A/N: Wow this thing is old. ._. Whatever. HAVE IT ANYWAY.
So it's been bugging me about how I can't find anything about Daedalus or Kelli. Which depresses me. Shut up, I'm weird. Also I haven't submitted a fic in so long, and I stumbled across this sitting in my documents. So might as well give it to you people to enjoy/critique into a pile of ash.
--
"Daedalus started well enough. He helped the Princess Ariadne and Theseus because he felt sorry for them. He tried to do a good deed. And everything in his life went bad because of it. Was that fair?" - Hephaestus
--
The first time he sees his sister, he is two years old.
She is the child of father's new wife, a crying, wrinkled red little thing. Father beams like the sun. His first daughter, after three sons.
He wonders if he has a mother.
When he asks father, father does not answer, not really.
"Of course you have a mother," he says. "Who doesn't?"
That's all he says. He will not tell him who his mother is.
He has always known he is different. His brothers look different from his father, his new sister looks like her mother. And he looks like no one else.
He learns he does not know who he is. He does not like it.
--
The first time he builds something, he is four years old.
He was always a curious boy, always getting distracted when he should be doing his chores. That is why he ignores the sheep when he notices the rock.
It is black and shiny, like toys should be. So he picks it up and chips it against the rocks, carefully. He has an idea in mind, one from watching the birds. Slowly, the rock takes on the shape
to fly, to create
of feathery wings, the size of his chubby toddler fist. Delighted, he shifts it in his palms to see his creation better, from all sides.
He later learns that the rock is obsidian. He learns then that his own creations can and will cut him, and he learns how red his blood is against the sun-touched grass.
--
The first time he meets his mother, he is nine years old.
His father has shown him how to cut a flute from reeds, how to make music. He thinks the sound is flawed, too high and thin, so he finds new reeds and works them his own way, ignoring the sheep altogether. When he puts them to his lips, the music begins, lifting his soul like wings.
A traveler claps when he is finished, a woman hooded in shapeless brown robes that throws her eyes into shadow. She smiles at him.
"Very good, boy. Do you know who I am?"
He shakes his head no, mute. He can feel something is different about this traveler, something… stronger, maybe.
She pushes back her hood, revealing eyes of sea-gray – the same eyes he has, when he looks into the stream.
"I am Pallas Athena, boy. I am Zeus's daughter and a goddess. I am also your mother."
He is dumbfounded, but manages to bow. His father has told him to be careful with the gods.
She smiles. "May I see your pipes?" He offers them, and she takes them, examining them with a critical eye. "Very good, considering your materials." She hands them back. "Remember, boy. There is nothing children of mine cannot accomplish, if they put their mind to it."
She turns and disappears into the light, leaving him clutching crude pipes and a memory of his mother for the first time.
--
The first time he meets his love, he is thirty-six years old.
He is far too old to be married, his brothers tell him, and he agrees. She is far younger than he is, maybe ten or twenty years. But the instant he sees her, he is in love.
He knows this feeling, as much as he dislikes it. Athena's children should not love. Love is an illogical thing, an illusion of the mind. Love is not real. There is nothing to be gained from it.
But he loves her anyway. So he talks to her, and she answers back.
Three days later, he asks to marry her.
--
The first time he buries someone he loves, he is thirty-seven years old.
It is not right, he thinks. He has not known her for even a full year, not been able to share his life with her. All is left is her newborn son. So he digs a grave for her, and builds a house for her son – her son, and his.
Icarus, she wanted to call him. Icarus it is.
He will raise Icarus like a prince, he promises her. It is his last promise to her, so he must keep it.
--
The first time he sees Crete, he is forty-three years old.
The cruel king of Crete has called him and his son to his island kingdom. He has a job for him, the king says. He will pay well for a renowned genius, Athena's own pride. So he packs up and takes Icarus to the sea again, this time to leave his love behind.
He will return, he promises. After the king's request is done and the gold given. This is for Icarus, so Icarus will never have to go hungry in his life.
So they leave for the boat, and a royal escort bristling with weapons. He feels uneasy, but Icarus does not. Icarus loves the boat, loves the sea.
Watching Icarus, he feels happy. What could go wrong?
The sandy beach comes into view. They are in Crete. The king is waiting.
--
The first time he meets the princess, he is forty-six years old.
He has long since completed the plans for the Labyrinth, and is taking a walk with Icarus. The princess is not a child, but this is the first time he has seen her. She is, he thinks, lovely. Men will fight for her hand, as they should.
