Star Dust

After escaping slave traders at a terrible price, Jason must team up with the one person he trusts the least to make it back to Atlantis. But after a terrible betrayal and a witch's magic to escape from, it is Hercules and Ariadne that must defeat a witch, rescue their friends and save Atlantis.

Notes

Set after 'The Grey Sisters' (season 2 episode 6) when Jason has met Medea but hasn't married Ariadne yet.

My first fan fiction in years and it's going to be a beast (50,000+ words). Originally written for NaNoWriMo in November 2014 and being uploaded now I've had time to edit it. Happy reading!

"Remember this: Nothing is written in the stars. Not these stars, nor any others. No one controls your destiny."

― Gregory Maguire, Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West

Part 1

Chapter 1

Jason walked in the line with the others. His feet hurt, he knew he was dehydrated and all his muscles ached. But for all the pain and discomfort that he was feeling he knew that Pythagoras was feeling one hundred times worse. He knew that the younger man being kept standing behind him by the chains on his feet and chains around his hands was only just holding onto consciousness by the jolting movements of the slow march they were part of. He knew it was only time until the younger man lost the thin veil of consciousness and collapsed forward onto the sand taking himself and the man behind Pythagoras to the floor and earning five lashes a piece from their captors. Not that Pythagoras would be able to feel it, mused Jason; His back was so torn with thin lashes and bruised with the hits from the bat one of the viscous slavers carried, any feeling was impossible. Jason raised his eyes and looked into the distance and to the hazy line of the town he had landed in all those months ago. He couldn't believe that he was to return to the city he had made his home in chains.

Atlantis shined in the distance and Jason's thoughts turned to the princess of the city and whether she would help him, of whether Hercules had escaped and had not been killed in the attempt and of course whether Pythagoras would be able to make the last few miles home.

Jason wished he knew how much time had passed since the simple trip he, Pythagoras and Hercules had taken. That fateful trip that would have them in this desperate situation hadn't been extraordinary. It had been a simple movement of cargo from one of the Greco-cities and it shouldn't have taken that long. Pythagoras had protested about going saying that it was ridiculous for all of them to go. But like always the mathematician came along, worrying about Hercules and his bad habits. The trip was going well until they were ambushed. Jason could remember Pythagoras scream, men surrounded them and brandishing swords running at them. Hercules had pushed Pythagoras behind him and rushed for the nearest man, yelling and fighting. Another man had grabbed the smaller man and pulled him to his knees, sword at his throat. Jason had fought but had been hit hard on the side of the head and he too had been forced down to the ground. The last thing he remembered of the short fight was Pythagoras being suddenly surrounded and dragged from both him and Hercules.

Jason had no indication of the time that had passed between then and now. The days melted into one another, an endless parade of walking, beatings and constant worry about Pythagoras, and Jason wished it would end. It seemed that some deity, and being in Greece he could name a lot of gods both great and small, had heard his prayers when the slow wave of chained prisoners came to a halt. Screams from the slavers with their whips and jangling keys echoed through the valley they had stopped in and loudly called for a halt and for the prisoners to stand in a line to await inspection.

They had done this a few miles from every city they had been through. They would be separated, registered and taken to the city in groups. Men and women were separated. Then the men were separated into groups depending on what the traders thought they could be sold as. This usually consisted in being divided into men that would be farm workers, domestic slaves, army workers and then a group that Jason realised was for those whom they felt they couldn't sell at a high price or in some cases at all. These unfortunate men where then split up into three groups; one for the salt mines, of which Jason knew the life expectancy wasn't great, one for the gladiator areas where life expectancy was even lower and the last group was for the pleasure houses of the city. Though the last category had more women within it, Jason knew some men ended up this way as well.

Both cities before Atlantis, Jason and Pythagoras had not been put up for sale and remained with the caravan with other men but by the looks of things this time they weren't going to be so lucky.

