A/N Greetings to all my wonderful readers and thank you all once again for the lovely reviews. Since I've managed to finish this chapter a little sooner than I thought I would I decided to publish it a few days early :-) There might be a bit of a break to the next one because I'm going to be away on holiday from the end of this week with no internet access. Enough of the next chapter though. Without any further ado let's get on with this one. Enjoy (I hope).
Trying to muster at least a semblance of his usual energy Jason headed around the fire and carefully – oh so carefully – dropped down to his knees alongside his mother. He could feel Pythagoras' eyes burning into him, had caught the mathematician's curious look at how carefully he was moving, and knew that his friend had already realised that there was something wrong beyond simple tiredness. He glanced up at Pythagoras and approximated a smile.
"We'll talk afterwards," he said softly, begging Pythagoras with his eyes not to make scene now in front of the Queen.
Pythagoras nodded and smiled but his eyes remained worried, a little frown creasing his brow between them.
"Alright," he said.
Jason silently sighed in relief. He had no problem with asking his friends for help and telling them that he was perhaps a little less than completely well, or to submitting to Pythagoras' gentle ministrations and firm assertions that he should rest (which he knew would be the end result once Pythagoras knew how poorly he was feeling). In fact right at this moment in time he would positively welcome it; anything that made him feel just a little bit better would be more than welcome.
The issue here, however, was timing. Pythagoras had suggested that Pasiphae had been worried about him (although part of Jason still couldn't quite get his head around that fact; was a little confused by the idea of having so many people who apparently cared about him after so many years of being alone) and had hinted at the fact that expending her energy on worry might hinder her recovery. Knowing that he was injured in any way (no matter how slight) might only make her worry more and Jason was not willing to take that risk. It wasn't that he wanted to keep things from his mother and knew that if the subject came up he would undoubtedly tell her the truth, but if he could stop her finding out until after he'd had a chance to ask Pythagoras to fix him up he would; would save her from additional unnecessary worry if it was possible.
It would be for the best if he could spend a little time with Pasiphae now, just to assure himself that she was going to get better, and then go and let Pythagoras do whatever he needed to do to make Jason feel better. Then, hopefully, he might actually be able to get a decent night's sleep (a luxury at the moment) and approach his mother in the morning in a much better frame of mind and in a position to reassure her that, yes, he wasn't quite well – was a little the worse for wear – but that he was mending and was being taken care of.
Jason looked up and his eyes met Pasiphae's; eyes that were so like his own in many ways. Automatically he started to search her face, eyes sweeping over her in an attempt to gauge how she really was, and almost smiled when he realised that she was doing the same thing to him. She looked tired, he decided – very tired – and her face was very pale, brows marked with faint lines of pain. Jason fought against the urge to bite his lip, knowing that his mother disliked the gesture intensely. Guilt surged through him. This was all his fault. If only he'd been a little more attentive to his surroundings, if only he'd been a little quicker, or fought a little harder, none of this would have happened.
"Hello," he murmured awkwardly, very aware of his mother's scrutiny and wanting to spare her from his problems. She had enough to contend with at the moment without him adding any worries to it.
"Jason," Pasiphae's voice was soft and weak but full of relief; full of love.
Jason blinked in surprise. He wasn't entirely sure what sort of greeting he had been expecting but somehow this wasn't it.
"You have no idea how relieved I am that you are safe," Pasiphae went on. She searched his face again and frowned. "You look tired my love."
Jason huffed a faint laugh.
"You can talk," he answered quickly.
Pasiphae smiled warmly. It was an expression that suited her, Pythagoras decided, although it was not one he would ever have dreamed of seeing on the face of Atlantis' fearsome Queen. He felt a little awkward standing there watching one of his best friends talking to his mother, as though he was intruding on something very private and very precious. While he did want to re-examine Pasiphae's wound and perhaps to re-dress it now that he had proper bandages he decided that it could wait – that perhaps what he was witnessing was more important to the Queen's wellbeing than any purely medical help he could provide. Discreetly he stepped back out of earshot, allowing mother and son the privacy he felt they both craved whilst still being near enough if his help were required.
"Don't be cheeky," Pasiphae admonished Jason lightly, her eyes bright with faint mirth. "I am your mother and you are supposed to listen to me."
Jason grinned, although guilt still gnawed at his stomach, stopping the smile from fully reaching his eyes.
"Since when?" he asked.
"Since I told you so," Pasiphae answered. Then her face grew serious. "When you did not join us immediately I was worried," she said softly.
"I'm sorry," Jason ventured, looking down at the floor and swallowing hard. "I got here as quickly as I could."
"You are here now and that is all that matters," his mother responded. "You are tired and must rest. Anything else can wait until later."
She reached up with one delicate hand and rested it against Jason's cheek, the stubble rough against her palm. Turning it over she grazed her knuckles lightly down the side of his face, relishing the fact that after so much worry her son was there with her. Jason reached up and caught her hand in his own, bringing it down slightly to place a gentle kiss against her fingers. His affection was still so new – still tentative and hesitant – yet Pasiphae found herself both charmed and delighted by it. They had known one another (known each other as people rather than strangers across an arena – adversaries) for such a short time that for Jason to have developed any sort of affection – any sort of love – for her was amazing, Pasiphae decided. After all she had had far longer to get used to the idea of being his mother than he had had to get used to being her son.
Suddenly desperate to sit up and talk to her son properly, to be on a level with him and to begin to return to life, Pasiphae pushed herself up from the floor, wincing at the sharp pain that lanced through her stomach as she did so and disgusted by the weakness she felt in her own limbs. With grim determination she forced herself to ride out the wave of agony that swept over her and briefly darkened her vision, closing her eyes against it and locking her elbows to keep herself upright. A strong arm slipped gently behind her shoulders, supporting her and Pasiphae could not help but smile knowing that Jason had moved into place to help her – the feel of him so new and yet becoming so familiar so quickly. She opened her eyes to smile at him, feeling the rough wall of the cave at her back and the warmth of his arm still behind her shoulders. From just out of earshot Pythagoras hurried back to her side, his blue eyes registering his alarm.
