A/N Well here, for what it's worth, is Chapter 14 (finally!). Thank you all for the lovely reviews for Chapter 13. I'm encouraged by the fact that there are still people reading!

For my guest reviewer - that's an interesting question and one that I have given some thought to. I don't actually think there's all that much difference in Jason and Pythagoras' ages to be honest. They seem very close in age. I know that within the fandom most writers seem to think that Pythagoras is definitely younger but I'm actually going to go against the grain here and say that I tend to think that of the two Jason is probably the youngest (at least in my head). I can't explain why I think that but there's just something in his manner that seems younger than Pythagoras... but, as I say, I don't think the age difference is all that much anyway.

Anyway, on with the chapter. It's a bit of a bitty chapter and went in a different direction from what I had intended but I hope you still enjoy it. Please let me know what you think :-)


Jason looked thoughtfully at the satchel he was packing. He would need to travel light and only take the things that would be useful for this journey. It had never been an issue in the past – never been something he had really had to think about since his arrival in Atlantis – since he had only had two tunics and very little else in the way of possessions. Now though his mother seemed intent on making sure that he had more than he would ever need of anything, so packing for a journey required a little more thought – especially since some of the clothes she had ordered the dressmakers in Pagenia to make might be suitable for a royal feast but would definitely not help him to be unobtrusive on the road.

He grimaced. In all actuality he was still far more comfortable in his own clothes – in the clothes he had worn since his arrival in Atlantis or the winter tunic Meriones had provided – than he was in anything more expensive. Felt a bit of a fraud in anything else – although he knew that nothing he had was anywhere near as elaborate as the costumes worn by royalty (either the Atlantian royals or those who were visiting) or even the highly ranking courtiers he has seen in the Palace in Atlantis.

Jason smiled. Despite her outwardly prickly demeanour and disapproval of his somewhat more casual attitude to life, Pasiphae showed her concern – her love he supposed – in little gestures. Ordering clothes that would be more to his tastes than the current fashion with the nobility was just one example of that.

"What in the name of the Gods do you think you are doing?"

Jason stiffened. Pasiphae's voice was brittle and as cold as ice. He had been anticipating this encounter ever since he had left Minos a little while ago, and was expecting to face his mother's displeasure. As inoffensively as he could, he turned to face her, hands turned palm outwards at his sides in a placating gesture and expression as mild as he could make it, sternly telling himself to keep a grip on his own temper no matter what his mother said. It would do neither of them any good to get into an argument now or to part on bad terms.

"Packing for the journey to Athanos," he answered calmly. "Which I'm sure you already know about."

"Indeed," Pasiphae hissed from between clenched teeth. "I have spoken at length with the King and he has informed me of your little mission."

Jason couldn't help wincing. Somehow he didn't envy Minos the conversation he must have had with Pasiphae.

"Then you know that King Agrias insisted that I go," he said as inoffensively as he could. "The King really didn't have a choice. Agrias made sure that Atlantis' allies would think twice about helping if I don't go."

"So I understand," Pasiphae snapped. "I am also led to believe, however, that the initial suggestion came from you yourself."

"It seemed the logical solution," Jason protested quietly, "and it's something I can do to help."

"The 'logical solution' would be to not have suggested this foolhardy mission in the first place," Pasiphae retorted. "Or to have suggested that Dion sent some of his men. They at least are expendable."

"No-one is expendable," Jason answered sharply. He took a deep breath and reined himself in before his own temper could come into play. "I know you may not agree but I really think we're the best people for this job. Soldiers – trained soldiers that is – tend to look like soldiers even when they're not in uniform… and I think any men Dion sent would try to follow their orders to the letter even if the situation had changed. We might not have done this precise sort of thing before but the jobs I've done with Hercules and Pythagoras mean that I'm more used to this sort of mission that any of Dion's men. The three of us are more likely to blend in than soldiers would be and we're used to having to think on our feet… to the situation changing and having to adapt to it. I promise we won't take any unnecessary risks."

It was a promise that he had already given to Minos. The conversation he had had with the King after the end of the strategy meeting had largely involved Minos informing Jason of just how unhappy he was with the idea of his stepson going on this mission and just how much he disliked being backed into a corner and forced to agree. He had made some interesting points and had definitely been irate at the turn of events; had felt that Jason should have raised his suggestion in private after the meeting (where it could have been rejected without further discussion, Jason suspected) and not in front of the other kings where Minos had been given no choice but to acquiesce.

"Did you think for one moment I am happy with sending a member of my family into danger?" Minos' tone had been scathing. "Or that I enjoy being forced to agree to Agrias' ultimatums? Agrias is taking every opportunity to force my hand so that I will have to agree to his more outrageous demands and you hand him this on a platter."

"I'm sorry," Jason had answered softly. "I was just trying to help."

He hadn't really even thought of the other kings' reactions when he had made the suggestion and certainly hadn't intended to put Minos in a difficult position. Part of his mind still reeled at the fact that the King of Atlantis had openly stated that he thought of him as a member of the family.

"I understand that you believed you were helping – however misguided that belief might have been… but next time I would take it as a kindness if you would keep any suggestions to yourself that might impact on your own wellbeing until we are alone and can discuss the matter without outside interference," Minos had tempered his tone slightly but was clearly still angry. "I dread to think what your mother's response to this might be when I inform her."

Jason had shuddered, suddenly very aware that Pasiphae's reaction might not be pleasant.

"I'm sorry," he had muttered again.

Minos had sighed.

"What is done is done," he had replied, "and we will have to make the best of it now. In all fairness the suggestion is a good one but there was no necessity for you to volunteer yourself. I believed I had made it clear to you that risking your life unnecessarily is something that I will not tolerate or allow."

Jason had looked at him steadily.

"I don't think it will be that much of a risk," he had argued softly. "I need to be doing something to help… I'm not good at sitting around and doing nothing – and I don't think diplomacy will ever be my strong point. This is something useful that I can do, and my friends and I… I really think we're the best people for this. We can blend in with the general populous where soldiers would be likely to stand out. I can't explain it but for once in my life I'm absolutely certain of the path I must take… and I promise I won't take any risks that aren't absolutely necessary."

The King's eyes had narrowed as he had regarded his stepson seriously, judging Jason's sincerity.

"I have your word on it?" he had demanded.

"You do," Jason had answered firmly.

Minos had nodded once; a curt gesture.