One by one the people in the caravan were lined up and being put into those categories. Jason quickly pulled himself upright, he couldn't look weak, he had to make it to a proper audience for any hope of Hercules or Adriane to find and help him. He couldn't say the same for Pythagoras. The younger man as soon as a halt had been called had fallen to the floor, Jason couldn't get to him but even from this distance he could see that the mathematician had lost consciousness. His skin was ivory white even through the slight tan and bright red sun burning from the long march in the blistering sun and had a thin veil of sweat on his face and arms. The whip lashes had re-opened and opened fresh wounds on his back and the blood from them sluggishly fell down his back in a sticky sweaty mess. Grime and blood matted the blonde hair of the young man and on his forehead was a large yellowing bruise from where a guard had hit him. Jason was powerless to do anything as Pythagoras was unshackled and pulled from the line up by two large men who treated him with all the care that one would treat a large sack of potatoes.

Pythagoras was thrown on to his side and his head hit the rocks, like it was nothing but a piece of meat bouncing slightly and he was chained with his hands at his front and Jason watched fearfully as his friend was also chained by the ankles and lifted away from him.

"Stop! Please… take me with him!" Jason yelled pulling to get to his friend. But it didn't matter how much he yelled, screamed, called for his friend, begged, punched, fought or struggled Jason was soon restrained by three guards and led further away from his friend.

It was hopeless and Jason let himself receive four lashes and being pushed into the group with other similarly built men who were certain they were to be sold as farm workers. Despair crashed over Jason. He spent the rest of the evening imaging the hell that Pythagoras would be subjected to. He was too weak and sick to be sold as a domestic servant, he was too skinny to be a farm hand or work in the army; that only left the group which would mean certain death. Jason didn't cry. He was beyond tears. Beyond the knowledge that whatever destiny both he and the young mathematician had was never going to happen and the thought that maybe the future Jason had known wouldn't happen, and that frightened Jason. It frightened and confused him. Never had he foreseen this ending.

Evening drew on. It was cold in the desert at night and as the sun went below the horizon, fires were lit across the camp giving the scene a glow of the past. Jason had always marvelled over how the light of a small fire with proper wood and bright yellow to red flame could give the surroundings a feel of the past; of history. It made those stories of great Greek heroes that he dared ask Hercules or Pythagoras about just in case they hadn't become legend yet, seem very real. He could almost see the people in those stories such as Aeneas and Achilles sit around one of those fires awaiting for a battle or telling the story of their adventures to their followers. But since the baby Oedipus adventure, Jason had worried about revealing how much he knew about Greek legend. All those good feelings he had about camp fires however did not reach him this eve or penetrate his despair as he sat watching the flames. He looked into the flames and like an oracle he could see the future; Pythagoras in pain. Him screaming as rough tools cut into his bleeding hands, falling from exhaustion. Skinny and pale faced desperate to catch up with the work load; the young man falling desperately ill, dying alone and in pain, dehydrated and starved; Jason knew this was the fate that awaiting his friend. That was the moment that Jason realised he had to do something.

Rousing himself from these terrible thoughts Jason dragged himself up from the floor and put his brain on over things. If Pythagoras was dying then he couldn't let him die alone. Jason walked towards the tent where the slavers allowed the prisoners to get water. Jason had realised that even though they were cruel, it didn't make any sense for the merchandise, as he knew he was now, to be damaged this close to the city where they would be sold. So water was freely given and as Jason noted the queue he realised how grateful the other prisoners were for this reprieve.

Looking around he found that those in the camp free to walk around (with chains on their wrists) were only those who like Jason where to be sold. Where the unfortunate being such as Pythagoras had been taken he was unsure. Carefully he separated from the main group and as quietly as his chains would allow him he tried to blend into the background of the make shift tents and despondent prisoners. He moved slowly through the rows of tents as the light faded to a blue hue instead of the murky orange one of the fires. The temperature out here was noticeably colder without the heat of both people and the fires. He moved off slowly looking for signs of the other prisoners. He hadn't worked very far from the small group when the low mumbling couldn't be heard, or the glow from the small fires had completely faded leaving only the pale blue of the sky and the ghostly atmosphere that was upon this part of the camp. Jason was left with the sound of his breath and the beating of his heart which kept him on his path. It was so loud he was sure it would be heard by the captors.

Taking some deep breaths, Jason calmed himself as frustration hit him. He didn't know where to start, he had been going in circles he was sure of it. Looking about in the dark blue of the early night he started for the edge of the camp, fixated on the logical approach that he knew that Pythagoras would favour. That thought sent a pang of guilt through Jason, and determination started to burn more brightly within him.