"My Lady," he said anxiously. "You should not be exerting yourself in this way."
"Do not concern yourself," Pasiphae retorted. "I am fine."
Pythagoras raised a disbelieving eyebrow and glanced at Jason.
"At least we know where you get it from now," he remarked cryptically.
"Get what from?" Jason asked with confusion, still supporting his mother's shoulders.
"The habit of trying to make light of any injury – particularly a serious one," Pythagoras sniffed. "It seems to be a family trait." He turned back to Pasiphae. "You are unwell Your Majesty," he said, "and I do not wish to see your recovery hindered by overexertion when you should be resting."
"I am not so very ill," Pasiphae snapped, "and I cannot see that sitting up for a time will harm me in any way. We cannot remain in this cave indefinitely and if we are to have any chance of removing Anaxandros from Atlantis – of returning to our rightful places – we cannot allow ourselves to be slowed down by an injury that I am rapidly recovering from. I need to begin to get back to normal and I firmly believe that forcing myself into some form of activity cannot be anything other than beneficial for me."
Pythagoras opened his mouth to protest, the healer in him unable to do anything else even if disagreeing with the Queen was likely to be less than beneficial for his health. Before he could get so far as to speak, however, a sudden snort came from the other side of Pasiphae, and both the mathematician and the Queen looked up in surprise as Jason dissolved into helpless giggles.
"What is so funny?" Pasiphae demanded, although her eyes softened in the face of her son's laughter.
"I'm sorry," Jason gasped breathlessly between chuckles, "it's just that I never thought I'd hear someone else sound so much like me. I mean I'd probably be a bit less formal but I always feel like I know my own body better than anyone else too."
He had to admit to himself that laughing was hurting like hell right now, just as much as coughing did, but somehow he couldn't seem to stop, a combination of his own exhaustion and swinging emotions getting the better of him and forcing a release. As if thinking about it had summoned it Jason felt a cough beginning to bubble up in his throat but he swallowed it down as hard as he could, forcing himself to sober up in an attempt not to worry either one of his companions unnecessarily.
"Sorry," he gasped again, still trying to catch his breath.
Pythagoras frowned. He hadn't failed to spot the little lines of pain that had formed around his friend's eyes even in the midst of his laughter, and had realised how hard Jason was fighting to avoid coughing and to regain his breath. Definitely something wrong with his chest or side then. Pythagoras' mind started to whir, analysing and assessing, trying to work out what the problem might be. Jason had said that they would talk later and he believed that his friend was being honest – that he fully intended to tell Pythagoras what was wrong on this occasion (which in itself worried the mathematician given how reticent Jason often was with regards to discussing his own wellbeing) – but surely it couldn't hurt to try to get a little forewarning?
He looked back at his friend speculatively to find Jason watching him calmly, clearly knowing what he was doing.
"Later," Jason mouthed.
Pythagoras narrowed his eyes in acknowledgement. Then he turned back to the Queen.
"How are you feeling Your Majesty?" he asked solicitously.
Pasiphae quirked an eyebrow.
"You ask that every time I am awake," she noted with some asperity.
"Yes," Pythagoras agreed undaunted, "and your response allows me to judge how well you are progressing and how long your recovery might take."
The Queen nodded her understanding.
"And your verdict?" she asked.
"You are better than I could have hoped given the surroundings," Pythagoras answered. "I have access to proper medical supplies now… at least enough to be going on with… yet until you might be allowed to rest in a proper bed I believe your recovery will be hindered. This cave is hardly conducive to proper convalescence."
"I will be fine," Pasiphae murmured, glancing at Jason and noticing the worry in his eyes. "It is not that serious."
Pythagoras could not help disagreeing but seeing the look of worry and guilt on his friend's face wisely chose to hold his tongue for now.
The Queen shifted painfully and let her head drop back against the cave wall, trying to hide her exhaustion because of her desire to spend more time with her son. She turned her head to watch Jason with languid eyes. The young man was mirroring her position, leaning back against the wall tiredly. As she watched he raised his free hand and rubbed it across his forehead. Pasiphae frowned. She had been right, she decided. Jason did look tired – very tired – and more than a little pale.
"You are unwell my love?" she asked with some worry.
"I'm very tired," Jason admitted, "and I've got a stinking headache."
Pasiphae's frown deepened at his strange turn of phrase.
"Then you must rest," she proclaimed.
"I will when you do," Jason countered, his eyes darkening decisively.
"You are stubborn," Pasiphae said sharply.
"Yes," Jason admitted, looking at her sideways, "and I get it all from you."
The Queen huffed a surprised laugh, unable to prevent a faint groan from escaping when it pulled on her stomach.
"Are you always this insolent?" she asked, although her smile softened her words.
Jason considered it for a moment.
"Pretty much, yeah," he agreed with a grin, his eyes dancing with humour.
"Very well, I will rest," Pasiphae acquiesced.
She allowed the two young men to assist her to lie back down, settling her as comfortably as possible and pulling Pythagoras' cloak up to cover her warmly. Without being consciously aware of it her eyes began to drift closed. Jason watched her for a moment and then began the painful process of pushing himself to his feet, only to find his mother's hand closing firmly around his wrist and her dark eyes, hazy and on the verge of sleep, watching him.
"You will be here when I wake up," she instructed, although Jason couldn't fail to hear the note of genuine fear in her voice – as though she was afraid their conversation had been nothing more than a pleasant dream.
Jason swallowed.
"I'll be here," he promised. "I'm not going anywhere."
Pasiphae nodded and allowed her eyes to drift closed once more. Jason carefully and gently detached her hand from around his wrist and held it for a moment, stroking his thumb across the back of it. He swallowed hard again.