"Very well," he had said. "Your friend Pythagoras informed me that you do not give promises lightly and will keep them if it is humanly possible so I will take you at your word." He had hesitated for a moment. "I do not believe that this will be a completely risk free enterprise no matter how much you might believe otherwise. Yet it will not, perhaps, be as dangerous as some of the tasks we will all have to face if we are to reclaim our city and our homes from the Amphigeneians. You may well be right in believing that you are well suited to this mission. I have spoken with General Dion and he has informed me that he believes that you have the potential to become the best swordsman in Atlantis."

Jason had flushed with embarrassment at the unexpected compliment.

"I think he's being a bit kind," he had replied.

"Neither Dion nor I are given to uttering undeserved praise," Minos had stated with a raised eyebrow. "If Dion says a thing it is because he believes it to be true." He had looked appraisingly at his stepson, taking in the lowered head and palpable embarrassment with a mixture of amusement and indulgence. "If you choose to remain at court for any length of time – choose to stay with us once this current situation is all over – you will have to learn to accept praise with good grace and in the same manner in which it is delivered," he had advised gently. "I have found that all too often members of my family are subjected to false flattery or vicious gossip. Genuine praise is a rare thing. Learn to accept it for what it is when it comes along."

"Yes Your Majesty," Jason had answered, still dreadfully embarrassed and fighting the urge to bite his lip.

Minos had smiled wryly at him.

"Perhaps we should discuss the logistics of the mission you are to undertake," he had said. "I will send for General Dion."

Jason pulled his mind away from the memory of the meeting he had had with his stepfather and back into the present to find his mother staring at him with her anger still evident on her face.

"You should not be taking this sort of risk at all, whether you deem it necessary or not," she pointed out sharply.

"Maybe," Jason answered, "or maybe not. At the end of the day King Agrias has made sure that I have no choice and I have to go through with this. I'm not willing to risk the consequences to either Atlantis or the King if I don't." He crossed the floor to his mother's side and caught hold of her hand. "I know that you just want to protect me," he added. "But I'm a big boy and we live in a dangerous world. You can't shield me from it. I can do this. I need to do this. I'm not good at sitting in council chambers. I spend half my time worrying that I'm going to offend someone and the other half trying not to fall asleep. Nobody but the King really wants me there. Most of them can't work out why I am there and certainly aren't about to listen to anything I've got to say. This is a way that I can help. I keep telling you that I've been looking after myself for a long time now... One day you might even believe it. I understand that you want to keep me safe but I'm not sure that's always going to be possible… and it certainly isn't right now."

"Is wanting you to be safe so very wrong?" Pasiphae demanded crossly, although Jason didn't fail to hear the little catch in her voice that she was clearly trying to hide.

"No," Jason said softly. "Like I said, I understand how you feel. I'd give just about anything to see the people that I care about safe… but right now you need to trust me. After all, if I was Heptarian would we be having this conversation?"

"Of course not," Pasiphae snapped. "Heptarian was not my son."

She tried to wrench away from Jason but found her hand securely held. Jason offered her a smile that was both soft and a little sad.

"No," he said, "but he was your nephew and from what I've gathered you did bring him up."

Pasiphae paused for a moment. When she spoke again her voice had softened noticeably, becoming reflective.

"I did," she acknowledged. "Heptarian was just a young child when he came to me. He was never a very loveable child but perhaps…" she broke off for a moment before continuing. "He was not my son; could never replace the child I had lost; could never replace you." She looked at Jason and found him watching her steadily. "I watched Heptarian grow into a man. Become the warrior and leader of men he was born to be. He was brave if nothing else."

"And you wouldn't have thought twice about sending him off on this sort of errand," Jason responded.

"No," Pasiphae replied. "I would not. Heptarian was a fully grown man and had been in battle many times." She raised her free hand to forestall the objection she saw in her son's eyes. "And, yes, I know you are a grown man too… and that you have been in battle; have been in dangerous situations that I do not know about and probably do not want to know about… but I was not there to witness you grow from the child I knew to the man you are. We have had so little time together and I do not want to lose you."

She turned as far away from Jason as his grip on her hand would permit, desperately trying to prevent him from seeing how much he had affected her; to keep her emotions hidden.

"And you won't," Jason said gently. "I promise I'll come back."

"Do not make promises unless you are certain you can keep them," Pasiphae snapped.

"I don't," Jason replied. "I give you my word that if it's within my power I will come back… and I won't do anything stupid; I won't take any risks that I don't think I need to."

He drew back a little from his mother and let go of her hand, free hand playing with the necklace at his throat. Pasiphae's eyes were drawn to his hand and the little golden crescent he was fingering.

"You rarely remove that necklace," she said, changing the subject abruptly.

"No," Jason acknowledged. "It's important to me."

"It was presented to Aeson shortly after you were born," Pasiphae went on, her words clipped. "A gift from the Oracle. She told Aeson that it had been touched by Poseidon himself; that it would give you Poseidon's sacred blessing; his protection. We hung it over your crib. You used to reach up and play with it. We had planned to pack it away as you grew older and to give it to you formally on the day you were presented to the phratria; the day when you would have become a full citizen of Atlantis. It was to have shown that you were a servant of Poseidon; that you carried his favour. I would ask, therefore, how you come to have it now when I believed it to have been lost or destroyed during the civil war?"

"My Dad gave it to me just before he went away," Jason answered softly. "It was the last proper conversation we ever had. I think he knew he wasn't coming back. It's always been my one link to him."

Pasiphae nodded slowly.

"I have heard you use the term 'dad' before and presume that you are referring to your Father, but it is not a word that I am familiar with," she remarked.

Jason huffed a faint laugh.

"Yeah," he said. "It is another word for father. Where I grew up most people used the words mum and dad rather than mother and father. It's just a bit less formal; a bit friendlier. I mean some people still use mother and father… but I guess that the perception is that you're not as close to your parents if you call them by the formal names. I'm not sure how accurate that is… it's not something I've got a lot of experience with… obviously."

Pasiphae looked thoughtfully at him for a moment.

"I see," she replied softly. She paused for a moment. "The necklace bears the symbol of the Oracle," she went on; her voice becoming clipped once again. "If you are caught by any of the Amphigeneian forces it will instantly mark you as coming from Atlantis and as being a servant of Poseidon. I dread to think what their response would be. You would do well to conceal it."

Jason nodded and sighed, although he did still smile at his mother. With one swift movement he reached up and lifted the necklace over his head, pressing it gently into Pasiphae's hand and closing her fingers over it.

Pasiphae looked down at her hand in surprise. Then her eyes snapped back up to her son's face, a questioning expression written on her features.

