fading suns

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The whole palace was teeming with dread and excitement as the date of the arrival of the Athenian tributes got nearer. Only three months were left before the tributes were subjected to the torture of the Labyrinth and the Minotaur. The emotions of the people of Crete were divided when it came down to the sacrificial rite of passage that had been occurring in their city since the last two years. The King seemed to enjoy the whole spectacle; for him watching the youths being torn apart by the Minotaur was a sick form of entertainment. Icarus hated every second of it, but the part which absolutely disgusted him to no extent was that he and his father had built the whole labyrinth to contain the monster. It made his insides coil when he thought of the cage that had been the end of many had been built by his own hands. The others may have considered the Labyrinth as the finest architectural marvel in the country of Greece, but Icarus knew what it really stood for －countless deaths at the hands of the monsters created by men.

Icarus was supposed to take care of the lodging of the tributes once again, which pushed him over the edge. He couldn't bear to look at their trembling lips and forced smiles knowing that their fate had already been sealed once they stepped foot into Crete. The King had already told Lakis that he would have to perform for quite a long duration for the final dinner of the tributes. The feeling of dread and hopelessness had already started encompassing him as he walked around the palace right behind his father.

They had to start with the mending and refurbishing of the palace before the tributes arrived, though it would be of no use. It wasn't like they were going to have the chance to go back and tell their elders in Athens about how pristine and unblemished Minos's palace was. Daedalus had instructed Icarus to go to the left wing corridor and start the work there. Icarus felt slightly at peace with this because Lakis's room was there. He silently hoped to bump into him so that he could bask in his sunshine beauty and listen to honeyed words roll of his tongue.

Icarus walked down the white and gold lined marble hallway, the sound of his footsteps resonating and echoing against the cold stone. He looked out the hallway to see a couple of maidens had gathered around someone and were carrying baskets of periwinkle and blushed pink hyacinths to the person. Icarus walked a bit further to get a better look. Once he got closer he immediately knew who it was; the gold curls fluttering in the wind, the sun kissed skin shining brighter than everyone, the lyre resting against his hip untouched- only one person had such beauty. Lakis was laughing with the maidens whose cheeks had developed a deep crimson hue. They run their fingers through his hair as they placed flowers between the locks. Icarus felt a pang of envy, which confused him to no extent. He suddenly felt the urge to be the one who has strewing flowers into his hair, to be the one who made him laugh, to be the one whom he played the lyre for. He grit his teeth as he peeled his eyes off the sight of Lakis and the maidens. He walked further along the hallway, his gait a bit faster than usual.

Once he reached the end of the hallway he started off by repainting the fading edges of the paintings. Once he started to paint his wandering mind took its focus off Lakis, and became more enthralled in the painting. He was glad that art had such an cathartic effect on him, it used to soothe him and relieve him of all his pain. Icarus went around repainting the entire hallway, completely lost in his own world of colours and precision. He snapped out his trance when he felt someone's presence behind him. He looked back and was met with a pair of gold flecked hazel eyes. Lakis gave Icarus a smile as he continued to admire his work. Icarus suddenly got conscious about the tempera and fresca that was smeared across his hands and face.

Lakis gently reached forward and put his thumb under his lip, as he swiped off the cobalt blue paint from his face. Icarus felt his cheeks heat up furiously with the contact. He looked down and mumbled an inchorent 'thank you.'

"Do you mind if I just follow you around the palace to watch you repaint the walls?" Lakis said with a grin as a mauve hyacinth fell on his shoulder. His golden locks were strewn with hyacinths and hydrangeas. He really did look beautiful with flowers, Icarus thought to himself.

"Won't you find it monotonous?" Icarus said as he tried to rub off the paint on his arms.

"Why would I? I am a lover of art. I'll even play the lyre for you!" he said in an enthusiastic tone with a smile that could dazzle anyone.

"Okay then," he said with a grin. "I am only allowing you to follow me because of the lyre," he said in an amused tone. Lakis laughed in response as another flower fell off his hair and landed on the marble floor. Icarus gathered the two flowers that had fallen and placed them back in his soft gold locks. Lakis felt himself freeze momentarily as Icarus placed the flowers back in his gold locks; something which didn't happen when the maidens did it. Even though Lakis felt a bit flustered he did a good job of hiding it and gave Icarus a wide grin.

"So where are we going first?" Lakis said as he fixed the strings of his lyre.

"Well this hallway would be done in a few minutes and after that we'll go to the southern wing," Icarus said as his verdant eyes calculatingly assessed the fading paintings. He moved to the next block and started painting while Lakis started playing the lyre. Icarus felt at complete peace listening to the lyre whilst painting. He occasionally stole glances of Lakis whose eyes were scrunched up with concentration as his fingers strummed across the strings. Lakis silently admired Icarus as he splattered multitudes of shades across the walls, thinking to himself he would never get too close to him because he didn't want to destroy him. All of his mortal lovers had had cataclysmic fates and he didn't want Icarus to be subjected to the eternal rot of being in love with divinity.

The two of them went about painting the entire southern wing, enjoying each other's presence without saying much. With each syrupy note of the lyre, Icarus found himself more captivated by Lakis and his boundless and dulcet beauty. Lakis kept an eye out for Minos, if he weren't Zeus's son he would have torn him apart for his rancid blasphemy. He hated how all the power in the world was only given to those who wielded it without any mercy.

'Hypocrite' a soft voice whispered in his ear, a voice which he didn't even realise he missed until he heard it today. A voice which he wanted to hug and and cherish before he left Olympus once again.

His thoughts were interrupted when Icarus spoke up. "Lakis, do you think its fair to sacrifice the Athenians to the Minotaur?" Lakis could decipher from his grim expression that the topic at hand was a delicate one.

"He does this as a form of tribute for his dead son, right?" he said as he absent mindedly brushed his fingers across the string of the lyre. Icarus nodded solemnly, his viridiscent eyes were filled with commiseration for the ones who had been destroyed at the hands of the cruelty of the ones who wielded corrosive power. Lakis had been living under the iron forged tyranny of Zeus long enough to know how it felt like to be the one who witnessed all the downfalls and tragedies, and yet be able to do nothing. All the power in the world and he still couldn't find a way to break free from the chains of brutality that bound him to Olympus eternally.

"Icarus," he said softly. "We should just let the Gods destroy each other. They all are ravenous for power, they all want to taste the gold of puissance. They could go to any lengths to make everyone fall at their feet, because they don't know how to live without making others suffer."

Icarus looked at Lakis with concerned eyes, no one in Greece dared to talk about the Olympians like this or else they all would be condemned to eternal torture. He silently hoped no one heard Lakis talk like this or else they would surely put him behind bars for testing the anger of the Gods.

"You shouldn't talk like that. The Gods will torture you till you bleed dry, and even when your skin is about to shrivel and rot they'll put you through unimaginable pain," Icarus whispered, his voice barely audible.

"But, Icarus," Lakis began as he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples. "I am already dying, I am just a skeleton of putrescent flesh. I can never be anything more than that."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───