"Pasiphae," he said unsure whether she was still awake and could hear him, "for what it's worth… I'm sorry."
He stood and half stumbled around the fire, heading for the far side of the cavern. His re-emerging exhaustion, which he had managed to shove down inside during his conversation with his mother, was making him feel almost light headed and his head was killing him, pounding relentlessly. He felt rather than saw Pythagoras coming up alongside him and turned to smile wearily at his younger friend, draping an arm over the mathematician's shoulders in a friendly manner but leaning a little more heavily on Pythagoras than he really intended.
Pythagoras gave Jason a worried frown and adjusted his balance to accommodate more of his friend's weight.
"Are you alright?" he asked softly, knowing that the answer was no but uncertain whether Jason would admit to it, despite his earlier belief that Jason would tell him the truth.
"I think I might need your help," Jason admitted as they moved over to where Hercules was waiting.
The burly wrestler looked up from where he was seated on the ground with a dark frown.
"Why?" he asked sharply, having heard Jason's soft admission to Pythagoras. "What's wrong?"
Jason didn't immediately answer. Instead he crossed to Hercules' side and slowly eased himself to the floor.
"Where is everyone?" He asked looking around.
"Outside," Hercules growled. "The Oracle decided she and Melas needed to fulfil their evening obligations to Poseidon and the King went with them to give thanks for Ariadne's return and to pray for her." He nodded across the fire towards Pasiphae. "He took Ariadne with him and the guards went along for his protection… which just leaves us here with him," he pointed to where Nisos stood on guard at the entrance to the cave, looking out towards the grove, "to guard the Queen… Now stop trying to avoid the question and tell me what's wrong."
Jason blinked.
"I'm not trying to avoid anything," he protested mildly.
"Really?" Hercules said with heavy sarcasm.
"You said you thought you needed my help," Pythagoras murmured, crouching down in front of Jason. "How are you injured?"
"Who said he was injured?" Hercules asked, looking between the two boys suspiciously.
"No-one," Pythagoras said softly looking at Jason, his blue eyes worried. "But you are holding yourself stiffly and moving somewhat carefully and gingerly. Plus you keep half turning away as though you are protecting your side and were clearly in some discomfort when you laughed. All that leads me to believe that you have in some way injured your side or chest."
Jason half smiled.
"I knew I wouldn't be able to get anything past you," he said equally softly. "Not that I really wanted to try to be honest." He sighed. "I got kicked in the side while we were fighting the Amphigeneians in the Temple the other day. It re-broke those ribs that I'd cracked falling down the steps from the city wall… and I think it might be worse this time; that they might be more badly broken. It certainly hurts a lot more than before."
Pythagoras nodded.
"I thought it might be something like that," he stated. "Have they been strapped at all?"
"No," Jason admitted. "I didn't like to tell the others. There was nothing that they could really do while we were out in the woods trying to dodge the Amphigeneians and I didn't want them to worry. Plus I wasn't entirely sure that I'd be able to re-lace this," he touched his breastplate gently, "if I took it off. I sort of hoped that it would help to keep my ribs stable though."
"Hmm," Pythagoras responded noncommittally. "I am assuming, therefore, that you have taken nothing to help with the pain either."
"No," Jason said. "I was hoping you might have something that you could whip up for me."
Pythagoras nodded again.
"I will prepare something," he said. "But I will need you to take your armour and tunic off while I do so, so that I can examine you properly."
Jason bit his lip.
"I'm not sure that I can," he said. "It's hurting to breathe let alone anything else. I don't think I can twist enough to undo the laces… and I don't think I'll be able to lift my arm up over my head to get my tunic off."
"That won't be a problem," Hercules rumbled, large fingers already moving to untie the laces at the side of his friend's breastplate. "What are friends for if not to help you?"
Pythagoras turned away to his bag, pulling out various supplies and bandages and muttering under his breath to himself as he worked out what he would need. Behind him Hercules stripped away his other friend's armour and tunic with remarkable gentleness, manoeuvring Jason closer to the fire as he did so to make sure that the young man did not get too cold.
By the time Pythagoras turned back around with a cup in one hand the burly wrestler's activities had been completed and their dark haired friend had been nudged near to the fire with a blanket wrapped around his bare shoulders to keep him warm. As Pythagoras approached Jason looked up with a slightly wan and definitely weary smile.
"Will that fix a headache too?" he asked looking at the cup the mathematician was carrying. "Because I have to admit that my head's killing me."
"It should certainly ease most of your discomfort," Pythagoras answered. "But I would like to examine you before you take it."
Jason nodded and immediately looked as though he wished he hadn't, raising one hand to his forehead delicately.
Pythagoras winced sympathetically and knelt down in front of his younger friend, noting that their older friend was hovering protectively nearby.
Without being asked Jason let the blanket slip from around his shoulders. Pythagoras looked at the black and purple bruising tracking around his friend's side and winced sympathetically again. The whole thing looked impossibly tender and Pythagoras could only imagine how much pain Jason must have been in for the last four days with no real way of obtaining relief.
"I am sorry," he apologised. "This may be extremely unpleasant."
Steeling himself (as he always had to when he knew that something he was about to do would cause another person pain) the blonde mathematician began to probe his friend's side with long, gentle fingers. Unable to help himself, Jason whimpered quietly and tried to arch away, tears springing unbidden to his eyes despite his desperate attempts to fight them away. He felt himself being pulled back to rest against a broad chest as rough hands rubbed comfortingly up and down his upper arms, skimming more lightly over the scabbed over gash that was a remnant of their desperate fight in the streets of Atlantis (and was that really only four days ago?) when the three of them had stood at the barricades and helped in the (as it turned out) futile defence of the city.
"It's alright," Hercules rumbled in his ear. "The Queen's asleep and everyone else is outside… or looking outside… You don't have to be strong with us."