It must have taken Jason an hour to search the entire camp and find his quarry as the sky was black and the stars shone brightly overhead. Jason checked the tents, the storage carts and avoided the sparse guards. He was very surprised his absence hadn't been noted but then he gathered that the valley was closed off; running wouldn't get you any further than either the middle of the desert or closer to Atlantis on which the slavers would capture the runaway as well. And if you had the energy to run, you would have the sense to stay and be sold off to a good owner and not sent to the mines. He had almost given up hope when he came to the last part of the camp where too storage carts where stationed. This part of the camp was in darkness but judging by the faint dancing of flames a small group of people were being held here. It was much colder here nearest to the desert and away from the larger fires. Jason moved closer and found that the two storage carts were modified from normal carts and filled with people.

There were bars on the carts and great iron bars indicating a door on the back of each. The two carts were larger than normal carts but they were both cramped with people. Jason quickly looked for captors before heading out into the open to have a closer look and hopefully find Pythagoras.

Almost as soon as Jason stepped into the open the desperate people in the cart started to reach out to him and call to him. The people contained in the tiny cage where in terrible condition. All were dirty and thin, all had large eyes washed with fear and the ones at the front of the cage reached out with skinny arms, skin ravaged with scars, welts and sores. The ones in the cage where devoid of chains around there wrists but their feet were chained to the bottom of the cage which was filthy with things Jason didn't want to think about. Through the darkness Jason looked in vain in the first cart for Pythagoras. But he couldn't see the young mathematician in the mass of poor people. The pleas from the desperate people got louder the closer Jason got and he saw in the cages where men, women and children all pushed together. He moved to the next cage and looked through the darkness for his friend. Soon he found himself answering the pleas with his own. "Have you seen my friend? Please… anyone please… have you seen him? Pythagoras? Please?"

After five minutes of getting nowhere Jason resigned himself. Pythagoras was lost possible dead, maybe that last blow to the head had killed him and his suffering was over. Jason hoped it was the case. He turned to leave. But so deep into his depression over not finding his friend and unable to help these poor people he didn't see the slavers until they were right on top of him. He was forced to the ground and a sword placed to his neck.

"Thought you would be a hero, boy?" The one with the sword said pushing it closer to his neck to emphasise the word 'boy' and causing Jason to anchor his head back more so he saw the stars above him.

"What should we do with him?" One of the slavers said as he held Jason's arm in place behind his back, standing over his legs in the kneeling position they had forced Jason into. The man got very close to Jason, so Jason could hear the malice in his voice and taste the wine on his breath. "We should kill him and make an example of what happens to deserters." The man pulled out a small dagger and pressed it close to Jason's face. "We should hang him, with slit wrists and watch as the blood drains out of him, use his corpse as a reminder of what happens when someone tries to be a hero."

The man with the long sword didn't look so sure and waved his hand away, the man with the dagger moved off, the sick glint of want still in his eyes. "What do you think, slave?" The swordsman asked relaxing his pressure at Jason's neck, "Should we leave you to die in the rocks for all to see?" He pulled his hair back once again so his eyes faced the stars "Or would it be better to prolong your pain?" Jason looked defiantly at him.

"So hero, which will it be?" The swordsman asked. He waited for a beat before lowering the sword and pushing Jason forward. "Speak!" He commanded.

Jason coughed into the sandy soil before saying the truth. He had nothing to hide and nowhere to run to, and nothing to lose. "I was just looking for my friend."

The man with the dagger looked appalled and angrily rushed up to Jason before kicking him; hard. "That is your answer; you are looking for your friend? Let's just kill him now…" But the swordsman halted the younger slaver and pulled Jason to his feet.

"What happened to your friend?" He asked pulling Jason so he was face to face with him. This close Jason could see the scars around the man's lips, the tight mouth a thin band across yellowing teeth, small black eyes and a large nose. His breath was stale and the hint of tobacco was on his breath but no wine was hinted at. The man shook him hard and Jason replied quickly, "we were separated in the line-up this morning."

"Don't lie to me boy, no one has friends here. Where are you from boy?" The swordsman asked, face still very close to Jason and Jason watched as the man's eyes racked his body in the half fire light.

