#harpalus

[onenicebugperday]

this little guy was quick, but he loved hiding in the folds of my clothes! found in yinzburgh 💛🖤

I had to google Yinzburgh btw. Never heard that in me life. Anyhoo GREEN. Very nice. Looks like a ground beetle. Maybe Harpalus sp.

[myidic]

Another character study. Again, these aren’t going into the book, just working out some characterizations. I envision Philip having said something unnecessarily cruel to Arrhidaeus during the evening meal and people laughed. Hephaestion then having to keep Alexander calm or he would have went off. Everyone is aching for Arrhidaeus, because he just sat there and endured. Ugh, I want to punch Philip sometimes. Anyway. Please enjoy.

**

Alexander’s rooms were quiet, the noise from the court dulled to a distant murmur beyond the walls. Lamplight pooled low and warm across the couches and the rug, softening the edges of everything.

Arrhidaeus lay stretched along one of the couches, staring up at the ceiling beams. One arm hung loose over the side, fingers brushing the rug in slow, absent movements.

No one had wanted to go back into the hall after what happened.

Hephaestion sat on the floor nearby with a dagger across his knees, turning it idly in his hands. Leonnatus had been pacing for a while now, restless energy with nowhere to go. Harpalus lay across the opposite couch with a scroll open, though he hadn’t unrolled it further in some time.

Alexander stood leaning against the wall. Then, as if he’d run out of patience with the distance, he crossed the room and dropped onto the edge of Arrhidaeus’s couch. He didn’t look at him right away.

“Don’t listen to him,” he said.

Arrhidaeus didn’t move. “He’s the king,” he said quietly.

Alexander’s jaw tightened. “He was being cruel.”

That sat between them. Arrhidaeus’s fingers shifted against the rug. For a moment it seemed like that was all he would say.

“Why do you choose me?”

Leonnatus stopped mid-step, and Harpalus lowered the scroll just enough to look over it. Alexander blinked, thrown. Not by the words, but by the fact that Arrhidaeus had said them out loud.

“What kind of question is that?”

Arrhidaeus let out a small breath, almost a shrug, but he didn’t look at him. “I mean it,” he said. “You don’t have to.”

Alexander frowned. “Don’t have to what?”

Arrhidaeus’s hand flattened against the rug, grounding himself. “Choose me.”

The room shifted around that.

“You could choose anyone,” Arrhidaeus went on, voice still quiet but steadier now. “In the hall. In lessons. When we train. You could stand with whoever you wanted.” He paused. “People would rather you didn’t choose me.”

No one spoke.

“They look at you,” he said. “They listen. They follow you.” His fingers curled slightly into the weave. “They don’t do that with me.”

Leonnatus shifted his weight, uncomfortable, like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find where to start.

Arrhidaeus didn’t look at any of them.“I don’t understand things the way you do,” he said. “I know that. I can see it.” He took a breath. “So why” He stopped, then corrected himself, quieter. “Why me?”

Silence settled in after that.

Alexander didn’t answer immediately. For once, he didn’t move to fix it. He just sat there, looking at him. Then he leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees, gaze dropping to the rug between his boots.

“I remember when we were little,” he said, finally.

Arrhidaeus’s fingers stilled.

“You and your mother were so sick,” Alexander went on, voice steady. “And then she died.”

The room seemed to go quieter around the words.

“Everyone thought you would too,” he said. “I remember they kept saying your fever wouldn’t break.”

Arrhidaeus’s hand tightened slightly.

“But it did.” A small pause. “And after… you were different.” He didn’t soften it. “You didn’t talk much for a long time. You just… watched. Like you weren’t sure where you were supposed to be.”

Arrhidaeus swallowed.

“I watched people stop trying with you,” Alexander continued. “They didn’t know what to do with you, so they decided not to try. Or they ignored you. Or just walked away.”

That rang harder than anything else. Alexander turned his head then, looking at him properly.

“But you were still there.”

Arrhidaeus met his eyes.

“You were still you,” Alexander said.

