A/N Thank you all for the lovely reviews once again!
I seem to have written another long chapter! Please let me know what you think...
Jason stared at his mother suspiciously through narrowed eyes, his face hardening into a frown. The tension in the room was palpable as all the occupants waited to see what would happen next. Pasiphae for her part merely watched her son calmly, taking in both the hurt and anger that seemed to radiate from him calmly. He is young and afraid, she reminded herself. He has no reason to trust me; believes I will do him harm. The realisation brought with it its own little pang for what might have been. Jason should not distrust her; should have grown up knowing her love as well as her displeasure. Once again she futilely cursed Aeson's name. Whatever had gone between them she would never have harmed the child before her – and right now at this moment it really didn't matter how grown up Jason was, what amazing feats of courage he had achieved, in her eyes he was a child… her child. He had a right to be angry too. Everyone around him had essentially lied to him; his whole world had been built on the tissue of his father's lies. How must he feel, she wondered, to have his world come crashing down in an instant? To have everything he thought he knew taken away from him? And to have someone he believed to be his enemy revealed as his mother – because Pasiphae was in no doubt that he did believe that she was his enemy.
You have only yourself to blame for that, part of her said firmly. You tried to kill him several times and he knows it.
But I didn't know, the other part of her protested. I would never have hurt him if I had known.
The argument sounded weak even to her own ears. The truth was that she had tried to kill her own son – had caused him immeasurable pain with her magic – and now she was very much afraid she would reap the reward. The silence in the room stretched onwards, taking on a life and form of its own. It ended when Jason shifted in his seat slightly and attempted to hide a wince that his mother's sharp, scrutinising eyes picked up on immediately.
"Perhaps not quite so fine after all, silly boy," she murmured, repeating her own words of the evening before.
Jason looked startled, the expression making him appear so young that Pasiphae felt a jolt even as she used the moment to stand and cross the distance between them, coming to rest on the couch alongside him. For a moment they lapsed into silence again. The only sound that reached Pasiphae's ears was her son's somewhat harsh breathing – the only outward sign he was giving of his discomfort both at the situation they were in and from the pain she knew he must be feeling.
"You did not tell me about the fractured ribs," she chided softly. "When I asked if you were hurt anywhere else you told me that you had twisted your knee slightly and that was all."
Jason shrugged. Pasiphae frowned at the gesture. That was one of the first things he would have to be broken of. Royal princes did not shrug like that; they answered properly and promptly. She looked at him disapprovingly. Jason looked back at her with a challenge in his eyes – eyes that were so like her own.
"They're nearly healed," he said coldly. "I didn't see the need for you to know my business."
Pasiphae's face froze.
"When I ask you a question I expect an honest answer," she snapped.
"Why?" Jason retorted.
"Because I am your mother and your Queen," Pasiphae answered.
Jason snorted.
"You're not my mother," he said angrily. "You're just the woman who gave birth to me."
Pasiphae recoiled as though he had hit her and for a moment Jason felt inexplicably guilty. He should not care what she thought, he reminded himself, and yet there was something in her eyes – a half forgotten sorrow – that caught at his heart.
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "That was uncalled for. I shouldn't have said it."
The Queen smiled bitterly.
"But it is how you feel," she said hoarsely.
Jason sighed.
"Yes," he admitted. "I'm sorry but it is… You see where I come from a mother is someone who looks after you… who loves you… You don't even really know me and I certainly don't get the feeling that you like me very much."
"I do not pretend to know you well," Pasiphae answered, "but that does not mean that I do not wish to." She paused and looked down thoughtfully at the table top for a moment. "Come," she said presently, her tone soft and reasonable, "there are many things that we need to discuss but I believe that it would be better to do so from the comfort of your room."
She half-smiled as Jason stiffened at the mention of a room of his own. He turned to regard her with a wary expression.
"Will there be guards on the door?" he asked softly.
Pasiphae could not help but recoil again. Did he really trust their intentions that little?
"No," she snapped. "You gave your word that you would do your duty. I am relying on your sense of honour in this matter. I would hope that you would keep your word and remain here of your own free will while you receive instruction in how to deal with Anaxandros. If nothing else I would dearly love to teach you some manners."
She stood suddenly and paced over to the window, trying to regain control of her temper. Antagonising Jason would not help matters, she firmly reminded herself. The boy already had little reason to trust her and was bordering on being openly hostile. If she was to develop any sort of relationship with him then they would both need to put their differences aside and start again from the beginning – and much as she believed that Jason could be her way of maintaining control over Atlantis for the next generation she really did want to form a bond; to have a proper mother/son relationship with him.
A gentle, almost hesitant touch on her arm made her spin around. Jason had apparently limped over to her and had reached out hesitantly to get her attention. As she turned he let his hand fall and stood looking at her, biting his lip. Once again the Queen was struck by how young he seemed.
"I'm sorry," the young man murmured. "I haven't really made the best impression have I?"
"Today has been a shock," Pasiphae answered, reaching out to brush his brown curls away from his face and gratified to note that he did not immediately pull away – although his eyes still looked a little wild. "I understand that. It is not so very easy for me either."
Jason nodded shyly.
"Could we start again please?" he asked.
