The Road Ahead

Standard disclaimer applies – don't own them, never will

Thank you SO much to everyone who has been kind enough to review Chapter 14 and indeed, to everyone who has supported this story throughout. Thank you also to Angel and jmp – don't worry, I haven't forgotten Pythagoras' part in all of this! ;-) It is now time for the story to end! Please enjoy.

Chapter 15

The short rest and the water had actually done wonders for temporarily reviving Jason's stamina. The young man was more than happy to admit that his friends and family had been right: he did need to be in bed, resting. But, he thought to himself a little irritably, that had never really been the issue. He had no problem admitting when he was sick or injured and no problem resting in order to get better – well, not really. It was just unfortunate that he had very pressing matters to attend to that prevented him from resting. However, he thought with a relieved sigh, said matters were now coming to an end and soon he would be able to relax.

As Jason left the tunnel and quietly shut the wooden door behind him, he cast a furtive glance about him to check for the presence of the guards. Along the walkways of one of the stadium walls, he could hear the low rumble of two guards, deep in conversation as they patrolled the perimeter. Jason glanced up at the men. They would walk past at any moment and then continue their route for about another quarter of a mile. This side of the stadium was always less heavily travelled and therefore less heavily guarded than the other. For a while, Jason tracked their movements as they grew smaller and smaller, the scuff of their footsteps fading away and their voices dimming to a distant mute. Then he stepped out into the open, from where he had been standing with his back pressed to the shadows of the wall and quickly darted around the corner of the stadium to where a small grove of olive trees grew.

Though she concealed herself well, Jason still knew exactly what he was looking for, making out the neutral colours of her long cloak, concealing her amongst the shadows and trunks of the trees. "Myrtle," he called, softly.

When she heard her name, the old woman stepped out, her face smiling and a little relieved. She held out her hands to him and he came and squeezed her fingers gently. "There you are," she remarked, lightly. "Is all sorted now?"

Jason nodded, as they began their walk. "When I left, the guards already had several men in custody and I think they rounded up all of the oil." Myrtle nodded in relief.

"I never did thank you for attacking that man in the tunnel – it was very brave of you though I wish you wouldn't put yourself through such troubles." Jason bashfully hung his head:

"I'm just sorry I put you in danger in the first place."

They reached a fork in the road and Jason gently pulled her to the left then immediately ducked them both into a small alcove in a wall, as another set of guards walked by. Jason knew their patrol routes for the Games and kept an eye out for when he would need to get them to cover. Fortunately, the guards did not linger and simply walked by. Jason found himself wondering just how alert these guards were but currently, it was serving him well.

Stepping out again, Myrtle shook her head. "Nonsense. It's been quite an adventure, I admit but I would do it all again in an instant if it meant I got to see my Phillip again." She stopped, a happy, wistful smile spread over her twisted mouth and she placed a hand to Jason's cheek. "Thank you, Jason." Then she laughed at the slight blush on the boy's face and swiftly removed her hand and continued walking, letting his embarrassment die down away from notice.

Quickly shaking off his awkwardness, Jason caught her up. "Just a few more corners to go and we should be on the Northern Road. Hercules will meet you there and take you the rest of the way. We shouldn't come across any more guards here."

She nodded and they finished the last part of the journey in companionable silence. Finally, they rounded the last corner and a wide, dusty path crossed their way, leading out of the city and towards the Northern Gate. From there, the road led into the forest and the way home to Myrtle's colony. On seeing the way clearly and on seeing that it was empty – most of the city still being within the stadium walls – Jason stopped and turned to the woman. He pointed a little way down the road where, waiting by a large rock, Hercules could just be made out.

"Hercules is over there," he said. "I'll say goodbye here." She smiled once more and took the lad in her arms for a quick hug. "Take care," Jason told her.

"And you!" she lightly admonished. "Get yourself to bed." Laughing, Jason nodded.

"I'm sure I will. I'll see you soon." And with one last wave, she was gone, slowly making her way down the road, towards the waiting Hercules.