"Look after it for me," Jason said gently. "It means a lot to me… I'll be back to collect it."

The Queen swallowed hard past the sudden surge of emotion, although she managed to keep her face as impassive as usual. She slipped the necklace inside her dress, hiding it from all prying eyes.

"I will ensure that it is kept safely and guard it against your return," she stated gravely.

Jason favoured her with the soft, slightly shy smile he sometimes gave.

"Thank you," he said simply. "I'll come back to get it as quickly as I can." He glanced briefly at the water clock against the wall. "I must get on," he went on ruefully. "We need to get on the road as soon as we're packed. "The King instructed someone to arrange for horses and supplies to be made ready. I just need to pack a couple of bits and we'll be on our way."

"The supplies are indeed ready," Pasiphae responded firmly. "I have seen to it myself."

Jason gave her a startled look. Somehow he hadn't expected that, knowing that his mother would be less than happy with him volunteering to go on this mission. The fact that she had given attention to making sure that the supplies he and his friends would need for their journey in spite of her own feelings was touching and another example of Pasiphae showing her affection through little gestures rather than words.

"Thanks," he said with genuine gratitude.

"You are welcome," Pasiphae answered softly. She stepped forwards again and took her son's hands in her own. "Come back quickly and safely," she instructed sternly, "and may the Gods go with you."


It was a beautiful day. For once the sun was shining; the light dancing across the waves that broke on the shore; the sky and sea a brilliant blue, seen beyond the roofs of the town. From somewhere in the grounds of the royal estate a peacock called, its cry harsh and loud, breaking the peace of the afternoon. A gentle breeze whispered through the leaves and nearer to the house a lark added its own tuneful song to the discordant cry of the peacock.

In a large, airy window overlooking an orchard, Ariadne stood gazing outwards – although she took in little of the scene in front of her as her mind turned inwards, contemplating her own problems.

In the weeks since her father had learned of Jason's identity she had dared to begin to hope that her fondest dreams might actually come true; that she might be allowed to be open about her feelings; that eventually her father would give his permission for the two of them to be together.

The events of the last few days had squashed that hope, however. She could no longer afford to entertain it. Believing that it would be kinder to both of them to not have to see one another at least until the initial pain had faded, Ariadne had taken to avoiding Jason wherever possible. But it was hard; it was so, so hard.

Now he had gone away. Jason and his friends had left last night on a mission for the King. Ariadne had watched them leave from the shadows, unable to bring herself to cause Jason additional pain by speaking with him no matter how much it might hurt her to keep her distance.

Ever since last night, though, the thought had tormented her: what if Jason didn't come back? What if something happened to him? He was riding into a dangerous situation and she had not even wished him luck. Suddenly the decision to stay away, to avoid a situation where she might be forced to hurt him once more, did not seem so clear.

Then there was the arrival of Agrias' son to think about. The young man and his retinue had made better time than even his father had expected and had arrived earlier this afternoon. Ariadne had joined her mother and stepfather on the steps house to receive him. Prince Chalcon (as she had learned his name was) had seemed charming enough and had uttered all the requisite courtesies to the King and Queen before his father had whisked him away to refresh himself after his journey. Yet Ariadne could look on him with little more than ambivalence. So this was to be her husband? He would do well enough she supposed.

Now she stood in the window of one of the private sitting rooms, arrayed in the finest clothing the dressmakers of Pagenia could provide, awaiting formal introduction to the Prince. Ariadne drew deeply on her reserves of strength. She knew her duty, knew what she must do and how she must behave towards this stranger, and she would do it to the best of her ability.

The sound of approaching feet came from a corridor outside the room and heralded the arrival of her father, stepmother and the Tanagran Prince. Ariadne drew herself up to her full height, poised at her elegant best in the window, and turned to greet them.

The King was, as ever, preceded by two of his guards who came to stand on either side of the doorway. There they would remain throughout Ariadne's meeting with the Prince, silent chaperones to protect the Princess' honour and reputation. There were other guards outside, Ariadne knew, but they would withdraw with the King when Minos decided to leave.

Ariadne tried to emulate Pasiphae's enigmatic and polite smile. This was one situation where channelling her stepmother might stand her in good stead.

"Ariadne," Minos' voice was warm and loving as he came across the chamber to greet his daughter. "May I present to you His Royal Highness Prince Chalcon of Tanagra." He gestured formally to the young man at his left shoulder. "Prince Chalcon, this is my daughter… Princess Ariadne."

"I am honoured," Prince Chalcon murmured. His voice was deep and melodious.

Ariadne allowed her smile to widen. It helped a little that this young man was so very different from Jason physically, she decided. He was very tall and sturdy, with straight blonde hair and a serious face; a solemn air about him.

"It is I who am honoured, My Lord," she answered lightly. "Your father has sung your praises most highly."

"I have no doubt," Chalcon answered wryly.

"Well?" King Agrias' harsh voice grated from somewhere behind his son. "You've met him now Minos and you can see he's more than suitable. I won't have you putting me off any longer. Your womanish hesitation is an insult to Tanagra. If you wish for my aid and my troops, let the engysis be made now."

"Father!" Chalcon admonished sharply before Minos could respond. He turned to Ariadne with a smile. "You must forgive my father's impolitic haste," he said. "He sometimes forgets that we are all supposed to be civilised."

"And I think my son forgets the duty of respect which he owes to me," Agrias bit back.

"Come my lords," Pasiphae interjected at her charming best. "Let there be no disagreement. King Agrias is correct. Now that we are all met the engysis can take place. There is no reason why anyone here would wish to delay matters."

"Arrangements will be made," Minos said firmly. "You will, of course, wish the betrothal to be made in public that everyone might share in the good fortune and joy or our families… and with the appropriate ceremony. Such an occasion must be celebrated properly. It will not do to hurry the preparations. You may be assured that the engysis between our children will occur as soon as the proper arrangements are in place. Come, we will consult with the priests together and begin the preparations for this momentous occasion."

Agrias' eyes narrowed.

"You're not trying to delay things further, now are you?" he demanded.

"No My Lord," Pasiphae answered smoothly. "My husband merely wishes to see that your son is given all the respect he deserves."

"Very well," Agrias said, apparently mollified. "As long as it's clearly understood that I will accept no hesitation or delay."

"King Agrias, you and I will go to the temple in the town now and speak with Melas, High Priest of Poseidon," Minos stated. "If it is the Gods will that our children should be betrothed then they will not wish us to delay."

He ushered the Tanagran King towards the door as quickly as he could.