"You are right," Pythagoras said gently. "This is worse than last time and your ribs are fully broken rather than cracked. I will wrap them and then you will take a painkilling tonic and try to rest." He hesitated for a moment. "Would I be right in thinking that you have not had much sleep over the past few days?"
Hercules snorted.
"That's fairly obvious," he grumbled. "From the moment he walked in here he's looked like we ought to be tucking him into bed for a nap."
Jason tried to shoot an irritated glance over his shoulder – a move which failed utterly when he found that he couldn't turn enough without pulling on his damaged side. He bit his lip to keep from groaning as the constant throb from his ribs, which had begun to quiet down now that Pythagoras had stopped prodding them, flared into a burning shriek once more.
"Here," Pythagoras said urgently, handing Jason the cup he had prepared. "Drink this… it should begin to dull the pain fairly quickly."
"Thanks," Jason muttered, taking the cup and downing the contents in one swift gulp, praying that the mathematician was right and that the contents might actually begin to provide him with some relief.
Pythagoras smiled gently.
"So," he said. "Have you been sleeping?"
"No," Jason admitted.
"Because of the pain?"
Jason grimaced.
"Partially," he said. "I haven't been able to get comfortable lying down… but my insomnia's been pretty bad for the last few days too." He avoided telling his friends about the nightmares and the apparently prophetic dreams – although he could not have explained why.
Pythagoras frowned, eyes narrowing thoughtfully, even as his hands were busy doing complicated things with bandages.
"Tell me if this is too tight," he instructed, wrapping Jason's chest in the strips of cloth, hoping that the support the bandages provided would help to relieve some of the pain he knew his friend was in.
"It's fine," Jason answered, trying to take a deep breath to test how tight the bandaging was. His breath caught in his throat, however, and set off a coughing fit, making him double over on himself as agony lanced through him.
When the fit passed he tried to straighten up only to find his shoulders caught in Hercules' strong hands.
"Just stay nice and still until you've got your breath," the big man instructed.
Too tired to do anything other than what he was told, Jason half lay against his friend for a few long minutes, watching Pythagoras puttering about near the fire with heavy eyes. Eventually the young genius turned with a smile and came back over with a pair of cups in his hands. He nodded to Hercules, who eased Jason back up into a sitting position and slipped his tunic back into place before the young man knew what was happening and could even think of objecting.
"Better now?" Hercules asked.
Jason nodded dumbly. The painkilling tonic that Pythagoras had given him was kicking in now and making him ever more drowsy. Hercules smiled softly and busied himself with laying out blankets and cloaks for the night, pulling several out of the bag that Jason had carried (provided by Meriones) and using them to form a bed near the fire.
Pythagoras sat down next to Jason and handed him a cup, lacing his fingers around his own drinking vessel and taking a long sip. Jason stared at the cup in confusion for a moment before sipping experimentally at the contents. It was spicy but not too bad, he decided, and the warmth of the drink seemed to fill him comfortingly. He yawned deeply, not noticing when Pythagoras took the now empty cup from his nerveless fingers, blue eyes both thoughtful and deeply compassionate, or when Hercules slipped a strong arm around him and gently eased him to the ground to curl up among the blankets the big man had arranged, and covered him with his cloak. The throb from his side had muted to a dull ache, persistent but bearable and no match for the exhaustion that was claiming him. Jason let his eyes drift closed as, surrounded by the care and attention of his two friends he slept at last.
Hercules' eyes softened as he brushed a wayward curl out of his young friend's eyes. The he looked up at his other friend speculatively.
"That was… sudden," he remarked. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone fall asleep quite that quickly."
Although his tone remained mild, Pythagoras flushed guiltily.
"Yes… well," he answered.
Hercules raised an eyebrow.
"What was in that?" he nodded towards the empty cup that the blonde mathematician had taken from their dark haired friend.
"Just a warm drink to help Jason relax," Pythagoras responded defensively. Then he seemed to deflate slightly. "With a mild sedative in it," he added guiltily. "But I truly believe he needs sleep more than anything right now."
"You'll get no arguments from me," Hercules retorted. He glanced at Jason. "Will he be alright?"
Pythagoras sighed.
"Jason needs to rest," he said softly. "Ideally it should be in a nice soft bed where he could relax and be allowed to heal without worry… but I cannot see that happening anytime soon. All I can do is ensure that he has a night's sleep now and hope it will be enough. He had not fully recovered from the poisoning… was not as well as I would have liked when the city fell… and that cough worries me. With the damage to his ribs it is important that we do everything we can to stop it getting any worse."
Hercules nodded although worry tightened his jaw, concern narrowing his eyes.
"Right," he said. "Well that's your thing more than mine but you just let me know what you need me to do alright?"
"Of course," Pythagoras answered. "For now we just let him sleep. Hopefully Jason will feel much better with a good night's sleep behind him and then we can sort everything else out from there."
The hazy winter sun shone through the tree tops into the sacred grove, casting a weak and pale light over the altar. Minos frowned to himself. Could he have ever imagined a situation like this even in his worst nightmares? The city was lost, he and his family on the run from an enemy King and his beloved wife was badly injured. The only bright point in all of this mess had been the return of his daughter; the knowledge that the children were both safe.
Minos' frown deepened. He had intended to speak to Jason last night – to let the boy know just how pleased he was that his stepson was safely back with them too – but in the first rush of relief at seeing Ariadne all thoughts beyond her had gone from his head. By the time he had been willing to let his beloved daughter out of his arms again Jason had been deep in a conversation with his mother and the King had not wished to intrude given how worried he knew Pasiphae had been for her son, and by the time he had returned from giving thanks to the Gods for the reunification of his family the boy had been fast asleep with his larger friend sitting gloweringly on guard as though daring anyone to disturb Jason's rest.
Now it was late morning and the young man was still asleep. Surely he should be awake by now? Surely he couldn't have been that tired? Although Ariadne had mentioned that her stepbrother had seemed a little unwell, particularly towards the latter part of their journey, and had indicated her belief that he had not been sleeping. Perhaps all he needed was the chance to catch up on his sleep; if the lad really was a little unwell perhaps this was what he needed in order to fully recover.