Jason smiled softly to himself as he watched her go. At least in that respect, he had been successful – Myrtle had managed to watch her son compete and it was clearly a memory she would hold on to and treasure. If nothing else came of this venture, Jason could always be pleased with that. Turning to head back to the stadium, he suddenly yelped in surprise, his heart leaping into his mouth as a long shadow fell across him. Expecting a guard, Jason tensed. But when he looked up at the stranger, his stomach dropped further.

"Pasiphae?" He tried not to let his voice squeak the way it usually did when he was caught out doing something he shouldn't. The queen stepped out from the shade of an oak tree, watching him through hard, narrowed eyes. For a moment, the piercing gaze left Jason where he was, frozen to the spot, and travelled instead to the distant form of Myrtle. Jason followed her gaze and gulped.

"I feel," Pasiphae began, coolly, "that I should not be surprised at anything you choose to do any more. And yet I find myself frequently in such a position."

Jason's eyes widened and he looked imploringly at her. "I can explain," he began, but she threw up a hand to silence him.

"Will this explanation give adequate reasons for why you have broken the laws of Atlantis and brought a leper within our walls?" She arched an eyebrow at him. "Or," Pasiphae added, "give me cause enough to not immediately summon the guards and have that woman arrested?" Her eyes narrowed once more and seemed to set themselves ablaze as she rounded on her son. "You foolish boy! Is there any part of you that was thinking when you concocted your scheme? Your friends are not above the laws of the land and neither are you." Though she would fight tooth and nail to protect him and she knew it all too well.

Stepping forward, looking suitably humble and desperate, Jason met her anger with an honest, entreating expression. "I'm sorry," he began. "I really am. But it meant so much to her to come."

Pasiphae scoffed. "I am sure a day's entertainment is appealing to all but that does not justify putting our citizens in danger and flaunting our laws." But Jason shook his head.

"It wasn't that. Her son, Phillip, he was one of the athletes today."

His mother regarded him carefully, so far unimpressed with his explanation. Jason hurriedly pressed on. "She hasn't seen him for years. His father took him away from Atlantis when he was a boy when Myrtle contracted the disease." He gave a quiet, bitter laugh: "I guess he didn't want his son anywhere near her."

The tiniest of reactions flickered briefly across the queen's granite features.

Sighing quietly, Jason continued. "Her son was an athlete. She hasn't seen him in so many years now – she never thought she'd see him again. But she just wanted to watch him compete, one last time. That's all. I know I shouldn't have but it didn't hurt anyone – not really and I promise it won't happen again." He bowed his head a moment – the weariness was creeping up on him once more and again he felt the constriction in his chest. Pasiphae saw him falter and felt her own heart clench. Her son was sick – whatever conversations they must have, they must have them when Jason was safely put to bed and the physician called. And there was that other tiny stirring that Jason's words had provoked in her – the one the queen felt reluctant to admit, even to herself.

Her features began to soften and she stepped forwards, gently resting the back of her hand against his forehead, frowning at the warmth she felt. The queen shook her head in admonishment. "Silly boy," she tutted again. "Straight home and straight to bed." Jason watched with confused yet hopeful eyes as his mother abruptly turned on her heel and held her hand out, indicating that Jason should move ahead of her. Her lips were tightly pressed together, her expression brooked no nonsense. Cautiously, not daring to believe, Jason took a step forward, eyeing his mother suspiciously.

"Are you going to summon the guards to arrest her?" he asked in a quiet voice, still uncertain which way Atlantis' fearsome queen would turn. For a moment, Pasiphae gazed out to the distance where Myrtle had recently disappeared. Her expression seemed sad, introspective…angry. Jason held his breath until finally she spoke very softly:

"She is leaving and there is little point in adding any more turmoil to this day." A wash of relief flooded over Jason but he barely had time to let out a shaky breath before Pasiphae took a hold of the sleeve of his tunic and tugged him sharply to follow her. "And you shall delay no longer. The king and I would like words with you when you are no longer on the cusp of unconsciousness – again."

"Thank you," Jason murmured, slipping his hand briefly into hers. He felt a tiny squeeze on his fingers. And so, with a small smile which his mother eventually returned, they made their way together, back towards the Palace.