Ariadne watched them go without any pleasure. For all she knew her duty and would perform it to the best of her ability, she had no real desire to be left alone in the company of Prince Chalcon – even though she knew that it was inevitable under the circumstances. Very quickly, though, it became apparent that although the two Kings had left the room, the Queen hadn't. Pasiphae moved over to a long couch and sat down. Ariadne looked at her gratefully.

Prince Chalcon, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow as he looked at Pasiphae. The Queen returned his gaze steadily, although her eyes hardened in response to his unspoken question as she allowed a little of the aura that contributed to her fearsome reputation to show.

"Your Majesty," Chalcon began respectfully, "my father had informed me that the Princess and I were to have a private audience."

"Do you really think that would be appropriate?" Pasiphae asked sharply. "You are not betrothed yet. For you, an unmarried man, to be left alone in the company of the Princess? What if the people were to learn of it? Where would Ariadne's reputation be then? No. Until the engysis is made you will not be unchaperoned."

Prince Chalcon had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Forgive me My Lady," he murmured. "I had not thought. Of course it must be as you say. I would wish no harm to come to the Princess."

"Very well," Pasiphae acknowledged.

Chalcon turned back to Ariadne.

"Your Highness," he said.

Ariadne gave him an arch smile, deliberately copying an expression she had seen her stepmother use many times over the years.

"Prince Chalcon, I suspect that unless we do away with titles we will be here all day," she said. "My name is Ariadne."

The young man in front of her huffed a faint laugh.

"You are right of course," he said, smiling warmly. "Very well then, Ariadne." He paused for a moment. "My father thinks that our two cities would make perfect allies. That my marriage to you would be of great benefit to Tanagra."

Ariadne stepped around him smoothly.

"And you?" she asked.

"Cities don't make alliances," Chalcon answered. "People do." He paused again. "We are both in a difficult position Ariadne," he went on softly. "I have always known, as I am sure you have too, that my marriage would be decided for me. That it must be about more than love. I am my father's youngest son and have little hope of inheritance in my own right. I have always known that my bride would be selected to give the most benefit to Tanagra. Yet I had hoped that I might at least be granted the time to get to know her before any engysis was made. My father, however, is determined that this engagement must take place whether I like it or not."

Pasiphae's ears pricked up at Chalcon's words. Perhaps there might be an unexpected ally here. The boy seemed honest enough, although experience had taught the Queen to be suspicious of everyone's motivations. It might be possible though (if the Tanagran Prince were as honourable as he appeared to be) for her to manipulate the boy into a position where he would break the engysis himself. Pasiphae's finely tuned political mind began to mull over the possibilities.

Ariadne turned back towards her companion. She was stalking around him much like a cat, employing her natural grace to good effect. Chalcon watched her admiringly.

"You do not like what you see?" she asked mischievously.

"I like it very much," Chalcon answered with a little laugh. "You are very beautiful." He sobered and moved towards the now still Princess. "You don't have to pretend to be happy about this betrothal," he said gently. "I know that my father has forced yours into a position where he has no choice but to agree. We don't know each other at all so I don't expect you to be pleased."

Ariadne allowed the smile to drop away from her face. She was a little surprised at how easily this unknown prince was able to read her emotions.

"It seems you can read my mind," she said lightly. "Tell me, is that one of your talents?"

Chalcon laughed again.

"Hardly," he replied. "It's just that I believed your feelings must be similar to my own. Since neither one of us have any choice, however, perhaps we ought to get to know one another," he suggested seriously. He gestured towards a long couch not far from where Pasiphae was reclining and listening with interest to the conversation. "Will you sit with me?"

Ariadne nodded and followed him to the couch, sitting herself down carefully.

"Tell me a little about yourself," Chalcon murmured to her once they were both seated.

"There is little to tell," Ariadne answered softly.

"Somehow I doubt that," the young man responded. "But perhaps it is a little too soon for you to share any confidences. I meant what I said though. I know we're both in a difficult position and I'd like to make this as easy for you as I can. I don't want you to be happy or uncomfortable."

In spite of herself Ariadne found herself beginning to like this apparently earnest young man.

"You are very kind," she answered.

Chalcon looked away for a moment.

"My father is a good King for Tanagra… but he is not a good man," he admitted quietly. "He cares nothing for anyone's happiness… only about his own power and position and the greatness of our city. He sees you as a commodity. He sees us both as a means to an end. I know that you can have no feelings towards me – you do not even know me so how can it be otherwise? And I do not presume to believe that you might come to care for me… yet I dare to hope that you might come to think of me as a friend. It would be a good beginning; a good basis from which to start… and who knows what might grow from there." He looked back towards Ariadne. "Tell me, am I too daring to hope for this?"

Ariadne smiled.

"I am not sure that a prince can ever be too daring," she answered.

Chalcon took her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing the knuckles lightly.

"I hope you do not think me too forwards," he said softly.

"Our fathers are arranging for our betrothal," Ariadne pointed out. "I do not think that under the circumstances you can be accused of being too forwards."

Chalcon smiled. It lightened his serious features and made him look instantly younger.

"To friendship then?" he asked.

"To friendship," Ariadne agreed.


"I can't believe you volunteered us to go and rescue this man and his family from a town under siege."

Hercules' complaining could be heard even over the sound of the horses' hooves on the rocky ground.

Less than a day out from Pagenia and the landscape they rode through was startlingly barren as they skirted the base of a series of rocky outcrops – too large to be called hills but too low to be true mountains. Little grew here; a few clumps of grass and some scrubby bushes clinging to life as best they could.

"Sneaking into this town and stealing this family out from under the noses of the Amphigeneian army? It's suicide!" the burly wrestler went on.

Ahead of him, Jason glanced back over his shoulder at his two friends.

"The King needs Lord Herodion," he explained without rancour for the fifth time today. "We're not ready for a proper battle yet so he can't send in the army. This is the best solution. Minos needed someone he can trust." He turned back to look at the path ahead.

Hercules squinted at Jason's back.

"And you thought we were the best men for this?" he demanded incredulously. "The King has a whole army of men to pick from and you have to go and volunteer us? Has living with the King and Queen turned your head that much and made you that big-headed that you think you're the only one that's capable?"

He almost winced at the hurt look Jason threw back over his shoulder but was still a little too angry with his friend. Truthfully he knew that the young man wasn't arrogant in the way he was suggesting; that he still lacked confidence in himself a lot of the time – but his stubborn and headstrong nature was going to get them all killed one of these days. The fact that Jason still jumped in with both feet and volunteered to do this type of thing without even talking to either one of his friends rankled more than a little.