Something in his voice had sharpened, not anger, but certainty. “So I went and sat with you,” he said. “And I kept doing it.” He inhaled through his nose. “I chose you.”

The words were simple, but they didn’t feel light.

“Because you’re my brother,” he added. “And I don’t leave my brother behind because other people decide he’s… different.”

Arrhidaeus held his gaze. Alexander didn’t look away.

“And I’ll choose you every time,” he said.

The room stayed quiet after that. Arrhidaeus looked at him for a long moment, eyes shining, then his gaze shifted

Hephaestion was already watching him. He didn’t speak immediately. He set the dagger aside first, careful, like he didn’t want the movement to break anything that had just been said.

Then Hephaestion spoke softly, “I don’t think you understand what you’re like,” he said.

Arrhidaeus frowned, uncertain, but Hephaestion held his gaze.

“You listen,” he said. “When people talk, you actually listen. You don’t rush them. You don’t decide what they mean before they finish.”

Arrhidaeus’s expression shifted, just a little. Hephaestion went on, gentler still.

“When Harpalus talks in circles, you listen to him anyway,” he said, a faint hint of humor there. “When Leonnatus is angry, you don’t push back, you just… stay with him until he isn’t.”

Leonnatus huffed quietly but didn’t interrupt. Hephaestion leaned forward slightly, forearms resting on his knees now, mirroring the posture Alexander had taken earlier.

“And when something is wrong,” he said, “you notice before anyone says it.”

Arrhidaeus swallowed while Hephaestion continued.

“That’s not something everyone can do.” He paused to gather his thoughts. “I chose you at first because Alexander did,” he said finally. “That’s true. I trust him, and that’s enough for me. But I keep choosing you,” he added, “because of you.”

That settled deeper. Leonnatus shifted, then stepped closer, dropping down into a crouch near the couch.

“I choose you because you’re worth choosing,” Leonnatus said.

Arrhidaeus glanced up at him. Leonnatus shrugged once, like it should be obvious.

“You’re not just strong,” he said, more serious now. “You work harder than any of us.”

Arrhidaeus opened his mouth to respond, but Leonnatus shook his head like he already knew the protest coming.

“No,” he said. “Listen.” He pointed toward the yard beyond the door. “In drills, you don’t stop when the rest of us do,” he said. “When Leonidas says one more lap, you actually run it.”

A small snort from Alexander. Leonnatus ignored it.

“In lessons,” he went on, “you sit there longer than any of us. Even when you’re struggling, you stay. You keep trying until you get it.”

Arrhidaeus looked down at the rug again. Leonnatus’s voice dropped, more grounded.

“I get tired,” he admitted. “I stop. Everyone does. But you? You never stop trying.” Leonnatus leaned back slightly, a crooked grin returning. “And you almost threw me yesterday.”

“Almost,” Arrhidaeus muttered.

“Hey, that counts.”

Across the room, Harpalus had gone still. The scroll rested open in his hands, forgotten now. His eyes had narrowed slightly in thought, like he was turning something over, examining it from all sides before deciding how to say it. He let the silence stretch a moment longer, then he set the scroll aside.

“Well,” he said slowly, “we disabled men ought to stay allied.”

Leonnatus groaned under his breath. Harpalus ignored him. He gestured lightly toward his own foot.

“I limp,” he said. “You think differently. Between us, we make one sound Greek.”

Arrhidaeus huffed a quiet laugh. Harpalus tilted his head, studying him.

“You are clever,” he said, more deliberate now. “Just not in the way Alexander is.”

Alexander made a face. Harpalus didn’t even look at him.

“You remember small things,” he continued. “You can find almost anything. And more importantly, you notice people.” He paused.“You help before you’re asked,” he said. “That is not a common skill. It’s not a small one either.”

Arrhidaeus looked at him, still uncertain. Harpalus gave a slight shrug.

“If I were choosing someone to rely on,” he said, “I would choose the person who sees what others miss.”

The room settled again, the tension easing out of it.