"Atlantis." Jason replied. The swordsman shook his head. There was a pause only highlighted by the frustrated heavy breathing of the small man with the dagger. The swordsman seemed to be making a decision.

"I know you boy, don't I?" The swordsman said looking carefully at Jason and his necklace. Jason shook his head though he knew as soon as his name was spoken the man would realise he was the famed hero from Atlantis.

After a long minute of staring at Jason, trying to place him, the swordsman finally turned to his little companion and told the dagger clad slaver, "This one is for the master." The younger man looked disappointed and sheathed the dagger before starting to stalk off. The swordsman grabbed Jason by the hair and made him walk in front of him. Marching him away from the small fire and the cage carts towards the row of tents with the biggest fires Jason was frog marched until they reached a large tent at the back of the camp with two guards outside the entrance. Jason was thrust harshly inside.

The tent was larger than any tent Jason had ever been in. It was sparsely furnished but had drapes of fine material around it and a large plush make shift mattress in the middle of the room with fine covers and silks. From the ceiling however hung a pair of handcuffs on a long chain and Jason realised that this were matched by a pair of ankle ones on either side of the bed. He froze with sudden dread and anticipation.

The slaver chuckled when he entered behind Jason and pushed him around the mattress and out the other side of the tent towards a smaller one. "All in good time, my dear." He said with untold lust creeping into his voice. "But tonight you will be clean and refreshed."

Jason was pushed into the smaller tent and it took a few minutes to realise that the man hadn't followed him. He looked up and his gaze was met by a young man's.

The young man smiled at Jason and gestured him to sit down. Jason shook his head, he wanted answers. He was cold, tired and miserable and worried he had become the play thing of a slave trader. The young man seemed to see this conflict and spoke quietly and carefully.

"I know you have questions. I'm Telemachus and I like you am far from home. You must sit and rest, please we have fruit and water and a clean bed to spend the night in. I will answer all your questions in the morning."

Telemachus gestured to the four beds at the back of the tent and there lying on the bed furthest to the right was Pythagoras.

The tent's light wasn't the brightest, with dancing shadows on the linen back like a shadow theatre projecting monsters for children's imaginations. Like a great hydra snaked its way across the back of the tent, great shadowed neck cascading down towards the floor, the wind gave the tent a more sinister air than it otherwise would have. It was a small tent with four beds, or sacks of straw compacted down with sheets of cotton across them to give the imitation of beds, laid out in regular integers along the back of the tent, there was a low stall with a bowl of water on it and another low stall with a tray of bread and fruit upon it. To the unconcerned eye this tent was innocent and contained the comforts of any travelling party, to a high standard. But upon closer look the three inhabitants of this tent where on edge and seemed to be there against their wills. To make things starker a contrast two of the men sitting down on one of the beds both had their ankles manacled together. One leant down to knell beside the third man who was seemingly asleep in the further bed to the right.

"What happened to him?" Jason asked, taking the cloth from the bowl of cool water that was sitting on the floor beside the bed. He gave it a quick squeeze and then placed it on the younger man's forehead. There wasn't a reaction from this man and Jason felt his heart clench. It had been less than a few hours that Jason had been separated from Pythagoras and in that time the young mathematician had gone from aware and ill to unresponsive and deathly sick. The other man in the tent, who had called himself Telemachus, was watching the pair with great concern.

He was a small man, and Jason guessed he couldn't be more than eighteen, merely a boy, a thought to himself. He was well built however and dressed in simple tunic and trousers and Jason couldn't help but note that they were of finer quality than his or Pythagoras'. What Jason noted most though was that this young man knew more what was going on than he did.

"We made camp, while the slave sorting was happening and the master always gets first pick of the slaves he wishes to keep or dispose of…" Telemachus trailed off. Jason couldn't help but think that the boy had thought that Pythagoras was in the latter category judging by the state of him. "But then he comes in carrying him," he pointed at Pythagoras with a hint of envy, "and tells me to clean him up. So I washed him, and tended to his wounds, gave him water and some healing herbal remedy. But I don't know whether he will make it through the night."

Jason looked down at Pythagoras. His skin was grey and was no longer sweating just wet with a faint mist, he looked thinner and his breathing was shallower than before. Jason held Pythagoras' hand harder. He didn't want the young man to die. But maybe it would be kinder.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your name?" Telemachus said slowly.