She curtsies, and introduces herself as simply Ariadne. Icarus introduces them both, cheerful as always.
She asks to talk to him privately, and he agrees. In the gardens, she asks him something he has not expected.
"Why can I see the path of the Labyrinth?"
He is confused. He cannot see any path, nor can anyone else he has asks. She insists it's there, that she can see the ground glowing, however faintly. He asks if she's ever seen anything differently.
She points to him. "You carry a knife at your belt," she tells him. "Even in the presence of my father, the guards do not ask you to remove it."
He is amazed. The knife is a gift from his mother, disguised as a scroll of notes.
It is then he learns his inventions can be dismantled, if the right person comes along. It is then he learns to respect the princess of Crete, no matter how cruel her father is, or how pretty her face is.
--
The second time he buries someone he loves, there is no body, and he is fifty-two years old.
He knows his son is dead because he has failed. He has survived, but his son is dead. He could not keep his promise to her. He has failed.
He does not know what has become of the princess. He knows that the Athenian has returned safely to his mother's city, but he does not know what has become of the princess. He knows she is likely dead, but he cannot help but think that her soul is too strong to die.
He does not know anything, he decides. He cannot save his son. He cannot keep a promise to his love. He cannot do anything.
He learns how helpless he truly is, and he begins to hate himself.
--
The first time he murders someone, he is sixty-seven years old.
The boy is young, younger than Icarus was. He is his sister's youngest son, her pride and joy. The boy, he is told, will one day become as good as he is.
His pride stings from that. No one can be as good as he is, can they?
"I would like to fly. I'd make my own wings that wouldn't fail."
His pride…
His son…
His nephew…
His pride.
In that moment, he makes the choice. He watches his nephew plummet to the ground without remorse.
He learns he is a bad person.
He learns he does not care.
--
The first time he enters the Labyrinth of his own will, he is seventy-three years old.
He is far too old to run, but he hurries as well as he can. Minos's furious eyes still burn into his, accusingly.
Stolen pride, stolen daughter.
Stolen liberty, stolen son.
Yes. A fair trade.
He regrets none of his actions against the king of Crete. But he knows that cruel Minos will not rest.
There is only one refuge left for him now. What was once his prison must become his home.
He finds his workshop easily, slips inside. He locks the door and collapses into sleep.
He cannot remember his nightmare, nothing beyond the king's cruel laughter and dark pain. He is sure that is what awaits him when he dies.
The very next day, he begins to create an automaton body.
--
The first time he uses a sword, he is six hundred thirteen years old.
It is his third body, and he decides he cannot remain helpless. So he disguises himself as younger than he is, and travels to what was once his homeland, to find a teacher.
The sword is heavier than it looks, and he can tell it is unsuited for him. Nevertheless, he tries anyway. He practices the techniques doggedly. He will master this blade.
There is nothing my children cannot accomplish.
If he can fight, he can protect others.
He decides he will no longer be weak and let the ones he loves die.
He will fight. He will live forever. He will evade death.
--
The first time he meets his most loyal companion, he is one thousand eight hundred seventy-two years old.
She is still young, the size of a large wolf. Her paw is hurt, and she looks at him so pleadingly.
He treats her paw, soothing her when the wound begins to sting.
It will be better. Promise.
She tries to snap at him, and gobbles down the remainder of his meat quickly. He remains patient. After all, she is little more than a pup and does not know better.
When she gets better, he decides to name her Mrs. O'Leary.
--
The first time he lets himself die, he is two thousand nine hundred ninety-one years old.
He knows they watch him – all the campers, old Chiron, the Cyclops and the satyr, his mother's daughter and Poseidon's son, even Mrs. O'Leary. But he sees only the son of Hades, dressed for battle and with those old eyes.
He looks too young to fight.
What has it come to when children draw blades? When children fight and die, when their blood is spilled upon the unforgiving ground?
He does not know the answer.
"Your time has long since come. Be released and rest."
There are many things he wanted to do.
He wanted to climb the tallest mountain in the world.
He wanted to see the undersea court with his own eyes.
He wanted to watch his son become a man.
He wanted to watch the princesses grow into women.
He wanted to live forever.
He wanted a lot of things.
And above all, he wants to apologize to the two children he's killed – Icarus, and Perdix.
He wants to die. So he does.
There is nothing my children cannot accomplish.
--