When the two travellers eventually passed through the Northern Gate, the afternoon sun hung lower in the sky, bathing the sandy path ahead in its golden reds. For a moment, Hercules observed their lengthening shadows and pulled his cloak a little tighter about his shoulders. They would make camp, he had decided, in a small clearing that he knew, a few miles in to the forest. The old woman looked spry enough but travelling through the night was not something he intended to do and he was fairly certain, spry or not, the exertion would be too much for her, too.

Holding out one hand, the wrestler announced: "Well, here we are. After you." He watched as Jason's friend smiled graciously up at him and began to shuffle forwards. She had been quieter than he'd expected as he had escorted her along the road and she seemed just as taciturn now. Maybe she was tired? He thought. Although he did tend to have a dazzling effect on the ladies, it had to be said.

"Thank you," Myrtle said, quietly yet sincerely, passing by him.

A noise up ahead from the tree-line suddenly made them both start. It sounded like cracking twigs and instantly, Hercules had drawn his sword, narrowed his eyes and stepped protectively in front of the old woman. "Who's there?" he called out, sharply. "Show yourself!" Half hidden behind him, one hand lightly resting on the back of his leather jerkin, Hercules could feel Myrtle tense though she maintained her outward composure with considerable measure. Feisty old girl, he thought to himself, as he scanned the gloomy entrance to the forest, eyes alert for movement.

He did not have long to wait, however. Their mysterious guest did not appear to want to remain hidden for much longer. Slowly, hesitantly a tall young figure stepped out from amongst the pine trees. Hercules watched the way the young man took a tentative step forward, as if unsure of his purpose. But his face did not seem hostile. He raised his blonde head and finally, the eyes that had, up till that point, been downcast and nervous, suddenly rose to meet the wrestler's with a determined resolve.

"I am here to take my mother back to her colony."

As Hercules stopped short, his sword still hovering uncertainly in midair, he felt the light hand on his back suddenly grip tightly as a startled gasp escaped his companion. Turning to look at her in confusion, unsure whether her reaction was one of fear or delight, Hercules saw that it was most definitely the latter.

Tears misted her cloudy eyes and spilled down her cheeks as she lowered her hood with trembling fingers, allowing her son to see her in all that she was: deformity and unwavering love. "Phillip," she breathed, a disbelieving smile spreading across her face. "I did not think to see you."

Phillip took stepped forwards until he stood opposite his mother, his own expression one of mixed emotions. He bowed his head and spoke softly. "And I did not expect to be here," he admitted, hardly daring to look once more at the mother he had not seen for half of his life. "But if you'll have me as your companion, I would like to accompany you back to your home?" He hesitated. "And along the way, perhaps we can talk?"

Myrtle's heart thudded painfully in her chest and, though she did not trust her voice to speak, she nodded vigorously and beamed at her son. Then, turning to Hercules, she found enough voice to say:

"Thank you for your help but I shall be fine from here."

The big man eyed the fickle son warily. He certainly doubted the young man before him had either the loyalty or tenacity of one such as Jason. But, for the most part, he appeared humbled and sincere: good starts, he guessed. He was yet to touch his mother, Hercules noted, grimly. Perhaps that was a step yet to take? One thing at a time? However, with a guarded expression, he asked: "Are you sure?" He sheathed his sword once more, even as he harboured his suspicions.

But Myrtle smiled once more and nodded. "I am. Please give Pythagoras and Jason my thanks. And take good care of that boy. I do not expect to see him visiting his father until he is quite well enough to make the journey."

Unsure how much input he still had in Jason's life any more, Hercules nodded his agreement all the same. There was no way in Hades that Jason would be up to making a journey to the Mines of Pangeon for quite some time. "I will," he promised, vehemently. Then she nodded her goodbye to him and turned to her son. The young man did not offer her his arm, though he quietly slipped his mother's travelling bag off her shoulder and slung it over his own.

Hercules watched mother and son disappear into the forest side by side and gave a quiet snort: it was a start, he supposed.

On the second day back in the Palace, still for the most part, tucked up in his bed, Jason was once again deemed well enough for visitors. His back was healing nicely, with only occasional wincing pain as he rolled over and stretched the healing skin, aided in its closure by several stitches. The fever had, mercifully, been over more quickly than the last, though the physician had frowned heavily at how his careful doctoring had been squandered by an impulsive young man. The more Jason rested and slept, he was surprised by how quickly his strength returned and how his occasional moments of shortness of breath, gradually became less and less frequent. The light-headedness still showed itself from time to time, but more often than not, Jason felt far better than he had in a long time.

