A Wing and No Prayers

by FallLover

Summary:

While patrolling the enemy fleet in the Rift of Thessaly, Icarus comes across Heracles. Neither of them are particularly impressed by their first meeting, but the battle against Chronos and his forces continues on.

Notes:

Spoilers for Hades II Early Access ahead.

Shout out to thespectaclesofthor for making me think of this pairing.

Chapter 1: Bombs Away

Icarus was busy flying high on the wind at night as he scouted Chronos’ fleet in the Rift of Thessaly when he spotted the gathering of harpies around one particular ship. He wondered if Melinoë had set out again, and raced for the ship, preparing to lend a hand. With so many harpies, he might not be able to do the most he could, especially if they targeted him with their terrible cutting tornadoes. But for Melinoë he would give it a shot, and at least he wouldn’t want for targets. As he drew nearer, moving as quietly as he could – though the harpy cries drowned out his movements – he realized the glow of the gathering indicated at least one of the harpy leaders was in the vicinity.

He grimaced and drew out some of his stronger bombs. Melinoë was invulnerable to them – or otherwise dodged them – so she’d be fine, and the ships were strong enough to withstand the blasts, too, having been built to carry semi-immortal passengers and travel through particularly dangerous seas. He dropped bombs on some of the harpies guarding the area to make an opening for him to dive in hit at the heart of their cluster, and then dropped a line of fire on the ship.

He swung away before they could grab him. His ear coverings blocked out most of the sound, and wind dragged him away before he circled back for another barrage. As he glanced down, he could see someone fighting the—

That doesn’t look like Melinoë, he thought with some surprise before he focused back on clearing the ship. It was someone larger and broader than his old friend. But they were fighting Chronos’ cronies, and that was all that mattered, and they didn’t seem to mind Icarus’ bombs. Though he tried to do his best to clear around whoever it was, just in case.

More bomb runs cleared more of the deck, and he could see whoever it was, was rather buff and fierce, launching themselves at targets en masse like they were a bomb in humanoid form. And they made an impact on the attackers. The higher-ranking harpies fell before them, with little input from Icarus, really.

But Icarus kept up his barrage, and soon, the grim deck was clear but for fading monster corpses, flickering torches, and broken cargo. As he evened out his flight to check and make sure the coast was clear from more enemies climbing on deck, something huge flew at him from the deck itself. He ducked aside, looking for who’d thrown it, wondering who he’d missed.

The buff fighter was facing him, glaring up with burning eyes.

…Did they throw that at me?? He wasn’t sure what they’d grabbed or why. If they were an agent of Chronos, they wouldn’t have fought off the crew. But whoever it was reached down to the deck, where a giant hole was, and ripped off some of the planking and raised it up, clearly prepared to toss it, as well.

Icarus’ eyes widened and he flew down with his hands up. “I mean you no harm! We’re maybe on the same side! I’m fighting Chronos’ forces!” If they were an agent of Chronos, he had a set of bombs with their name on it that he could release when he pleased. He’d be off the side of the ship and back in the air before he could be hit, if needed.

Up close, he could see the stranger was even taller, broader, and buffer, with long blonde hair under a lion’s mane, a broad, bare, muscular chest, thick thighs, and a giant, intimidating mace on his back. His golden eyes looked angry still as he glared down at Icarus.

Icarus swallowed, unsure what else to say. He was still ready to use his bombs, though, if needed. He hoped he could move faster than that mace, though it wasn’t like he could die again.

“You were launching bombs at my face,” the man said with some annoyance. His voice was harsh, but had an oddly pleasant lilt to it. “They were irritating.”

“I apologize, but I was trying to get the harpies,” Icarus explained, though the idea of someone finding his bombs irritating was bizarre. “And I thought you were someone else, who’s immune. But you also seemed fine? Unless there’s some injury I didn’t see, I apologize…” He couldn’t spot anything from a cursory glance, and realized he was practically ogling the man, so he stopped. Though with all the golden fur, Icarus wasn’t sure how he was meant not to.

The stranger snorted and dropped the planks. “I’m fine. Just fucking annoyed. Who are you?”

“I’m Icarus,” Icarus said, frowning up at the man. Something about his appearance was twigging Icarus’ memory, but nothing concrete. “And I really am sorry.”

“Daedalus’ son?” The man was clearly incredulous. “The one who fell from the sky?”

“Ah, well…” Icarus winced, only imagining in what form this man had heard the story, given the many retellings Icarus had heard over the years. “It’s more complicated than that…”

“Was it a misguided attempt to attack a different supposed ally, then?” The man's sarcasm was sharply obvious.

“No! It’s just…” Icarus sighed in frustration. “It’s a sore subject. Anyway, what’s your name?”

“Heracles,” the man said. “…You don’t know me?”

“I’ve heard of you!” Icarus said, staring at Heracles in surprise. “The great hero, son of Zeus? Yes, I’ve heard of you and your labors and…”

Heracles’ frown deepened.

Icarus smiled awkwardly, realizing there were clearly other ways to make the demigod mad. “I’ve heard of you. That’s all.”

Heracles snorted. “Blasted weaklings…”

Icarus bristled. It was true he wasn’t that powerful, and this was Heracles, but—!

“Stop dropping bombs on people,” Heracles ordered. “Might get fewer boats thrown at you.”

“Fine,” Icarus said, feeling more embarrassed. Icarus knew the man had a point: what if it had been someone who couldn’t withstand the blasts from his bombs, even if it was unlikely such a person would have survived the harpies? But that didn’t stop Icarus’ irritation: after all, it wasn’t like Icarus intentionally dropped them on anyone who wasn’t an enemy, and while Heracles could survive bombs, Icarus wasn’t strong enough to resist getting chunks of boat thrown at him. If they’d hit his wings, he’d have plummeted into the sea. “Next time I see it’s you, I’ll fly to another ship to deal with.”

“Good,” Heracles said. “Just stay out of my way. I don’t need your help.”

Icarus frowned. He understood that his actions might be a bother, but he didn’t like the man’s presumption. “I’m not doing it for you. I really thought you were someone else. And I’m just trying to help in the battle against Chronos. But I’ll leave if I’m so annoying.” He resettled his wings and shot into the air, keeping his spare inventions he usually offered to Melinoë to himself. Heracles could clearly manage on his own.

---

The next night, Icarus found Melinoë at the taverna in the Crossroads, and sat with her at a table to relax and talk. She caught him up on her progress both above and below, and he felt far more at ease than he had in a while, even with so much at stake.

“I ran into Heracles,” Icarus said as he studied his cup of nectar, offered kindly by Melinoë. “He was… gruff, to say the least.”

“He’s something of a brute at times,” Melinoë admitted as she leaned forward a bit on the table. Her eyes glittered in Hecate’s witch lights. “And he is completely intolerant of witches. Were we not kin, I imagine he’d not tolerate me at all.”

Icarus scowled at that. He admitted he was a bit wary at first when he started residing in the Crossroads, mostly because the witches here were simply intimidating, but he’d never hated them. And they’d been nothing but kind to him, Melinoë and Hecate especially, even after what happened with Melinoë's arm, which was one reason he'd finally come back to spend time here again, and no one had reproached him for it. It was almost like he'd never left, though the place did look more... active after what were apparently Melinoë's improvements, in a positive way. He would spend more time here if he didn’t feel his actions in the Rift of Thessaly were doing some good somehow. As it was, Hecate hadn’t managed to stop him yet, and Nemesis ignored him. Odysseus even used him for reports. Icarus felt useful, even to a limited degree.

He didn’t want to think what his father thought of it all.

“And he has a darkness in him that goes beyond mere demigod arrogance, I think,” Melinoë continued as she turned her cup around. “Particularly for a son of Zeus. He is haunted by what his life was made to be due to his heritage.”

“Haunted?” Icarus asked, surprised by the idea. “He doesn’t seem haunted. Just angry. And territorial.” Icarus admitted he’d probably be annoyed with someone who dropped bombs on his head, but still… Heracles had faced worse threats than that in his life, and come out just fine.

“He is those things, too,” Melinoë replied with a grim smile. “I have heard the vitriol he has to spout against his father and the other gods of Olympus.” She sighed. “And at times I can agree: being a child of gods is a terrible burden, and nearly a curse.”

Icarus had nothing to say to that. He was not the son of a god, though Daedalus was something of a god to some for his work. And being Daedalus’ son had been a burden and a curse in its own right. He couldn’t imagine being an actual child of gods, with all its responsibilities, like Melinoë having to take on the Titan of Time and save Olympus itself from an entire army of foes.

“He’s helped me at times, though,” Melinoë said. “And grown… softer, in a way. He calls me “sister” rather than “the help” now, anyway…”

“The help???” Icarus demanded, furious. “What kind of asshole is he?” Suddenly he didn’t regret dropping bombs on the demigod’s head.