Much as Minos wished to speak with Jason – had several important things which he felt needed to be said to the boy – he also did not wish to harm his stepson; had grown too fond of the lad already for that. With a sigh, still deep in thought, the King made his way over to the bomos and raised his hands in supplication, praying that Poseidon would help to protect his chosen city and people; praying that he might see a way out of this mess; praying that Atlantis might be delivered from the undeserving savage hands of Anaxandros.
Prayer had always made Minos feel better. In spite of the actions he had taken to seize the throne so many years before (a move that he still felt had been the right one to make) he had always believed deeply in the Gods and in the natural order of things. The Gods had always seemed to favour him as well and he genuinely believed that if he had not had their favour he would never have been able to take the throne in the first place. So why had they abandoned him now? What had he done to anger them? Was the fact that Anaxandros had managed to take Atlantis truly a sign of their displeasure? Or was it a test? Had the Gods decided to test his faith and his resilience in this manner?
If you had asked Minos that question two days ago while his wife had been lying between life and death and his daughter had been missing, potentially a prisoner of the enemy or worse, he would have said that the Gods were punishing him. Pasiphae (had she been aware enough of anything other than her injury and her son's absence) would undoubtedly have sought to bolster his waning confidence, would have told him that the Gods needed no reason for their cruelty, and would have encouraged him to formulate a plan to regain the city. Minos would have tried to believe her but would ultimately have been unable. Now though, with his daughter returned to him and his wife seemingly on the mend, her own fears allayed by the arrival of her son, the King could allow himself to be a little more optimistic. Yes, he decided, the situation was undoubtedly one straight out of nightmare but that which he held most dear had not been taken from him and he took strength from that; could begin to convince himself that this was a trial that the Gods had sent to test his courage.
More at peace now than he had been at any time in the previous four days Minos finished his obligations and allowed his arms to drop back to his sides. Turning back to face the grove he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to see what it was. Truth be told he was not unduly concerned that it might be an enemy because he knew that Dion was ensuring that his men stood watch over the grove and cave at all times; trying to see to the safety of the royal family even now. Minos half smiled. If there was one thing that could be relied on in this life it was Dion's complete and steadfast loyalty; his utter devotion to duty. There was a reason why the burly soldier had been made a general in spite of the objections of some of the more conservative of Minos' advisors (who felt that such an exalted rank should be awarded to someone of more noble birth than Dion); and a reason why Minos had every intention of naming him as Captain of the Palace Guard if they ever managed to return to Atlantis.
Still it did not hurt to be prudent and to be on the lookout for any threats himself. Minos frowned again. There was a figure moving at the edge of the treeline. He glanced across to the nearest guard and noticed that the man had not moved; seemed singularly unconcerned by the presence of another person. Someone from within their group then; someone from within the cave. Minos peered more closely at the figure and caught a glimpse of dark curls. Jason was finally awake then. That was good. It at least meant that the King could have the discussion he had been planning with his stepson.
He turned fully and began to make his way over to the young man, waving back the guard who moved to follow them. The soldier would have a better view of any approaching threats from where he was and Minos hardly thought he would be in any danger from his wife's son, particularly, he noted with a frown, since the lad didn't seem to be armed. Plus he wanted a little privacy to talk to Jason and the presence of a guard could only hinder their conversation.
Jason, Minos noted, gave every impression of having just woken up. His wild curls were still awry and he had not even bothered to belt his tunic much less put his breastplate on. He looked younger like this, the King couldn't help but notice with a smile. Then he frowned again. The lad was moving more slowly than usual and even at this distance the King could not miss the wince as he sat down, leaning back against the trunk of a tree. Ariadne had suggested that Jason was less than fully well last night; had expressed concern about him. Minos hadn't really registered what she had been saying at the time, however; had been so caught up with the joy of seeing his beloved daughter safe and well that he had neglected to check on the wellbeing of his stepson. Pasiphae would not be pleased if the lad had been harmed.
On quiet feet he slid over to join the boy fully expecting that Jason would hear or see him coming and react fairly quickly. It was a surprise when the young man gave no indication of being aware of his presence and stayed sitting, apparently lost in thought, dark eyes distant. Minos cleared his throat pointedly.
"Do you mind if I join you?" he asked.
Jason looked up, startled. He had slept well – remarkably well, although he had a sneaking suspicion that Pythagoras had something to do with that; that the mathematician had slipped something into his drink to help him sleep. He wondered if that was something he should be angry about. He wasn't; wasn't angry at all. In fact all he really felt right now was grateful for his friend's care. He was still hurting – hurting whenever he moved, whenever he breathed – but at least he didn't feel like he was about to collapse at any moment anymore and the pounding headache that had assaulted him yesterday had disappeared for the time being.
Actually he had woken up a short time ago feeling distinctly refreshed – incredibly sore but definitely refreshed. Hercules, Pythagoras had informed him, was out hunting, the addition of four extra mouths to the group straining already tight supplies to the extreme. On any normal day Jason would have asked where the big man had been heading so that he could follow on and join up with his older friend and share his self-imposed task (although on any normal day he wouldn't have slept so late and would have been with the burly wrestler anyway) but right at the moment he thought he might actually be more of a hindrance than a help. Even thinking about the act of drawing a bow made his ribs twinge, the muscles in his chest aching in sympathy, and he had the suspicion that walking for any great distance (in spite of the distances he had travelled over the last few days to get here in the first place) would most likely leave him breathless, in pain and needing help to get back. Jason shuddered at the thought of being that much of a burden.