"Why?" Pasiphae said. "You have made it quite clear that you do not see me as your mother."
"No," Jason admitted. "I don't… not yet anyway… but maybe I could." He glanced across to the couch where his friends sat watching him anxiously and smiled faintly. "Pythagoras said that maybe I should give you a chance to get to know me… that maybe this was an opportunity… the chance to find out about my family… to be part of a family."
Pasiphae looked across to the skinny young man sitting alongside his bulkier older friend with a frown. Why would he have counselled Jason to give her the benefit of the doubt? As far as she could see there would be nothing really in it for him. Surely he must realise that if his friend followed this path he would be removed from them? Could anyone really be that selfless? All her experience said not, and yet she had followed her son in secret often enough to see just how close he was to his two friends. For a moment she felt a brief irrational surge of jealousy which she fought to hide. Soon enough these two would be gone from Jason's life. No matter how close they appeared to be now things would inevitably change the more her son came to accept his place in the court; to accept his role in life. He would come to realise that his current associations were far below him. It seemed almost inevitable that these men, as close as they seemed right now, would one day seek to exploit their current relationship with Jason and she would be ready and waiting when they did.
"Then we do indeed have much to discuss," she said. "For now though I believe you are supposed to be resting. I will show you to your chamber."
Jason hesitated.
"The King said that my friends could stay," he began.
"I have not forgotten," Pasiphae answered sharply. "There is a guest chamber adjoining your room where your friends should be comfortable enough. It should certainly be more comfortable than anything they are used to." She could not help the slight sneer as she spoke of his friends.
Jason bit down on the surge of anger he felt at the way the Queen spoke of Pythagoras and Hercules. Their social status might mean that they meant little to her but they were important to him. Couldn't she at least try to be polite for his sake? Before he could say anything though the Queen had turned away, heading towards the door of the room and clearly expecting him to follow.
As he turned to follow her his injured leg betrayed him again, the knee nearly giving way as he clung to the wall for support. Hercules was there in an instant, ready to provide a strong arm and a broad shoulder without comment, merely raising his eyebrows in exasperation. Jason smiled wryly and draped his arm across the big man's shoulders, leaning his weight into his friend to take the pressure off his once again throbbing knee. Pasiphae looked at him grimly and Jason found himself suddenly inexplicably nervous of his mother's reaction. She made no comment however, and simply gestured towards the door with the impatient instruction that they should follow her.
It was perhaps fortunate that the room Pasiphae led them to was not far from the one they had been in. They walked in silence down a brightly lit and beautifully painted corridor, through a large vestibule where ornate benches surrounded a small indoor pool, the surface glinting with the reflected light from the torches that lined the walls, and into another corridor so similar to the first that for a second Jason thought they had simply turned around and gone back the way they had come. There were subtle differences in the decorations though he noticed, the blues and greens that highlighted the acanthus border slightly different in shade to those in the previous corridor. Ahead of them Pasiphae had stopped and turned. She sighed and tapped her foot impatiently, clearly irritated at the pace they were walking at. Well she was just going to have to be irritated, Jason thought grimly. He was moving as fast as he could – wasn't intentionally dawdling – but with what amounted to only one properly working leg he simply couldn't move as fast as usual. Earlier he had been able to fake it; to force himself to move at his usual speed to follow the servant to the chamber where they had met with the King. Now though he had been sitting down for too long and his knee had stiffened considerably. Still he couldn't help but try to speed up a little, feeling sweat breaking out on his forehead with the effort.
As they drew level with the Queen she fixed Jason with a hard look, clearly less than impressed that he had not told her the full extent of his injuries – even if he was healing. It should not have been down to his friend to tell her, she thought with more than a little annoyance. With a swift movement she pushed open the door to a chamber and gestured impatiently for her son to enter.
Once they were inside Jason could feel his friends looking about themselves with wide eyed wonder at the richness and elegance of the room they had been brought to. Under other circumstances he might even have joined them but right now his attention was solely fixed on the large and extremely comfortable looking bed that rested in the middle of the far wall and seemed to be calling his name. For once in his life he was actually longing to do as he was told and follow the orders prescribed by the doctor. Anything that stopped his knee hurting quite so much would be more than welcome.
"No doubt you will wish to freshen yourself," Pasiphae said calmly as she followed the three men into the room. "I have sent a servant to bring warm water and you will find clean clothes in the trunk at the end of the bed."
Jason didn't like to ask whose clothes they were or where they had come from. Perhaps his mother had arranged for them to be purchased in advance as soon as she had discovered his identity. Somehow that thought made him scowl. She shouldn't have simply assumed he would be coming here; that he would have no choice in the matter.
"I will leave you for a short time," the Queen continued. "I will return when you are refreshed and more suitably attired." She swept from the room before Jason could answer her.
The young man watched her go with a sigh. With everything that had happened so far today he felt emotionally wrung out and the day was far from over yet. He looked longingly at the bed again, wondering if he could slip into it, pull the covers over his head and pretend that today was just a bad dream.
"Well that was… awkward," Hercules rumbled, still acting as a human crutch for his younger friend. "Still we might as well make use of their hospitality for a bit."
