Chapter Text
The boy was laying back on the hard stone floor. He rolled out his bookroll and sighed. How many more times does he have to read it before he gets out of here? He sighed again and changed positions. If boredom didn’t kill him first, he was sure his back would; the cold floor was rather uncomfortable. He rolled to the next column and realized maybe if he could actually read, the book wouldn’t be so bad of a company after all. The problem was: he couldn’t.
He got up from the floor and arranged his chiton. It was time to find something to do. Preferably something fun. His small sandals’ clapping echoed on the stone walls as he approached the wooden door. It was the only room in the tower, and he wasn’t allowed to enter. At least not until he was old enough which he wasn’t. He only just started the thirteenth year of his – rather boring – life.
“Father” he knocked on the heavy door and waited patiently, playing with the wrinkles on his clothes.No answer came from the other side, but Icarus just stood there from one foot to the other.
Can I please come in? – he wanted to ask, but he knew he couldn’t, so instead he just waited. He played with his dusty-blonde hair and driven by a sudden thought he pulled his knife from his sandal and cut a golden lock. He opened his palm and smiled at the sight of the handful of hair. He flipped his hand and the mop of hair fell to the ground. It didn’t fly, it heavily hurtled down until it reached the hard stone floor. The boy pouted. His hair was heavy, he knew that, after all he was the one who had to carry it around all day for the past thirteen years but somehow, he still expected it to dance towards the ground. He sat next to it and examined the lock of hair without touching it. There must have been something wrong with it he just couldn’t quite figure out what it was. He was about to give up, he sighed, and the lock of hair flew, spreading across the floor. The boy laughed and started to chase the hair with sparkling eyes blowing into them once in a while when they seemed to settle. He could’ve played for hours but his short-lived joy only lasted so long since the wooden door slightly opened, and a bearded face appeared in the small gap. The boy stilled and pulled on the bottom of his chiton to straighten it and arranged his hair to hide the damage he made with his knife a few minutes ago.
“Icarus” the man at the door sounded confused, like he was expecting someone else although there wasn’t anyone in the tower except for the two of them. “I told you not to disturb me today.”
He had dark hair, a full-face beard, and wrinkles under his eyes but apart from that he looked just like the little boy in front of him. Both had the fairest skin and sand-colored eyes only that time must have wiped out the light from the older man’s.
“The sun has risen two times since then,” the boy answered “but Father haven’t left his workroom yet. I thought I should–
“Don’t think,” Icarus’ father cut him off “that’s my job Son.”
Icarus lowered his head. He should have known that Father had more important things to do.
“Right,” he nodded “but Father what should I do then?”
His father faltered and Icarus waited patiently for any suggestions just like he waited for his father to open the door.
“Go and read” the man suggested and was about to close the door when he heard the mouse-like voice of his son.
“But Father, I can’t read” Icarus admitted seemingly ashamed.
And he was right to feel that way, at least his father thought so.
“How is that possible? You’re twelve!”
“Thirteen, Father.”
“Even worse!” the man exclaimed “Go outside then, play!”
“But there is only sand and water I–
“I can’t deal with you right now Icarus! I’m working out a way for us to leave! You should be grateful!” and with that the man retreated to his room and slammed the door behind himself.
Icarus didn’t flinch, muttered a ‘you said that last year too, and before that, and before that’ under his nose and kicked at the fistful of hair on the floor.
After half an hour of angry stamping and murmuring he decided to go outside. And definitely not because his father said so. He just felt like going out all of a sudden and that’s it!
Icarus kicked the sand as he went. Kicked the small stones, the shells that the water washed out and as he got close enough, he kicked the water.
“Stupid sand, stupid rocks, stupid shells and stupid stupid stupid sea!” he raged and kicked and grabbed the sand to throw at the wall of the cliff.
He didn’t know how much time passed but his eagerness to destroy the whole island started to fade, leaving pure sadness after itself. Icarus’ furious screams turned into silent tears, and he sat on the shore, close enough to the sea for the waves to touch his toes occasionally.
He hated this island, and he hated that tower he had to live in. He despised his father for building the labyrinth and also, for trapping them in there. It was his fault that Icarus had to grow up in the middle of nowhere without any human connections. His and that stupid Theseus’ but mostly his.
Icarus sniffed and wiped away his tears. He got up and kicking the sand here and there he made his way up on the cliff. If there was anything he liked on this lame island, then it was this cliff. He could almost see past the labyrinth from there. It always made him feel closer to the world. So, he stood there watching the enigma that neither had beginning nor end. His father built that; Icarus should be proud. But after thirteen years of being proud one would eventually start to wonder if someone who created these unbeatable turnings and twists couldn’t find a way out of it then was that someone actually a genius or was the whole maze just a fortunate accident – or more like an unfortunate one in this scenario.