Melinoë sighed sadly. “I don’t know. But I hope that he’s one who’s increasingly less of an asshole as the days progress. He’s at least somewhat happy I’m there to help, I think.” When Icarus continued to show his skepticism, Melinoë added, “We all have our darkness, Icarus. Give him a chance.”

Icarus could understand some of that, with his own story being used primarily to warn others against hubris. But he’d tried to be more respectful of gods and understand his place in the world. He had no belief he would personally take down Chronos or that he could be stronger than someone like Heracles. But he tried not to be cruel to people, either. “You’re always kinder than I would be, Melinoë.”

She smiled at him, with that lovely gaze of hers that could light up any room. “I use up my anger on my enemies, not my allies. Unless it’s Eris or Nemesis, I suppose. Then, well… All bets are off.”

Icarus grinned. “I’ve heard you’re even kind to Eris.” Something he couldn’t fathom.

Melinoë shrugged. “Once you’ve killed someone enough times to convince them to talk to you rather than solely spout insulting nonsense constantly, I suppose your temperament changes.” She smiled ruefully. “Eris has also been honest with me as of late, in unexpected ways. And ones that aren’t just meant to hurt.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Icarus thought with a soft smile. He hoped murdering each other wasn’t what it took for him and Heracles to be on better terms.

---

It was another night, and Icarus was dealing with a swarm of Seeswords, spinning and darting as they always did. He’d already gotten rid of the last of the Boozers, who still made a nuisance of themselves from their huge barrels. But the Seeswords could fly decently high to cut at Icarus and his wings. He had to use a large stock of his bombs just to get rid of them, though he was also testing out a new kind of bomb that exploded with a power that made the Seeswords dizzy and slow, and easier to pick off.

When at last the deck of the ship he’d been working on was clear, he landed to catch his breath. And nearly fell over when something leapt on the deck with a crash. He grabbed a bomb and looked up, ready to face whoever it was, though it’d be a struggle if he couldn’t get up in the air first – and was surprised to see Heracles again, looking around at the dead monsters still slowly disappearing around them.

Heracles’ golden eyes settled on Icarus, making Icarus shiver. Even without doing anything, the demigod was intimidating.

Icarus wondered if the demigod was planning to take him down now, with no enemies left around them.

“You did good, it seems,” Heracles said.

Icarus stood up properly, still wary, but surprised. He finally said, “Thanks?” He wondered if there was more biting criticism in store. It’s not like Icarus had dropped any bombs on Heracles this time, unless the man had been hiding belowdecks somewhere.

Heracles nodded and said, “There’s not many out here standing up against this filth. I suppose… it’s a good sign. To see more of us.”

Icarus thought that was almost kind. He inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Yes, I agree. Strength in numbers. If we work together, we can defeat them, no matter how intimidating they seem.”

Heracles scoffed at that.

Icarus thought over what he said and rolled his eyes. “Well, intimidating to those of us who can’t wrestle lions bare-handed.”

Heracles slowly grinned at that, in a way that might be considered endearing. “I wasn’t bare-handed. And you’re hardly defenseless with your own weapons and those strange wings.”

Icarus found himself smiling back and said, “I built these wings. They’re not weapons, though. They just help me survive. We’re not all bomb proof, after all.”

Heracles stepped closer, and Icarus did his best not to step back in fear. But Heracles only studied the wings. He didn’t even grab for them. “I heard Daedalus was the inventor.”

“He is,” Icarus said, thinking of his father, whom he hadn’t seen in a while. “I learned from him. My work is far inferior to his, but… I did improve on his designs with these, I think. They work better than my original ones, anyway.”

“You cut through the air like an eagle,” Heracles said. “It was impressive.” There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He seemed genuinely complimentary.

Icarus managed a warm smile in return as he gazed up at the taller man. “Thank you. I didn’t know you were watching me like that.” He supposed heroes like Heracles had to be aware of such things, especially when fighting a small army of harpies.

Heracles shrugged and looked ahead to another ship. “My duties are to keep an eye on everything. And I must continue them.” He looked at Icarus, and his gaze was guarded again. “You’ve talked to Melinoë about me?”

Icarus’ eyes widened. “Well, yes. We’re old friends.”

“See that she’s the only one you talk to,” Heracles ordered, his tone darker. “My mission here is dangerous.”

Icarus scoffed, annoyed that Heracles seemed to think he was the only one aware of the dangers here. “I’m not exactly a gossip monger. Melinoë and I are close. And we work together. I thought you were her when I first saw you.”

Heracles frowned at that. “I see. Well… as long as you understand.”

“She talked to you about me?” Icarus asked, surprised. That was the only way Heracles would know Icarus and Melinoë talked, after all. Icarus hadn’t seen Heracles since their first meeting.

“We run into each other every now and then,” Heracles said with annoyance. “She’s chatty. And I think it’s infecting me now. We have work to do.” He looked pointedly ahead again.

“She’s kind,” Icarus said before the demigod could race off. “And a good friend.” He wasn’t surprised that Melinoë had been the one to change Heracles’ heart. She was often the one coming in to make peace between people.

Heracles just gazed down at him with an unreadable expression, and Icarus wondered how many monsters had turned in fear from that look alone.

But Icarus had fallen from greater heights. He wasn’t afraid. And he’d do anything for Melinoë.

Heracles simply nodded. “She is… generous, certainly. Peace, Icarus.” He moved to walk past Icarus.

“Wait,” Icarus called, despite himself and the warning voice in his saying to thank the gods that Heracles was leaving without throwing more decking at him. He still wasn’t sure about Heracles’ change of heart, but Melinoë had been kind to Icarus in the past. He could only do the same for others in her honor.

Heracles paused and looked back at him. A bit of wind caught his hair, making it flutter, and in the moonlight, he looked even taller and more striking.

“I have some inventions that might help,” Icarus said. He suddenly felt nervous: this was Heracles, after all! But if Melinoë wanted him to give the man a chance, and he was calmer now, then… “They’re not all that good, but… they might give you a slight edge.”

Heracles’ eyes narrowed for a moment, and then his eyes moved to Icarus’ wings.

Icarus laughed. “No, I don’t have any spare sets of wings on hand, unfortunately.” An image of the terrifying Heracles flying about the sea popped into his mind, and it was ludicrous enough to almost make him laugh, but he contained himself. Though he couldn’t fault anyone who wanted to fly, given his own love of it. “Though if you give me time and materials… maybe. What I have is smaller.” He expected an immediate no or a dismissal.

“…Very well,” Heracles said, surprising Icarus. He stepped closer again. “Let me see your other inventions.” He glanced up at the wings again briefly and almost seemed a bit forlorn.

Icarus smiled, thinking that maybe there was more than killing monsters that they could find common ground on.

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading <3 <3 Kudos and comments are love <3 <3 If you'd like to read more of my work, you can subscribe to the story, and/or check out/subscribe to my author page!

My other Hades fics, including some Odysseus/Moros, and a fic where Icarus and Daedalus help Zagreus (written before the Hades II announcement).

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Chapter 2: Warnings

Notes:

Sorry it's been a while! I've just been in the middle of a lot lol But the Olympic update got me back in the swing of things. This is now fully drafted (has a chapter count now :D), so we should have regular updates until it's complete! Tags have been updated.

“Is it not terrifying?” Heracles asked one evening in the Rift of Thessaly as he and Icarus stood amidst the melting corpses of their enemies.

He and Heracles had been running into each other more often, and Heracles had even thanked him for the devices Icarus made. Icarus had even been tempted to try and find a way to maybe lend him some Daedalus Hammers somehow…

Though Icarus was still impressed by how dangerous Heracles was without them. Icarus was amazed the deck was still standing after Heracles had made a wreck of it and the enemies formerly swarming it. The masts creaked heavily, threatening to topple, and burning oil still made the air stink, though it had mostly dripped down to the cursed hull of the ship in the gaping holes left by Heracles’ attacks. But he looked away from the wreckage and up to Heracles, who was again looking at Icarus’ wings.

“Is what terrifying?” Icarus asked, taking a bit to get a breather. Heracles had done a great deal of the work, it was true, but Icarus had improved his dizzy bombs, and made things far easier for the hero. And he thought – though he may have imagined it – that Heracles had even smiled at him after a Seesword spun in place as a result of the bomb’s effects, allowing Heracles to focus on a dozen other enemies at his back.

“Flying,” Heracles said, looking away from the wings in an expression that almost seemed pained. “Or do you not fear it because you’re already dead?”

“I could be destroyed,” Icarus noted, wondering what pained the man, “so there is risk in it.” He tried not to consider that whenever he fought. But Chronos winning would be worse than dissolution. “So no, that’s not why I…” He frowned. “It did scare me, the first time I tried. But the feeling of flying… It’s so exhilarating, that I never gave it up when I got a chance.” He chuckled softly and said, “My father found that so frustrating. And…” Icarus’ smile wilted as he remembered the arguments they’d had, and how long it had been since Icarus had seen him.