Jason turned back towards him and snorted a short laugh.
"That's better," Hercules said. "I thought you'd forgotten how to smile for a while there." He looked seriously at Jason. "Just say the word and we'll get out of here," he offered. "We'll find a way out of the city somehow."
"I can't," Jason sighed. "I gave my word."
"To a paranoid King and his power-hungry witch of a Queen. Do you really think you had much choice in the matter?" the burly wrestler pointed out.
"Hercules!" Pythagoras exclaimed primly. "That's his mother and stepfather you are talking about."
Jason couldn't stop himself from bursting out laughing.
"I'm sorry," he said in response to the mathematician's startled look. "It's just that this is just so insane. When I woke up this morning the biggest thing I had to worry about was trying to avoid Hercules' lecture until we got home…"
"Don't think you've got out of that one," Hercules growled.
"And now it turns out that I'm the King's stepson," Jason continued, completely ignoring the fact that Hercules had even spoken, "and I'm being expected to introduce myself to a rival King once my mother – who just happens to be an evil witch – has 'instructed' me in proper behaviour. It's completely mad… like some kind of weird dream." He sobered suddenly and looked at his friends with haunted eyes. "Only it's not a dream is it? It's really happening."
"Yes," Pythagoras said softly. "It really is happening." He sighed. "But I do not believe that the situation is all bad. After all Minos could have reacted in a very different way. As it is he has not been unkind… and Pasiphae does at least seem to want to get to know you."
"Yeah I suppose you're right," Jason answered with an attempt at a smile. He nodded at the trunk. "What do you think she's left in there?"
"There's only one way to find out," Hercules said.
Jason nodded in agreement and then grunted slightly as he put a little more weight on his leg, moving over to the bed with his older friend's help and sinking down onto the mattress. Oh God he hadn't felt anything this soft since he arrived in Atlantis. Part of him wanted to flop back just to see if it felt as good when he was lying down – somehow he suspected it would. He sighed. The bed might be comfortable but he didn't really feel it was his. In fact the whole room felt cold somehow in spite of the cheerfully crackling fire; it was beautiful but it felt impersonal – like a hotel room almost. The one thing it most definitely was not was home. Home was a shabby little place just to the north of the Canopic Way, cluttered but cosy. He smiled softly to himself at the thought. The sooner they could get away from here and back home the better.
Pythagoras had wandered over to the trunk at the end of the bed and was examining it. The box appeared to be made of oak and was bound with bronze straps. On the lid a relief of Poseidon was carved and highlighted with tortoiseshell. He cautiously opened the lid and stared at the contents. Inside the trunk someone had carefully folded several tunics, pairs of trousers, night shirts and undergarments. They were all of the finest quality and made to the highest standards. Pythagoras delicately unfolded one of the tunics and held it up. The material that it was made of was light and soft but clearly warm, designed to provide it's wearer with maximum comfort and cosiness.
Jason looked up with little interest. Clothes had never really bothered him to be honest; had never really been his thing. As long as they kept him fairly warm and weren't too worn out he was happy. He had to admit though that whoever had picked out the tunic Pythagoras was currently holding up had put some thought into it. While the garment was clearly expensive it was far simpler in design than the somewhat ornate costumes worn by the royal family. The dark red colour would probably suit him very well while allowing him to slip back into the background in a way that the brighter blues favoured by the Atlantian royals did not. Actually Jason was quite touched by the amount of consideration that had gone into selecting just that one single tunic. Whoever had done it (and somehow he had a sneaking suspicion that it had been Pasiphae) had clearly been thinking about what he would like and not just about appearances in front of the court. He smiled and reached out to take the shirt from Pythagoras, noticing how soft the material felt against his skin.
As Pythagoras reached back into the trunk to pull out a suitable pair of trousers, a servant entered carrying a large and steaming basin of water which she placed on a table alongside the bed. Jason looked at it longingly, realising for the first time just how grubby he actually felt. The run through the streets last night followed by the battle with the slavers had made him perspire heavily and there had been no real washing facilities at the Temple this morning and no time to use any that there were. He felt grimy and sticky but was loathe to begin undressing with the young serving girl still in the room. Stripping off his tunic might be alright (although he wasn't entirely sure how Pasiphae would view his approach to semi-nudity) but there was no way on earth he was willing to go any further. The first servant was followed by a second, bearing a set of storm shutters. Jason resisted the urge to growl in frustration.
"Her Majesty has instructed me to put up the storm shutters," the man explained almost apologetically seeing the frustrated look on Jason's face. "The weather is closing in again and the Queen wished both this chamber and the guest quarters next door to be kept warm My Lord."
Jason blinked in confusion. He realised with growing horror that the servant was referring to him in his address.
"I'm not a lord," he protested.
The servant looked confused.
"Her Majesty informed me that you were to be treated as a noble guest My Lord," he said.
Jason opened his mouth to protest again but changed his mind at the last moment. There really was no point in confusing this poor man so he would play along with Pasiphae's game for now.
"Thank you," he said genuinely.
Task accomplished the servant bowed and left the room, leaving Jason and his friends alone once more. With a smile that was almost beatific Jason almost dreamily began to strip off his breastplate and tunic and dipped the fingers of one hand delicately into the steaming bowl. The water was almost perfect in temperature he noticed as he prepared to sponge away the grime of the day.
