Icarus
By Shahrezad1
Summary: There was only one man who could possibly help her. And the last time she'd checked, he was dead.
Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, you've heard this disclaimer shtick too many times to count, so please don't sue. –bows-
Prologue: Point of View
"Fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave!"
-Jareth, Goblin King. The Labyrinth.
I once read a book about a girl that fell in love with death.
It had been while on my post-graduation road-trip with Kari and a few other girls I only vaguely knew from high school. Kari and I had been the only drivers, switching off back and forth as each of our passengers nodded off one by one. Safe in the knowledge that we, as the responsible members of the trip, had everything in good hands.
Meanwhile, she and I did our best to stay awake by telling stories and listening to music quietly, until there finally came a time when our eyes could fight it no longer; our lids becoming permanent shutters over the windows to our souls. With nothing left to turn to, having exhausted our meager supply of entertainment, we resorted to a suggestion one of our passengers had made.
A book on tape.
The piece of fiction had been somewhat juvenile for our 'Oh, So Mature' Graduated minds, but the narrative had had a poignant quality to it, more than passing our expectations. As the girl went from outright denying any care for the dark lord of death, to being angry at him, and then finally on to a deep and abiding love for him.
Truthfully, as she told him tales it was as though she was telling her own, a mix between the Hades/Persephone myth and Shahrezad's long 1,000-night fight for survival. Each one revolving around the loneliness of the misunderstood, and the women who came to love them.
I suppose it was stories like that which got me into this mess in the first place.