I’m glad he’s safely in retirement, so he can’t get mad at me for taking part in a war, he thought.

“And what?” Heracles asked, his voice rather gentle.

Icarus smiled grimly. “Well… it’s why I died: my love of flight, my hope to go higher.” He grimaced. “I thought myself greater than the sun god, and my wings melted.” He sometimes had nightmares of falling. Oddly, they made him want to fly more, to ensure he wouldn’t fall anymore.

He never felt more alive than when he was in the air, high above everything. And Apollo didn’t bother him at night. Gentle Selene always looked on him kindly.

Heracles frowned as he replied, “You are not the first to experience hubris. And doubtless will not be the last.”

Icarus smiled grimly.

“I can leap far,” Heracles said, not letting the silence linger. “But I cannot fly. It is not the same.” He gazed at Icarus’ wings again. “And I most often leap to enemies. You… can go where you please. It is… extraordinary.”

Icarus grinned, appreciating the compliment. “If I could leap as far as you, I would doubtless do it often. I need help to fly. But you do not.”

Heracles didn’t reply to that for a while, and simply gazed ahead.

Icarus felt a bit awkward then. It was easy talking to Melinoë, whom he’d known for a while, but Heracles was still a new acquaintance, and full of unknowns. For all Icarus knew many stories about the man, he wasn’t sure which were true, though he wanted to ask.

“Icarus,” Heracles said, with that deep voice of his that reminded Icarus of water drops in a warm pond. It pulled you in, in a strange way.

“Yes?” Icarus asked, gazing up the man.

Heracles just looked at him for a while, clearly having something to say. Eventually he just breathed in and resettled his shoulders before saying, “I need to move on. Other enemies to kill before I rest.”

Icarus blinked in surprise and said, “Of course! Right!”

But as he watched Heracles leap away, he had the odd sense that wasn’t what the man had meant to say.

---

“Hey Wings, almost done with the newest batch of hammers?”

Icarus looked up to see Hermes leaning over the window of Icarus’ workshop, his red and orange scarf fluttering in the wind. The god was leaning precariously over, but of course didn’t fall. He had a bright grin on his face, and the wings on his crown and feet fluttered.

Icarus’ workshop was on a hidden isle, largely only reached by people who could fly. And Hermes was one of the few who knew the location. It was quiet, and he stored all his extra materials and inventions there.

“Not quite yet,” Icarus said as he set his tools down, carefully. The work was too delicate to talk during it. If he’d been his father, he could have managed it.

But he wasn’t his father.

Hermes nodded quickly and idly pet Chellen as the tortoise nestled in her satchel. “Well, Mel’s probably going to be up and at it again tonight, finding more of them, especially with Prometheus being a pain.”

“I know,” Icarus said with a sigh as he wiped his hands off. “She’s incredible that way.” Even as a shade, he still grew weary at times. But she seemed to never tire.

Goddesses are different creatures entirely, he thought with a fond smile. He kept a ready supply of hammers to restock, but it was a never-ending affair.

“And she’s not the only hero I’ve seen you palling around with lately,” Hermes said with a grin. “Keeping my half-brother company, are you?”

Icarus bowed his head, sheepishly, thinking of Heracles. “It was an accident, initially, but… yes. We have run into each other a number of times now.” It still surprised him that Heracles was growing into almost what Icarus might consider a friend. He still imagined it was entirely Melinoë’s doing: she’d definitely softened him up a bit.

Or perhaps he just really wants a chance to fly with wings, Icarus thought, recalling the way Heracles always looked at his wings. He found the man’s passion rather cute.

“And you lived to tell the tale!” Hermes said with a grin. “Quite impressive! But he does make lots of friends in his adventurers. The stories often focus on his murders and madness and mistakes, but so also about his many friends, too. And yet in his time since the war began, he’s been rather alone, trying to stand against Chronos that way.”

“No one is alone in this war,” Icarus said with a frown. “I think Heracles just wants companions who are devoted to the cause and willing to put in the work.”

“He’s lost too many friends to accept anyone else,” Hermes said.

Icarus grimaced, recalling what he’d heard of Heracles’ many travels. Heroic things, generally, but sad things, too. Many companions left behind, often in graves.

“Just be careful,” Hermes said, glancing outside the workshop. “Hera’s a bit quieter these days when it comes to Heracles, given the war and all, but she hasn’t forgotten him. And she doesn’t countenance people helping him very well. Melinoë’s fine, as she’s 3/4s goddess, but you… mm…” He eyed Icarus skeptically.

Icarus’s eyebrows rose at that. He’d never heard anything from Hera, certainly, so he hadn’t thought of it, but Hermes’ logic made a kind of depressing sense, though… “But they’re on the same side. Surely, she wants us to win?”

Hermes chuckled and said, “She believes we can win. She would still rather Heracles lose to some degree.” He sighed. “It’s worse because he was born a demigod. It makes her wrath more risky, and given he’s more likely to cavort with mortals, well…” Hermes grimaced. “It gives him vulnerabilities.”

Icarus looked back at his half-finished creations, imagining the might of the queen of the gods falling on his little workshop.

He couldn’t let that happen.

“I guess I could… leave her offerings… of some kind…” He said, dubiously. He was dead, yes, but not untouchable, and his work was important for helping Melinoë and Heracles.

“Probably a good idea,” Hermes said with a confident grin. “Helps to cover your bases. Though with Hera, you never know if that’ll work. Heracles has tried before, to dubious results.”

After Icarus watched Hermes vanish, Icarus said, quietly, “All I know of gods is that they don’t tolerate mortals well. How is she any different?” The gods hadn’t helped him or his father, and he’d borne the wrath of one already, and was spending his afterlife in the shadow of that mistake. He supported their winning back Olympus, but he knew they didn’t love him for it.

But the empty space where the Olympian had been gave no answers. And no one else possibly listening made their thoughts known.

He still gathered apples and lilies, and prayed to Hera, just to be safe. He hadn’t asked the gods for much during his work, but he supposed a little always helped.

---

He joined Melinoë on a fight involving a truly massive number of Boozers and Sticklers. There seemed to be no end to the waves of them, and a few javelins actually came close to catching his wings. When he finally landed on the otherwise quiet deck to greet Melinoë, he really needed to catch his breath.

Melinoë reached out to hug him, surprising him, and not just because she was so strong, despite her small stature. “You’re amazing, Icarus, thank you!” Then she pulled away and laughed, “Though I think that, sometimes, there are actually more enemies when you show up, as if we need more of a challenge.”

Icarus laughed awkwardly, knowing that he was becoming more of a target by their enemies, and it was unfortunately likely adding to Melinoë’s work, though he knew Heracles was taking more of an interesting in the fleet, as well. “Well… I’m sure you’d outdo them all.”

She grinned and turned to collect her boon from Hera. Whatever she whispered to the goddess, Icarus couldn’t make out.

Icarus wondered, distantly, if the goddess had heard his prayers. He hadn’t had a response. But he also supposed he didn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things, even if he was helping the goddess’ niece in the war.

Melinoë finished her conversation and went to Icarus to choose an item to help her.

“I took your advice,” Icarus said. “And made some modifications. Hopefully they’re useful.”

“You’re amazing,” Melinoë said with a laugh, her eyes glowing as she looked at his offerings. “I don’t know how I could offer any advice to the man who makes the Icarus Hammers, though.”

He shook his head, still finding the name strange, and said, “You’re a witch, after all, you know plenty about craftwork. And creativity often comes from odd places.”

“I would speak with you, son of Daedalus,” an imperious voice called to him.

Icarus and Melinoë looked up to see Hera standing there, glowing in blue and green on the deck.

Icarus bowed his head to her, surprised. “Of course, Lady Hera. Uh… to what do I owe the honor?”

When she didn’t reply, he dared to peek up at her and was surprised to see her eying him speculatively.

“So you are the brains behind those hammers? Fascinating…”

Icarus’ face burned and he bowed his head deeper. “Thank you, Lady Hera.”

“I hear you are helping Heracles in his mission, as well.”

For someone who states he goes so secretly, Icarus thought, he sure has eyes on him. Then again, he is rather loud, so I’m not sure how secretive he can be. “Yes, as I can, anyway.”

Hera looked annoyed at this. “You are not to interfere in his labors. He is meant to discover their conclusion on his own.”

Icarus kept his head down, wondering if he should just bow out and call it quits.

But he and his father hadn’t backed down when they were trapped by Minos. And Icarus hadn’t stood by while Chronos continued his war.

And he didn’t abandon someone who wanted to fly.

“Apologies, Lady Hera,” Icarus said, as gracefully as he could, “I am merely helping with the defeat of Chronos. Nothing more. I meant no disrespect to you or the tasks laid before Heracles.”