"You didn't have to come with me," Jason answered stiffly, his face setting into a stubborn frown.

"Of course we were going to come with you," Hercules retorted hotly. "Who knows what sort of trouble you'd get into if we weren't there to pull you out of it!" His eyes narrowed even further as a thought struck him. "Is this about Ariadne?" he demanded.

"Of course it isn't," Jason replied just a little too quickly.

"You're not going to win her hand this way," Hercules declared. "She's been promised to the son of King Agrias."

"I know that Hercules."

"Even if we succeed in rescuing this family and getting back to Pagenia unscathed, the King isn't going to say 'sorry I made a mistake, here have my daughter'," Hercules growled.

"You expect him to see sense but it strikes me that love is entirely nonsensical," Pythagoras interjected.

"I suggested we should leave days ago but you said no," Hercules groused.

"I wasn't about to walk away from my responsibilities," Jason interrupted tersely.

"You don't have any responsibilities towards the King!" Hercules exploded. "You don't owe them anything!"

"I have a duty to Atlantis," Jason answered. "A responsibility towards the city and its people."

"Why do you believe that?" Pythagoras asked over the noise of the horses' hooves.

"The day I arrived in Atlantis, the Oracle told me that it was my destiny to save the city; to rescue the people from their suffering."

"I suspect you already did that when you killed the Minotaur," Pythagoras pointed out sensibly.

Jason shook his head.

"The Oracle still tells me I have a destiny; a purpose. That it's my duty to protect Atlantis."

"And you're only telling us this now?" Hercules demanded incredulously. He shook his head disbelievingly. "No matter how many times you risk your life, no-one will ever thank you for it… and if you think otherwise you're a fool and you'll die a fool's death… That might have sounded a little harsher than I meant it to."

"I can't just sit back and do nothing," Jason argued. "And even if I didn't want to, King Agrias made sure that Minos had no choice but to send me."

"What do you mean?" Pythagoras asked. Jason had left out this part of the story when he had told them that they were to travel to Athanos.

Jason sighed.

"When the King told the council of kings and their advisors about Lord Herodion, he made it clear that, much as he wanted to rescue his friend and needed Lord Herodion's counsel, he wasn't about to risk letting the Amphigeneians know we're here until we're ready. There's no way that he could send the army but one or two men might be able to sneak in and rescue the family without being detected and caught. It seemed logical so I suggested it… and volunteered. The King tried to refuse to let me come but King Agrias forced his hand. He basically said that if Minos wasn't willing to send me, given that he'd named me as his champion, then he'd make sure that the other kings withdrew all their support. Minos had admitted that I was a member of his family and Agrias demanded to know why any of them should risk their lives if Minos wasn't willing to send me on a simple mission."

"Why is King Agrias so afraid of you?" Pythagoras murmured, half to himself. "Why did he want you out of the way?"

Jason shot a startled look back over his shoulder.

"He didn't," he protested. "He isn't afraid of me. He's just trying to force the King's hand on as many minor things as he can so that Minos will have no choice but to give in to his more outrageous demands… or at least that's what the King thinks is happening."

Behind his back, Pythagoras gave him a sceptical look. Perhaps the King was right and that was all King Agrias was doing (in fact, given Minos' political experience he probably was right) but the mathematician was still a little worried. The problem resided in Jason's basic faith in people. Whilst Pythagoras knew that on a personal level, where his own heart was concerned, Jason found it difficult to trust anyone else, but he did have a strong faith in the basic goodness of human nature; believed that everyone else would act as honourably as he himself did.

"I have to do this," Jason went on. "I'm not going to force either of you to come with me. If you want to go back, then go back but I'm going on to Athanos."

He gently smacked the side of his horse's neck, encouraging it to move faster; moving from a walk to a canter and abruptly cutting off any further discussion.


A torch guttered in the darkness and a rat skittered across the deserted street. Atlantis at night was a very different place; the usually bustling streets becoming almost eerie. Gelo poked his head out from an alleyway, looking this way and that, sharp eyes probing and assessing.

"Wait here," he hissed to someone behind him, before drawing the hood of his cloak up as far as it would go, hiding his face in the fold of dark cloth, and darting out across the street into a recessed doorway.

In the doorway he paused for a moment, listening for the sound of an approaching patrol, knowing that if he was caught it would mean the end and not just for him either. Finally satisfied that there was no-one else around, he gestured to the small group in the alley, calling them on with a wave of his hand. At the corner of the street the group paused again, hiding in the shadows as their guide checked once more that the coast was clear.

From somewhere up ahead the sound of tramping feet echoed. An Amphigeneian patrol. The sounds were moving away from them though so Gelo risked it and stepped out into the next street. He could feel how nervous his companions were and tried to project an air of calm but truthfully this endeavour never got any less nerve wracking no matter how many times he did it.

Finally, they arrived at the doorway they were aiming for – a side entrance to one of the many small bathhouses that littered the city. Gelo produced a key from under his cloak and opened the door, ushering his charges inside as quickly as he could. With one last look into the street, he carefully closed the door behind them and locked it so that there would be no evidence of their presence here if one of the many patrols should happen to check the door.

Once the door was locked Gelo turned and pushed his way through the huddled group, relying on his prior knowledge of the layout of the bathhouse to move around. The building was almost pitch black inside – the thick walls and lack of windows plunging it into complete darkness – but Gelo didn't dare to light any torches for fear that light might escape and alert the guards to the presence of people in a building that should by rights be completely deserted this late at night.

"Follow me," he whispered urgently.

The group moved on through the building, relying on touch and Gelo's memory to get them to their destination. There were only six people in this party, a couple of stray guards still loyal to Minos and a family of four – mother, father and two young children – all clutching what meagre possessions they could carry. Gelo suspected from his bearing and the way the other men deferred to him that the father of the family was an army officer, but it really didn't matter who he had been – he would be no more than a refugee once they made it past the city walls.

At the back of the bathhouse (a building purchased by Meriones some years ago but not in his own name) there was a small storeroom that was used for the scented oils, unguents and other accoutrements that were used in the everyday running of the baths. Gelo opened the door and slid inside. He moved over to a large stone coffer; an apparently immovable chest. Gesturing for one of the men to help him, he grasped one side and heaved. The coffer moved ponderously slowly to the side on runners, inching along as the two men pulled at it, to reveal a dark opening in the floor below with roughly hewn steps descending into the earth. This was another entrance into the smugglers tunnels beneath the city.

