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A Night in Sogdia	By : jolorulz Category: 1 through F > Alexander Views: 1961 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in Mary Renault's "The Persian Boy" or the movie "Alexander". I make no money out of writing this story.

Chapter List
- 1-A Night in Sogdia
- 1
Author’s Note: This story is primarily based on one scene in Mary Renault’s book, “The Persian Boy”. It’s about Bagoas’ point-of-view during the wedding of Alexander to Roxanne. I took that scene and expanded it to a one-shot story about love that is not destined to be. For those who’ve read the book, they should not have any trouble recognizing the characters. But for those who haven’t, hopefully I have done well enough in portraying them here. This is my first ever story and constructive criticism is always welcome. Please feel free to tell me where I can improve my narrative because I seriously want to get better at this writing stuff. Thank you and enjoy! :D
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One does not question fate. To do so, one questions the judgment of the gods. I had never questioned fate, whether it brought me fortune or misfortune, and thusly my life has gone well enough.
In the face of my father’s death at the hands of those he trusted, I never asked questions. In the face of the deaths of my entire family, I never asked questions. And even in the face of my own gelding and subjection to becoming a catamite, I never asked such questions. From catamite to courtesan, I have served the whims of men.
Yet now in the heart of the Sogdian kingdom, I prayed, that such a strength of will not fail me now.
I had prepared for those words that I knew he would utter once I had him alone. But no amount of preparation could hide my astonishment. I was still startled at the suddenness of his proclamation, “I shall marry her”. Alexander had always been one for surprises. In battle he had proved this at Gaugamela and all the other following campaigns in Asia. He had proved this as well in the heat of the night, when passionate love consumed us both. And now he is proving it once more, not only to me, but to the entire world.
I had seen her, Roxanne, and her exceptional beauty. She had captivated Alexander like a snake captivates its prey, and I was the one to feel the seething sting of its bite.
I gulped my words before I could let them out, “May you be happy, my lord,” I said. “She truly is a pearl of light.”
Despite my misgivings, she truly was. I had never doubted my own beauty, for in a moment’s notice I could inspire the flame of passion and lust in men, and Alexander was no exception. But Roxanne’s was enough to chip my confidence hard.
He made a long rant that night about how his closest Companions could not understand him, whilst praising me at the same time for bearing with him. If only he had known the anguish I felt at the news.
A few days of preparation, and the wedding was on its way. I had played my part in it, doing all I can as to make sure that things went well. I could sense the tension mounting among the Macedonians. I knew they were not happy with this wedding. The murmurs of, “as if the Persian boy-whore was not enough,” and “Barbarian whore and a Macedonian King! How rich!” could be heard without much effort in eavesdropping.
I kept my silence all throughout. At the breaking of the sacred bread, my breath hitched. Yet as faithfully as I can, I tried to cheer on the happy couple. Songs were sung, and despite themselves, the Macedonians celebrated as well. Such a break from battle was becoming a rarity, and they needed this one celebration to relieve themselves of the stresses of the campaign.
I could not fully partake in the feast. I felt no hunger in my stomach, only an unease which made me shiver. I watched Alexander with his new wife, and wondered about my own fate.
Despite the loss of my manhood, my life had been relatively of ease. Trained only to please men, and for the most part, men of power, I had learned that my life depended on how they found me useful. I had not truly planned to fall in love, but Alexander had given it to me before I could comprehend it. And as I have grown to love him so much, I feared the thought of losing him.
I tried to drown my sorrows in wine, yet for all its worth, I could not even take as many sips. It was just not worth it.
My thoughts were disrupted suddenly by a hand. I felt it softly touch my own, and then a weight of a young man was suddenly seated next to me. The warmth of his touch eased me, and I let out a breath.
It was Ismenios.
I had scarcely any friends, if any, really. But Ismenios has stood out as one of kindness and respect. In a time when I feared for Alexander, as he let himself wither away as punishment for the killing of his friend Clietus, Ismenios was there to help. His consolation held me firm when I felt the world would crumble down, and from then on I could only hold him in the highest regard.
I looked at him, and as always, he smiled at me. The comfort of such a gesture is overwhelming. Sometimes one needs only to smile against the odds to find that life ends not in defeat.
