Megara realized how much she'd changed when she realized that the knots in her stomach had nothing to do with how high up they were. They flew out of Thebes early in the morning, before any random fanatics could swarm them or anyone could wake up and worry about whether Hercules had spent enough time with his guests at the party the previous night.
Soaring over the sea wrapped in a blanket with saddle bags slung over Pegasus's sides, she was nervous because their lives would never be the same.
Who knew what this trainer of heroes would demand of them? Could she ever be part of this hero life as she'd requested? The previous day's dragon encounter had shaken her to her roots. Would she freeze up the next time they confronted a monster? She'd be a liability. Less than useless. Unfit to participate or assist.
Hercules twirled a thick auburn curl hanging from her ponytail. "You're bothered," he said.
"So you started bothering me more?" She may have been lost in thought, but she hadn't stopped being a Theban princess.
"You like it when I play in your hair," he replied, unperturbed. "Are you still scared of heights? I can turn you around so you only see me if that would help."
"No, no… It's nothing I want to discuss when the wind's in our ears! Let's help Pegasus concentrate. I know the gods gave him directions to this place, but he might lose his place if we distract him."
"Not a chance, but it's thoughtful of you to suggest it." Hercules lightly pinched her hip. "What's really bothering you? I want a hint."
The blush that washed across her face when he pinched her made her feel just as unsteady in her mind as being drunk had done. "Nervous of how things will change," she spat out.
From their location above the Aegean, Megara noted the Athenian Acropolis in the distance. They'd traveled further south than she'd expected, but it shouldn't take more than a day on foot to reach the location... Air travel might be a significant improvement, after all.
"Things will get better the closer we are to immortality," Hercules said, kissing the top of her head. "Trust me, it's great. You have no idea what you're missing, but I'll make you my goddess forever to compensate for lost time."
Megara blushed, but they circled lower, so the wind against her face cooled her cheeks. Curiosity drew her eyes downward to see a relatively small island in that she could already see every shore of it. The place was littered with broken parts of a colossal statue, an overgrown arena, and a strange collection of columns and broken wooden parallel bars littered along one shore.
"Is this the place?" Hercules asked in a voice that made Megara think he was voicing his thoughts aloud rather than hoping someone would answer.
Pegasus made an affirmative noise anyway.
"Are we sure the trainer is still alive?" was Megara's question. "From what I know at this point, Zeus is likely to send you to the Underworld after your trainer as some kind of joke."
"My father isn't that evil," Hercules said reflexively, but he didn't sound convinced.
They touched down on the island near a freshwater lagoon.
Hercules helped Megara dismount, leaving Pegasus rider free. With a self-satisfied pride, Pegasus preened his wings as if to gloat over a job well done.
"So where's this legendary trainer of heroes?" Megara asked. "Judging by the look of this island, maybe he exploded?"
Hercules cringed. "Seems like it comes with the territory..." He checked their surroundings. "We'll have to go around and look for clues... How about you lead the way?" Hercules stepped back and gestured forward with an accommodating sweep of his arm.
"What should I look for?"
"I have a feeling I ought to rely on your expertise." He winked. "Besides, if you lead the way, I get to watch your back."
Megara rolled her eyes, but she had to admit his charm was working on her. She strode past him, letting him enjoy the view in the process. For the best effect, she pretended not to know what she was doing.
On the way deeper into the woods, she heard various female voices laughing. She cast the question, "We're sure the trainer is a man, right?"
"I mean, unless there's a lot I wasn't told," Hercules replied.
Megara shrugged, leading the way toward the laughter. "At least it sounds like I might have some friends on this island while you're busy doing man things."
"I'm glad to hear it! I'd hate if you were bored waiting on me to achieve destiny."
"I also have to achieve destiny, or you'll leave me behind."
Even as she said it, Megara was struck by the idea of how likely it was she might get left behind. At times, Hercules's infectious hopefulness could make her believe she could join him as a goddess, but failure was far more likely. She was grateful to be facing away from him so that she wouldn't agitate him. This was his big day, meeting the trainer who would take him closer to his telos.