Still he had felt the need to get some fresh air; his guilt at the thought of what had happened to his mother building up into a tight ball that seemed to sit in the pit of his stomach and made him restless, unable to stay in the cave and look at her still form. It had taken some serious persuading for Pythagoras to let him leave, and Jason was still only too aware that if he was out here for too long the mathematician was likely to come looking for him, but after many promises to stay within the sight of the cave entrance, not try to move around too much (although if Jason were being honest he didn't actually think he could move around all that much if he tried – really the only comfortable position right now involved sitting completely still) and only spend a short time outside before coming back in to rest he had been allowed to come in search of the solitude he desired. Just before he had slipped out there had been a moment when he had thought that Pythagoras might actually try to join him, but then the mathematician's attention had been demanded by the Oracle who had wanted him to show her Pasiphae's injury so that she could try to help with its healing and Jason had slipped away to brood in peace.
So it was that the King's voice had intruded into the young man's increasingly dark thoughts. Jason resisted the urge to sigh, his good manners overriding his annoyance at the unexpected disturbance.
"Of course, My Lord," he murmured, ducking his head slightly. With what had happened to the Queen, the King was really the last person he wanted to talk to; dreaded the inevitable blame he felt must naturally come from the man even as his own feelings of guilt demanded censure.
Minos sat down without further invitation and looked thoughtfully across the grove.
"It is peaceful here," he remarked.
"Yes," Jason responded, still half lost in his own regrets.
Minos sighed mentally as an awkward silence spread between them. He had begun to hope that they were beyond this; that the boy was at least comfortable enough with him to hold a conversation. He cleared his throat again.
"I intended to speak with you last night," he said, "but by the time I returned from my prayers you had already retired for the night and your friends made it clear that they did not wish you to be disturbed."
Jason flushed.
"I'm sorry," he apologised.
"You clearly needed your rest." Minos waved away the apology. "It was of no matter." He shot the young man a shrewd look. "You are feeling better this morning?" he asked. "Ariadne told me that she believed you were less than well."
"I'm fine," Jason protested.
"Indeed," the King answered, his tone faintly disbelieving. "Perhaps I should remind you, however, that I did not become a father yesterday and most certainly was not born yesterday." He turned to give his stepson a hard look. "Please do not take me for a fool. I have eyes and can tell you are not completely at ease; are not completely well."
Jason flashed a glance that was both startled and faintly embarrassed at the King.
"Last night I was a little tired, My Lord," he admitted respectfully, "and I wasn't feeling completely well. My friends looked after me and I'm feeling much better now."
"Very well," Minos answered. "I will trust you to inform me is the situation changes."
Jason nodded. Something in his eyes alerted Minos, however, and drew a deep frown from the King.
"I will have your word on it," he said firmly.
Jason swallowed hard.
"Yes Your Majesty," he said. He hesitated for a moment. "I picked up an injury a few days ago. It isn't particularly serious but it has been bothering me."
Minos raised a querulous eyebrow. Pasiphae would definitely be unhappy when she heard this.
"What injury?" he demanded.
"I reinjured the ribs that I damaged in an accident a couple of weeks ago," his younger companion admitted. "It's more painful than serious."
"Yes." the King accepted his stepson's answer. "Your mother would still not have been happy when she was informed, however."
Jason's stiffened, his look growing slightly pained.
"I didn't actually tell her," he confessed.
"Why not? Your mother will not take it lightly when she learns that this has been kept from her. Prudence would dictate that she be told as soon as possible."
Jason sighed.
"I was going to tell her this morning," he said. "It's just that I wanted the chance to get fixed up a bit first. She's not well and I didn't want her to worry."
"If you wished to save her from worry you should not have disobeyed my orders and left the Temple on the night of the Amphigeneian attack," Minos stated, turning to face the young man with an expression as hard as stone.
Outwardly Jason fought to keep his expression as neutral as possible while inside he felt his stomach drop. Here we go, he thought, here comes the moment when he claps me in chains or banishes me. When he decides I'm too much trouble and sends me away. After all I'm the reason that Pasiphae was hurt; it's my fault – it's all my fault. It never even occurred to him that Minos didn't actually have the power to order his imprisonment or banishment at the moment and certainly never occurred to him that the man might react as a father and not as a King.
For his part Minos watched the badly concealed emotions flicker across his stepson's face with some confusion. There was fear there, guilt and sorrow, finally settling into resignation. He frowned deeply, wondering what was going on in the boy's head.
"I shouldn't have left without an explanation," Jason murmured numbly. "I should have stopped and thought. Should have… told someone what had happened."
"Yes you should," the King replied. "I hope that I am not such an unreasonable man that I cannot be approached by my own stepson. I am aware that things had happened which had upset you… I am aware of the child's death and that you undoubtedly believed that you were doing the right thing by leaving the Temple but you had been given a direct order and I expect my orders to be obeyed."
Jason swallowed.
"Your Majesty," he began, "I know I shouldn't ask for anything under the circumstances but would you let me say goodbye before I leave?"
Minos' frown deepened. What on earth was Jason talking about? The utter desolation in the boy's eyes horrified him even as his words confused him.
"What do you mean?" he demanded sharply.
Jason looked down at his hands. He would not plead on his own behalf but if he could he would stop any anger and blame that Minos felt falling on his friends.
"I know I disobeyed your orders and that to disobey the orders of the King could be taken as treason," he answered quickly. "I know I must be punished and I'm ready to accept whatever you think is necessary… but my friends had nothing to do with it My Lord. Please… don't punish them for my mistakes. The only thing that they are guilty of is caring about me. Whatever punishment you decide on… just let me say goodbye to them."
Minos stared at his young companion with growing horror. Was this truly what the boy expected to happen? That he would be sent away for something that, while it had been disobedient and needed correction, was hardly more than a minor misdemeanour? It was certainly nowhere near the major transgression that Jason seemed to feel that it was and would hardly result in such a disproportionate response.