Alexander nudged Arrhidaeus once.“Don’t question it,” he said, quieter now. “You’re ours. We’ve got you.”

Arrhidaeus let out a breath, and this time there was the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He swung his legs off the couch but didn’t stand yet.

Leonnatus stepped in before he could sit with it too long. He hooked an arm around Arrhidaeus’s neck and dragged him in, locking him there against his side.

“There you are,” he said. “That’s better.”

“Leonnatus—”

Arrhidaeus tried to pull back, but Leonnatus only tightened his hold and drove his knuckles into his hair, grinding them in.

“No more of that,” he said. “None of that thinking you’re not worth choosing.”

“Stop—”

“Say it.”

Arrhidaeus twisted, trying to break free, but Leonnatus shifted his weight and kept him pinned.

“I’m not saying anything if you don’t let go.”

Leonnatus leaned his weight into him, just enough to make it difficult.

“Say it.”

Harpalus lowered his scroll. “This is ridiculous,” he said. “He is being actively discouraged from agreement.”

Leonnatus ignored him. Arrhidaeus let out a breath that broke into a laugh as he struggled again.

“Fine,” he said. “Fine. I’m worth choosing.”

Leonnatus held him there another second, then gave his head a final rough shove and released him.

“Good.”

Arrhidaeus stumbled a step, then shoved him back. “You’re awful.”

Leonnatus grinned, already reaching for him again. “And you needed it.”

“Did not—”

Leonnatus caught him by the shoulder and ruffled his hair hard, turning his head with the motion. “Say it again.”

“I said it—”

“Say it properly.”

Arrhidaeus tried to duck away, laughing now, but Leonnatus followed, dragging him half back toward the couch. “I’m worth choosing,” he said, breathless.

“Louder.”

“I’m worth choosing!”

Leonnatus finally let him go, satisfied, and clapped him once on the back “There. Now it’ll stick.”

Arrhidaeus pushed at him again, still smiling, hair completely ruined. Across the couch, Alexander leaned back, watching him, something settled in his expression.

Harpalus lifted his scroll again. “Remarkably primitive,” he said. “Effective, but primitive.”

Hephaestion glanced up once, quiet approval in the look, then returned to the dagger in his hands, satisfied.

[gingermintpepper]

Insane brainworms tonight but after listening to almost nothing but Hozier, Lord Huron and Monster Hunter OSTs for the past three-ish weeks, I am now thinking of a Hunter/Rider Hyapollo AU entirely because I cannot get the image of Apollo crossing blades with Hyacinthus over Malzeno.

Like, Apollo would never ride Malzeno but he would be protecting Malzeno. Like he is absolutely studying the Qurios and specifially ways to rid the monsters in the valley from them when the people in a nearby village put the request out to the Guild for Hunters who can handle the berserk Malzeno problem. Hyacinthus is definitely a Master Rank Hunter who's on a specialist expedition from said Guild to put down the Malzeno and because Hunters don't really know about Riders, is gonna be taken entirely by surprise when him and his party are stopped by this blond Wyverian riding a Seregios drawing a line in the sand with his arrows and refusing to let them travel any further until they assure him they're not poachers/tourists or idiots.

Like, I need Hyacinthus stepping up to speak for the party only for Apollo to shoot an arrow and slice his cheek as a warning because he's crossed over the line. I need Polyboea (the expedition Handler) FURIOUSLY trying to get into contact with the base because "hey, hi, hello, you guys did NOT tell us that this was Seregios territory, nor were we informed that there was also a Wyverian village in the area what the FUCK??". I need Harpalus immediately popping open his helmet to smoke because it's already bad enough that this was an expedition to catalogue and possibly slay a berserk Elder Dragon (which, genuinely, truly could end in any or all of their deaths) but now you're adding pretty boys claiming to be Monster Riders (???) to the mix and truly he cannot be bothered to take this seriously.

All while in the center of the drama, Apollo still has his bow drawn and Hyacinthus is trying to reason with him (read: buy Polyboea time for that update because what the HELL is going on here) only to be immediately de-escalated when Apollo catches sight of Hyacinthus' Palamutes.