A bleating goat caught the attention of both she and Hercules. They discovered the goat in question with its front half buried in some underbrush.
"Aw, the poor little guy's got himself stuck!" Hercules bent down to lift the goat from the bushes.
What emerged was no goat. At least, not a full one.
Megara had only seen satyrs in illustrations on pottery and the occasional fresco. City girls and wild beastmen scarcely had occasion to cross paths, and that was on purpose. Sons of Pan were well known for taking liberties with mortals and nymphs alike that were best avoided.
The pudgy goatman protested and even wound up a tiny fist at Hercules's face. He stopped, fist poised midair, and stared at Megara. "Oh… hello…" The satyr licked the palm of his hand, smoothed down a few stray hairs atop his head, and aimed what he must have considered a sultry expression her way. "I'm not too picky... humans, nymphs, yer all gorgeous."
This thing was flirting with her?
Hercules shook the goatman. "That's enough of that!" He dropped their new acquaintance back to the soft ground, where he flopped with an irritated huff. "I'm here to find Philoctetes. If you know where I can find him, I'll forgive you for flirting with my wife."
The satyr looked up at the two of them, arms folded. "Who's lookin' for him?"
Hercules cleared his throat, the prelude to his patented 'hero voice.' When he spoke in his exaggeratedly deep voice, Megara rolled her eyes. "I am Hercules, son of Zeus, God of Heroism. I am here to re-examine the domain to which I was born and once again ascend to Olympus as a greater master of my Telos than ever before."
As he spoke, the satyr stared slack-jawed at Hercules. When he was done, the little creature began stroking his goatee. "So ya want Philoctetes to teach you to do what ya already do?"
"And my wife," Hercules said, taking Megara's hand. "She will be a heroine, and she will show everyone how she does it more gracefully and beautifully than anyone ever did before."
Megara raised a brow at him but didn't question his effluent praise.
"I don't train girls," Philoctetes retorted.
"Maybe we should go ask Chiron," Hercules told Megara conversationally. "I heard this guy was the best, but he's only good at half his job."
"Is he?" Megara asked. "You certainly have a favorable first impression of him."
"Do you think I shouldn't?" Hercules asked. "I know he's trained Odysseus, Perseus, and Jason; did you not hear his name in connection with their early lives?"
"I'm not much of a hero historian, but what I do know is that you're the God of Heroes, so you can choose your own mentor. Nobody who would pass up the opportunity to teach the very god of his field a thing or two deserves to teach it. I have heard how wise Chiron is and how admirable; I'm sure he will know how to teach both of us."
"Chiron!" Phil exclaimed, seemingly offended by the sound of the other trainer's name. "That two-bit showboat of a centaur? I'm retired, and that blowhard is selling his scrolls from here to Macedonia!"
Megara shrugged. "Maybe he has some manners."
"This isn't how I thought our meeting would go," Hercules said. "I have enough humility to know that there is an essential quality to heroism that a man cannot grasp if he is invulnerable. I would like to experience the art of heroics from one with such experience, and if I reach Olympus with your aid, I will write you in the stars alongside me. You will have to earn it as much as I will, but I will not forget anyone who aids me in the ascent."
Awe grew in Philoctetes's beady eyes. He stood a little taller. "I always wanted to train the greatest hero, whose image could hang in the stars…"
"Who is greater than the essence of a thing?" Hercules asked. "Will you aid me in reaching my destiny?"
Philoctetes looked between Hercules and Megara, then back again. "Her, too?"
"Her above all," Hercules responded firmly, folding his arms. "I'm happy to work with you, provided you show my wife the respect she deserves. I'll thank you not to aggravate her. She's a princess and deserves to be treated with courtesy."
"All women deserve that," Megara interjected.
"You're right," Hercules nodded with a softening of his voice. Then he turned back to Philoctetes. "Megara is the only woman I can speak for on this island. Agree to treat her well, and we'll stay. Is it an agreement?"
Philoctetes stroked his goatee awhile longer, then nodded. "How can I refuse an offer like that? A'right yer godliness. Lemme show ya the ol' arena!"