By the time Pasiphae re-entered her son's chamber she had her emotions once more under strict control. She had used the brief respite to calm and refresh herself and now felt ready to face any challenges that Jason might present. Gently pushing the door open she paused unseen in the doorway, silently observing the scene in front of her.
Jason appeared to be a lot more comfortable and relaxed than he had been earlier. The little lines of worry and pain that she had not even been aware were there had eased away. The boy had clearly done as he had been told and freshened up, changing into a set of clothes from the trunk at the foot of the bed. Pasiphae allowed herself a small smile. She had been right; the red material she had picked out for that tunic suited him very well indeed and for a moment she was struck by his sheer beauty. Dressed in the clothes she had arranged he looked every inch a young prince and his mother couldn't help but stand and drink in the sight; a sight she had never really dared to allow herself to hope that she would see.
He was sitting up in bed, resting on top of the covers, with plump pillows behind his back and others gently raising his bad knee. As she watched he pulled a small comb through his hair, grimacing occasionally as the teeth caught in a particularly recalcitrant knot at the nape of his neck.
"I keep telling you, you wouldn't have this trouble if you'd just go and get your hair cut," his older friend rumbled. The bulky man was lounging on a stool near the fire with a cup of wine in one hand and a set of dice which he idly tossed into the air from time to time in the other.
"It's fine," Jason protested. Then the teeth of the comb caught in his hair again and he grunted slightly.
The big man raised his eyebrows.
"You look like a bandit," he said flatly. "Only outcasts, criminals or Spartans have hair that long. No respectable citizen goes about looking like that and I can't see the King or Queen letting you get away with it for long either. Surely it's better to make your own decision before they force one on you?" he added cajolingly.
"Don't start," Jason said with a sigh. "I know you mean well but it's my life and I don't need you nagging me."
Pasiphae frowned. She stayed completely still, still hovering in the doorway unseen by her son or his friends. Perhaps it would be a good idea to listen to their conversation; to gain more insight into her son's personality. It appeared that this was an argument that they had had before and as she did indeed wish to see that her son looked respectable and received the haircut that he so clearly needed it would be worth her while to listen to the tactics his friends employed – if only so that she could tackle the problem from a different angle. It was not eavesdropping, it was merely gathering information.
"Why are we arguing about this again?" the skinny clever one of the trio asked as he looked up from the desk in the far corner of the room where he had been chopping herbs that Pasiphae decided he must have obtained from a servant. He mixed them into a cup and made his way over to the bed, perching on the edge alongside his dark haired friend.
"Because this is nobody's business but mine," Jason said. "It's my choice and I really don't see how whether or not I have my hair cut is anything to do with anybody else. If I want to grow it long then I will." He looked suspiciously at the cup Pythagoras was holding. "What's that?"
The young genius rolled his eyes and sighed.
"It is wine fortified with painkilling herbs," he answered primly. "It should help both with the pain in your knee and with the headache that you have been trying to hide from me for some time."
"What makes you think I have a headache?" Jason countered, although Pasiphae noticed that he still took the cup his friend proffered.
"Because I know you Jason," his skinny friend said firmly. "I have caught you rubbing your temples several times and you only ever do that when you have a headache. I would guess that it is not too bad at present as you are not yet squinting and trying to avoid light but I would like to nip it in the bud nevertheless."
Jason laughed ruefully.
"You know me too well," he murmured. He drained the cup and handed it back to his friend. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," the young blonde answered. "I still do not see why this is such a problem though. You have been forced to listen to Hercules' nagging for two months now," he ignored his older friend's spluttering, "surely it would be easier to simply give in over something that is so unimportant? And Hercules is right. I have not liked to say anything until now because as you say this is your business but respectable men do not wear their hair this long. It is a custom in Sparta I believe but no reasonable man should want to look like one of those savages."
Jason glared at both his friends mulishly. As he dropped his head forwards his dark curls fell into his eyes and he flicked them back with annoyance, much to Hercules' amusement.
"I just don't like getting my hair cut," he said flushing slightly.
"Why not?" Pythagoras asked with confusion. "It is not an activity that is particularly unpleasant… although I would admit that it can be tedious at times."
Jason looked down at his lap.
"Bad memories," he admitted slowly.
"How can you have bad memories about getting your hair cut?" Pythagoras queried.
Jason bit his lip and drew his uninjured leg up, clasping his hands under the knee.
"Do you remember when I told you about going to live with Chloe and Alexander?" he asked obliquely.
"You said that they were kind… that you enjoyed living with them," Pythagoras answered, frowning at the apparent sudden change of subject.
"Do you remember why I said I went to live with them?"
"You said something about a bad foster mother," Hercules rumbled, his face darkening as it always did when he thought about the dark times both of his young friends had lived through as children.