Silence filled the air, and Icarus wondered if he was going to discover just how wrathful the queen of the gods was.

Finally, Hera said, “You annoy my husband’s other spawn, which I find amusing, so I’ll let this pass. But remember my warning.” She vanished in a burst of light.

“Warning?” Melinoë said once the air cleared. She looked at Icarus. “Icarus, what happened with Heracles?” She looked ready to go fight something.

Icarus raised his hands and said, “Nothing bad… yet, anyway. Things are actually going rather well.” Then he grimaced. “Hermes warned me about what happens to many of Heracles’ companions. Some are of course legends, perhaps most, even. But some… do not end so well. Even the legends.”

“That is the life of an adventurer,” Melinoë noted, glancing around at their surrounds. “One you could have avoided, if you wanted.”

“I know,” Icarus said with a soft smile. “But I also know that sometimes it was a scheme of Hera’s.” He offered a brief prayer to the goddess, who might still be listening. “And so I thought to perhaps appease her in advance. I have enough trouble avoiding Chronos’ forces, without also avoiding Olympus.”

Melinoë’s eyes widened, but then she nodded, “Of course! That makes sense!” She frowned as she asked, “But what did she mean when she said you annoyed Zeus’ other children?”

“Perhaps Lord Apollo?” Icarus offered. “After my stunt with my first set of wings…” He couldn’t think of anyone else he’d offended. Hermes seemed to like him well enough, at least to the point of delivering some of the hammers, as part of Icarus’ general delivery network. And he’d run into Artemis a few times, and she didn’t seem to be bothered by him, either.

“Ahh,” Melinoë said. “Yes, that would do it. Apollo never really mentions any specific strife when we talk. Though my aunt… does get rather heavy-handed in her fury.”

“It seems a feature of most gods,” Icarus said with a soft smile. “Present company excluded, unless at your enemies.”

Melinoë nodded sadly. Then she raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve turned about a bit on Heracles, though. Before, you seemed ready to fight him on my behalf!”

“Well…” Icarus said, feeling embarrassed. “We’ve talked a little more. And he’s not so bad, I suppose.” It was fascinating watching someone so large move so quickly. And he was clearly strategic, with the way he cut across fields of enemies, knocking over the right obstacles, pushing them into each other… It was a marvel to watch him work.

And Icarus really did want to know more about his past. The story behind the legend.

Melinoë grinned. “We’re stronger together, all of us.”

Icarus nodded, smiling back at her. He agreed.

---

Some nights later, Icarus flew away from Melinoë to see Heracles smashing his way through an army of Droplets. The deck of the ship was awash in the water demons’ remains and smashed bone.

Icarus wasn’t sure it would be good to get close, especially because Heracles had things handled, but flew overhead, waiting for him to finish.

I can see if he’ll like my idea… He had some thoughts about what Heracles had said about flying. And he had new inventions for the hero to try.

When Heracles was finally alone on the deck and lowered his spiked club, Icarus swooped down to land nearby. He smiled as he stood up and said, “That was impressive, as always!”

Heracles glared at him. And for some reason, it seemed a bit angrier than his usual glares.

“Something wrong?” Icarus asked, wondering if Heracles was still processing after the fight. He didn’t even seem winded, though.

“You spoke to Hera,” Heracles said. His golden eyes glittered in the way he looked at enemies.

Notes:

Chapter 3 will be up on October 27th!

Thank you so much for reading <3 <3 Kudos and comments are love <3 <3 If you'd like to read more of my work, you can subscribe to the story, and/or check out/subscribe to my author page!

Rebloggable on tumblr * Retweetable on twitter * on Blue Sky Social

 

My other Hades fics, including some Odysseus/Moros, and a fic where Icarus and Daedalus help Zagreus (written before the Hades II announcement).

Chapter 3: Pragmatism

Icarus couldn’t help but be somewhat afraid as he looked up at Heracles: he knew that Heracles and Hera had long enmity against each other. And he wasn’t quite sure how to explain things in a way that would stop Heracles’ fury, but he tried to do his best, while being aware of where he could go to jump off the ship quickly and get back into the air, “Yes, I prayed to her, to try and avoid her displeasure.”

Heracles scoffed. “And what did you do to earn her displeasure?” His golden eyes glowed a bit under his hood.

Icarus grimaced as he replied, “I was informed that even interacting with you can bring her ire. And—”

Heracles breathed in deeply, making Icarus stop talking. The movement made the man’s muscular chest practically ripple, and he almost looked half-lion himself with his cloak.

He’s really angry, Icarus thought. So he pushed on, “And I wish to keep you interacting with you! So I wanted to try to make sure she wasn’t angry with me!”

“Why?” Heracles demanded, taking a step closer.

Icarus automatically took a step back.

“You thought you could earn favor by spying on me for her?” Heracles demanded, his voice dangerous.

Icarus scoffed at that, even as he shook a bit. “Spying for her? For what? That you’re strong? Anyone with eyes could see that! Or ears, to hear the way you smash things apart!” It really was ridiculous: Heracles walked around covered in huge, intimidating weapons, wearing the skin of a fallen enemy most would quail before. What did he think Icarus could possibly get intel on?

Heracles narrowed his eyes, still not believing him. “Having the favor of the queen of the gods could get you a lot of sway in a lot of places. Perhaps you still hold a grudge for our first meeting here. Most of my enemies keep their grudges hidden.”

Icarus could understand Heracles paranoia, but he was also frustrated the man refused to believe him after Icarus had genuinely tried to be his friend. After all, it wasn’t like he shared his creations with just anyone.

He imagined things would be harder than he thought, and tried to make himself answer evenly without just getting mad. “While that’s true, that’s not what I was doing, at least not in the way you’re thinking. I was being practical.”

“How, exactly?” Heracles asked, still clearly cautious.

Icarus sighed and said, “I’m a shade, Heracles. You’re a demigod, one of the most powerful demigods there ever was. They write so many stories about you, every day. Good ones and bad, yes, but… I know at least some of them are true. And I’ve seen how powerful a fighter you are.” He remembered his father recounting some of the tales of Heracles to him as a child. Heroes standing up against gods… It seemed so wonderful when he was younger.

Not so much in practice, standing on the wreckage of a ship that was part of a fleet for Chronos.

“And?” Heracles asked, clearly impatient.

“You can withstand whatever Hera can throw at you,” Icarus said, making Heracles’ eyes widen a little. “But they only tell one tale about me… a tale of failure.”

“Shouldn’t they be Icarus Hammers, then?”

He wished he had Melinoë’s simple confidence. “And I was only ever human. And now I’m just… a shade. I can’t withstand the wrath of a goddess. Certainly not while I’m already helping to try to fight a titan.” He looked up at Heracles, who was still watching him, carefully.

The demigod’s expression was largely unreadable.

Icarus sighed and said, “If you’re mad about that, then I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… don’t like to cling behind other people, either. It’s my problem, so I tried to take care of it.” He’d spent so much of his life hiding behind his father, going along with whatever the man suggested. And the one time he’d gone off on his own, he died.

It was hard not to fall back on old habits as a result. He could have stayed hidden in the Crossroads, after all. But he knew going back to the shadows wasn’t the answer. He could make a difference, and he was helping the effort against Chronos.

His father wasn’t around for him to hide behind, either. But Icarus certainly wasn’t planning to hide behind Heracles, especially given that hadn’t worked out all that well for plenty of the man’s companions in the past.

Heracles sighed and said, “You did, didn’t you?” There was something like humor in his voice.

Icarus frowned and asked, “What’s so funny?” Was Heracles mocking him? It had taken a lot of effort to reach out to Hera, and to stand before her!

“You’re always like that,” Heracles said, now genuinely sporting a soft smile that only accentuated his handsome features. “Crafting something for every scenario you come across. Your little gadgets really come in handy and can make or break some situations.”

Despite the surprising turn of conversation, Icarus felt rather pleased by that, though he didn’t much like little.

“It doesn’t surprise me that you wanted to get out from under another dangerous situation you found yourself in,” Heracles said, his voice getting cooler. “Hera is dangerous. And she’s recruited many allies to try to get back at me over the years. And yes, my companions have suffered; often, but not always, my mortal ones in particular.” There was a distance in his gaze, as if he was thinking back over the years of all his adventures. All the people he’d met and doubtless loved and lost.

Icarus felt his heart hurt a bit over that. He saw it in Melinoë at times: that agelessness of immortals, who had to weather so many trials over the long years. And he could see himself in years hence, perhaps experiencing it, too. He was grateful at least he didn’t have any mortal companions to watch wither away. But it also made him say, “If you wish to tell me about them, I would be happy to listen.”

Heracles looked at him properly again, and despite Icarus wondering if he’d overstepped, after a moment, nodded. “Yes. Perhaps. You’re a good listener.”