Mealtimes had been strictly enforced and supervised during his convalescence, until every last mouthful had been consumed. It made Jason feel quite ill and he could not always keep so much food in his stomach. But his bouts of illness did not persuade his mother to allow him to miss the next meal. She merely gave him a cup of water, or a soothing tonic or simply sat and gently rubbed his back until the discomfort passed. But she did not relent.

And now that his mother had announced that he may finally have visitors, Jason was rather hoping for a visit from Ariadne. However, that was not to be. When the knock sounded on his door, just after the midday meal, it was not Ariadne who answered his invite, but Minos.

Jason had been aware of Minos' presence sometimes, especially during the night when he lay in bed and could hear hushed voices outside his door. On more than one occasion, he was certain he could make out the king's voice conversing in low tones, with his mother. But he had never ventured inside – at least, not as far as Jason knew. For most of the days, Minos spent his time at the Games which, Jason heard, were going very well for Atlantis: five crowns so far and the discus event was rumoured to be a close match between Tyrin from Atlantis, and a deceptively portly-looking man from Thebes. From the various descriptions of him, he reminded Jason of Hercules and, despite clearly wanting Atlantis to win the event, Jason couldn't help but secretly root for the Theban. There were only two days left of events and Jason began to wonder if he was going to be allowed to attend them.

When Minos entered and shut the door behind him, glad though Jason was to see him, a tiny part of his stomach tied itself into knots. For the most part, Pasiphae had treated him to merely stern looks and the odd reprimand when Jason proved difficult in his recovery. The promise of the fallout from his little adventure, she had assured him would come when he was well enough. With Minos' arrival, Jason held his breath, wondering if this heralded the start of his recovery and the start of his Fate. But when the king pulled up the chair by his table and seated himself on it, looking pointedly at Jason as he scrambled quickly to sit up in bed, the older man's expression immediately relaxed into a benign smile.

"I hear you are feeling better?" Minos asked.

Hesitatingly, Jason nodded. "Yes thank you, Your Majesty." It felt distinctly uncomfortable, addressing the king while he was sitting up in bed – disrespectful even – but when Jason briefly considered the alternatives: getting up, wearing only his nightshirt or asking the king to leave and come back later, he quickly decided that his current situation was the best option. Minos regarded him carefully.

"I thought you would like to know that the remaining perpetrators of this plot have been captured. They await only trial and sentencing." Jason didn't like to voice the thought that it didn't sound as though it was likely to be a fair trial. And he could only imagine one sentence: he almost pitied the men.

"Do we know why they did it?"

The king's expression soured. "They need little excuse to rein terror on our innocent citizens. However, with so many members of Greece's royal families attending in one place, I imagine the opportunity was too good to pass up." He stopped and his expression changed to one of pride. "You did well Jason – very well. Your mother and I, we are so proud of you for the part you played in foiling this plot and protecting our people."

A blush immediately rose to Jason's cheeks as he glanced down at his bedcover. Praise from the king was still a relatively new experience but in this case, it was more than that. "Thank you," he mumbled. "But you know, it wasn't really me who did it. Pythagoras was the one who over-heard the plot and Hercules was the one who rallied everyone into action and who figured out it was the merchant's barrels."

Shyly, he glanced up to his stepfather, relieved to see the man reluctantly nodding. "Ah, I suppose you are right," Minos admitted. "Though," he added pointedly, "it was also your friend Hercules who sat and guarded those blessed barrels in the first place!" Despite Minos' frown, Jason risked a small smile and on seeing this, the king eventually relented with a sigh. "But I will admit that Atlantis owes them a debt. I shall see that a suitable reward is sent to your friend's house."

Jason grinned. "He likes wine. And pies. And Pythagoras would love some parchment."