"Yeah," Jason said softly. "Her name was… actually it doesn't really matter what her name was. I went there when I was a little bit more than six and lived with her for the next seven or eight months. She didn't like me very much." He smiled ruefully. "I wasn't tidy enough for her… I guess I've always been a bit scruffy… and I didn't really play with other children like I was supposed to… I preferred to play on my own… and she used to get cross a lot. I never seemed to be able to do anything right. She used to shout at me all the time… I'd forget to take my shoes off when I came into the house or I'd spill something down my top… and there was this one time when I knocked a cup over… I didn't know it was there and I hit it with my elbow… it was only water but it went all over the floor. She was so angry… I got locked in the under stairs cupboard for that one." He looked up to see Pythagoras staring at him in horror. "Hey it wasn't so bad," he told the mathematician. "She let me out again and she could have done things that were a lot worse."
"How long were you in there?" Hercules growled.
Jason shrugged.
"The whole afternoon I think… she let me out in time to go to bed," he looked down in embarrassment. "It was my own fault… I should have been more careful. Anyway she didn't really like my hair. It wasn't neat enough for her and got tangled too easily. She used to sit me down several times a day and drag a comb through my hair but it never stayed as neat as she wanted it to. Then one day I guess she'd had enough. She was trying to get a comb through but it kept getting stuck and she got more and more frustrated. In the end she threw the comb across the room, dragged me to the kitchen table and held me in place while she cut my hair as close to my head as she could manage… They took me away from her a few days after that. I've never really liked having my hair cut ever since. It's silly I know but it always makes me think of her."
Jason lapsed into silence. He'd never really talked about Mrs Johnstone with anybody before – not even Chloe and Alex. Here with his friends it felt right, however, and he was surprised to realise that the memories no longer hurt. They were where they belonged – in the past.
"I'm sorry," Hercules rumbled. "I didn't realise that was why you kept saying no. I thought you were just being stubborn on principle." The dice he had been tossing and catching idly earlier were now discarded on the low table alongside him as he leant forward, his broad face serious and sympathetic.
"Why would you?" Jason asked. "It's not the sort of thing that happens everyday… at least I hope not." He paused for a moment. "I know it's stupid," he admitted. "It's just it's not something I really enjoy. I tend to put it off for as long as possible… normally until my hair's in my eyes and I can't ignore it anymore… and yes I know it's not far off being that long now. It's finding someone to cut it too… I mean where I used to live there was this little old boy in the town and I got to know him pretty well so I'd go there whenever I needed a haircut… but here I don't know where to go…"
Pythagoras steepled his fingers thoughtfully.
"What if it was someone you trusted?" he asked with a faint smile.
"What do you mean?" Jason asked.
"We gave several barbers in the city," Pythagoras said softly. "Some of whom I know… and know that they are excellent men. I think though that you might prefer a friend to a stranger." He smiled. "With our usual financial difficulties there has been little extra to spare over the last few years and I have become reasonably proficient at cutting both Hercules' and indeed my own hair. Perhaps you would trust me enough to allow me to do the same with you."
Jason bit his lip and looked down at the bed before raising his head to smile at Pythagoras, his eyes grateful for the understanding both his friends had shown once again. He reached out and caught the young genius' hand in a firm grip.
"Thank you," he said simply.
In the doorway Pasiphae seethed silently. To hear a little of the way her son had been brought up made her blood boil. While she did not believe that she would ever have been an indulgent mother she would not have been as monumentally unfair and unjust towards Jason as the woman who he had been talking about had been. Her discipline would have been tempered with love. She would certainly never have locked a child in a cupboard for an entire afternoon for what amounted to no more than an accident. There were other far more effective ways of disciplining a child without traumatising them. The next time she encountered Aeson she was going to make him wish he had never been born for abandoning her boy to that sort of life.
This was doing no good, however. It was time to alert Jason to her presence; time to begin the conversation that she knew they needed to have; time to make her son understand that she did not wish to harm him no matter what he believed. She pulled the door firmly closed behind her, making enough noise to let the occupants of the room know she was there, creating the illusion that she had just arrived.
Jason, she noticed with a silent sigh, tensed immediately. Softening her face into a gentle, maternal smile, Pasiphae swept forwards, looking around the room with approval at the cheerfully crackling fire and the tightly closed storm shutters. The servants it seemed had done their jobs properly for once.
"Jason," she said, her tone mellow and warm. "I am glad to see that you are refreshed and resting as you are supposed to. Now I believe there is much for us to discuss… many stories that need to be told."
"I thought that I was here to learn how to fool Anaxandros into believing I'm a prince," Jason responded.
"You are a prince whether you like it or not," Pasiphae answered softly. "Time is indeed short and you have much to learn yet I do not believe that our conversation can wait any longer." She turned to look at her son's friends coldly. "You may leave us," she instructed loftily.
Jason's face hardened.
"The King said that my friends were free to come and go as they please," he said flatly. "I would like them to stay."
Pasiphae drew in an irritated breath. Was every conversation between them going to be a battle, she wondered.
"Many of the matters I wish to speak of are both private and personal," she said sharply. "I do not want them to be bandied about the nearest tavern the next time your friend is taken with drink." She gave Hercules a hard and suspicious look.
"My friends would never betray me," Jason bit back.
"Jason it is fine," Pythagoras interjected peaceably. "We will only be in the room next door. We will come back as soon as Her Majesty is finished."
"There now," Pasiphae said. "Your friend can see reason at least."