So, he stood at the top of the cliff watching the creation that kept him prison, his back to the sea. He hated the sea too. He couldn’t stand the sight of it. It offered freedom, a whole new world and still to him it was out of reach. It was like if King Minos placed all of the things Icarus’ heart ever desired on a silver plate and put it right in front of him, saying he couldn’t even touch it. Now that he remembered, he hated King Minos too. He loathed him. Icarus thought there is no man that could be as selfish and distasteful as him.
As he stood, the back of his neck started to burn, finding a new target for his anger. He turned slowly, picked up a smaller stone and threw it into the ocean. He knew he couldn’t hit his target but trying made him feel better.
“Stupid Sun!” he shouted as he threw a shell this time “Stupid, bright,” he threw another stone “stupid-looking thing,” and another “with it’s stupid heat!” and another “Just die already!” and a last one.
Maybe he overreacted a bit, probably he wouldn’t’ve even gotten sunburnt, but he was angry at the world, and he had to take it out on someone – or something. And the noon Sun was one of his least favorite things after all.
“Who said that?!” a furious voice came from behind him.
Icarus jumped and as he was turning around to see who the voice belonged to his sandal slipped on the wet grass. He was falling. His back to the sea now, only thing he saw was a flash of darkness before he closed his eyes to let the deep see swallow him and the waves take his body to another place, to freedom. Only that it never happened. The cold saltiness of the sea never seemed to embrace his body, moreover he didn’t seem to fall anymore. Icarus slowly opened his eyes. He wasn’t falling for sure, but he was still close to experiencing death as the heels of his sandals were still balancing on the edge of the cliff. The only thing that kept him from dying was the strong hand that wrapped around his fair upper arm.
Icarus needed some time to recover from his surprise. He took a step forward so his life wasn’t in danger anymore, but the hands didn’t seem to let go of him. He wanted to examine the man in front of him, but he froze. His mind must have been playing tricks on him. He must’ve spent too much time in the sun. He was seeing things for sure for there wasn’t just any man standing before him – which would’ve been enough of a miracle considering no one was allowed in or out of this part of the island – but it was a man from his bookrolls. It must have been! He had the same nose, the same bright hair with the same dark skin, the nicely toned muscles, and that otherworldly glow. It was him. Icarus could never read the name under the picture, but he knew it was him.
“Careful,” the young man spoke with a much softer tone than Icarus ever imagined him to “you almost fell. Lucky for you, I caught you.”
You were the one that made me fall in the first place – Icarus thought but couldn’t say a word. He was still struck dumb. His mind was racing and full of questions. How did this man get here? If there is a way in, is there a way out? Could he escape? Did the man just crawl out of his bookroll? That last one would’ve actually explained a lot of things but somehow – however clueless Icarus was about the world – he knew that couldn’t’ve been the case.
And of course, there were other thoughts that ran through his mind: Why was the gorgeous man still holding his arm? Why did Icarus like it and why were his hands so warm? And by the Gods, why did he think of the man as gorgeous?
“I know you,” Icarus managed to say somehow, struggling with getting over his amazement “you’re the carter guy!”
The man’s perfectly shaped eyebrows shot up and he finally let go of Icarus’ arm which somehow left the boy feeling empty.
“I’m the what now?”
Icarus watched the man’s every movement. How he licked his lips in frustration, how his biceps flexed when he reached to brush his hair back and how his golden curls obeyed at the stroke of his fingers. Icarus wanted his hair to do the same, but it was just untamable and not even a real color; something between brown, ginger and blonde. He wanted his skin to be the same color too, maybe if he spent enough time on the sun, he could get a tan similar to the man’s.
“The guy with the bright cart on the skies” Icarus struggled to explain, not to mention he was still kind of dazed by the presence of the stranger.
“I’m sorry, I don’t–” the man started, still confused when suddenly his face fell “That’s a chariot” he said petulantly.
“Isn’t it the same?” Icarus asked like the innocent child he was, but the man didn’t seem to be touched by it. He huffed a ‘no’ but didn’t elaborate on it.
“I can show it to you” Icarus offered then with a childlike smile one that couldn’t’ve been seen on his face for a very long time.
“Show me what?” the young man was clearly annoyed, but he managed to hide his frustration. Little Icarus, as clueless as he was smiled with sparkling eyes and nodded.
“I’ll show you, it’s a bookroll!”
‘No need’ was what the man wanted to say but the kid dashed towards the tower.
“Hey, child!” the man called after him.
Icarus stopped and turned back from the door. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity – at least to Icarus.
“Don’t tell Helios to die. He wants to and he can’t. Don’t make fun of him” the man said, and his soft voice echoed in Icarus’ head for a very long time after that.
He nodded enthusiastically – although he barely had any idea who Helios was – and disappeared behind the door.
He felt ecstatic. He met someone! The first someone in long years and that someone is from his book! He rummaged around the place; he couldn’t find the bookroll anywhere. It took him a few minutes to remember where he had it last time and as soon as he found it, he ran back to the cliff, only to find it empty.