Icarus smiled. He had some hope for their relationship, at least. He imagined he could have warned Heracles in advance to forestall some of this, too, but it was an odd thing to tell him about. And who knew when the gods might strike in the meanwhile? Icarus had to act when he had the chance.

“It does you credit that you wish to fight your own battles,” Heracles noted. “Particularly against Hera. And given you are a shade.”

Icarus wasn’t sure how to reply to that. It seemed kind, but also a bit embarrassing. He was weak, in some ways, but the way Heracles said it made him sound a lot weaker than he was.

“Have I twigged your pride again, Icarus?” Heracles said with a soft smile. “When you gazed up at me earlier, rebuking me, you had quite the look in your eyes, and you have it now, a bit.”

Icarus reached up to touch his face in surprise. “What? I mean… Well, I’m good at what I do, is all!” Maybe it was a bad idea to rename the hammers, for marketing purposes, really, but that didn’t change the fact he made them! And the other inventions he gave to Melinoë and Heracles. And they worked well!

“You are,” Heracles said, his expression still soft. “Handsome and dangerous, a combination I favor.”

Icarus was ready to preen, but then blinked in surprise as he processed the words and asked, “What?”

“Which part did you not hear?” Heracles relaxed his stance a little, and still looked tall and powerful and cocky, because of course he did…

“The part where—you think I’m handsome?!” Icarus asked, his cheeks warming. A man couldn’t just… say such things!

Heracles nodded, as if it was all perfectly normal. “Of course. Are you not aware of that?”

Icarus struggled to not leave his mouth agape. He still stumbled through, “I… No one’s… ever been so bold, is all!”

Heracles scoffed in annoyance at that. “Their loss. Were it not for your clearly being distracted by strategy and tinkering, and this damn war, I’d have fucked you senseless a dozen times by now.” He sighed, clearly a bit forlorn. “But I imagine you’re too busy for that.”

“Too—?!” Icarus breathed in deeply, lost in what Heracles had said. Fucked me what?! “You wanted to…? With me?!”

Heracles raised an eyebrow at him. “Is the idea so repulsive? I wondered if you were focused on Melinoë…”

“No! Of course not!” Icarus shook his head, feeling his face heat and knowing that Heracles, with his excellent vision, could see it, and was probably thinking… who knew what! “She’s my friend! That’s all!” He deeply respected Melinoë and thought she was lovely and a pleasure to be around, but that was all.

Heracles was still watching him with that damned cocky expression.

Icarus rubbed his neck in embarrassment. “I… I was just surprised. That’s all. And…” He wasn’t sure what to think. He hadn’t exactly thought of Heracles that way. Sure, Icarus thought the man was attractive and they were friendlier with each other, and Icarus was happy that Heracles wasn’t angry at him, and was warmed by his compliments, but…

Heracles abruptly looked up at the sky, his gaze sharpening on something in the distance. “Enemies gather elsewhere. We’ll have to talk later.”

Icarus was grateful he didn’t say, “Thank the gods,” aloud, because he truly did feel grateful for the distraction.

“Were it not for your clearly being distracted by strategy and tinkering…”

“Then let’s go,” Icarus said, grateful he managed to say it without his voice breaking. He launched himself into the air, hoping the wind would get the terrible and very distracting ideas out of his head.

He realized he’d forgotten about what he’d wanted to talk to Heracles in the first place, but imagined they’d get to it later. When he could manage a straight face, anyway.

---

They didn’t end up talking about Icarus’ projects: Heracles went off to face enemies gathering on another group of ships on his own, and Icarus went back to his workshop to restock. Their paths didn’t end up crossing for a number of days, then.

And Icarus couldn’t stop thinking about Heracles’ words, making him more frustrated with himself.

He gazed out the windows of his workshop at the sea, listening to the surf crash on rocks. The distant cries of birds. And he thought too much on all the wrong things.

Growing up, he’d been somewhat isolated, hanging around his father’s workshop, working as an apprentice. There were other children in Crete, but none he could see after he and Daedalus were imprisoned. Even the servants who delivered food barely spoke to them, under orders from King Minos. Icarus had grown even more dependent on his father, and focused whatever other time he had on study, to aid in their escape.

Dying hadn’t exactly changed his prospects. He’d befriended other shades, slowly, and eventually Melinoë, and learned what it was like to have friends again, which was a good experience. But he didn’t think there was more than that for him. Many shades who found love in the ever after had lovers in life, and were reunited with them. Still others went to parties with the gods or similar things, a life Icarus had no experience or time for. And during the war, he really hadn’t thought of such things. His only goal had been to try to help end the conflict. To get those better days they all wanted.

His better days had been to help the people he cared about. To protect his father from what Chronos might do to him were Chronos to turn his mind to the master craftsman. And to secure Icarus’ own… afterlife, such as it were. Things didn’t bode well with Hades himself in chains.

He’d been happy to reunite with Melinoë, truly, and being welcomed back to the Crossroads was a joy, too. He missed his friends. Even Hecate didn’t seem to glare at him as much as she used to.

He hadn’t thought about more than that.

“I’d have fucked you senseless a dozen times by now.”

Icarus squeezed his hands, glad Hermes wasn’t snooping around to see his nervousness. He just couldn’t imagine how he, a mere shade, had managed to attract the attention of…

“Shouldn’t they be Icarus Hammers, then?”

“Have I twigged your pride again, Icarus?”  

Icarus turned away from the window and walked back to his workbench, which was clean and orderly, how he always tried to keep it, before it descended into chaos while he worked. He could see his father’s notes, mostly hidden by his own, at this point. So many ideas he hadn’t gotten to, or ones he was tweaking in the hopes of improvement.

It was his workshop. Where he made all the “Daedalus” hammers that helped Melinoë progress beyond the Crossroads. Only a master craftsman could help a god like that. Hermes himself had even complimented Icarus’ delivery plans, what little the god knew of them. And Icarus’ own battles in the Rift of Thessaly brought down many, many enemies.

“He’s a hero,” Icarus said, quietly, gazing at those notes and recalling all the stories he’d heard of the great Heracles. Notes didn’t feel like much in comparison to that, but that didn’t change the reality.

“Maybe I am a hero, too,” he finally said, quietly, testing the word. “And even if I’m not… So what?”

“It does you credit that you wish to fight your own battles.”

Icarus knew he had the approval of Heracles of all people. Someone they told tales of. And the man wanted him. Regardless of Icarus’ own insecurities, that said something. Anyone else would be throwing themselves at Heracles by now.

But Icarus had duties to take care of. Things he’d committed to.

He looked at his wings in their cradle, waiting for when he needed them. He’d worked hard over the years to maintain them. Improve them. So that he’d never fall again. So that he could go wherever he wished. Fight, if need be. Help those who needed help.

“Maybe someday,” he thought, thinking of those far-off better days. Of standing beside Heracles, and… maybe seeing if anything could come of it.

But he didn’t know if he’d make it to that. If Heracles would. Melinoë talked so confidently about defeating Chronos, but would they all make it across the finish line?

Icarus had thought he’d make it past one finish line in the past, and they all knew how that turned out.

And he imagined Heracles wasn’t thinking precisely of something long-term. He clearly appreciated Icarus’ physicality and his mind, but the man had many partners. The stories said so. Perhaps he only wanted to take comfort where he could, and nothing more.

Maybe he’s with someone else right now, Icarus thought, feeling a blush on his face. His mind immediately imagined some faceless person tucked away in a corner of Ephyra, resting on the ground as Heracles tossed aside his lion’s head and set aside his weapons. And—

Icarus put his hand over his face. But his mind was too busy. Because he could see gazing up at Heracles, in his mind’s eye. Hear that voice almost like a cat’s purr. The promise in his words.

Icarus hadn’t died before learning about pleasing himself, and he’d found moments to hide in his rooms where his father couldn’t hear, and wondered about life beyond their prison, in the rare moments he wasn’t exhausted from study. He’d thought of different faceless people and places to find his own climax. People who’d love him in turn. Even if he’d never known them.

And then he’d never had a chance to, at least in life. And shied away from it in death, due to inexperience. Shame over what everyone knew him for. A focus on his studies, to improve somehow.

Yet now… he could have a taste of it, for once. Something to think about, for those better days, if they ever came.

So he sat on his bench and did what he always did: strategize.

Notes:

Chapter 4 will be up on November 3rd!

Thank you so much for reading <3 <3 Kudos and comments are love <3 <3 If you'd like to read more of my work, you can subscribe to the story, and/or check out/subscribe to my author page!

Rebloggable on tumblr * Retweetable on twitter * on Blue Sky Social

My other Hades fics, including some Odysseus/Moros, and a fic where Icarus and Daedalus help Zagreus (written before the Hades II announcement).