Jason looked down at the bed, gnawing lightly on his lower lip. This was another habit he would need to be broken of Pasiphae thought grimly. He looked up suddenly without warning, his eyes wide.
"Isosceles," he gasped.
"A triangle?" Pasiphae said in confusion. "What on earth are you talking about?" For a brief moment she wondered with horror if Jason really was not quite right in the head.
"The cat," her son clarified, although Pasiphae didn't find the response particularly enlightening. "She's been on her own all night and this morning too. We didn't even leave any food out for her."
"Don't worry," Pythagoras said firmly. "I will return home to feed your kitten. I will even bring her back here if you want. I must return home to collect some essential items for myself and Hercules for the next few days. Besides Cinyras wanted you to use crutches for the next two days anyway and they are at home. I will bring them back here." He glanced at their older friend. "Hercules will remain here at the Palace… although he will retire to the chamber that has been loaned to us while you are speaking to Her Majesty."
"Could you bring Isosceles back here?" Jason asked. "I don't like to think of her being on her own… she's only a baby."
"Absolutely not!" Pasiphae exclaimed. "We do not keep pets in this house. Your friends may return to their home each day to feed her… or if you feel she requires company then they may remain there with her."
Jason turned to gaze at his mother, his eyes wide and imploring. Pasiphae's heart caught in her throat at the expression on his face and she felt her resolve weakening without her even being aware that it had happened. What harm could one little kitten actually do, she wondered. And it did seem to mean so very much to him.
"If I agree to allow you to bring the creature here it must remain in your chamber," she found herself saying, "and if it does the slightest bit of damage I will personally have it removed… permanently."
"Of course," Jason agreed with a half-smile.
Behind the Queen Hercules was grinning openly. Pasiphae, it seemed, was no more immune than anyone else to the devastating effects of Jason's puppy-eyed look. The thing that always amazed the burly wrestler was that Jason was clearly unaware he was doing it. He shuddered to think what might happen if the boy ever learned how to use that look deliberately.
"I will go and fetch Isosceles now then," Pythagoras said. "I will return shortly and Hercules will only be in the next chamber." He smiled at Jason and then turned to push Hercules from the room.
Alone at last Pasiphae drew a chair up alongside her son's bed and sat down in it pointedly ignoring the slightly suspicious look that now graced Jason's face.
"Well then," she said gently, "where shall we begin?"
Jason shrugged.
"That is not an answer," Pasiphae could not help but chide sharply, "and it is a habit that must end now. Princes do not shrug. Nor do they bite their lips or their fingernails," she added looking disapprovingly at the ragged nails of her son's hands.
Jason looked down at the bed again, only to find a soft had grasping his chin firmly and tilting his head back up.
"Keep your head up at all times when you are in places where you might be observed," Pasiphae instructed. "Do not give your enemies the satisfaction of seeing you falter."
"Are you my enemy then?" Jason asked quietly.
"No," the Queen answered. "I am not."
They lapsed into silence for a few moments.
"When did you find out?" Jason burst out suddenly. "That I'm your son I mean. Did you always know?"
Pasiphae closed her eyes briefly. For a moment she considered creating a story but her son deserved the truth; his life had already been made up of too many lies.
"No," she answered. "I did not know. I believed you to be dead. That you had been killed as child… little more than a baby… the last time I saw you, you were only just learning to walk." She paused. "You have no memory of me at all do you?" she asked sadly.
"No," Jason responded. "I'm sorry."
"I did not really think you would. You were simply too young when you were stolen from me. I only learned of your identity during the incident with the brazen bull."
"When you tried to have Ariadne murdered you mean?" Jason asked contemptuously.
"I will make no apologies for my actions to you," Pasiphae retorted sharply. "What is done is done and we cannot change things now. Ariadne and I have come to an… accommodation. We will never be friends but perhaps we are no longer the implacable enemies that we once were." She hesitated again. "I tried with Ariadne," she said. "I wanted to be a mother to her but she rejected me at every turn. Resented the fact that I had married her father; resented my presence in her life."
"I don't believe you."
"Believe what you will but it is nonetheless true," Pasiphae snapped. She took a deep breath, determined not to lose her temper so early in their conversation.
Jason looked off towards the fire. He hadn't really looked at the Queen since the conversation had begun. Pasiphae sighed. She had known that this would be difficult but she hadn't really anticipated how difficult it would actually be. Her son was making no attempt whatsoever to hide the fact that he'd rather be pretty much anywhere other than talking to her. Was this really how it was going to be? She hadn't been naïve enough to believe that there would be an instant bond between them yet she had hoped that he would at least be willing to try.
"How did you find out who I was to you?" Jason's soft voice startled her out of her thoughts.
Pasiphae hesitated.
"Your father told me," she answered gently.
"My father?" Jason burst out incredulously. "He's alive then… She even lied to me about that," he added bitterly.
"Who?"
"The Oracle." The words were almost spat out. "She told me he was dead."
Pasiphae could hear the anger and bitterness darkening his tone. Much as she hated to do anything which might ultimately be for the Oracle's benefit she hated to think of her son's bright personality – his open and kind heart – being twisted into something darker and more cynical even more.