I felt myself smile and let myself go. I leaned on him and let my head rest on his shoulder as he let an arm over me.
“She’s quite beautiful,” I said to break my silence. I gazed at Alexander as he struggled to make conversation with his new wife, who was finding it difficult to understand his Greek.
“She is… quite”, he said. I felt his arm grip me gently tighter. His warmth was a welcome feeling, as I’ve felt such a desolate coldness.
Another silence fell between us, but not one of awkwardness. I felt his head shift to rest on mine and smell my hair. His fingers began to softly run against it, and let them travel down to my curls.
My heart had raised its pace, and I could feel blood run to my face. His breath was warm and I could feel him engulf me.
I tried again to break the silence. “Are… are you envying the bridegroom?” I said. I put my hand on his chest, and let it rest there, feeling his own heartbeat. His chiseled form was something to be admired.
I could remember far back a few years ago, the tall blond boy among the Great King’s company. A scrawny looking one, he was taken under the tutelage of Kalisthenes. His blond hair fell just above his shoulders; his blue eyes piercing and firm. Like many of the royal squires, he had not taken a liking to me immediately. But unlike the others, he had opened up to becoming a friend as time went by.
As a royal squire, he had had training of both military and philosophical nature. He was a Macedonian in the highest caliber. Strong in spirit, will and body, he had come a long way into becoming a man.
I smelled his manly scent. It sent shivers in me I had not expected. My blood was rushing throughout my body in ways I could not imagine. It baffled me why, but Ismenios’ hold was something that was becoming a need. I tugged at his tunic gently and buried my face in it, still trying to take in his scent. I murmured “beautiful…” under my breath like a mantra, not knowing why I was doing it.
His hand fell on my leg, and he let run slowly up to my thigh, and then slowly running it back down. The shiver it gave were in waves, gentle yet forceful enough to overwhelm me.
I raised my head and found his eyes looking at me. Those blue eyes that seemed to look far beyond into an unknown horizon, piercing me in search of something. He smiled again and I smiled as well. I looked into his eyes and knew then that there was something in there I had not seen before.
I pulled myself suddenly from this amazing high and slammed myself into the ground
“Are you?” I stuttered. “I mean… do you… envy the bridegroom?” It had startled me to find that he had captivated me in a moment that seemed an eternity. Such an effect as that was always something I attributed to my love for Alexander. I felt vulnerable and afraid, yet wanting of the warmth that I had just left.
His smile still in place, he simply said “No”. His hand then gently stroked my cheek. I struggled with myself, trying to control the impulse to take his hand in mine and keep it with me forever. His eyes set on me, he leaned in next to my ear and whispered, “But I did before”.
It happened with a slow suddenness that surprised me. The long strands of his blond hair brushed against my cheek as the familiar wetness of a kiss came upon me.
He was sweet, and tasted a bit of wine. His supple lips were commanding, and I resisted a bit; and as soon as I eased against him, I found myself giving in and letting him take over.
Our tongues battled for dominance but again, I gave in. The taste of the wine and his overall scent was overwhelming, sending shivers against my spine, and the hairs on the back of my neck.
I knew I shouldn’t play along. But I wanted to. The long hours I’ve waited to watch the inevitable loss of Alexander to the Sogdian girl was more than I could bare, and I needed this now.
Ismenios pulled back, stroking my cheek once more. Brushing away my hair that has fallen over my face, he smiled and said, “Many men envy him. But for all the wrong reasons, Bagoas.”
My eyes fell on the floor. I couldn’t understand what he was saying or why he was saying it.
He continued, “They envy him his power, his wealth, his greatness… the gods know whatever else. I’d never envy him that, nor the worries of the world he wants to build.”
“Then what do you envy him of?” I ask.
“The beauty he brings along,” he said. “The one thing that inspires him to go further. The one that understands him the way not even his closest Companion could. I envy the company of that one beauty that inspires me all these long nights in the desert.”
Then I understood. I had never really thought of Ismenios other than a close friend. I am not really at liberty to think of him otherwise. My loyalty to Alexander, though undiminished, was not undamaged. To take a lover other than the one that fate has given me, would undoubtedly be frowned upon by the gods, whose wrath I dare not wish upon myself.