Chapter 4: Meetings

Notes:

Pulling myself away from "Dragon Age: Veilguard" to do some edits before I run out the door. Enjoy :3

Icarus’ planning had led him to realize that courtship was a harder prospect than he was trained for. His father hadn’t exactly taught him how to do it, and Icarus hadn’t had any friends to ask for guidance. He’d considered asking Hermes, but Hermes was a bit of a gossip, and Icarus didn’t want word to spread, at least before he’d figured out what this thing between Heracles and Icarus was if it was anything.

He still wasn’t sure how Heracles had known Icarus had talked to Hera.

It was actually talking to Melinoë more about that, which finally got him somewhere.

“I didn’t tell Heracles about your conversation with Hera,” Melinoë said as she sat with Icarus in her rooms in the Crossroads while Dora was thankfully absent. She’d wanted to show Icarus the new baubles she and Dora had found for the place, and Icarus was admiring them.

The question had come up as Melinoë was detailing her journey through Olympus, through the many rooms of the gods. Icarus had crossed paths twice with Heracles since Heracles had mentioned his… interest, and the opportunity to ask hadn’t precisely come up, at least not as neatly as when Melinoë had been mentioning the statues she’d seen dedicated to different gods in their palaces.

“I wonder how he knew, then,” Icarus said as he gazed at the different and unique candles Melinoë had picked out. “He couldn’t have been spying on us. We’d have known.”

His thoughts went again to Hermes, whom Icarus had spoken to about praying.

“It is worrisome,” Melinoë said, sounding very serious now. “If there’s a spy among us… who knows what else they see, and share. Perhaps they seek to sow discord among us.” She snorted, then. “Though I cannot see Eris holding a very long conversation with Heracles. They’d likely fight each other on sight.”

Icarus grinned at the idea and said, “Yes. I imagine so.” He was also glad Eris was absent from the Crossroads, and so could not hear him. Whenever he saw her in the skies, he always made sure to carefully avoid her, in case she wanted target practice for the Adamant Rail.

He didn’t need her to hear him speaking ill of her now.

“What did Heracles have to say about it?” Melinoë asked as she leaned forward on her bed to pet Frinos, her frog, who’d wandered over to sit nearby. “If you’re okay telling me.”

Icarus sighed, recalling the meeting he’d run over and over in his mind over many nights, and finally said, “Well, he was angry… He thought I was spying for her or something. I had to explain.” It really was frustrating.

“Spying for Hera?” Melinoë asked in surprise. “Nonsense.” She grinned at him. “Though I suppose I understand. He is not the most trusting of those involved with the Olympians.”

“And yet he knows how I died,” Icarus said, with some sarcasm. “As if he somehow thinks I have reason to try to spy for them outside working to protect our world from Chronos.” He looked down when he felt something rub his leg, and spotted Toula, Melinoë’s cat, wandering in. She hopped up on the bed and gazed at him pointedly. Icarus obliged her by reaching down to scratch her ears.

Toula rewarded him with purring.

“I am wary of them just as he is,” Icarus continued, “even if they haven’t actively targeted me for anything.”

“So you’re wary of me?” Melinoë asked with a devious smile.

Icarus grinned as he said, “Of course, Melinoë. I’m wary of you most of all, because you’re my friend, and your favor is the one I value most.”

Melinoë’s expression grew soft and fond. “You’re ridiculous.” There was humor in her voice.

Icarus laughed and kept petting Toula.

“It’s good you survived his anger,” Melinoë noted. “He’s quite intimidating when he’s angry.”

Icarus remembered how Heracles had reacted when Icarus had stood his ground, and his face heated.

“What’s wrong?” Melinoë asked, when Icarus didn’t say anything.

“I…” Icarus cleared his throat. “Well, he said something… a bit odd.” He wasn’t sure how to explain it. Was it oversharing? He could trust Melinoë, after all. But with this?

“What?” Melinoë asked again, sounding impatient.

“Well, he… he sounded like he wanted to proposition me.” Even his undead face burned to say the words aloud.

Melinoë blinked at him in surprise.

Icarus laughed awkwardly at her silence, “Strange, right? I never… I mean…” He swallowed. “I didn’t think we were to that point in a relationship. We’re friendly, of course, and I like seeing him, I just…” He just what? Certainly hadn’t been thinking of it all? Didn’t expect it?

“Are you uncomfortable with the idea?” Melinoë asked, sounding worried. “I’ll tell him off if you want me to.”

“No, no!” Icarus said as he put a hand up to stop her. “It’s… It’s just surprising…” He could imagine his friend standing up to Heracles on his behalf, and he was touched by it. He just… didn’t want that.

Melinoë raised an eyebrow at him. “I was somewhat similarly ambushed by Moros and Nemesis recently.” Her expression grew fond again. “The ongoing war makes people cling to comfort where they can in uncertain times.”

Cling to comfort, Icarus thought. Does Heracles view me as “comforting”, then? The idea was strange. Certainly, Icarus found comfort in his own companions. But… Heracles seemed so much above it all. Did he need someone like Icarus for that?

He made it sound like he did, Icarus thought.

“If it’s what you want, too, Icarus,” Melinoë said, recalling his attention, “Perhaps… you should consider it. But only if you want it. He may be powerful, but don’t feel pressured.”

Icarus smiled softly as he said, “Thank you. Though I wonder you don’t think me daft for not jumping on it immediately.”

Melinoë scoffed as she said, “You’re not daft for thinking things through. I’d be just as surprised. I was plenty surprised when I ran into Moros and Nemesis arguing over me…” She grinned. “We are blessed with people who care for us, Icarus. But how we approach that care is our decision.”

“Mrowr!”

Icarus looked down at Toula, who was annoyed at his lack of attention.

“Unless you’re Toula,” Melinoë said with a giggle. “Then care is hers to dictate.”

Icarus agreed as he went back to petting the cat.

---

Icarus wasn’t sure how to bring up his thoughts on matters with Heracles on his own. He’d never been given the chance to proposition an immortal before. He’d never even really imagined it.

He decided he wanted to explore it, because why not? As Melinoë said, the war made people cling in uncertain times, and Icarus wasn’t averse to learning what clinging was like, especially since, while Icarus was hopeful they’d win, especially with Melinoë to lead them, he never knew for certain.

Once, he’d thought he could escape imprisonment, too. He just hoped that this didn’t end up as badly as that had.

He was dealing with a ship full of Sticklers when Heracles showed up, smashing up half of them all at once, and knocking a bunch of others on their backs.

Icarus smiled, glad for the help. But as a swarm of Anchors climbed on deck and headed Heracles’ way, Icarus turned to the remaining Sticklers.

There was a screech as a Harpy Talon divebombed him, and he ducked away just in time.

A burning sensation hit his ankle, and he looked down to see the Sticklers still up were all aiming spears at him.

A deafening roar came from the deck and Heracles swept through even more enemies at once, startling Icarus as he flew up higher to dodge the enemies. He watched in shock as Heracles worked even faster than usual to plow through the mob.

I’m not sure where to even drop bombs, Icarus thought, looking for a safe spot as Heracles made quick work of things.

He looked down at a screech and saw the Harpy Talon from before trying to gain altitude to target him.

He pulled out a bomb.

There was a loud thunk as a chunk of mast knocked the Harpy Talon out of the air and to Icarus’ right, where it fell into the sea with a giant splash.

Icarus’ eyes widened as he looked down and saw Heracles standing alone, breathing hard. Around him were dead and dissolving enemies. He was gazing up at Icarus, a worried look on his face.

Icarus flew down, wincing at the slight pain in his ankle. He smiled at Heracles, though. “Thank you for the help!”

“You’re injured,” Heracles said as he gazed at Icarus’ left ankle.

Icarus looked down. His ankle had dematerialized a little, but that was all. He smiled. “It’s all right. Nothing a little nectar or something won’t fix. Melinoë gave me some.”

“I have ambrosia at my camp,” Heracles said, still sounding worried. “I can give you some.”

Icarus’ eyes widened. “You…? But you shouldn’t waste it on me!” Ambrosia was a precious treasure!

Heracles frown deepened as he replied, “It’s not a waste. Come.”

Icarus felt his face heat a bit, but followed as ordered.

---

Heracles camp was on the outskirts of Ephyra, hidden in a grove of trees by a cliff. There was a firepit that Heracles started up after ordering Icarus to sit on the large gathering of pillows and blankets under a cloth canopy.

Icarus removed his wing harness and set them in a backup cradle he carried with him. He settled down on the pillows, finding them quite comfortable. The air even smelled faintly of incense.

It was nice. And quiet. Icarus admitted to himself he was a bit surprised Heracles’ camp wasn’t covered more in trophies. But he supposed even Heracles might just want rest sometimes, rather than a reminder of dead enemies, which he got plenty of when he was awake, running around in his lion skin.

Heracles went to another corner, which had some pots and crates. He returned with a large golden bottle, and eyed the wings in their cradle before kneeling by Icarus’ side.

“Here,” Heracles said brusquely. “Drink up.”