"Jason," Jason replied not taking his eyes from his friend, "and his name is Pythagoras." Telemachus nodded and withdrew back to sitting on the bed.

In a low voice Jason asked "what will happen to us?" He said as Telemachus lay back on his bed, turned onto his side facing away from Jason.

"I don't know, but you saw the chains…" for the first time in their meeting the young boy sounded scared and Jason had no questions on whether it was needed as he felt it defiantly was. He was under no false illusions what the chains were for and wished he hadn't seen the glint in the man's eye. What made him feel sicker was the thought that maybe poor Pythagoras would await the same fate. He leaned against the straw bed that Pythagoras lay on and quietly he begged his friend "please Pythagoras, please don't die, don't leave me here."

It was a long night and through it Jason prayed to every god he could name and those he couldn't for Pythagoras to get well, he just needed him to wake up and say something in his measured and logical tone and for him to tell Jason just how hopeless everything was. Jason also prayed that somewhere Hercules was still alive and looking for them. A sudden flash through his mind of the larger man asleep on the street after drinking too much made Jason half smile and half think that maybe that was what he was doing. Thinking of Atlantis made Jason feel slightly home sick. He thought of the dusty streets, the sandy steps of the town walls, the larger than life temples and tiny hovels of the people who lived in the crowded town. The small apartments that he had come to call home, the small sleeping area and the tiny kitchen, Pythagoras' desk with his work on triangles. Jason let his mind wander down the small roads towards the temple of Poseidon through the market that smelled of exotic fruit, burning meats and cold cuts, live farm animals, blood and sweat and grime. The noises of children and happy people, the cry of street sellers, everything had become too familiar and comfortable. Jason, on the edge of sleep, let his mind wonder further and images of modern day London merged with that of Atlantis. He saw cars on the streets and people in suits walking alongside those in the Greek attire. He saw the odd shop he remembered as he walked to the temple in all its glory. He walked quickly to it before walking inside where the ceiling felt smaller than he remembered it being and he had to crawl, calling out to the oracle he ventured into the dark. Suddenly he heard a voice answering him.

"JASON!"

But he couldn't see anything it was dark and suffocating warm, he tried to scratch at his neck, it was sore and something was attacking it.

"JASON!"

The voice was getting louder. The darkness was starting to lighten to white and in front of his eyes was the oracle holding a knife to Pythagoras' neck. Jason took a deep breath and tried to run forward, but his throat caught and he couldn't move. The oracle's eyes were ablaze with red fire and she looked deep into Jason's soul. Echoing in a screamed whisper she just said "soon," and drew the blade across Pythagoras' neck.

Jason awoke suddenly, breathing heavily to find Telemachus shaking him and a pair of scared blue eyes from the pair looking up at him. Pythagoras was at least awake and staring up at him. He scared whisper broke through the silence punctuated only with harsh breaths. "J-Jason what was that?" The mathematician asked slowly.

Jason blinked hard ignoring Telemachus and his worried expression. Instead he brushed the sleep from his eyes with a brush from his slightly grimy sleeve and looked at his friend. Pythagoras was staring back, wide blue eyes glinting with a faint veil of unshed tears, his blue eyes like the ocean, mixed with green and they seemed to swirl bordered with red. His face, though pale and grey was tinted with pink, a sign he was making some type of recovery. But the expression on his face was that of scared horror; had he seen what Jason had seen? Had he seen a vision of the future? Or had Jason just had a nightmare and thrashed too violently until his ill friend woke beside him?

After staring back for a minute, Jason gathered his senses and brushed the side of Pythagoras' face gently, turning quickly to Telemachus to bring water. "It's ok; everything is going to be ok." He said stupidly. Pythagoras looked unimpressed, but chose that moment to cough, a very dry cough that screamed volumes of his dehydration. Telemachus passed Jason the bowl of clean water and he held it to Pythagoras' face carefully. "Slowly." He instructed.

Within forty minutes Jason was happy with the amount of water Pythagoras had taken and was happy to let the young mathematician doze on the make shift bed. Telemachus looked on as Jason eased the young man's forehead with a cool cloth.

"You care a great deal for him. I can see that in the way you act, the look in your eyes, it is like the way a husband looks after his wife."