But at the thought of my present predicament, I felt once more the need for that comfort. The warmth and gentleness only an intimate lover will ever understand. I pray the gods forgive me at least this one transgression, for surely in that moment, I could no longer resist.
He kissed me again, this time much forceful, yet soothing still. As he pulled away, he stood up and found a cloak. He folded it and tucked it in his small bag. He smiled at me once more and gave me his hand, beckoning me to go with him. That beautiful face of his; how could I even resist!
He led me out, and I found that the feast carried on outside with a relative gusto as was inside. The shouts of cheer, the singing of songs and the smell of meats and wine permeated as well. Musicians played their instruments while soldiers danced with their women in large rings.
The frost had begun before our arrival in Sogdia, and by now the soft grasslands have hardened. We walked hand in hand, next to each other, and a smile crept up to my face. My stomach felt like being swarmed by the butterflies of the Gardens in Babylon. An excitement I hadn’t counted on felt like welcome change in the mood.
We found a nice spot, next to large boulders. He laid down his cloak and sat on it, beckoning me to join him.
His eyes. They hold something, a kind of powerful force that I could not put a finger on. It drew me to him like a moth to a flame, and I was more than happy to feel the burn. I hadn’t had this feeling of need and excitement before, even with Alexander.
He laid me down gently on his cloak that had now become a makeshift bed. His eyes never left mine, and I could see his face beam with excitement as well. He fumbled a bit with me, as he hadn’t expected that I might be a bit heavy. I gave out laugh and he laughed as well.
“I’m thinking that you haven’t really done this before,” I said, my laugh turning into soft giggles.
He smirked, “Well, not with king lovers, only some girls back in Macedon. And a couple of them in Babylon.” Seemingly proud of himself, he raised an eyebrow at me.
“Well how were they?” I asked still giggling.
“Decent enough,” he answered with a mockingly gloating air about him. “I had my work cut out for me with the ones in Babylon. I was drunk, and the two of them were like wild goats! And they were certainly not as pretty as you, love!”
“Oh, my dear sir, you spoil me!” I said in the same tone as his. We played around a bit before I found his lips on mine again.
I lay under him as the kiss grew intense. His hands fell on my hips, slowly running down at the bottom of my tunic, feeling for my body as if feeling for the smoothness of silk. He undressed me, and I him. I let my hand across his chest and feel again his chiseled figure. Roughened by training, he himself had not lost his boyish beauty, and I languished myself at the sight of his manliness.
At the same time, he let his eyes travel all over me, taking in every inch of my body. As he was beginning to pull on my trousers, I suddenly hesitated.
“Wait!” I said, pushing him away unintentionally hard.
“What is it?” he asked, a look of baffle and worry in him.
I had realized suddenly that this was the first time anyone, other than Alexander, was going to see me naked, and as a eunuch. I felt ashamed of that fact, but for whatever reason that I should feel it in that moment, I never understood.
“It’s just that…” I trailed off. Ismenios saw in my face that dread I felt, and immediately he knew.
“Please don’t be afraid,” he said. “We’ve come so far now; we don’t need to be afraid of anything.” He held my hand and kissed it. He trailed his kisses up towards my arm, eliciting a soft moan from me. He was a daimon! He knew how to please, and so I nodded for him to continue.
Pulling gently down my trousers, the hesitation I felt was weakened, but was still there. I tried to hide the spot where my manhood should have been. Ismenios chuckled a bit before he gently brushed my hands off of it. He leaned in for another kiss, murmuring “beautiful” under his breath.
He beckoned me to turn over, and I did. He raised my hips high and I felt a chill against my buttocks. He kissed my back, trailing down once more, sending a jolt of lighting in me. His tongue suddenly grazed my back and went slowly down between both cheeks.
It was an inexplicable feeling. His tongue, talented and rough, played around there. My heart skipped a beat every time he would kiss either one of my cheeks, and I moaned at his every move.
