The Fall of Icarus (Book 1 in the Apollo series)

Επίλογος

Apollo carried Icarus' body to the shore of nearby Kythira and placed him gently on the ground.

His hair was wet, messed up in all directions and his eyelashes were dripping with seawater. He wiped them clean and pushed his hair up out of his eyes. They were staring back at him, wide and afraid. Apollo could almost imagine him sinking beneath the waves, hand stretched out towards the surface-

He didn't want to.

Apollo almost wished his face had been wet too, because it would've masked the stream of tears now silently falling down his face like a fast flowing river.

Daedalus came and knelt opposite him, next to Icarus' body, taking his pruned hand in his. His tears were dripping down onto his abdomen, and he wiped them away.

"Daedalus, I'm sorry." Apollo choked. "I'm so sorry."

Daedalus shook his head, not taking his eyes off of his son's terrified eyes. "It's not your fault." He mumbled. "It's no one's fault but mine."

Apollo's closed Icarus' eyes delicately. "I promised him I'd be there, I promised that I'd keep him safe. And I didn't." He wiped his eyes. "I made a promise to him, and I broke it."

Daedalus smiled sadly. "Then I guess we're like in that regard. I promised Icarus that I'd show him the world, and now I can't. I didn't." His breath was trapped in his throat. "How will I tell Naukrate?"

Even though Apollo had been alive thousands of years and had spoken so many words, in this moment he couldn't find any. No matter how many he knew, he couldn't find any that could describe the ache in his chest, the constriction in his lungs, nor the searing pain in his heart that would never go away. He knew it wouldn't. It hadn't done the first time he'd lost everything, and now he'd lost even more.

Apollo couldn't help but think that, even in death, Icarus was beautiful. More beautiful in death than Apollo could ever be in life, in both body and soul. With his eyes shut, he looked peaceful, as he did in sleep, except there was a sombre feeling overarching, because this wasn't a restful slumber Icarus would wake up from. Death was eternal, and it had taken him.

"He will feel at home in the Elysian Fields." Apollo said, in an effort to comfort Daedalus and himself. "It is nothing less than he deserves."

"He'd much rather be here, amongst us. I know it." Daedalus replied weakly. "He'll miss this, being able to feel, being able to love. He'll miss loving you."

Apollo ran his thumb across Icarus' forehead. "I'll never stop loving him, Daedalus. I would've carried the weight of the world for him, I would've given up everything. There aren't enough stars in the sky to describe how much I love him."

Daedalus' face was sad. It was wrought with agony and conflict. He wanted to scream to the skies, berate the world for how unfair it was, but he knew that would change nothing. Even if he screamed his throat raw.

"We should take his body to the nearest town." Daedalus said quietly. "Then we can organise a funeral for him. I'd like to take him to my family's tomb in Athens, but he couldn't be...in good condition, by the time we'd arrive."

Apollo nodded, as he hesitated in standing up from Icarus' side. "That would be best, then he won't have to wait long on the other side."

With Icarus in his arms, Daedalus struggled to his feet.

"The capital city, Chora, isn't too far from here." Apollo told him. "There you should be able to find someone to help you."

"Are you not coming?" Daedalus frowned. The words he would like you to be there, stayed silent on his lips.