Jason paused. Maybe that was how he cared for Pythagoras, but it did not deter him.

"We must look after one another in difficult times." He said simply. Finishing his task and rising slightly to rest on the bed beside Pythagoras'. Telemachus came and sat down beside him.

"It is more than that. He is strong and his exhaustion will pass. But you care most deeply for your beloved." Jason turned to Telemachus to see the young man looking into the distance with a sad look in his eyes. Jason decided to take pity on the young man, whom he realised hadn't slept all night and must be exhausted. Jason let the term 'beloved' hang in the air like the elephant in the room it was. This was not the time or place to re-evaluate his relation with anyone especially his best friend who a few hours ago looked like he was to take a trip across to Hades. Jason knew that he had no sexual attraction to Pythagoras. He loved him, as the genius he was, but he did not require or desire any sexual pleasure from the young man.

But Jason wasn't completely without cultural background. He knew that beloved was used to describe great warriors and their young man friends. It was acceptable for him, as a straight male to have a beloved, and that was enough of an explanation Jason needed. Ariadne flashed across his thoughts suddenly and Jason felt the pangs of desire for her, and realised that this was purely friendly he felt for Pythagoras. His pondering was stopped when Telemachus gave a short yawn which he tried to sniffle.

"Why don't you sleep my young friend?" He tried, it must be nearly dawn and Jason could only image what the future would bring in the bed chamber with the chains and the slave traders in the camp around them. Telemachus however just shook his head.

"I could not sleep, for I am too awake." He said smiling as brightly as he could but it did not touch his eyes, instead he looked more exhausted. Jason nodded and made to lie on his bed facing Pythagoras but he could still see Telemachus.

Resting his neck on his arm and enjoying the relaxation of the tension that had gathered across his neck and shoulders, Jason tried to relax. Happy that Pythagoras was better hydrated and sleeping peacefully, Jason turned to concentrate on Telemachus who had brought his legs to his arms and was resting his head on his knees.

"Ok, Telemachus, tell me about yourself then. Do you have a beloved?"

Hercules distrusted the men he had fallen in with. They were thieves and bandits for better use of a term. None of them belonged anywhere. All stateless, leaderless and needing a place to call their own was the way Hercules called them, but at this moment he was no better.

Currently, the men were camped against the fringe of the forest that you could see the fires of Atlantis from. Away from the harshness of the desert and with cover from other thieves and bandits it was the perfect place to camp this night. The men were heading to Atlantis for the slave market that was to take place there in a few days' time. Hercules knew that was where he would find Pythagoras and Jason so travelled with his unsavoury new friends to have safe passage away from the slavers. Hercules bitterly regretted his actions when he and the other had been attacked. It had been too fast, one moment they had been travelling slowly back towards Atlantis, minor errand completely, when they had been attacked.

Hercules remembered trying to defend Pythagoras. He loved the boy most fiercely and couldn't bear to think of him injured or in pain. But they were set upon by men with swords on every side and hopelessly outnumbered, Hercules was ashamed to admit. The next thing he knew both Jason and Pythagoras were either shackled and dragged to their knees, like Jason, or eyes closed and dumped unconscious, like Pythagoras on a cart and Hercules was left for dead, bleeding and seeing double. It was obvious that the slavers didn't want the larger, older man and had just left him exposed in the desert. Hercules didn't know how long he had lain on the ground watching the blistering sun make her arch across the sky and the coldness of the night draw about him. He had never felt such deep despair. Watching the stars roll across the sky he knew this was it. He had lost everything; his home, his friends, he wouldn't see Medusa again and he had failed Pythagoras. Resigned to his fate and praying quietly to the god of the underworld that he could wait for Pythagoras on the shores of the Styx where they could cross together. He prayed the same for Medusa adding that she live a full life and he added Jason as well just in case he died before Pythagoras. Though in his heart he knew that slave traders only sold the strongest captors and everyone else went to the salt mines. He had let his mind drift as he heard the sounds of wolves and he laid waiting for death to come.

But death never came.

Instead he felt hands on him as they searched his body. As a hand reached further down, Hercules had to do something. Body tackling the intruder he forced himself on top of them to find a young woman was searching him.