Minos raised an eyebrow at the rather odd company Jason kept. "We shall have to see what can be done." And then the king was back to scrutinising Jason once more. Seeing this, Jason started to squirm again. Being under so much attention was making him feel very nervous, particularly when he couldn't make a quick exit. "I feel, as I hope you do, that your involvement in these Games was a success." Jason tried not to shrug, knowing how Minos hated the non-committal gesture. But admitting to anyone that he thought he had done well struck him as quite abhorrent. To claim he had done well, meant opening himself up for others to dispute it and try to prove the opposite. So instead, he mumbled his thanks quietly, yet sincerely.

Minos almost rolled his eyes at the boy's reluctance to take his place in the sun. They would have to see to that matter, before too long. But all in good time. "You have a good understanding of what the people of Atlantis need and want. I may call on your advice in the future, if it touches on such matters. Local petitions and grievances in the courts, for instance." He watched Jason's eyes widen and a painful, polite smile grace the boy's face. Resisting a smile of his own at Jason's expense, Minos patted his leg and let the matter drop.

"Now then," he announced, suddenly.

Jason tensed. That sounded like a distinct shift in topics. Had Pasiphae mentioned anything about Myrtle? She hadn't said that she would, but then again she hadn't said that she wouldn't, either. Whatever came of it, Jason knew he would take the blame on his shoulders if need be. It had, after all, been his idea and his alone. Minos narrowed his eyes at him and Jason couldn't help but stare, wide-eyed at the man, shifting nervously.

"I could see from your expression when I first entered the room that you were expecting a far less pleasant conversation? Am I right?"

His heart in his mouth, Jason meekly nodded, refusing to mention Myrtle unless directly challenged. "Yes, Sire," he admitted. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you about staying in bed and resting."

Minos arched an eyebrow. "Didn't listen to me? Do you mean, disobeyed me?" Jason felt his face burning but he lowered his eyes and nodded all the same. That appeared to mollify Minos a little who nodded in agreement. "Hmm," the king remarked. "Indeed. But your disappearance on the morning of the Games is something I shall leave to your mother to deal with." He almost smirked as he saw the tiny wince that crossed Jason's face. "I wish to make plain to you that when you have retired for the night, you are to remain inside these Palace walls until morning." He tucked a finger under Jason's chin to force his stepson to look directly at him. "I do not like my family roaming abroad at night when any and all might harm them."

It did at least appear that Pasiphae had not betrayed his secret and for that, Jason felt immensely grateful. However, when he considered Minos' over-protective nature, Jason very nearly rolled his eyes. He had been roaming abroad at night fairly regularly since he was about fifteen. He hardly saw the habit stopping now. Minos, however, still spoke with the weight of authority and the promise of menace in his voice and so Jason withheld his immediate response and nodded, as convincingly as he could. "Yes, Sire."

Perhaps Minos sensed his insincerity because rather than letting the matter go, he leant in a little closer to Jason's personal space and when he spoke, his voice still held its edge of iron: "The time will come, Jason, when our enemies realise who you are. I pray that this time will be far off yet but when it comes, you must not assume that you can slip through the streets with the same anonymity that you do now and I shall not see harm come to you."

As Minos' words started to sink in, Jason felt his chest tighten and his stomach twist. It was not the danger that disturbed him but more the feeling of dread – that one day, he would have to choose. One day, it would become impossible to remain just Jason, living both his life in the city while he also lived his life with his family. Sooner or later, his worlds would collide and force him down one path or another. To stay with his mother and stepfather, to make a future with Ariadne, would mean to accept the responsibilities of the Palace and the crown. But if his identity were discovered by the people, then remaining in Atlantis itself would be all but impossible: it would mean moving on, moving away – starting again somewhere new where none knew his name. Would Hercules and Pythagoras come with him in such an eventuality? Was it even something he had any right to ask of them?

Sensing his stepson's troubled thoughts, Minos smiled sadly, confident the lad had eventually seen his point. "That day is far from us yet, Jason," he said, reassuringly. "But let us not tempt the Fate of the Gods, hmm?"

Then, giving the young man's arm a gentle squeeze, Minos stood. "You are looking a little tired, Jason. Perhaps I have stayed too long? Lie back and rest for a little while." Dumbly, Jason nodded, shifting back into a flat position almost automatically.