Icarus took the bottle and sipped a little. His shivered as the liquid raced through him, and the hurt was gone near-instantly. A warm, pleasant feeling went through him and he lowered the bottle. Shades could get drunk, but he didn’t want to, especially if they went back out. But ambrosia was powerful stuff.

“Thank you,” he said with a smile.

“Mmm,” Heracles said as he continued kneeling, watching Icarus’ complexion. “You’re feeling better?”

Icarus’ smile widened as he said, “Yes. Really.” He looked down at his ankle, which looked normal again. “That was what I needed.”

Heracles breathed in deeply before getting up to set the rest of his weapons down and then sitting nearby and gazing into the fire.

Icarus wasn’t sure what else to say, so he said, “I was careless earlier. I should have looked out more.”

“The harpies are creative,” Heracles noted. “They knew I was busy.”

Icarus smiled and placed the ambrosia bottle aside. “Yes. I’ll have to have work on dodging more. Enemies usually can’t hit me that high.”

Heracles looked at him, and something about the firelight made Icarus a little wary. Heracles looked even more intimidating this way.

“Do you not know who buried your body?” Heracles asked.

Icarus’ eyes widened. “Pardon?” The question was so random.

Heracles just looked at him.

Icarus frowned as he replied, “That’s an odd question… But no, I don’t. I fell into the sea and ended up in the underworld. I don’t remember aught else. Eventually, my father found me, and I studied under him again.”

Heracles looked back to the fire, his expression distant. After a while, he said, “I was traveling when I came across a corpse washed up on an island. I recognized you, from a visit to Minos’ court some years earlier. I tried to do my best by you.”

Icarus felt his dead heart race. “You… buried me?”

Heracles nodded. “I thought you knew. Some shades do.”

“No,” Icarus said, quietly. “I didn’t.” He couldn’t recall seeing Heracles back in Minos’ court. He was often kept back during meals, though he had been at his father’s side for a number of them. Minos had a number of fine guests over the years, and they all blended together.

And young Icarus had mostly just wanted to go running with his friends, back when he’d been able to.

Heracles didn’t say anything to that.

“Thank you,” Icarus said, as warmly as he could. “I appreciate it.” He owed Heracles a great deal.

Heracles inclined his head.

“Is that… why you were so worried?” Icarus asked. “Because you thought I’d die again?”

Heracles snorted and looked back at him. “I was worried because you’re a shade, and I care for you. That’s all.”

Icarus smiled as he looked away, unsure how to handle such feelings. It warmed him, of course, but it was just… so much.

“I wanted to tell you,” Heracles said, quietly. “But… it’s an awkward thing to bring up.”

“I can see that,” Icarus said as he gazed into the fire. “It looks like we both struggled with things to tell each other.”

“Oh?” Heracles asked, looking at him again. “What is it you wish to speak of?”

Icarus looked at the grass nervously. “I… have been thinking about what you said. About… us.”

“Us?”

“You… fucking me senseless, as you said.” Icarus’ face hurt from his embarrassment. He was worried Heracles wouldn’t take him seriously.

“Ah, yes.”

“…Is that something you’re still interested in?” Icarus asked, using the last of his nerve. He peeked over at Heracles.

Heracles was looking at him now, and then stood up before moving closer.

Icarus swallowed, gazing up at the man. He was just so… so much.

Heracles crouched near him, still towering too high. There was a dark look in his eyes. “And if I am?” He reached forward and somehow gently took hold of Icarus’ chin.

His hands are so large… Icarus thought as he swallowed again nervously. He realized he was trembling.

“Is that something you’re interested in, little bird?”

Icarus breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself. “I… Yes… Yes.” He supposed that was as intelligent as he was going to get at this point.

Heracles smiled, and Icarus was glad the man was holding him up, because Heracles’ smile was even more overwhelming up close, and the Icarus imagined he’d fall back on the ground at any second. Then Heracles moved forward, pressing their lips together.

“Mmm,” Icarus said as he shut his eyes. His left hand rose to rest on Heracles’ right arm. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do, or where to move his body or how, so he was glad Heracles seemed to have a handle on the situation. He felt extremely unpracticed and ungainly in all this, and it was unnerving.

When Heracles broke the kiss, Icarus was surprised and wondered if he’d done something wrong. “Sorry,” he quickly said, “I’m inexperienced at this kind of thing…” He thought of the various pieces of literature he’d looked up, and wondered if he really should have just asked Hermes for help.

“No apology is necessary,” Heracles said as he moved forward to grab the ambrosia bottle and move it farther away. “I just don’t want to crush you into glass.”

Icarus swallowed as Heracles pulled off the lion’s mane, revealing even more long, blonde hair. In the firelight, with the stars behind him, Heracles seemed like some great statue. He removed the sash around himself, baring his rather prodigious cock to the night air, and very thick, powerful thighs.

Icarus stared in shock as Heracles gazed down at him.

“Having second thoughts?” Heracles asked with something like smugness.

“I… um… I really am inexperienced,” Icarus said before swallowing nervously.

“I’ve plenty of practice to make up for it,” Heracles said as he knelt and carefully began undoing Icarus’ belt.

Icarus had to help him with it, and when he was fully bared before the other man, he felt even smaller. He was strong and sturdy, but also just a shade. Surely he had little interest for someone like Heracles, outside the rush of battle…

Heracles gazed down at him, assessing, before looking into Icarus’ eyes and saying, “Do you know how much I regret not taking you before?”

Icarus bit his lip.

Notes:

Allegedly in some versions of the Icarus myth, Heracles ran across Icarus' corpse when it washed ashore, recognized him, and buried him on what is today known as Ikaria. Or he fell near there and Heracles buried him somewhere else. Anyway, some versions of the story apparently say (though sourcing this has been difficult) that Heracles found his corpse and buried him, which I found to be interesting for fic purposes.

I know the ancient Greeks valued small cocks and viewed big cocks as madness/other bad things, but while I debated whether or not to follow up on certain statues of Heracles with a small cock or just go with what I like writing, I eventually said, "Eh, what I like wins. After all, that's why the fic exists." The size in this fic says nothing about his potential madness. It's just writer's preference. You are free to imagine he looks like, say, the Ercole Farnese, if you wish.

Chapter 5 will be up on November 10th!

Thank you so much for reading <3 <3 Kudos and comments are love <3 <3 If you'd like to read more of my work, you can subscribe to the story, and/or check out/subscribe to my author page!

Rebloggable on tumblr * Retweetable on twitter * on Blue Sky Social

My other Hades fics, including some Odysseus/Moros, and a fic where Icarus and Daedalus help Zagreus (written before the Hades II announcement).

Chapter 5: Symphonies

Notes:

Title is a reference to "Pray" by The Amazing Devil. (I've been rereading my Witcher fanfics, it's on the brain lol)

Heracles had Icarus on his back while peppering more kisses over Icarus’ skin. The bigger man was simultaneously demonstrating the dexterity of his fingers by teasing Icarus’ nipples mercilessly.

Icarus squirmed beneath him, grateful for the cushion of the thick rugs Heracles had gathered. Icarus’ feet squirmed under the teasing, and he felt his breath speed up. He wasn’t used to feeling so much, and was surprised his shade body could feel so much at all.

Heracles eventually pulled back and reached out under a pillow to pull out a corked, blank jug. He uncorked it and poured oil on his hands, wetting them.

Icarus gazed up at him, breathing fast. He knew what lube was for – he worked with machinery – but the idea of Heracles using it on him was…

Heracles lowered his head to kiss Icarus’ right nipple, and started to suck on it, making Icarus arch at the sparks of pleasure.

Shouldn’t I be doing something? He thought as Heracles turned him into a wreck. But the best he could do was hold onto the pillows nearby. He gazed down breathlessly at Heracles’ golden hair: he could feel it dragging over his skin. Heracles’ beard was rather soft, too, and almost ticklish, especially against Icarus’ increasingly sensitive chest.

Heracles’ right hand moved down Icarus’ body, ignoring his cock and instead pressing underneath him.

Icarus shivered at the cold oil on Heracles’ fingers, but the man was a furnace, so the cold sensation was gone in moments. When Heracles touched Icarus’ rim, gently kneading it, Icarus’ yelped softly in surprise.

Heracles finished with Icarus’ nipple and moved to the other one, making Icarus sob slightly. It was so much. His bare nipple felt twitchy in the cooler air.

Icarus was already so overwhelmed he almost missed Heracles pushing a finger carefully inside him. Icarus breathed in deeply: the man had thick fingers.

Heracles slowly thrust the digit in and out, making Icarus bounce a little with the movement, given the man’s arm strength.

“Hhh…” Icarus tried to say the man’s name, but couldn’t form it through his brain already short-circuiting. He was relatively certain Heracles was planning to put his massive cock inside Icarus, and Icarus truly wasn’t sure it would fit, despite Heracles’ confidence. But he supposed the man had triumphed over more difficult scenarios.