[calosoma-amitch]

Predatory ground beetle (Harpalus spp.), Newark DE. August 2017.

This is about as far as I can ID without having the specimen under a microscrope.

This genus have nearly 60 species represented in North America, well over half of which can be found in the eastern US. Beetles forage for arthropods on the ground, either in the undergrowth of the forest floor or around the crowns of grasses in meadows. Their diet varies by species, with some preferring soft-bodied prey like caterpillars and beetle larvae, whereas others may take seeds or low-lying fruit if they are plentiful.  As they are nocturnal, some individuals are attracted to lights, and may indulge in eating insects that get caught in light traps (personal observation). Their genus name Harpalus is roughly translated from Greek as ‘greedy’, suggesting their voracious appetites. 

[myidic]

Cohort spotlight: Harpalus.

I’m spending this next stretch of the book bringing each of the boys forward while they’re still young, before Mieza, before Aristotle, before the campaigns. This is the stage where the cohort is still forming, when they’re about ten and the bonds that will carry into adulthood are being chosen in a much quieter way.

Chapter 14 belongs to Harpalus.

The sources don’t give us a clinical description of his condition, but they do make the broad shape clear: Harpalus was physically impaired and never became a battlefield commander. In a Macedonian culture built around riding, hunting, endurance, and physical competition, that difference would have been visible from childhood. This is a system already preparing boys for a war state. Strength, stamina, and toughness matter early, and everyone is paying attention to who keeps up and who doesn’t.

In the book, I’ve interpreted his impairment as limited mobility, likely a lameness. But I didn’t want him defined physically only by what he can’t do, so he has a strength that fits both the world and his limitations: archery. Not the loud kind of dominance that comes from outrunning or overpowering the others, but the quieter kind built on control, patience, and precision. He may fall behind on the long runs, but when the targets go up, he’s the one who doesn’t miss.

What matters most to me, though, isn’t the physical contrast. It’s his position with Alexander, because if you look at Harpalus later, the level of trust between them is remarkable. He isn’t one of the men who builds closeness through years of campaigning side by side. He isn’t riding into battle with Alexander, sharing the daily danger that forges that kind of loyalty.

And yet Alexander eventually entrusts him with the treasury of the empire. That’s not a minor appointment. That’s the financial spine of the entire war machine.

At one point, Harpalus mishandles funds and runs, afraid of what Alexander will do when he finds out. And this is where the relationship becomes striking, because Alexander was not a forgiving man when trust was broken. Satraps were executed for corruption. Officers were put to death on suspicion of disloyalty. Financial misconduct, especially once the army depended on steady pay, was treated as a serious betrayal of the state. But Harpalus is not executed. He is not publicly disgraced. Alexander forgives him, restores him, and gives him the position back. Later, Harpalus embezzles on a massive scale and flees again, and that second betrayal is what finally breaks the relationship.

But to be trusted with the empire’s money in the first place, and to be forgiven after failing once, there had to be something deeper already there. That kind of confidence doesn’t come from battlefield camaraderie, because Harpalus wasn’t there for most of it.

It had to start earlier. It had to start here, when they were children, when the group was still sorting itself and Alexander was deciding, quietly and instinctively, who belonged close to him.

At ten, Harpalus isn’t the future treasurer or the man who will eventually panic under pressure. He’s the boy who can’t quite keep up physically in a culture that measures boys by physical strength, and who is still, somehow, firmly inside the circle.

Which makes him one of the most interesting members of the childhood cohort for me to write, because his story only makes sense if that early bond was real and deep long before the empire ever existed.

[myidic]

Bored at work again, so here’s another scene with the boys being ridiculous.

**

By the time the conversation drifted away from tactics and into philosophy, the chamber had settled into that late-night haze of wine, warm lamplight, and abandoned arguments. The room bore the loose, comfortable disorder that came after too much drink and too many opinions.