"This tunnel should take you under the city walls and bring you out beyond the sight of the lookouts," Gelo murmured to his companions. "It comes out down near the shore. You won't be able to light torches in there but it's fairly short. Just keep walking forwards and you'll come out alright. When you get to the end one of you will need to hoot like an owl. There'll be someone to meet you but he won't make himself known until he hears your signal."

"I don't know how we can ever thank you," the father of the small family said earnestly.

"Just stay safe and stay out of the Amphigeneian hands," Gelo answered with a wry smile. "The man you will meet on the other side has friends with him. They know the lie of the land and know more of what's going on beyond the city walls than we do here. They'll guide you all to safety. Listen to what they say and follow their instructions and you should do fine."

One by one the adults clasped his hand in thanks as they descended into the tunnel, the mother of the children reaching up to kiss Gelo on the cheek as she passed. Once they were safely down the steps he heaved at the stone coffer, pushing it back into place with a great deal of effort. By the time the chest was back where it belonged, Gelo was sweating heavily and panting with effort. He leant against the chest for a moment, regaining his breath.

Leading escapees through the city and helping them get past the walls never stopped being nerve wracking but it was the right thing to do. Gelo slipped back out into the street and carefully locked the door behind him, adjusting his hood to make sure that it was covering his face. Then he set off on the journey home, tasks accomplished for this night at least.

By the time he got to the Sacred Way, Gelo's mind was on bed. In the morning he would go and let Meriones know that this latest group had got away cleanly.

"You there. Stop where you are."

The harsh voice came from somewhere behind him and made him freeze, his stomach plummeting. He raised his hands, knowing that he had been caught.

"Turn around slowly and keep your hands where I can see them," the voice instructed.

Gelo did as he was told and turned to find himself facing an Amphigeneian patrol. How had he not heard them coming? He silently berated himself for growing careless.

"Don't move," the leader of the patrol growled. He had drawn his sword and pointed it straight at Gelo as he began to move forwards, his men at his back.

"Absolutely," Gelo replied. "I'm not moving."

There was a small street to his left leading into the warren of side streets where the residents of this part of Atlantis made their homes. If he could make it into those streets, then perhaps he would stand a chance. After all he had an advantage over these Amphigeneian interlopers in that he had grown up in these streets and knew them like the back of his hand. The patrol would not know their way around like he did.

He kept his hands raised and offered a faint smile to the patrol leader. As the soldier stepped ever closer, Gelo took a deep breath and darted off into the side street.

Running at full pelt, he could hear the pounding feet of his pursuers behind him. He darted this way and that, taking to the back alleyways and cramped streets in an effort to shake off the patrol. He was not far enough ahead of them to get away properly and every time he turned into a street that might lead him to safety he spotted the glare of another torch and had to change direction. It seemed that the patrol had fanned out to find him.

Finally, Gelo made a wrong turn. He found himself trapped in a dead end; an alleyway with only one entrance and a locked door at the far end. Knowing that a couple of the Amphigeneian soldiers were only a few moments away he looked around himself desperately, hoping against hope to find some way out of this.

The passage that he was trapped in was a typical Atlantian alley with the usual detritus of human life in it. There was a stack of boxes at the end – perhaps he could hide behind them? Gelo quickly discounted that possibility, however. It would take more time than he had to burrow into the boxes and leave them looking untouched and surely that should be the first place that the soldiers looked?

Also lining the alleyway were a series of large washing baskets – evidence that the building was home to a woman who took in laundry. Several of the baskets had tipped over onto their sides. Gelo looked at them speculatively. They were just large enough to hold a man in his estimation. Moving as quickly as he could, he lifted the lid off one of the standing baskets, half pulled out some of the clothes it contained and put the lid back on slightly askew, hoping to fool the guards into thinking that he was hiding inside. Then he darted over to one of the baskets that was lying on its side, its lid long gone, and crawled inside.

It wasn't a moment too soon either. Immediately after he had settled himself two of the soldiers pounded into the alley. Gelo held his breath, feeling his heart thumping in his chest, and sent a silent prayer to the Gods that they would protect him.

The two Amphigeneians stepped into the passageway, peering around suspiciously. Gelo closed his eyes and forced himself to remain completely still, fighting the instinct to get up and run; knowing that his only chance of escape lay in staying precisely where he was and hoping that he was not discovered.

One of the soldiers spotted the clothes hanging out of the standing basket and the haphazardly placed lid. All the other standing baskets were in perfect order. He elbowed his companion and smirked. Together they moved over to the basket. The one who had spotted it in the first place drew his sword and stabbed it viciously through the wicker. He withdrew the blade and stabbed into the side of the basket a second time for good measure. As he pulled his sword back his companion tipped the basket over, spilling the contents out into the street.

The first soldier swore when he realised that the basket only contained clothes. He kicked the lid of the basket across the alleyway as the second soldier poked at the clothes with his foot, grinding them into the dirt. They looked at each other in disgust and ran back out into the street, intent on taking up the search for the fugitive elsewhere.

Gelo stayed where he was for some time until all sounds of pursuit had faded into the distance. In the darkness he tried to calm his pounding heart. That had been too close.

Finally assured that he was alone, he crawled out of the basket and stepped to the end of the alley, peering nervously into the street. Everything was silent once more. Swallowing hard against the fear that still clutched at him, he walked out of the passageway with far more confidence than he felt and turned for home, picking up his pace into a fast jog in an attempt to get there a little quicker.

Back within his own doors, he let out an explosive breath. He had been lucky this time but he knew that he wouldn't always be able to rely on luck. Next time he would need to be more vigilant; make sure that he remained fully aware of his surroundings at all times. Fortunately the hood of his cloak was deep enough that it was unlikely that the leader of the patrol (or indeed any of his men) would be able to identify him in the cold light of day.

Gelo snorted. He had only just managed to survive this time and yet he was already thinking about next time. There would be a next time though. Although he was well aware that his luck would not hold forever and that sooner or later he would be caught, he still couldn't let the escapees down; couldn't let Meriones down; couldn't let the Amphigeneians and their merciless King win.

But, oh Gods, he was tired. The stress of what he was doing to resist the Amphigeneians was beginning to take its toll – and he knew that Meriones was worse than him. The giant merchant was carrying the weight of much of their operations on his own shoulders and sooner or later, Gelo thought morosely, helping himself to a cup of wine from the flagon he had on the table, something would have to give.

If Meriones was right and King Minos was out there somewhere, gathering an army and preparing to retake the city then Gelo wished he would get on with it. Rescue couldn't come soon enough.