It was not long before I felt his finger prodding me. The feeling of his roughened hand against my soft skin was akin to something immaculate. My knees were shaking as he let inside a rough finger. I could feel myself tighten around that invasion of sorts. As he moved his finger about, he continued kissing me. Soon another finger went in, moving about like in a dance; wet and lively. Then after a few moments, another finger went in, making scissoring moves. It was truly something strangely delightful.
Moments passed and I felt myself relax under his ministry. He beckoned me to turn over onto my back so he could see me. I did so, and as I did, I found his eyes truly beholding me. He looked at me as if from another world, fascinated and compelled to reach out to my loneliness and brush aside that empty feeling of loss that pained me these past few days. I wanted to reach out to him as well. To hold his hand in mine before whatever god could see us.
He smiled, that wonderful smile of his. I could only smile back.
“Please…” I beckoned him. I didn’t want to stop for anything anymore. I needed this. And he understood.
I undressed his remaining underclothes and I could finally see him in all his glory. He was truly beautiful. His muscles had built up throughout the months that followed since the campaign began. His arms would flex and the muscles would show themselves, well chiseled and defined. Like the many images of Herakles or even Achilles, he embodied the finest of the Greek men. That his boyish charms never left him made him all the more magnificent.
His member throbbed stiff, and it was big, much more so than Alexander’s. The length and breadth of his manhood could very well destroy me, but I was more than willing to let him. I reached out to stroke him, and as I did, I elicited moans of pleasure from him. I cupped his balls in my other hand and continued stroking his cock. His eyes shut at the pleasure I was clearly bringing to him and I decided to take it further.
As my tongue touched the tip of his cock, the familiar salty taste of an aroused man came over me. I’m quite used to it and so I slowly engulfed him in my mouth. He was a challenge, and I found that I could only take him halfway. I did not press on, lest I wanted to choke. I bobbed my head up and down the smooth shaft, occasionally letting it pop out with a definite sound, and then doing it all over again. The moaning was becoming louder but it did not bother me; rather it excited me. I stroked the rest of his cock to the hilt with my hand and continued sucking at the tip until midway.
It was a few moments later that he decided that I had to stop. He gave me a light push and chuckled at the sensation I’ve just given him. He panted for breath and wiped away the beads of sweat that was forming over his face.
“Do you not like it, Ismenios? Was I doing it wrong?”
“No. You were doing wonderfully,” he panted. “But I don’t want to finish it that way.”
I gave a sly smile and licked at the head of his cock with a flourish. Surprised, he said, “You wicked little witch! How could you punish me like that?” He chuckled.
“All naughty young boys must be punished,” I had not really been one for such playful banter, but I was pleased to see him suffer under my whim!
At last he gave me another kiss. His tongue took over, tugging against mine and filling me with such exquisite pleasure that it was overwhelming my senses.
“Please, Ismenios”, I whimpered to him. I was shaking a bit like a leaf under him. Every nerve in my body was crying out for more of him. I wanted him now.
A moment later, his body was pressed against the length of mine, and I could feel that warmth that I had hungered for the past hour. Another kiss and a wave of his hand over my hair so he could see my eyes, and he was ready.
He grasped my leg and pulled it up over his shoulder, spreading the other one the other way. He let his fingers lightly touch against my thigh and all I could do was whimper for more. I felt his cock twitch between my buttocks and it tingled me with another jolt. His eyes, full of warmth and understanding, knew that I could wait no longer.
Slowly, he let himself in me with such tender care, only a true lover would understand. I felt myself being impaled by his throbbing cock, and I wanted more.
The familiar pain of being stretched to the limit was something I’ve always tried to prepare for. It was a bit of a struggle, but in moments, the thick head was opening me wider than I could imagine. My breath hitched at every inch of cock that was sliding inside. Pain engulfed my body as the ring of muscles tightened over his large member. When his full length was sheathed inside me, he stopped for a few moments. I looked at him as I tried catching my breath; blood pounding in my ears and my heart bursting with excitement. And then he began to move again slowly. My breath hitched once more. And just as he was about to slide out, he stopped, and pushed in me again.