Cloaks hung off the backs of chairs where the others had sprawled around the room. Someone had dragged a couch closer to the table, and Alexander had gradually taken over most of it. Hephaestion sat at one end with his shoulder braced against the armrest, one leg stretched along the cushions. Alexander had settled sideways against him over the course of the evening, perched partly on the cushions and partly against Hephaestion’s thighs while he talked.

It was the sort of unconscious closeness that had developed over years. At some point Hephaestion had simply put an arm around him to keep him from sliding off entirely. Neither of them seemed aware of it anymore.

“…you’re all missing the point,” Alexander was saying, gesturing widely with his cup. The wine had put color in his cheeks and loosened the bright intensity in his voice. “Education isn’t about obedience. Anyone can obey. Anyone can follow rules.”

Ptolemy leaned back in his chair, watching him with the tolerant expression of someone who had heard Alexander climb this hill before. “You say that like Leonidas didn’t spend half your childhood trying to beat obedience into you.”

“He tried,” Alexander said immediately.

Leonnatus snorted. “He succeeded.”

“No,” Alexander said, warming to the argument, turning slightly as he spoke so that his shoulder pressed more firmly against Hephaestion’s chest. “He succeeded in making me stronger. That’s different.”

Hephaestion took another slow drink of wine and watched Alexander gather momentum.

“A man should aim higher than what he’s born into,” Alexander continued. “Achilles did not become Achilles by remaining comfortable. He became Achilles because he understood that a man must strive toward something greater than the ordinary limits of—”

Hephaestion leaned forward and kissed him, cutting the speech off before Alexander could launch into destiny and glory and whatever else was coming next. The speech stopped immediately.

Alexander blinked. Then he made a soft, pleased sound and leaned straight into it. His hand came up instinctively to Hephaestion’s shoulder as he deepened the kiss, clearly delighted by the interruption.

Hephaestion, already drunk enough that restraint was not particularly strong tonight, let it happen. His arm tightened around Alexander’s waist as the kiss lingered a moment longer than it probably should have.

Across the table Harpalus froze with his cup halfway to his mouth. Leonnatus looked up at the same time. They stared as a long second passed.

Harpalus sighed. “Damn it,” he said.

He reached calmly into the purse at his belt and pulled out a silver tetradrachm. Leonnatus held out his hand without even glancing over, and Harpalus dropped the coin into his palm.

Ptolemy blinked between them. “…have you two been gambling on this?”

“On when they would lose public restraint,” Leonnatus said pleasantly, turning the coin over between his fingers.

Harpalus leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand across his face. “I said tomorrow. After the mock battle.”

“And I said tonight,” Leonnatus replied. “After enough wine.”

The conversation finally reached the couch. Hephaestion pulled back slightly, blinking once as if remembering the rest of the room existed. A crooked smile spread slowly across his face as he looked between the two gamblers.

“You were betting on us?”

“It seemed lucrative,” Harpalus muttered.

Hephaestion laughed quietly, a little incredulous. Alexander, still flushed and yet very pleased with himself, settled comfortably back against him again.

At the far end of the table Arridaeus had been quietly eating grapes while watching the entire exchange with careful attention. He looked from the coin, and then to Alexander and Hephaestion, and then back at Harpalus and Leonnatus.

“You both lost anyway,” he said calmly.

Leonnatus frowned. “Lost how?”

Arridaeus shrugged slightly. “They were kissing earlier.”

Alexander stiffened. “…Arridaeus.”

Arridaeus continued thoughtfully. “In the stables.”

Ptolemy choked violently on his wine.

Harpalus leaned forward. “The stables?”

Arridaeus nodded. “They were lying in the hay this morning.”

Alexander flushed up to his ears.

Arridaeus added, after a moment of careful consideration, “They were kissing a lot more then.”

The room exploded. Leonnatus nearly fell out of his chair laughing. Ptolemy bent over the table coughing into his sleeve.

Alexander grabbed the nearest cushion and hurled it across the room, and it struck Arridaeus squarely in the chest. Arridaeus caught it neatly without dropping a single grape. He examined the pillow briefly, then looked back at Alexander with complete composure.

