Warning: Unknowing incest

Jason's grasp on mythology is unfortunately weak. He never studied Classics at university, and his recollection of myths from his childhood is as fragile and fleeting as his memories of his father.

So he does not recognize the discrepancies between the myths of his childhood world and the narratives playing out around him. He does not know that the Minotaur was meant to be Pasiphae's own child, or that Theseus is meant to be the one to slay the Minotaur.

He meets the babe Oedipus and believes he knows the boy's future. It saddens him but he knows no way of preventing it. The myths have already been written, surely, and are beyond changing.

He has no way of knowing that the story of this Oedipus will not match the story he knows. That this Oedipus will one day be captain of a mighty ship, the Argos, and will sail on many adventures with his heroic crew to win back his city.

Oedipus will lead the Argonauts, because Jason, this Jason, will not.

But Jason does not know that. He knows only that Hercules and Pythagoras are his friends, Medusa is doomed, and Queen Pasiphae is lovely.

The Queen—he breathes a heavy sigh and peers out the window at the agora as he thinks of her. She is not a kind woman, he knows that, but she has been kind to him. It was she who spoke to him, with admiring, breathless words, after he slew the Minotaur. It was she who pleaded for leniency when Jason and his friends were brought before the King after Jason's dispute with Heptarian. Jason has felt her eyes seeking him out through a crowd, has seen the way those eyes soften only when they land on him.

Pasiphae, he thinks incredulously, likes him.

The second time he speaks to her in private is months after he faced the Minotaur. He has been feeling a restlessness of spirit of late and is on his way to speak to the Oracle, whose solemn proclamations about his destiny at least give him something to look forward to. So intent is he on his destination that he bumps into a woman walking the opposite direction.

"I'm sorry," he says, reaching out to steady her. The cloth of her gown is blissfully soft under his fingers, telling him he has stumbled into someone high in station. Then her head tilts back under her veil and piercing eyes meet his. "Your Majesty!" he gasps, quickly stepping back and ducking his head. "Please, accept my apologies."

Her voice is melodious, with a hint of humor, as she replies, "And where is a young man such as yourself off to in such a hurry? Jason, isn't it?"

His cheeks burn. "I was going to see the Oracle, Your Majesty."

She raises her eyebrows. "For what reason?"

He's been in Atlantis long enough to know that that is a rather personal question. "I seek answers," he says, struggling for words. "Regarding my place here, in Atlantis."

Her lips curve. Beautiful, he thinks, and cannot quite catch hold of the thought in time to prevent it from reaching his face. He knows, because her smile deepens almost as if he said it aloud.

"A young hero in search of a purpose," she muses. She does not touch him, because they are in public, but there is something very intimate about her body language. "Would you like me to give you one?" Her voice is deep, sultry.

This is a very bad idea, Jason thinks. Yet he cannot find it within himself to refuse. She is his Queen and he is drawn to her.

Because she is a scheming queen with copious resources, she has a rather luxurious boudoir in the city about which she assures Jason her husband knows nothing.

She is kissing him before the door is fully shut. Seconds later he is undressed and at her mercy.

Over the next months, Jason becomes very familiar with that boudoir. As he does, he feels his attraction to Pasiphae grow into something more. He is certain that he loves her. As for what she feels for him—he knows it is not love, but it is fierce and possessive and that's almost the same thing.

"I had a son named Jason," she tells him once, lying with her head on his strong chest as his breathing slowly returns to normal. "It pleases me to think he might have grown into a man like you."

"I knew the moment I saw you that you were touched by the gods," she says another night, reclining gloriously nude on the bed as she watches him dress.

"What does that mean?" he asks, pausing in the act of lacing his sandals.

"It means you will achieve greatness. Under my patronage, you will become the hero of Atlantis. And as your power grows, so will mine."

Her prediction comes true. The King dies after a long illness, preceded mere days in death by his daughter Ariadne, whose fatal act of treason is never fully explained to the populace. In an unprecedented move, Pasiphae steps into the vacuum and seizes the throne for herself.

Other kingdoms take offense and come, one by one, to lay siege to Atlantis. Always at the forefront of every battle is Jason, clad in splendid armor and bearing a sword that was once used by King Minos. More than once, his name becomes the chant that rallies Atlantis's army to victory when all hope seems lost.

Eventually, and after the spilling of much blood, Atlantis stands victorious, her Queen at her helm. And beside the Queen is her consort, the young and handsome hero Jason. The Queen is widely feared; Jason, beloved. It is a powerful combination.

"You saw me when I was nothing," Jason murmurs against her breast one night, their tenth night together in the royal bedchambers.

Her hand caresses his hair, soothing. "You were never nothing. That others were blind to your value merely bespeaks their foolishness."

They lie in silence for a while.

"Is there anything you would not do, if I asked it?" she says.

"Nothing," he says swiftly. "Tell me your desire, Pasiphae, and I will see it done."

"There is one man who may righteously dispute my claim to the throne. His name is Aeson, and he resides in the leper colony in the Mountains of Galena. I would see him dead."

Jason knows nothing of the man, whether he is good or evil, but there is no hesitation when he says, "I leave immediately." He moves to stand, his mind already planning ahead to the horse he will ride, the men he trusts to accompany him.

Her hand catches his. The smile she gives him is one he has and will kill for. "Delightful boy," she murmurs. "Aeson can wait until tomorrow. Come here."

She draws him down to her and he comes, unresisting.