It's bound to happen, the cynical part of her said. Life will eventually destroy his innocence; will chew it up and spit it out and then what will he be? He will be corrupted in the end as all men are. He will learn to hate; will learn the pleasure that can only be found through power.
But he is not like that, the mother in her protested. He is different; special.
Every mother thinks her child is special, her cynical side countered.
But mine is, the mother argued. He is touched by the Gods. Perhaps one day he will darken but not yet.
"What did the Oracle actually tell you?" she found herself asking.
"She told me that my father walked among the dead," Jason answered, his tone still coloured by anger.
Pasiphae snorted and shook her head.
"The Oracle is clever indeed," she murmured. She looked at Jason and saw that he was watching her out of the corner of his eye. "She may have mislead you but she did not lie to you," she said.
"How so?"
"She did not actually tell you that your father was dead. She allowed you to draw that conclusion for yourself. It was the natural thing for you to believe given her words… but it meant that if you ever found out the truth she could simply claim that you had misinterpreted what she meant."
"And what did she mean?"
Pasiphae smiled softly as her son turned to face her fully.
"She told you that your father walked among the dead," she answered. "I believe she was referring to the living dead."
"To lepers," Jason breathed. He looked at Pasiphae sharply. "My father is a leper?"
"Yes," Pasiphae responded. "In the woods, when my men were hunting Ariadne, you were… incapacitated. I ordered my soldiers to find Ariadne… told them I would deal with you myself… your father came to me then and informed me of your identity."
"But who…" Jason began before trailing off as his mind turned everything over. "Tychon," he said flatly.
"I do not know the name that Aeson goes by now but it may well be that he is this Tychon that you speak of," Pasiphae said.
"Why didn't he tell me?" Jason said, his voice catching a little. "He must have known who I was from the moment he met me. Why didn't he tell me who he was?"
The Queen's breath caught in her throat at the utter devastation in her son's voice; at the desperation and heart aching innocence in his tone.
"I do not pretend to know Aeson's mind," she murmured, "but I can tell you that your father loved you from the moment you were born."
"So why did he leave me if he loved me so much?"
"I do not know," Pasiphae answered simply. "That is a question you must ask him. He told me that when Minos usurped the throne he had taken you to a place of safety far away from Atlantis; somewhere where I would never find you. He did not want you to be caught up in the battle for the throne." She shook her head bitterly. "Anymore than that you must ask him."
"You hate him don't you?" Jason muttered.
"I will never forgive him for stealing my child," Pasiphae answered. "For allowing me to believe you were dead; for making me grieve. I despised Aeson before this and he has hardly endeared himself to me by his actions."
Jason looked back moodily at the fireplace. His mind was still reeling with the news that his father was still alive. Part of him longed to run and find the man; to revel in the warmth and affection that he remembered vaguely from his early childhood; to be a child again, certain of his father's love and safe in his company. Yet the larger part was angry – oh so angry. How could the Dad he remembered imperfectly have done this to him? If his father had left because he knew he was going to die then Jason could have understood his abandonment. But to discover that the man had been alive all along? To know that he had chosen to leave? That hurt more than he was willing to admit – especially to a woman who had so recently been his enemy. And what was she now? Perhaps not his enemy, but his mother? No, he decided, not yet. The child in him still yearned for the love of a family of his own; the joy of parental approval and comfort. The adult in him urged caution.
"What do you want of me?" he asked Pasiphae.
"I want to know you," his mother answered. "I want there to be understanding between us."
Jason snorted.
"That's not all you want though is it," he stated.
"No," Pasiphae admitted. "I want you to know who you are; to know your place in this world. I want you to know where you came from and to accept your destiny."
"Destiny," Jason muttered. "That's a word that people seem to be a bit too fond of using around here." He looked at her sharply. "What is it that you see my destiny as?"
"You are the son of a King," Pasiphae answered. "By rights you are the true heir to the throne. I would have you accept your birth-right and take your rightful place within this family."
"And wouldn't Minos have something to say about that?" Jason asked acutely. "I don't think he'd be very happy for me to take Ariadne's place even if I wanted to… which I don't by the way."
"Ariadne is young but she must marry," Pasiphae murmured. "It would be better for her to marry a son of this city than the younger son of a rival King; to have Atlantis potentially come under the influence of a rival state." She looked at her son with her eyebrows raised. "Surely you would not object to that?"
Jason's breath caught in his throat.
"Doesn't Ariadne get any say in this?" he demanded.
"Ariadne knows where her duty lies," Pasiphae answered sharply. "As I would hope do you. Can you honestly tell me that you have not dreamed of a day when you could be free to worship Ariadne publically? That you do not want her?"
"What I want is for Ariadne to be allowed to make her own choice," Jason snapped.
Pasiphae laughed.
"You really are naïve aren't you?" she asked. "Ariadne is heir to the throne. Her marriage must be about more than love. It must be to the benefit of Atlantis."
"Is that what your marriage to my father was?" Jason asked sharply. "A politically arranged match for the sake of a city?"
Pasiphae nearly gasped.
"Did you ever love each other?" Jason pressed.