“It’s probably good Hephaestion’s hands are only around your waist this time,” he added helpfully.

Alexander buried his face in his hands for a moment before dragging them down his cheeks.

“Arridaeus,” he said, half groaning, “you cannot simply announce things like that. Were you spying on us?”

Arridaeus looked mildly puzzled. “Aristotle sent me to fetch you,” he said.

Alexander blinked. “What?”

“For the morning reading,” Arridaeus explained. “You were not there.”

Ptolemy was already starting to shake with suppressed laughter.

“I told him you were busy,” Arridaeus continued calmly.

Alexander narrowed his eyes. “…busy.”

“Yes,” Arridaeus nodded. “With Hephaestion.”

Leonnatus made a choking sound.

Arridaeus nodded, entirely sincere. “I said you were wrestling.”

The room collapsed. Ptolemy choked on his wine again. Leonnatus bent forward laughing so hard the tetradrachm nearly slipped from his fingers. Harpalus sat back slowly, the corners of his mouth twitching as he calculated the next wager. Alexander went scarlet.

“Arridaeus—”

Arridaeus lifted a shoulder in a small shrug. “That’s what you said you were doing last time.”

Alexander buried his face in his hands. again, mortified. “By Zeus, Arridaeus,” he said through his fingers, “some things do not need commentary. Besides, it’s not like us being together is a surprise,” he huffed from behind them, mortified and defensive at the same time.

Hephaestion had leaned forward slightly, his forehead pressed briefly into Alexander’s shoulder as silent laughter shook him.

Across the table Harpalus lifted his cup with a wide grin and shook his head. “…next time,” he said, “Arridaeus is part of the wager.”

[myidic]

I forgot to add Harpalus, so here’s an updated version. Shh. I’m bored at work, just go with it.

**

Alexander’s chamber had settled into evening. The brazier took the chill out of the air, and the lamplight glowed on the painted walls. After the meal, the four of them had pulled nearly every pillow in the room into a loose heap across the floor.

Leonnatus had claimed the highest part of it and lounged there like a victorious general, tossing a carved knucklebone into the air and catching it again while he talked.

Harpalus sat nearby with a scroll open across his lap, reading silently, though the occasional lift of his brow suggested he was listening to every word.

Alexander lay stretched across the pillows with his head resting comfortably in Hephaestion’s lap instead of a pillow, one arm folded beneath him. Hephaestion leaned back against the cushions, idly threading his fingers through Alexander’s hair as he listened.

Leonnatus spread his arms wide, reenacting the moment with enormous dignity. “And then the fool looks straight up at the sky and says, ‘Clearly the gods oppose me today.’”

Alexander snorted aloud at that, and Hephaestion’s mouth twitched.

Harpalus lowered the scroll slightly. “A comforting theory,” he said mildly. “Far kinder than admitting he grabbed a horse like an idiot.”

Leonnatus tossed the knucklebone once more, caught it neatly, and shook his head. “Not that the horse kicked him because he grabbed its ear like a drunk barber. No. Divine intervention.”

Harpalus made a thoughtful sound and returned his eyes to the scroll. “The gods are famously protective of horses’ ears.”

The knock at the door cut across the room and drew all four of their heads up at once.

Alexander called for whoever it was to come in, expecting a servant or a message. Instead Arridaeus stepped through the doorway. The sight of him made Alexander push himself upright immediately, though he did not quite move away from where he leaned against Hephaestion.

“Arri? Is everything alright?”

Harpalus closed the scroll now, watching with quiet attention.

Arridaeus closed the door behind him and walked a few steps into the room before dropping onto the edge of the pillows.

“Father spoke to me.”

Alexander’s chest tightened slightly, bracing himself for the news, but he said nothing.

“He says I’m to be married.”

Alexander went still. Marriage. Alliance. Heirs. A chill ran through him before he forced his shoulders to loosen.

Harpalus’s expression shifted slightly at that, the humor fading as he watched Arridaeus.