It was like a dance of sorts; fluid and dynamic and in a steady cadence. I could hear his breath getting deeper as he gained momentum. I saw in him a primal urge to fuck me hard, but his care for me outweighed whatever primal urge he felt at that moment. He didn’t want to hurt me, and he knew that he could if he wanted to. I had often been used in such a manner before. Even Alexander forgets himself and could be unimaginably rough with me. But Ismenios took great lengths at prolonging pleasure rather than pain. So he took his time with me.
I began to move in his rhythm, meeting his push with my own. The slapping of skin against skin was becoming louder, and the feeling of his hardened cock pushing inside me was turning into something wild.
Then he hit a spot in me that sent a wave of wonder unlike any other.
“Yes!” I heard myself gasp. “Harder! Please!” He needn’t be told twice.
He pulled himself away then hit hard and fast, hitting me in places that could knock me out into oblivion. Again and again, his thrust were becoming more fierce and excited, eliciting howls of unequivocal pleasure. I grabbed at his shoulders and dug my fingers into them. It was all I could do not to scream.
He flipped me over to one side, my leg over his shoulder. He thrust himself with such enthusiasm that it was almost impossible to overcome. All the while I was beckoning him with, “Please”, “Fuck me!” and “Harder” - words that would make most Greek philosophers blush.
Ismenios murmured under his breath like mantra, “beautiful”, over and over again, all the while catapulting wave after wave of pleasure throughout my body. Soon enough I felt myself tense over him as a final wave ran over me before I felt my body fall on its own.
Ismenios thrust against me harder and harder. He let out a scream of wondrous pleasure before he released himself inside me. Wave after wave of his manly seed burst inside me, and I could care less if some of it came out. All I knew was I loved every moment of it.
We made great efforts to catch our breaths. He let his head rest on my chest, listening to the beat of my heart as it tried to steady its pace. It was a long while before either of us could move.
He lifted his head to me and smiled. I would stare into that smile for the rest of eternity if I could.
“I love you.”
The suddenness of his words hit me like a wall. It was not something I had expected to hear.
But it was something that I had wanted to hear.
“I always have”, he continued. I tried to speak but before I could utter a word, he pressed his finger on my lips. Leaning in closer, he gave me a soft kiss. My whole being wanted to be consumed by that simple kiss. But I knew better.
“It’s only a dream,” he said. “A wonderful one at that. A dream I wish I never have to wake up from. Lying under the moon with you beside me… I could face death any moment and be happy.”
I felt tears beginning to sting my eyes. “Please, Ismenios, say no more!” I cried.
“Hush, my pretty flower,” he said stroking my cheeks and wiping away at the tears beginning to flow freely. “It is better to let this be a dream unforgotten than to let this become something akin to a nightmare.”
“Ismenios, I…”
“Please don’t say it,” he disrupted. “I know already. But this isn’t our destiny. You’re his. And he loves you more than you can imagine.”
“I wish I could be yours,” I said amidst the tears. “You mean more to me now than anyone I’ve known before. ”
“My dear, sweet Bagoas,” he said. “I shall hold you to my heart to the end of my days. But I would rather die than see you put to the sword if ever anyone finds out about this. And moreover, I can never bear to see the King suffer in any way on my account. ”
He smiled. The gentle soul that is Ismenios loves me. But I know he speaks of the truth. We do not belong to each other. As Oromedon once said to me, “Never suppose so”. To expect is to ask for more than what is given. And what is given must be accepted upon the grace of the gods.
We lay there for longer, and made love again, twice; each time becoming more pleasurable than the last one. We shared his cloak and our warmth before sleep overtook us.
The following morning, I felt my tears run down again. It had been a beautiful night, and in the morning of our parting of the ways, I wished to the gods that I had a different fate. He kissed me sweetly and took my hand gently as he led me back into the camp.
“I shall never forget you, Bagoas!”
“Nor I you, Ismenios.”
“Let our dream be forever lasting.”
“I shall die before I forget.”
He waved and into the crowd of men, he was gone.
I never question fate. The gods have provided for me well enough. Ismenios’ love, though brief, will be forever with me, along that of Alexander’s. Perhaps it is all for the best, for in the end, love is my ultimate fate.
In the royal tent, I sat down on my cushion and in the midst of my thoughts,I fell asleep.
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A Night in Sogdia