"I am the King," he acknowledged, "but I am also a father… and a stepfather… and it was in that capacity that I ordered you to stay in the Temple not in my role as ruler of the city. I will and do expect obedience from my children but I do not expect pure blind obedience. If a situation changes and you feel it is important to go against my orders then I would expect you to speak with me about it. I cannot promise that I will change my mind but I can promise that I will always listen. Your path through life must be of your own choosing but know now that you are a member of my family and will always be treated as such for however long you desire it. I would never – could never – dream of seeing you banished for such a minor incident… and even if I did I value my life too much to do such a thing. Your mother would undoubtedly break every bone in my body if I were to treat you that way."
He looked at Jason again, noting the blank, expressionless mask that the young man had hidden himself behind and taking it for the defensive tactic that it was – a defensive wall to protect the boy's heart.
"That being said," Minos continued, "I do wonder at the life you have led that you could believe such a minor thing would result in your banishment and permanent separation from your family and friends; that you could be so accepting of what you viewed to be your own fate."
"Well you did once sentence my friends and I to the bull court," Jason blurted, unable to contain himself.
"Yes," Minos agreed. "After you had violently struck a member of the royal household and raised your voice to me in my own throne room." He raised a hand to forestall the argument he saw rising in his stepson's hazel eyes. "I am aware now that there was a reason for your actions against Heptarian; that you did not act without provocation; that you did not know who he was at the time…"
"I'd have done the same even if I had known," Jason muttered under his breath.
Minos allowed a half smile to grace his stern features.
"Indeed," he answered. "I am also aware that your apparent insolence is at least in part caused by a neglected upbringing; that you simply do not know any better; that you have yet to learn respect for your elders and betters… but that is something that you can and will be taught."
Jason stayed silent no matter how much he might inwardly disagree with Minos' interpretation of him.
"All of this, however," the King continued, "is distracting from what I wanted to say; what I wanted to speak with you about." He paused for a second and then went on. "I wish to make it clear to you what the consequences of your hasty departure from the Temple were the other night."
"Consequences?" Jason asked.
Minos sighed.
"You were too young to remember your life here in Atlantis before your father stole you from your mother's care," he said softly. "But I remember only too well. I was a courtier when I first met you; a member of the nobility but not yet the King. I had grown to know and respect your mother and all the court knew how much she loved you. You were the centre of her world and to lose you so abruptly nearly destroyed her. She was inconsolable in her grief. Eventually she buried it – as she buried her memories of you – deep within her heart. To… find you again after so many years is nothing short of miraculous in her eyes. To have a second chance to build a future with you as part of her family is nothing short of her deepest desire. When you left the other night… when you went out into the streets in the middle of a siege and stayed there throughout the attack… she was angry, but it was an anger born of terror. Pasiphae is adept at hiding her feelings, even from those closest to her, but I would have had to be blind not to see her fear. She was haunted by the fear of you lying injured in the streets beyond her reach… beyond her ability to help you… or worse, that you would be taken from her again. Your loss would break her heart and I will not see that happen."
"I'm sorry," Jason murmured, unable to meet his stepfather's eyes.
"It is not I that you must apologise to," Minos answered firmly. He reached out and tucked two fingers under his stepson's chin, raising the young man's face until Jason was forced to look at him. "Know this… I will not allow anyone to hurt your mother in this way again… not even you. To risk your life in such an impetuous manner and such an unnecessary way was unacceptable and it will not happen again. Once this conversation is over we will say no more on it – although I believe that an apology to your mother will not go unappreciated and that she may have words of her own on the subject." He saw Jason wince at the thought and tried hard to avoid showing the little flicker of amusement that flashed through him; Jason was already learning the wisdom of not upsetting his mother it seemed. "Perhaps you should be grateful that we are no longer in the city," he suggested. "I believe that your mother had plans to have a guard stationed on the door to your room as soon as we returned to the Palace just to make sure you did not leave so hastily again."
Silence fell between the two men, stretching out heavily. Minos frowned again, wondering (not for the first time) what was going on in his stepson's head. The young man was lost in thought once more but he did not look happy. On the contrary, he appeared deeply troubled by something. The King sighed. Truthfully he didn't believe that he had been too harsh on the lad (certainly not as harsh as his mother would have been if she were well) but he had needed Jason to understand that his actions did have consequences for those around him – those who cared about him – and to emphasise the fact that risking his life in such an unnecessary manner was something that could not be tolerated; that he needed to think before diving headlong into things and not allow his emotions to rule him. Minos mentally sighed again. Pasiphae had always accused him of being too soft on his own children and would undoubtedly think that the same thing was holding true here but he could not walk away and leave the boy miserable. Without even stopping to consider the fact that little more than a week ago he would have found this act incredibly awkward the King reached out and placed a warm hand on Jason's shoulder, squeezing lightly but comfortingly. He had always provided comfort for his own children after a reprimand to let them know that they were truly forgiven and saw no need to act any differently with his wife's son.
"There," he said. "It is over and we will say no more about it."
Jason nodded dumbly. His guilt at his mother's predicament had increased massively as Minos' words had hit him, letting him know just how much he had upset and worried the woman. He had brought her nothing but worry; nothing but sorrow. If not for him she would not be harmed; if not for him she would be well enough for them to move to a safer, more comfortable location. He picked at a loose thread at the hem of his tunic, unconsciously biting his lip. Really it would have been better for them all if Pasiphae had washed her hands of him (no matter how much it might hurt to think of that eventuality); it still would be better to be honest. He brought nothing but trouble to anyone who knew him; was the reason that his two best friends in the world were living in a cave right now rather than being safely at home where they belonged. Jason was under no illusions about that fact. He was the reason they had been at the Palace in the first place and he was the reason they had been at the Temple. They would never have been there if it hadn't been for him and his complicated heritage and parentage.
"I was pleased to see you return to us last night," Minos remarked quietly. "I did not say it at the time – although perhaps I should have – because seeing Ariadne pushed all other thoughts from my head. But I would not want you to think that you were any less welcome."
"Why?" Jason asked distantly, his mind still lost in his own dark thoughts and largely unaware of what he was saying. "Why would you be pleased to see me?"