Arridaeus scrubbed both hands down his face in frustration.

“Alex,” he said, voice thick with exasperation, “what in the world am I supposed to do with a wife?”

Leonnatus inhaled sharply, and broke out in a wide grin. “Arri,” he began, delighted, “I can explain exactly what you do with a wi—”

A pillow struck him square in the face.

“Shut up,” Alexander hissed.

Leonnatus shoved it away, laughing.

Harpalus hid a smile behind his hand.

Alexander rubbed the back of his neck and glanced briefly up at Hephaestion before answering.

“Arri… wives are for… treaties. Alliances… children.”

“Children?”

“Heirs.”

Arridaeus frowned. “Children… how—”

He stopped, and his eyes widened. Color flooded his face. “Oh.”

Leonnatus made a strangled sound.

Harpalus leaned forward slightly now, clearly interested.

Alexander pointed a pillow at him. “Leon.”

“I am silent,” Leonnatus said immediately.

Arridaeus looked back at Alexander with mounting frustration.

“Alex. Have you ever…?” Arridaeus asked, cheeks still flushed.

Leonnatus burst into laughter.

“Arri,” he wheezed, “Alexander is the wrong person to ask.”

Harpalus tilted his head thoughtfully. “On the contrary,” he said. “I am suddenly very interested in Alexander’s answer.”

Alexander grabbed another pillow. “Leon, I swear—”

Leonnatus waved a lazy hand. “Come on. Everyone knows you prefer Hephaestion’s…”

He paused, abandoning the word he had started. “…company.” Another pause. “…to that of women.”

The pillow hit him again.

“Finish that thought and I will throw you out the window,” Alexander said.

Leonnatus spat feathers and grinned.

“I know how it’s done.”

Harpalus raised his brows. “Do you.”

“Oh?” Leonnatus said brightly. “Did Hephaestion explain it while you were kneeling for his… instructions?”

Alexander punched him hard in the arm.

“Gods, Alex!” Leonnatus protested.

“We’ve all heard the soldiers talk,” Alexander said sharply. “Besides, Hephaestion has no more experience with women than I do.”

Hephaestion sighed. “That is enough.”, tugging at Alexander’s curls.

He looked at Arridaeus.

“No, Arri. Neither Alexander nor I have been with women.”

Arridaeus nodded slowly.

“But I have been with someone,” Hephaestion added.

Harpalus sat up straighter.

Arridaeus frowned. He looked at Hephaestion, then slowly turned his head toward Alexander. Understanding dawned.

“Oh. With Alex?”

Alexander went bright red.

“How does that work?”

Leonnatus collapsed backward into the pillows, laughing so hard he nearly choked.

“Yeah, Alex,” he wheezed. “How does it work?”

Harpalus leaned forward with obvious anticipation. “Yes,” he said pleasantly. “Please explain.”

Alexander opened his mouth. Closed it.

“Well—”

Arridaeus waited.

Leonnatus wheezed helplessly into the pillows.

Alexander tried again. “It’s—”

He stopped.

Harpalus rested his chin lightly on his hand. “Take your time,” he said with exaggerated sympathy.

Alexander shot him a look. “It’s… similar,” he said finally.

“Similar to what?” Arridaeus asked immediately.

Alexander hesitated.

Leonnatus was shaking with silent laughter.

Alexander rubbed his face. “You know what? Ask Leon.”

Harpalus made a soft, pitying sound. “A brave surrender.”

Arridaeus watched them both for a moment before turning back to Leonnatus with renewed interest.

“Leon,” he said, “have you been with a woman?”

Alexander and Hephaestion both looked at him immediately.

Harpalus leaned forward, intensely interested.

Leonnatus froze.

Alexander leaned forward slightly. “Well?” he prompted.

Hephaestion watched with quiet interest.

Harpalus folded his hands over the scroll, eyes fixed on Leonnatus.

Leonnatus shifted under their attention and groaned. “I regret beginning this conversation.”

[orphiclyre]

I declare Harpalus the founding father of cryptozoology who’s with me