felt himself being swung around, his back hitting a tree, before warm lips descended on his own.

Their lips moved clumsily against each other. Neither boy knew how to kiss, but they knew they felt fire in their veins.

Laughing, Alexander took off again and Hephaestion followed.

They raced, and ccasionally, they would stop to kiss against a tree or on a soft, mossy bed. In one such spot, Alexander fumbled with Hephaestion's girdle. He drank his fill when it had come away, before slipping off his own chiton.

Lying on their sides, they shared languorous kisses and touches, until Hephaestion found himself on his belly, with Alexander hovering over him.

"Hold them together," Alexander breathed, feeling like he was burning up from within. His hands, gently guiding the boy into position,  trembled.

Alexander pushed himself between Hephaestion's thighs, slowly at first. It felt good. The fingers of one hand laced with Hephaestion's over the boy's head while the other touched him in front. Then his pace quickened.

Their soft groans and pants were interspersed only with the wind moving through the trees and the chirping of crickets and whispered names.

***

When Alexander was sixteen, it was time to return home.

Aristotle pulled Alexander aside. He had noticed Alexander's closeness with Hephaestion and warned him that they were no longer children; he recommended that whatever was between them end.

King Philip had gone off to war against Byzantion, and Alexander was left regent in his absence.

That same year, the Thracian Maedi seized the opportunity to revolt against Macedonia. Word reached Alexander, who was seized with a sense of urgency and duty to his father and his kingdom. He struck back quickly, organizing a military campaign to drive them away. It was Hephaestion's first taste of military action. He fought at Alexander's side.

Alexander marvelled at the strength of Hephaestion's body, at the ferocity of his battle cry, and his tactical skill. The long lashes that still framed his cerulean eyes were misleading; he was no longer a boy.

The Greek troops colonized the territory and founded a city there in honour of Alexander, Alexandropolis.

They returned home victorious and giddy with elation. Alexander and Hephaestion shed their armour as they raced for the river to bathe. Bloodied hands framed each other's faces. They were on top of the world, and it was only the beginning.

Only his mother could dampen his mood. She pressured him to take a girl, any girl, lest people should think he had no interest in them. If there were ever a chance Alexander could be receptive to the idea, he hated it then for all her constant badgering. He would choose his own lovers, and turn his mother's so-called gifts away to be with men of their own choosing. His mother was jealous, she told him as much. He spent all of his time with Hephaestion, and not with people who better deserved his attention. Of course she blamed Hephaestion. Alexander hated these conversations with his mother, and it was all he could do not to lash out. But he couldn't, lest Hephaestion should suffer her wrath.

Alexander was later dispatched to quell the uprisings in Thrace and then moved south. They took Thermopylae, Elatea, Amphissa but were blocked by their opponents at Chaeronea. After a bitter fight against troops from Achaea, Corinth, Chalcis, Epidaurus, Megara, and Troezen, Alexander broke the Theban lines, followed by his father. Philip and Alexander were victorious, and the cities welcomed them with open arms.

Alexander felt ecstatic, invincible, and his father was proud.

Craterus held a great entertainment in Chalcis. At the gathering, Alexander noticed a boy with bright blue eyes and dark locks, and openly praised his beauty. He learned that the boy was the eromenos of Charon.

"Kiss him," the Macedonian men shouted. Charon blanched, for it was clear that he loved the boy, yet had no choice but to ask his boy to comply.

Taken aback, Alexander refused.

"No, no," he demurred compassionately, "that will not delight me so much as it will pain you."

***

When Alexander was eighteen, his father took yet another wife. Her name was Cleopatra Eurydice, the niece of his general Attalus.

"It's just as well," Alexander lamented to Hephaestion. "If she bears him a son, he will be fully Macedonian, whereas I am only half-Macedonian."

"You will be king, Alexander," Hephaestion assured him, but there was worry in his eyes. How could anyone know for sure?

The wedding of Cleopatra was a wild, raucous affair. Alexander remained by his Hephaestion's side, sober and refusing to partake in the reckless partying.

Cleitus approached them carrying a brightly-clad woman swung over his shoulder. The two were laughing, merry with drink.

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"Alexander, I've found you the right girl," Cleitus slurred. Hephaestion bit his lip and smirked at Alexander, who raised a brow and instantly sought the distraction of his drink.

Hadn't everyone been trying his entire life to do just that?