Finishing off his wine and hanging his cloak on a hook at the back of the door, Gelo toed off his boots and slipped between the cold sheets of his bed. Tomorrow there would be time enough to analyse this night's work and the problems he had encountered. For now he needed to rest. Dawn would come soon enough and he would need all the sleep he could get.


It was late and the fire was beginning to burn down. Pythagoras sat on his blanket with his cloak and a second blanket pulled about his shoulders staring into the slowly dying flames thoughtfully. He really ought to be trying to get some sleep. There would be another long day of riding ahead of them tomorrow and it would do no good at all if he fell asleep in the saddle because he hadn't got enough rest now. Hercules had agreed to take the first watch for once and Pythagoras knew he really ought to be taking advantage of it.

As if thinking about him summoned him, the burly wrestler slipped back into their small camp. He had gone into the woods surrounding the small clearing they had stopped for the night in to collect a little more firewood. He stopped by the fire and threw a couple of small branches onto it to try to coax it back into a bit more life. Then he wandered over to his own blankets, just to one side of Pythagoras and dropped down onto them.

"You're supposed to be asleep," he observed, not actually looking at the young genius.

"I know," Pythagoras acknowledged, "but my mind is a little too busy tonight."

"What's troubling you my friend?" Hercules asked.

Pythagoras looked across to the other side of the fire to where their other friend had laid out his bed roll. Jason had stretched out on his side facing the fire, with one arm curled beneath his head. He appeared to be fast asleep – something that Pythagoras was both glad and jealous of.

"Do you believe it's true?" he asked. "What he says about his destiny?"

Hercules sighed and followed Pythagoras' gaze across the fire to their housemate.

"I believe that he believes it," he rumbled. "I believe that he's faster than any man I've ever seen… He can look at Medusa without being turned to stone. The Oracle told me he's touched by the Gods. Whether or not it's his job to save all of Atlantis? Well that I don't know."

"And what's our part in all of this?"

Hercules huffed a slightly bitter laugh.

"To try and stop him from getting himself killed," he answered. "Even if it means following him on one of these ridiculous suicide missions."

"Do you really believe we can do that?" Pythagoras asked.

"We can certainly try," Hercules replied.

They lapsed into silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts.

"There was a time when you would not have followed anyone anywhere," Pythagoras said, breaking the silence.

Hercules smirked at him and shook his head.

"It was a struggle to get you out of the tavern," the mathematician went on with a grin.

"That is a barefaced lie," Hercules protested without rancour.

"Is it?"

"No," the burly wrestler replied. "I've spent my life in taverns claiming to be a hero." He looked across at Jason again. "I know the real thing when I see it. That's one of the reasons I follow him on these stupid missions. In the hope I'll become the man I pretend to be."

Pythagoras smiled softly to himself. In many ways Hercules already was the man he dreamed of being – even if he would never believe it himself.

"You are a good friend," he said gently. "Even if you have been known to dangle me headfirst off the balcony when you are angry." He looked affectionately at Hercules. "You are my friend and there's no-one I would rather have by my side in any situation. I love you… both of you. You and Jason are the only real family I have."

Hercules wiped at his eyes, although he attempted to hide the gesture.

"Are you crying?" Pythagoras asked with incredulous amusement.

"Crying? Don't be ridiculous!" Hercules proclaimed. "I've got some ash in my eye."

"No," Pythagoras replied. "You have tears in both of your eyes."

"Are you going to talk all night or are you going to get some sleep?" Hercules asked grumpily. "I for one will not be picking you up off the ground if you fall asleep and fall off your horse tomorrow!"

"You are right," Pythagoras responded. "I should at least attempt to get some sleep tonight. Good night my friend."

"I'll wake you for the second watch," Hercules answered as his young companion laid down and wrapped himself in his blankets. "Sleep well."

Time passed slowly. Sometime after he had bid Pythagoras good night, Hercules found his eyes drifting involuntarily shut. Forcing them back open, he peered up at the sky, trying to see the position of the moon through the treetops. Surely it couldn't be long now until he woke the young mathematician for his turn. Hercules grimaced. It looked very much as though the moon still had a little way to go before he could wake his friend and settle down to sleep himself. His head began to nod again as drowsiness overtook him.

A soft sound snapped Hercules back to full wakefulness. His eyes narrowed as he peered around nervously. Nothing seemed to be stirring so what had disturbed him? After a moment the sound came again. This time, though (now that he was a little more awake) Hercules could tell that it was coming from the far side of the fire – which was burning low again. He would need to put some more wood on it to keep it going.

As the burly wrestler watched, Jason shifted restlessly in his sleep, muttering almost inaudibly to himself; no more than a faint whisper of sound. Hercules breathed a sigh of relief. At least what he had heard hadn't been a threat. He glanced to the side to reassure himself that Pythagoras was still sleeping peacefully before turning back to look at his other friend.

Jason shifted and mumbled something again, his face screwing up into a frown. At some point he had rolled onto his back and now he tossed his head from side to side in his sleep. Hercules frowned and stood up carefully, trying not to wake Pythagoras as he moved, and crept around the edge of the fire. He crouched down next to his other friend. Before he could move any further, however, Jason's eyes snapped open and he drew in a sharp breath.

"It's alright," Hercules rumbled, noting the way his friend's eyes darted around wildly. "You're alright. It was just a dream."

Jason didn't respond. He pushed himself up until he was sitting and scrubbed his hands across his face, swallowing hard.

Hercules backed off and moved to stoke the fire, before coming back and sitting down near to Jason but still giving his friend the space he needed to regain his composure.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked, staring into the heart of the fire.

"Not really," Jason answered.

Hercules squinted at him.

"It might help."

Jason sighed.

"I doubt it," he replied. "but thanks for the offer anyway."

"I want to help," Hercules rumbled softly.

"I know," Jason said with a half-smile, "but like you said, it was just a dream."

He picked at a loose thread on the edge of his blanket.

Hercules looked at him speculatively for a moment. Then he stood up and moved back over to where he had been sitting. Picking up his blanket and a wine skin, he wandered back around the fire and laid the blanket on the ground near to his dark haired friend. He sat down and unstoppered the wine, taking a long gulp before offering the skin to the young man.

Jason looked at it in bemusement.

"No thanks," he said.

"Suit yourself," Hercules replied. "I just thought you could use a drink."

Jason snorted.

"Wine isn't the answer to all the world's problems you know," he murmured.

"No," Hercules answered, talking another long gulp. "But it is one of its pleasures." He glanced sideways at his companion. "What's troubling you my friend?" he asked, proffering the wine skin for a second time.

