And to this boy he had to leave Alexander, and trust that he would be kept safe and sane and convinced that he bled red blood and that sorrow for a beloved friend shamed him not at all. Already—always—he was too inclined to disappear behind the mask, become hero, king, Achilles, Son of Ammon, Great King, inviolate and inhuman, and to keep him simply golden Alexander whose hands grasped so greedily at the unknown had been the work of too many years to let Persian hands daintily unpick his many patched-over attempts at field-surgery.
Hephaestion POV after Cleitus’ murder, this captures Renault’s style, making this feel like a bitter-sweet glimpse into the General’s mind.