He tried not to let the king's words invade his thoughts, and instead turned his mind to finally being free of his bed and his room, now that his strength was returning. Those thoughts of escape actually did help to banish Minos' prediction to a distant part of his mind, and Jason smiled, sleepily as he felt himself melt into the covers around him. He really hadn't realised how tired he had become. Even keeping his eyes open long enough to see Minos out of the room, was proving to be tricky.

But Minos simply smiled, watching sleep catch the boy unaware. "Sleep well, Jason," he said quietly, stepping back towards the door. From beneath heavy lids that Jason resolutely forced to keep open, he watched his stepfather quietly shut the door behind him.

"Night," Jason murmured into his pillow, as the door clicked shut.

The wind was starting to pick up as Jason walked the garden paths, sending a chill right through him. He shivered, immediately gathering the neck of his cloak up and wrapping himself more tightly in its warm folds. Now that he had finally been allowed out of the Palace itself and into its grounds, the provision that he always carry a cloak with him had been strictly enforced. Not that Jason minded it: he had never liked being cold, particularly and if there was a simple way to avoid it, he was happy to take it. Pasiphae's conversation had not, in the end, been as bad as Jason had been expecting. It appeared that she felt his sickness and his brave acts went a fair way to acquitting his misdemeanours. Some meaningful words and a few extra days confined to the Palace – which was hardly surprising to Jason, given his need for recuperation – had been the sum total of Pasiphae's ire, though he never had got to see the ending of the Games.

Her lecture had been sharp, but to the point. More than the lambasting though, it had been the honest sense of worry and grief that Jason realised he had inadvertently caused his mother, that had affected him the most. He was sure such times would rise again in the future: with his sort of luck and being friends with Hercules and Pythagoras, it was an inevitability. But, Jason resolved, he would not do so again with such casual disregard for the worry he might cause others. That these people would worry about him at all was still something of a mystery to the young man.

A bird screeched above him and Jason instinctively glanced up at the darkening sky. The seasons had definitely turned their corner. Jason frowned: travelling under these increasingly bitter conditions was not something he was looking forward to though he had missed his most recent visit with his father and he looked forward to the time when he could see him again. Heavy clouds, almost ready to burst, converged above the gardens. Jason shivered, involuntarily, glancing up with nervous eyes. If he got caught in a downpour and returned to the Palace soaked to the skin, the young man was fairly certain he would be immediately bundled off to bed by the first person who caught him, even if a simple change of clothes would have sufficed.

Reluctantly – Jason still preferring the fresh air while he could get it – the young man began to slowly trudge back to the courtyard that would lead him into the Palace. He walked, quite lost in his own thoughts and so it was with a sudden jolt of surprise that he registered someone walking alongside him. However, he recognised the scent of his mother's perfume before he turned to see her smiling at him.

"I was walking through the orchard when I spotted you and I was about to come and tell you to get inside before the rain struck. However, it appears you have had a burgeoning wave of common sense."

Jason rolled his eyes, no longer so surprised to hear his mother tease him. "Don't worry – I'm sure it won't last."

Pasiphae breathed a short, soft laugh, glancing down at the path she took. "Are your homelands cold and wet?"

Jason laughed. "Most of the time! We get about a week of Summer when everyone rushes to their gardens for as much sun as they can soak up in-between the showers." For a moment, Pasiphae tried to imagine living in such an uninviting climate and quickly surmised that she wouldn't want to. Beside her, Jason continued: "A friend and I tried building a shelter in the rain once, down at the local park. We had a great time but we must have been out there for over an hour." Jason grinned at the memory. "His mum and dad just about had a fit when he came home – I think he was sick for about a week."

"Mum and dad?" Pasiphae questioned, her voice lightly curious. Jason simply treated her to one of those looks he had when he assumed she should automatically know the meanings of these strange words he often used.

"It's what you call your mother and father where I grew up," he clarified, with exaggerated patience.

A small smile settled over the queen's face. "Ah," she remarked softly. "I see. Does no-one simply call them 'mother' and 'father'?" She watched Jason give a casual shrug:

"If you're old," he replied. "Or you don't like them." They reached the courtyard just as the first fat drops splashed onto the tiled floor and quickly, they darted the rest of the way inside.

Jason grinned as he listened to the steady drumming on the roof and watched the vertical streams of water, lashing down in straight lines outside the windows. He may not enjoy being in the rain, but listening to it had always been relaxing.