This time Jason took it and took a drink; a far smaller sip than the burly wrestler's gulps.

"It's nothing," he said. "Stupid."

"It's not nothing if it's worrying you," Hercules pointed out.

Jason took a second sip, staring deep into the fire.

"I haven't been sleeping well since Atlantis fell," he admitted. "Strange dreams… not exactly nightmares but… I dunno… weird. They wake me up most nights and then I can't get back to sleep easily."

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Hercules demanded. "He's probably got something that could help," he nodded at the sleeping form of their other friend.

"Because I don't need to be drugged into insensibility Hercules," Jason answered sharply. "Especially not out here when we need to be on our guard."

"Yes but you'll be no good to us if you're exhausted," Hercules retorted. "And why in the name of the Gods you didn't say something back in Pagenia I don't know!"

"I thought you'd think I was going mad," Jason answered quietly. "Maybe I am going mad. I sometimes wonder if anyone would be able to tell if I was." He paused for a moment. "You've only just started treating me like I'm normal again. I didn't want to go back to you treating me like I was fragile."

Hercules took the wine back off him and swallowed down another mouthful.

"You're not going mad," he asserted firmly. "You're just a bit cracked around the edges." He nudged Jason with one shoulder to let his friend know he was only teasing. "Now are you going to tell me what's been going on?"

"I don't really know what to tell you," Jason admitted. "It's not as if it's anything serious after all."

He hesitated briefly. Should he try to tell Hercules about what had been happening to him the last few weeks? Would the big man understand?

"Jason," Hercules said firmly. "Just tell me."

Jason swallowed hard.

"Back at the hunting lodge I told Pythagoras about a dream I had the night we met the naiads," he answered quietly. "In that dream I saw the Amphigeneians attacking the city… I saw them taking the Temple… and I saw Anaxandros murdering the Oracle… bending her back over the altar and raising his sword to kill her. I thought it was just a nightmare… but then it came true. Hercules it happened exactly the same way I dreamt it… even down to what people said."

Hercules blew out an explosive breath.

"So what you're telling me is that you dreamt the future," he said flatly.

"I know it sounds insane… it is insane… but I swear it's true."

"Oh I believe you," Hercules rumbled. "I've known people who've had visions before… and the Oracle said you were touched by the Gods. That's bound to make you a bit different from most people. What I don't get, though, is why you didn't tell us about this before?"

"I wasn't sure…" Jason broke off and swallowed hard again. "With everything that happened before, I didn't know if you'd just think I was losing the plot again. I mean it's not exactly normal is it?"

Hercules sighed.

"You're the long lost son of the former King, your mother is a witch and you are touched by the Gods," he pointed out. "I think we left 'normal' behind a long time ago. Besides," he added, suddenly grinning, "you having the occasional prophetic dream might come in useful the next time we're at a beetle race."

He nudged Jason with his shoulder again.

Jason huffed an incredulous laugh.

"Unbelievable," he said. "I tell you that I had a dream about the future that came true and you're thinking about the advantages it might give you in gambling."

"All I'm saying is that it could be very useful," Hercules replied defensively. "If you could tell me which beetle will win we could make a fortune."

"It's not like I can control my dreams, Hercules," Jason protested. "And beetle racing definitely hasn't come into them!"

"It has happened more than once then," the burly wrestler said softly, his broad face growing serious once more.

"Yeah," Jason answered. "The first time it happened was when the slavers took Cassie. The night before I had this dream… only it was more like disjointed images than anything… and some of them… well, they came true when we rescued the children."

Hercules sighed.

"I don't think I'm really the best person to help you with this one," he rumbled. "Why haven't you spoken to the Oracle… or your mother? I would have thought they would be the obvious people to talk to… what with the one of them being a seer and the other being a witch."

"I can't bring myself to trust the Oracle again at the moment," Jason admitted. "I'm still angry at her… even if she did think she was doing everything for the best."

"Why?"

"Because she lied, Hercules… and she kept on lying. She knew I came here in search of my father. She knew what it would have meant to me to find him… and she knew how much I wanted to know about my mother… and she looked me in the eyes and lied time and time again. I haven't forgiven her for that yet."

Hercules nodded his understanding and gestured for his younger companion to continue.

"As for telling Pasiphae," Jason went on. "I wasn't entirely sure how she'd react. I didn't know if she'd believe me or not… and with everything else going on she's got enough to do already without me adding any problems into the mix."

"I don't think I'll ever be able to bring myself to like the Queen," Hercules admitted, "and I certainly won't ever forgive her for trying to kill you… but much as I hate to admit it I think you need to talk to her when we get back to Pagenia. I don't fully trust her and I don't think I ever will but it's pretty obvious that she does care about you. I can't see that she wouldn't believe you… and if she doesn't… well, I've said before that it wouldn't take all that much for us to leave."

"Maybe," Jason replied. "I don't want it to come to that though."

He leant forwards, arms folded on his bent knees and chin resting on them, looking into the fire as he lapsed into silence. He lifted one hand and unconsciously rubbed at his temple.

"Alright?" Hercules asked, breaking the silence of the last few minutes.

"Mmm," Jason replied. "I seem to end up with a headache whenever I have one of the dreams. The wine probably wasn't a good idea."

"Oh I don't know," Hercules replied. "If it relaxed you a bit then that's all to the good… and as far as getting headaches goes, we're travelling with Pythagoras. I've no doubt he'll sort something physiciany out for you."

Jason huffed a faint laugh, his eyes beginning to grow unexpectedly heavy once more.

Hercules reached out with one meaty hand and began to rub the back of his friend's neck, easing away any tension he felt there. He smiled to himself as he felt Jason begin to give in and relax almost against his own will, knowing that sleep wouldn't be far behind.

"Why don't you try to get a bit more sleep?" he asked gently. "We'll have a long day ahead tomorrow and you've got the last watch of the night. May as well take advantage and get a little more sleep now if you can."

Jason nodded vaguely and laid down, dragging his cloak up to cover himself.

"Goodnight," he said sleepily. "I'll wake you in the morning."

"Sleep well my friend," Hercules rumbled.

He settled himself back to watch once more and glanced up at the sky to try to work out how much longer he had to go before he woke Pythagoras. Well that conversation had certainly been unexpected. Of all the things Jason could have told him – of all the things that could have been troubling his friend – that was one possibility he would never have considered. Sometimes Hercules wondered whether the Gods were playing one almighty joke on him and his friends, and he wondered what would be thrown at them next.