Icarus finally rested his right hand in Heracles’ hair, unable to resist. When Heracles made no moves to shake him off, Icarus lightly squeezed, trying to find some sort of balance.

Heracles finally released Icarus’ second nipple and moved down his chest, kissing and sucking a trail down Icarus’ skin.

The night air on Icarus’ wet chest made him shudder. And when Heracles wrapped his lips around Icarus’ cock, Icarus cried out, largely only kept still because even Heracles’ mouth was powerful.

Icarus imagined he’d break his hips bucking too hard.

Heracles sucked on the head, while keeping up the thrusts with his finger.

Icarus’ toes curled and uncurled, and he turned his head into a pillow to gasp. His cock was so hard already. He wanted Heracles inside him. Even if he might not survive it, he wanted to try.

Heracles easily swallowed Icarus’ cock to the root, licking along the base. He withdrew his finger inside Icarus and replaced it with two, slowly thrusting in and out.

Icarus arched his neck back, digging his head into the pillows beneath him. His right foot dug into the rug. In all the nights he’d had alone, he’d never imagined something like this. It was so much more overwhelming and hot. And Heracles’ fingers were just… they were so much, especially since Icarus hadn’t played with his ass all that much before.

He didn’t feel inadequate or too small before Heracles: he felt… desired. And he just wanted Heracles to keep touching him.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Heracles murmured in that lovely purr of his, making Icarus look up. Heracles was smiling fondly down at him. “All red and wanting for me.”

Icarus smiled at the praise, feeling his face heat.

Heracles removed his fingers, leaving Icarus feeling too open, and grabbed the jug again and poured it on his cock. He set the jug down a ways away and then pushed Icarus’ legs a little wider. Then he carefully pressed his cock inside Icarus’ ass.

Icarus grunted at the intrusion.

Heracles gripped Icarus’ left thigh and right hip, and began gently thrusting in and out, pushing his cock deeper and deeper inside. His long blonde hair fell in a curtain around him, occasionally tickling Icarus’ chest again.

“Is there something you want me to do?” Icarus finally asked, breathlessly, as he felt Heracles pushing deeper inside him. He could barely think between the rushes of pleasure. “You’re doing so much… I don’t…” He wanted Heracles to be happy, as well.

“Just open up for me, little bird,” Heracles said as he continued thrusting. “Let me in.” His golden eyes were intense as he focused, and the thick muscles of his arms twitched with his movements.

Icarus tried to exercise muscles he’d honestly never thought about, but Heracles seemed fine working his way deeper on his own.

“Why are you calling me that?” Icarus asked. “Little bird?” He understood with the wings, but…

“Because it makes your eyes light up in a pretty way,” Heracles said with a grin full of white teeth. “Makes me want to fuck you harder.”

Icarus shivered at the want, and hoped Heracles did.

Heracles increased his pace a bit, making Icarus rock on the blankets. It didn’t hurt: Heracles’ fingers had opened the way well, and Heracles had entered slowly enough. But it was still so much, almost like Icarus’ body wasn’t his own anymore, but rather an extension of Heracles’.

“Feeling all right?” Heracles asked as he gently squeezed Icarus’ hip.

Icarus nodded quickly, not wanting the man to feel he was checking out or unhappy. “Feels… good…” He wished he had better words for it, but poetry had never been one of his talents.

“I’ve wanted to take you on those ships any number of times,” Heracles said, surprising Icarus. “Just fuck you amidst where we make our victory. But the wood is too rough. And I dislike monsters spying on me.” He squeezed Icarus’ hips, pulling Icarus down to meet his thrusts. “But fuck… I would have done it anyway.”

You wanted me that much? Icarus thought dully as he approached his climax. He couldn’t imagine such a thing. He was seen as the failure, the embarrassment. Flying too close to the sun: a foolish child, who didn’t listen to his father. Who dared to challenge the gods and lost.

There was a ferality in Heracles’ voice, and it soothed some of Icarus’ anxiety.

He’d thought of his own potential greatness at times, as a child: following in his father’s footsteps, perhaps being an inventor even greater than him, as children sometimes surpassed their parents. In death, he only hoped to get out from under the shadow of his greatest mistake and make good on his father’s legacy. He still believed he was a good inventor in his own right, but it was hard, at times, to be outgoing about it.

But here was a hero, renowned for his many successes, imagining being with Icarus of all people, even on the filthy battlefield of a rotting, cursed ship…

It was invigorating.

Heracles grunted above him before pressing Icarus’ legs back towards Icarus’ chest, allowing him to get a better angle. “Damn, you feel good around me.”

Something clicked inside Icarus’ body, and he cried out as he came, spilling over his chest and making him clench around Heracles, for all his attempts not to. Pleasure rocketed around his chest and made his arms shake. His legs sagged wider.

“Dammit,” Heracles said, fucking even harder.

Icarus watched him in a daze, wishing to give everything he had so that Heracles could join him.

When Heracles finally came, he pressed deep inside Icarus and lowered his head to press their lips together again.

Icarus groaned around the kiss, feeling Heracles’ seed feel him. He was too floaty to resist.

---

“How did you know I spoke with Hera?” Icarus asked quietly as Heracles used a wet cloth to wipe off Icarus’ chest.

Heracles was still nude as the man crouched over him. He looked down at Icarus and then away, before resting his right hand on Icarus’ left hip, over the marks where Heracles’ fingers had been.

Icarus twitched at the vague but not exactly unpleasant sensation, but was still floating in pleasure too much to move away from the pillows Heracles had piled beneath and around him.

“She told me,” Heracles said, surprising Icarus.

“She… told you?!” Icarus repeated, not understanding at all. He thought Hera hated Heracles!

Heracles nodded while making a rumbling, agreeing noise. “She said it was high time I found someone good, like Hermes has with Charon.” Heracles snorted. “She said I was not to break you.”

Icarus frowned in confusion. “She warned you against hurting me?”

“It was a surprise,” Heracles said as he gently massaged Icarus’ skin, moving down Icarus’ side and back to squeeze his ass.

Icarus winced slightly, then. Okay, so maybe the pain was less pleasurable than he imagined… But it made him recall how he got the pain, and his face heated in embarrassment.

It was really good.

“I thought you were perhaps a badly placed spy of some kind. After all, why would she warn me to treat you well?” Heracles hummed and pressed a finger to Icarus’ entrance again.

Icarus hissed and said, “Well, you don’t seem to be taking her advice.”

“Does that hurt?” Heracles asked as he paused. There was a hint of worry in his voice.

“It’s… a lot, still.” It didn’t hurt, exactly. But it was new. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Heracles made an agreeing noise. “Take more ambrosia. Then we’ll go again.”

Icarus’ face heated. “Again?”

“I did say I’d fuck you senseless,” Heracles said with a dark smile. “You aren’t senseless, yet. I imagine you could still walk. And then pick up your wings and fly off.”

Icarus looked away, embarrassed. But then something twigged his memory and he looked back at Heracles. “I keep forgetting to tell you… I was wondering if you wanted to try coming by my workshop for a fitting sometime, for wings.”

Heracles’ eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

“I have a back-up skeleton I use in case this one needs repairs,” Icarus said, nodding towards his wings in their cradle. “And I can’t build you anything just yet, I’m too busy with other projects. But we could start with getting your measurements for a vest and then go from there. In the future maybe.”

“…You’d make wings for me?”

“Well, you’d be in line behind Melinoë,” Icarus said, pleased at the man’s wonder, despite part of the heaviness that brought them together. “But yes, hopefully. Eventually.” He imagined Heracles would be extra terrifying in the sky, and rain even more havoc on their enemies. "I've gotten the hang of them, and there shouldn't be any bad landings this time." He wondered if that was poor phrasing, and rushed forward, "Plus, you're more durable than I am anyway, though with your skills I imagine you'll master them in no time, so that's hardly an issue..."

And perhaps they'd fly together, which... Icarus would look forward to. They'd both struggled with gods, and perhaps together, they could keep navigating the spaces between.

Heracles gazed down at him, so surprised he’d stopped his other movements. Eventually he said, “You are a wonder, Icarus.”

Icarus’ throat was tight, and he simply smiled at the compliment.

“And I’m going to devour you.”

Icarus laughed awkwardly at that. When Heracles leaned down for another kiss, Icarus wrapped his arms around Heracles’ neck, and looked forward to the rest.

Notes:

~~Fin~~

Thank you so much for reading <3 <3 Kudos and comments are love <3 <3 If you'd like to read more of my work, you can check out and/or subscribe to my author page!

Rebloggable on tumblr * Retweetable on twitter * on Blue Sky Social

My other Hades fics, including some Odysseus/Moros, and a fic where Icarus and Daedalus help Zagreus (written before the Hades II announcement).