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prologue

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Prologue

"Icarus, listen to me my son. Fly neither high nor low. To be above would allow the wax to burn from the sun, and to be below would mean to dampen them. So stay within the middle. You will be safe there."

For a moment, a split moment, Icarus felt as though he was flying up into the heavens. He had never felt this free so he dismissed his father. All he wanted to do was to touch the sky, besides the sun looked inviting. He wanted to be as close to it as possible but his father knew how close his son should be.

Daedalus was notoriously known as the man who created the Labyrinth, which in return made people both admire and fear him.

After all, when King Minos of Crete at Knossos asked for the creation of the Labyrinth it was Daedalus that had answered the call. He was the one who helped with the birth of the Minotaur's massacre of the citizens.

So for once Icarus did not listen to his father, for once he did not do what his father had instructed of him to do. All his life he had been given the set of rules that his father had for him and now he just wanted to feel free and alive. He didn't want to feel dragged down even when in the sky.

His wax and feathered wings that were attached to him fluttered as he flew from the cliff. He followed after his father and eagerly flew as high as he could. He wiped his father's instructions from his mind as he flew, wondering for a split second if he would even be able to see Apollo up in the heavens.

Icarus flew high, higher, and the highest as he could go. He closed his eyes and just shot upwards, not caring to look down at the crashing ocean below him. He had looked out at the ocean long enough. He could always see more changes in the sky than in the ocean in his opinion.

Slowly opening his eyes, Icarus swore he could see the sweetest baby blue eyes that there could ever be staring at him, with curiosity vividly swirling in them. There was a wicked amusement in those eyes, as though he wondered what a curious little mortal was doing so high up in the sky.

Then Icarus felt a phantom hand reach out and brush against his cheekbone, the softest of strokes that allowed him to feel as though Apollo was touching him to see if Icarus were real.

Icarus's heart fluttered in his chest, he had never been touched this way before. No one truly ever thought to stroke Daedalus's son's cheek in fondness. No one ever thought to do more than to speak to him but even then Icarus was more of a gateway into a conversation between the said person and Daedalus.

"Curious little Icarus, I wish you could stay longer but you must go."

Icarus felt his mouth fall open as though he wanted to speak, knowing that he was in the presence of Apollo.

Oh how fond Apollo's voice was!

Oh how Apollo was kind to him!

Oh how Apollo called him curious and little!

Oh how Apollo made Icarus feel as though he was in Olympus with the handsome god!

Of course though, this was not the truth.

For though it felt like forever when he was within Apollo's reach it had only been less than a minute. His wings were already catching on fire, for when Apollo touched his cheek the heat was too much and the precious wings that made this union possible were now melting.

The lumps of wax and feathers were already cascading from the metal wing contraption that his father had created, falling down into the ocean. Tears were dripping down Icarus's eyes, just like wax and feathers.

"No! Let me stay, please!"

Icarus's eyes fell closed in anguish but he could feel the feathered kisses on his closed eyelids. "May the Fates allow us to meet again, if it is destined for us, my darling Icarus?"

"We may."

Icarus found himself crumbling in sorrow and pain before he was falling from the heavens and down into the darkened depths of the ocean. Apollo had unknowingly stolen the young boy's heart.

Neither of them knew though that the Fates had become so touched with the sight they were greeted with that they were ready to create a new string thousands of years later for a reunion between Icarus and Apollo.