Icarus loved the sun.
It was a forbidden pleasure that he had scarcely been allowed as a child so he savoured it. He had lived all his life in the tower above King Minos' great palace. It was a cool place with great shadows and chilly nights. But there was a window – and oh how he loved to look out the window.
When it was light, the skies were an endless blue with few wisps of clouds outside, soft as wool from sheep with the sun blazing brightly, its warm rays touching his face. Then it would turn dark, midnight blue seeping into the brightness, millions of stars following the moon. Icarus did not like the night as much. It had always seemed so desolate and far too quiet to him.
No, it was the daytime that Icarus loved. He would always be the first to wake in the morning so he could run up to the window and peer outside to watch rosy-fingered dawn stretch over the skies, heralding the arrival of morning. In the mornings, the sun was a deep red like a polished ruby sitting on the horizon. Icarus had never seen a ruby before of course but his father, Daedalus, told him often then and he fantasized that this would be what a ruby looked like for it was so bright and red and blazing with beauty that how could it not be? He was fond of the sun and laughed to see its rays spill inside from the window, basking the cold stone golden and leaving it warm even after it had set.
How could such a beautiful thing exist in such a horrid world as this, Icarus could not fathom.
So as he stood before the window as his father attached his latest invention to his back, Icarus dreamed of the sun. With these wings that his father had made, he could fly. He could touch the sun! Oh, how wonderful that would be.
"Do not fly too far," Daedalus warned Icarus.
"Yes, Father." He nodded eagerly, not at all listening.
No, he was watching the sun. He was watching the beautiful midday sun with its warm embrace and gentle kisses of light. He did not have any thoughts for Daedalus or his warnings. And really, who could when there was a thing as beautiful as the sun in their presence?
"You must not fly too high or else the sun would melt your wings and you shall fall." Daedalus said sternly, looking at the boy.
"Really?" He wondered aloud.
How would that feel, Icarus thought. Imagine! It shall be so warm to feel the sun hug you tightly, snugly resting yourself its in gaze. Would the sun really be a chariot with the Titan Helios driving it as the myths say? Icarus shuddered with desire at the thought.
Would Helios be as warm as the sun? Would he be strong and his very touch burn Icarus? What was Helios like? He would have blue eyes, Icarus thought to himself. Blue eyes like the sky – so vast and so wide! Icarus had never seen anything as big as the sky before. And he would have… strong arms! Yes, strong and warm so they could envelope Icarus in an embrace as the sunlight so often did. Oh, how he loved the sun. Oh, how he wanted the sun.
"Icarus, do you hear me? Do not fly too high." Daedalus said urgently.
"Yes, Father, yes." Icarus nodded vigorously.
"Good. Now… let's go." He said. "I shall go first in case it does not work."
Daedalus moved to the stone window and ducked out. And then! He was gone! Icarus gasped, rushing to the window to see. Oh! His father was falling! Falling down to the rocks, to the sea, to his death! How horrid! But then the wings strapped onto his back spread out and he was soaring up, up, up! Icarus let out a laugh of delight, clapping his hands together.
"Wonderful, Father, wonderful!" He laughed delightedly.
Eagerly, he scrambled out of the window too and jumped out. The wind whistled in his ears as he flapped his wings and – he was flying! Icarus was flying high up in the sky with the birds and the clouds and the sun! He had never been happier, even at dawn when the sun crept up the sky after a long and arduous night of mourning the day.
A clear, bright laugh slipped from between his lips.
"I am flying, Father!" He called out, flapping his wings harder and speeding past the old man. "I am flying and no one shall stop me! I am flying!"
"Do not go too high, son!" Daedalus called but he was smiling, his old face crinkled at the edge of his eyes and looking not so worn as normal. Icarus turned back and grinned.
He tilted his head upwards and breathed in the fresh air, so different from the smoky air in the tower from all the blacksmithing that Daedalus did. Yes, this was what he had always dreamed of. This was where he belonged, not in some cramped tower that was so dark and so contained. He was free and he was never going back ever again.
I should go up to the sun! Icarus thought in a sudden moment of clarity.
Of course, of course. It was obvious. What was the point of being able to fly and not touch the sun? He had longed all his life for the sun. To give up this chance for it would be ridiculous. Foolish, even. And Icarus was no fool.
His arms pumped harder as his wings flapped, pushing him closer to the sun.
"No! Don't go so high!" Daedalus called, panicked.
But Icarus had no thoughts for him. His eyes were trained on the sun and his mind on it only. This was it. The moment he could finally touch the sun. He has loved the sun all his life and to touch one's soul and have a glimpse of its beauty but to never be able to have them is a great pain. A great pain that Icarus was going to rid himself of now.
He was going to touch his beloved sun.
The edges of his fingertips stretched upwards desperately. Icarus' breath caught in his throat. Was that Helios? Was it Helios who smiled at him so lovingly? Yes, yes, it was his darling Helios, the one he had fallen in love with but never could have.
But now he could. And he was going to.
Oh! It was so hot in the presence of the sun! Icarus felt as if he shall just burn up with desire watching Helios. This was far more than anything he could have ever experienced. And then… and then it really was. The warmth became to much and he felt the hot, stinging wax drip down his back. The sun was burning him! He shall die!
"No!" He cried, reaching a hand upwards to the burning sun.
The tips of his fingers brushed something scalding hot, the pads of his fingers pressing down onto smooth stone and then lurching back in shock. It happened so fast and Icarus found himself falling down, down, down.
His beautiful, beautiful sun was leaving him! The wind whistled in his ears as he felt himself rush downwards. Stings of pain burned at him, so scalding, so horrid! But he couldn't twist away, he couldn't run, he couldn't lurch back as he did when he accidentally came to close to Daedalus when he was working. All he could do was scream and scream and scream as he tumbled down. The last thing he saw before he sunk into the ocean was a glimpse of the sun, as beautiful and as benevolent as ever. Its rays seemed to reach out mournfully to him, enveloping him in one last embrace before letting go of Icarus for the first and last time.
The impact was sudden and shocking. Indeed, Lord Poseidon was in no merciful mood today as he claimed Icarus for his own. The ruins of the wings fell away from his arms as the salt stung painfully at his burns, feeling as if it were acid against his tender skin. Water rushed unceremoniously into his eyes and ears and nose.
It was as if he'd been burned in a fire and then shoved in freezing water, salt stinging at his wounds. He had never known cold like this before – so unforgiving and so evil. Crete was a warm city with good weather, favoured by their patron god Zeus. He had never truly known the cold before, even in the chilly nights when his beautiful sun was gone. This… there was nothing Icarus could compare this sensation to. He had never known the cold and when he heard the word ocean, his thoughts were of sparkling waves in the sun. They were certainly not of this gluttonous monster that consumed all. And indeed, this monster did consume him.
He had vowed to rid himself of the burden of never having his beloved sun and he did – but not in the way he'd expected nor wanted.