Minos' brows drew together in a dark frown.
"What do you mean?" he demanded. "Why should I not be pleased to see my stepson returning safely from an uncertain situation?"
"Because I'm nothing but trouble," Jason answered. "I cause trouble wherever I go. I don't mean to – it just seems to happen… and this time it nearly got your wife killed. It was my fault. It was all my fault. If I'd been a bit more observant or moved a bit more quickly my mother would never have been hurt."
"And you think I should blame you for this?" Minos sounded genuinely confused.
Jason nodded silently.
"I think you are doing a good enough job of blaming yourself for both of us," the King remarked decisively. "Your friend warned us that it was in your nature to feel guilty for events that were often beyond your control but I did not think to see that extending this far." He looked long and hard at his young companion. "Listen to me," he said gently but firmly, "I cannot blame you for something that was so far out of your control. You did not make that snake Anaxandros invade or lay siege to the city and you did not fire the arrow that hit your mother. Nor did you force her to step between you and the archer. That was her choice just as the decision to fire the arrow was the archer's and the decision to invade in the first place was Anaxandros'. I have known your mother – been married to your mother – for a great many years and I can tell you now that trying to stop Pasiphae from acting once she has set her mind on something is an exercise in futility. You could no more have prevented what happened than I could or any one of us that was in that Temple for that matter. The only person who is truly to blame for the situation we find ourselves in is Anaxandros." He hesitated for a moment before ploughing on. "I watched you fight in the Temple," he admitted. "I saw the passion with which you defended the city and those you care for. If we are to defeat Anaxandros… if we are to drive the Amphigeneians back from our homes and out of our streets… if we are to retake the city then I will need every help I can get. I do not yet know how this might be accomplished but I will have need of all your strength and all your fire in the days to come… and you will not be able to help while you are feeling like this."
Minos sat back and watched Jason for a moment; watched his words sinking in. He could pinpoint the exact moment when the determination began to spark in the lad's dark eyes, settling into the firm line of the jaw and straightening his shoulders. Soon, he promised himself, just as soon as they were safe and settled he would ensure that the young man was properly reassured about his place in their family and their affections. The more he grew to know his stepson the more he was coming to believe that the lad needed a mixture of discipline, guidance and love. This conversation had only served to strengthen that belief. It was becoming increasingly clear that Jason's large friend Hercules had been right in his assessment of the young man's upbringing in that first conversation after they had all become aware of who the boy's parents were: he clearly had little experience of life within a family or of the warmth and love that he should by rights expect to receive; that he expected rejection rather than affection.
As a father it made Minos' blood boil to think that any child had grown up that lonely and neglected let alone his wife's son. For now though he would have to set it all to one side. If they were to even attempt to get themselves out of their current predicament, to escape the clutches of Anaxandros and to have a hope of regaining what they had lost he would need to focus his mind on more immediate problems – of which the health of various members of their current group loomed large. Pasiphae's injury was a definite worry that occupied a large portion of Minos' mind, especially now that he knew that Ariadne was safe and well. Knowing now that Jason was also not in full health (albeit in a much better state than his mother) was concerning. The King looked speculatively at his stepson for a moment.
Jason, on the other hand, looked up towards the well concealed entrance to the cave. His eyes narrowed slightly and he raised one hand in greeting. Minos followed his gaze to see that Pythagoras was stood in the entrance watching them, his expression unreadable at this distance.
"He's looking for me My Lord," Jason explained with a faint grimace. "I promised I wouldn't be out here for too long… Pythagoras seems to think that I need to eat and rest… or something."
Minos allowed a faint smile to touch his face.
"Given that the skill displayed by your young friend in the healing arts is probably the only reason that your mother has survived her injury I think it would be prudent to listen to him," he said.
"Probably," Jason acknowledged with a slight chuckle, "but don't tell him I said that – I'll never be allowed to forget it." He looked at Pythagoras again. "He and Hercules… they can be a bit over protective at times… tend to worry a bit much."
"It is only because they care," Minos pointed out.
"I know," Jason acknowledged, "and I wouldn't want to change either one of them for the world. I don't really like either of them worrying about me."
"Then perhaps we should return to the cave in order to ease your friend's mind," Minos said softly pushing himself to his feet and offering his hand to his younger companion to help him up.
Jason stared at the outstretched hand for a moment, thoroughly startled. It seemed completely incongruous somehow that the King of Atlantis was offering him a hand up. He took it though and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, freezing as wave after wave of pain lanced through his injured side, robbing him of thought or sense. This was not a good moment for Pythagoras' painkilling concoction to wear off, he decided as his senses returned. He desperately wanted to show the King that he was fine, that he was ready for anything that might be thrown at them, and this was most definitely not the way to do it.
As the sudden scream of his broken ribs subsided into the steady rhythmic thumping ache that had plagued him for days, Jason risked a smile at Minos, noting the appraising way the King was looking at him – eyes narrowed thoughtfully – with a faint sigh. Pythagoras, having spotted him faltering from his vantage point in the entrance to the cave, was hurrying across the grove, trying to close the distance between them.
"Sorry," Jason muttered, embarrassed, "I moved a bit quick."
"Next time you might want to try holding a rolled blanket or cloak against your side as you get up," Minos advised. "It might make standing up a little more comfortable." He took in his stepson's surprised look with a faint smile. "I have some personal experience of this type of injury," he added.
Jason couldn't help but smile.
"Thank you Your Majesty," he answered. "I'll try that."
He stepped out across the clearing to intercept Pythagoras, feeling Minos' eyes on his back.
"Are you alright?" Pythagoras asked as he drew level.
Jason draped a friendly arm around the blonde's shoulders.
"I will be alright," Jason answered.
"You should be resting," Pythagoras fretted.
"Fair enough," Jason responded. His eyes flickered thoughtfully as he looked across the grove before turning once more to look at his stepfather. "I might have had an idea about what to do next," he said.