"I suppose," his mother said, with a sigh, "that you shall be wanting to see your friends, now that you are well enough?" Jason turned to her with hesitant, hopeful eyes. He had gone through his entire three days with his friends and his day with his father, recuperating at the Palace. Now, technically, it was time for his three days here to begin again. Hoping he might be allowed to go back to the city, was not something he had dared for. But Pasiphae shook her head with a mixture of fondness and exasperation. "You shall only start climbing the walls here if you remain much longer. However," she added, "King Pinytus and his family return to Crete tomorrow and Minos and I would like you to attend their farewell feast." She didn't add that he had missed the welcoming one so this really was the least he could do. "But after this, you are welcome to return to your friends." Pasiphae watched, with a rueful smile, as her son's face lit up. It would do him good to see his friends again – she could reluctantly admit it. The wind picked up, hurtling the rain even harder against the building and both she and Jason immediately moved deeper into the Palace to avoid the splash from the windows. The queen only wished she could persuade Jason not to travel that long distance to see Aeson but no doubt the boy would be insistent on seeing his father again.

Jason grinned at the news. Even the prospect of attending a formal meal could not dampen his spirits. Eagerly, he nodded, leaning in to kiss his mother on the cheek. "Thanks." Already Jason's mind filled with the conversations he had been longing to have with his friends for the last week – even Hercules' promised lecture didn't put him off though he was quite certain that its intensity would not have lessened over time. With any luck, this farewell meal would be at midday so that the Royal family could sail in the evening. Jason smiled once more at the thought of being able to surprise his friends. He would stop off in the agora on the way back – pick up some food and drink. But as he turned to bid farewell to his mother, ready to start packing and to seek out the company of Ariadne, he paused, watching the way she looked at him with a sad fondness. He felt a peculiar uncertainty stir inside him.

"Pasiphae? There is a gymnasium somewhere on the Palace grounds, isn't there? I remember hearing someone talking about it."

Immediately, his mother's fond expression hardened into stone. "Yes," she replied, the bark back to her voice: "but don't you dare go near it yet! You are in no condition." A dark look, promising dire consequences flashed across the queen's eyes as she prepared to commence battle with her headstrong son, if need be. But Jason just laughed softly and shook his head.

"I didn't mean now. In a week or so…" He carefully watched her hard, raised eyebrow and ventured another guess. "In a few weeks?" The face softened a fraction and so, encouraged, Jason carried on. "Well…" he glanced down at his feet, hesitant and embarrassed, his face starting to burn. Curiously, Pasiphae waited. "Well, I know it's not the same as competing in the Games, but if you wanted," he mumbled, still not making eye-contact, "I could…you know…fly…for you." By the time Jason had finished, he was willing the ground to open and swallow him up. "But you don't have to," he hastily tacked on. "Stupid really. Forget I said anything. I'll just go…do something. Somewhere else."

But as he turned to go, a firm yet gentle hand grasped his arm. "Assuming I have some say in this matter?" Her amused voice let Jason know not to fear the worst. But nor did it put him at ease. Hesitantly, his cheeks still burning, he nodded. "Good. Then I shall look forward to it." She placed a warm hand on his cheek, relieved to eventually feel him smile. Still too embarrassed to reply, but very glad his mother had not scorned his offer, Jason nodded again. "Now, you had better go and do this very important thing that you must do."

And Jason chuckled, ducking his head. "Thanks. See you later."

He took a measured step backwards, preparing to leave and the queen nodded to him as he turned away. She watched him walk briskly back down the corridor and smothered her smile – he so clearly wanted to break into a run but after so many reminders, he was finally curbing that impulse. Now that Jason was safely out of sight and she was alone, Pasiphae allowed the sharp prick of tears into her eyes. Yes, he had indeed come a long way. But the time would come when Jason, despite all her hopes and dreams for him, would have to choose his own path. With a tight clench in her heart, Pasiphae only prayed that this path would not divide them.

THE END

That's it! I hope people have enjoyed the ride. Thanks so much to everyone who encouraged this story – I hope it hasn't disappointed. If anyone is interested in seeing the next step of the journey, then I'd love to continue it.