Hercules had recognised her from the minute he had laid eyes on her. And she him, but they hadn't spoken about it; only moved towards Atlantis together. An unspoken truce as soon as she had said "I must protect Jason."

She was small, well built, had dark hair and was struggling in his grip. He let go to find himself threatened with a knife. It was obvious however this was for their mutual benefit.

Even with their questionable travelling companions she held her own. Hercules had told her his story and she hers, both were looking for people who were to be traded. But Hercules was cautious he knew what she was and what she could do.

He knew Pythagoras would have laughed at him being so careful around this woman but Hercules had a feeling and he didn't trust her. And it all started when he had seen the contents of her herb bag hanging from her hip. It was small and black, leather with a fine chain holding it together, and had thin script curling around it. Hercules had only seen writing like that on the side of temples and he couldn't read it. He didn't trust anything he couldn't read.

He usually left Pythagoras to do the decoding of foreign languages but he even knew that it was the language that only priests used. Thoughts of women and religion worried Hercules and had done since his run in with both the priestess of Dionysius and the witch Circe.

And this woman was a witch. Hercules planned to keep a distance from her just in case. But like the miss trust he had felt originally with Jason he tried his hardest to not alert his saviour or her travelling partners. Instead he watched the horizon and prayed to all the gods that he would make it back to Atlantis in one piece.

Hercules looked out across the valley to see the first light of the breaking day shimmering across the sky. The woman sat down beside him and handed him a bowl of warm water.

"Drink, for we have a long day ahead of us." She said eating a date from a terracotta plate, painted with a black pattern. She was dressed simply. A thin tunic with a small pattern sewn into the side, light leggings and brown leather boots, tied up with long laces and she wore her long hair in a ponytail with a single braid on the right side of her head. Hercules took a deep mouthful of the water and swallowed loudly.

Sighing he asked "What is to become of us?" The woman seemed to pick up on his mood.

"We are to be victors and to enter the gates of Atlantis and to reclaim that is ours. And Hercules you are to help us." Hercules looked at startled he hadn't given his name. He had been very careful not to give his name.

"And why would I help you?" He asked carefully and the woman smiled.

"The goddess answered many of my questions, as she will yours." She said. Hercules knew how to play this one and tried to turn on the charm.

"And what would happen if I just killed you in your sleep?" He said trying to add a small smile in his statement and a hint of truth upon his lips; he had thought about it and wasn't afraid to act on it. The woman smiled, popping another date into her mouth.

"You flatter yourself with images of strength and power, Jason couldn't kill me and I don't believe you will." She said looking at the dawning day. Hercules turned to her and pushed her fallen bangs from her face roughly before she shook off his hand.

"You need me Hercules, because Jason won't survive without me." She said and she faced him sitting up to full height, she rearranged her posture so she was taller than Hercules, and she breathed out, puffing out her chest so her breasts looked large. She bit her lip and asked in a small voice, that Hercules did not think a woman who had saved his life call manage, "I can save Medusa."

Hercules grabbed her arms and lifted her to his lap, grabbing her roughly and clawing her arm in a tight embrace. "Don't test my promise of killing you! You have no idea what that name does to me!". He growled frustration and hatred in his voice. She flicked her hair and looked into his eyes, touching the side of his face, as though she was going to kiss him. Hercules felt his pulse quicken and a wash of feelings he hadn't felt in a long time; lust and frustration building in his chest as he entertained images of making this witch scream. But as suddenly as it came it was taken again as the woman forced him to the floor, the bowl smashing and the left over water falling to the floor. She straddled him and took at a small dagger resting it on his chest.

"You are as pathetic as the day I rescued you. I am a princess. I am a priestess and have more knowledge of the world than you. I, Medea will crush you if you try anything. I will take everything you love; I have seen your past and a hint of your future. And I can change everything you know."

She pushed him down and cut a small slice across his cheek. "By your blood, you may think you are free but in reality you are now as much a slave and captive as the one I seek."

She pushed him down and rose, shouting to the other men. "We will stay here another day, bring me an animal to sacrifice to the goddess."

She turned to leave, with Hercules still on the floor. Medea took a few steps and then as though she had come up with something else to say she turned to Hercules, "I have business in Atlantis and I know you are the key to the one I seek."