"It was complicated," Pasiphae answered shortly. The last thing she really wanted to do was discuss her relationship with her ex-husband; to even allow him that much of her own or her son's lives. "My father had recently died and my brother was still very young… too young to take the throne really… and yet he was King. Under the circumstances Colchis was weak… easy prey for a stronger power… and we desperately needed all the allies we could get. My older sister was already in Atlantis in a position of some authority. She commanded respect and her suggestions were listened to. King Cretheus was seeking a bride for his son… for Aeson… and my sister suggested that I might be suitable. It was an important alliance which would ensure the safety of Colchis and provide a new trading partner for Atlantis. I was young… younger than Ariadne is now… and I came here as a bride never even having met my husband-to-be."
"And that's what you want for Ariadne? For me?"
"You at least know one another and have formed an… attachment I am led to believe. Surely it will better for Ariadne than marriage to a man she has not even met?" Pasiphae snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Besides you would have to prove to Minos that you were suitable as both an heir and a potential husband for his daughter… and it will not be a straightforward task. You are clearly uncultured and lacking in even the most basic knowledge of social propriety… or manners… and we have not even judged the level of education you might require. It would require a great deal of hard work for you to be trained in all you would need to be accepted by refined society."
"I don't think I can be what you want me to be," Jason answered. "I'm not Heptarian and I wouldn't want to be. I'm not good at doing as I'm told and I won't be anyone's puppet."
"And who exactly has asked you to be?" Pasiphae retorted sharply. "I was honest when I said that the thing I wanted first was to get to know you; for us to understand one another."
"It won't work though," Jason answered quietly. "We have nothing in common. You are you and I am me… we're simply too different."
"Does that mean that you are unwilling to even try? That you have no desire to find common ground between us? I still believe that we may have more in common than you think. We both want what is best for Atlantis."
"You want power," Jason snapped back. "I don't."
Pasiphae snorted.
"If nothing else it would appear that you have inherited my temper as well as my eyes," she said. She closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them again her tone had softened noticeably. "I did not come here desiring an argument," she said softly. "I do wish to know you no matter what you believe… and I want you to learn about your family; about your past. Whatever else may or may not come is at this point in time wholly unimportant." She lapsed into silence, her eyes filled with a distant and long-held sorrow.
Jason stared at her for a moment and swallowed hard.
"I don't really know how to be anyone's son," he found himself admitting a little plaintively.
"And I do not really know how to be anyone's mother," Pasiphae answered, her eyes soft and her tone maternal. It was the sort of voice that had inhabited Jason's earliest childhood fantasies when he had dreamed of having a mother like everyone else. "But I wish to learn to be your mother. I want you to be happy."
"Maybe we could both try to learn then," Jason said quietly, looking earnestly at the Queen. A large part of him still feared her intentions, still feared her, but there was a small, hopeful spark that rested somewhere in his heart that told him that it had to be worth it at least to try. If he never tried then he would never know.
Pasiphae smiled gently. It was not perfect but it was a start, she decided. With trembling fingers she stretched out her hand to gently cup the back of her son's head.
"This is the start of a wonderful new chapter for all of us," she said tenderly. "The start of a wondrous future."
She paused and allowed her hand to stroke down through the back of her sons' curls, marvelling once again at how soft they felt against her palm, and brought it to rest gently on the back of his neck, massaging softly as she had noticed his larger friend doing in the Temple. Jason jumped but did not pull away, looking at her with wide eyes.
"I will leave you to rest for a while," the Queen continued. "It is time for the midday meal and my presence will be expected. I will arrange for food to be brought here for you." She smiled softly at Jason once again and allowed her hand to drop away from him. "I will return later to begin your instruction."
Jason stared after her as she glided gracefully out of the room, his mind whirling more rapidly than ever. He felt wrung out and worn down; angry, hurt, confused and yet hopeful. Could Pasiphae have meant any of what she had said? His mind said no; told him that she was a liar and would always remain that way. His heart, however, desperately wanted to believe that there was still some good in her; that everything she seemed to be offering was true. But what would it mean if it was? Would he be expected to leave his friends – to leave everything he had come to love behind – for the sake of a life that he still wasn't even sure he would ever want? He couldn't imagine leaving Pythagoras and Hercules; of no longer being part of their family.
Suddenly he wanted to see his friends perhaps more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. True Pythagoras was still in the city – was fetching things from their home – but Hercules was just next door. All he would have to do would be to get up and go into the next room and his big friend would be there with a friendly ear and a ready story – which would in all probability be wholly irrelevant to the situation but would still make him smile.
Hercules wouldn't be very happy if he did get up though – and he had a feeling that both Pasiphae and Minos might have something to say about it too… and after all this bed was incredibly comfortable and his knee was still throbbing painfully. Perhaps on reflection it might be better to stay where he was and wait for his friends to come to him. Patience had never really been Jason's strong suit but right now it seemed like the best option. He tried to relax in spite of his frazzled emotions and painfully tried to ease his leg into a more comfortable position. There was a small bell on a stool next to the bed. With a sigh at the thought of anyone waiting on him, Jason rang it and waited for a servant to appear so that he could ask them to go and alert Hercules to the fact that the Queen had gone and that it was safe to join him once more.