CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE:
ICARUS

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KIT WASN’T SCARED. MAYBE that was why things went horribly wrong for him. There Porphyrion was, looming over him with the power of Hera running through his veins, and Kit didn’t so much as bat an eye. Porphyrion could’ve crushed him with one toe -- Hell, he could’ve sneezed and blown the whole Mansion away -- and Kit Dempsey remained brazenly unafraid.

He was either heroic at long last, or just plain stupid.

“Leo?” Jason turned to the boy in question with determined eyes.

“Huh?” Leo blinked at him, far too caught up in gaping at the swords that hung from the giant’s waste to really pay attention.

“You guys keep working,” Jason told him. “Get Hera free.”

Or perhaps, it was Jason Grace who was the idiot.

“What are you going to do?” Kit frowned, sounding just a tad on the judgemental side of things. Not that he meant to, but -- oh, who was he kidding? Jason Grace was a dumbass and Kit Dempsey was the first to point it out. “Grace, you’re asking to die--”

“I’ve got no choice,” Jason shrugged, and Kit would’ve laughed had the situation not called for seriousness.

With that, he turned to face Porphyrion, whose eyes brightened at the silent declaration of a challenge. “Ah, excellent!” his voice boomed around the courtyard like claps of thunder. “An appetiser! Who are you -- Hermes? Ares?”

Kit bristled at the mention of his father, fighting down the urge to join Jason in facing the giant. An instinctive, genetic urge to protect the name of one's father when Father would never feel the same. Instead, Kit settled for resting his hand on his sword and waiting as Jason took one last step towards the giant then paused.

“I’m Jason Grace,” he declared into the sudden silence. “Son of Jupiter.”

For once, he sounded at home in his own head; as if, at long last, he'd pieced together the identity of Jason Grace, Roman demigod. 

Porphyrion let out a cackle of sheer delight, throwing his head back so he could face the Heavens. "Outstanding!" he roared once his laughter had dwindled into chuckles. "So, Zeus, you sacrificed a son to me? The gesture is appreciated, but it won't save you."

Jason sneered. "If you knew who I was, you'd be worried about me, not my father." Kit raised an eyebrow, admittedly invested in what choice Jason was about to make. "I hope you enjoyed your two-and-a-half minutes of rebirth, giant, because I'm going to send you back to Tartarus."

Kit's type had never been heroes. They were so… finely cut, well-rounded and genuine in their morality. But Kit wasn't blind. He knew an attractive guy when he saw one. Just the thought of it being Jason was what threatened to upend the contents of his stomach in disgust.

Porphyrion bared his teeth, falling right into Jason's trap. "So, we'll start by boasting, will we? Just like old times! Very well, demigod. I am Porphyrion, king of giants, son of Gaea! In olden times, I rose from Tartarus -- the abyss of my father -- to challenge the Gods. To start this war, I stole Zeus' beloved queen." Hera bristled under the weight of his smirk. Porphyrion waved at her through the bars. "Hello, Hera."

Hera wasted no time in screaming at him, "My husband destroyed you once, monster, and he'll do it again!"

Kit grimaced and rubbed his right ear. Hera glared at him and folded her arms over her chest, unsure where to look as Porphyrion retorted, amused, "But he didn't, my dear! Zeus wasn’t powerful enough to kill me. He had to rely on a puny demigod to help, and even then, we almost won. This time, we will complete what we started. Gaea is waking! She has provided us with many fine servants. Our armies will shake the earth, and we'll destroy you at the roots!”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Hera hissed, but she couldn't fight the falter in her voice.

Porphyrion latched onto the moment of weakness like a dog to a bone. “Oh, but I would. The Titans sought to attack your new home in New York. Bold, but ineffective. Gaea is wiser and more patient. And we, her greatest children, are much, much stronger than Kronos. We know how to kill you Olympians once and for all. You must be dug up completely like rotten trees, your eldest roots torn out and burned.”

There were so many days since the collapse of Kronos and his army where Kit Dempsey felt… disrupted, like the roots that bound them to their cause had been burnt and butchered until nothing but an unrecognisable massacre remained. Kit had moulded his entire life around one purpose, so much so that he struggled to pinpoint an exact moment where he realised his roots had been cut. He hadn't had a genuine purpose for a long time, but there he was, unkillable, but easy to break. 

The Gods were much the same. As much as he hated them -- especially Ares, that prick -- even Kit could see that it would take more than the eternal fires of Hell itself to weaken a God to permanent death and decay.

"You said a demigod killed you," Jason pointed out with a frown. "How, if we're so puny?"

Porphyrion let out a pig-worthy snort. "You think I would explain it to you? I was created to be Zeus' replacement, born to destroy the Lord of the sky! I shall take his throne, I shall take his wife -- or, if she won't have me, I will let the earth consume her life force! What you see before you, child, is only my weakened form. I will grow stronger by the hour, until I am invincible. But I am already quite capable of smashing you to a grease spot!”

Before Kit could so much as blink, they were surrounded by monsters, this time twice the amount that had answered to Khione. Storm spirits crackled with lightning. Wolves howled and Earthborn beat their fists against the earth to the beat of their own war drums. Kit backed up until he'd almost tripped over Leo's kneeling figure.

"Great," the son of Hephaestus cast Hera a wary glance. "Like we needed more enemies."

"Hurry," Hera urged, her sharp brows angled into a frown. "Kit can take care of them."

"Kit can do what?"

"I've got it," Leo snapped, and got to work once more.

Beside him, Piper inhaled shakily, lungs rattling from the pressure. "Go to sleep, cage," she pleaded, trying her best to keep her voice low -- but still just as powerful -- so that Porphyrion would not notice them again. And when he did, if things went to plan, it would be much too late for any dire consequence. "Nice, sleepy cage… I'm talking to a bunch of earthen tendrils. This isn't weird at all."

"Wanna switch?" Kit deadpanned as he side-eyed two wolves that pricked their ears and bared razor-sharp teeth in their direction.

"On second thoughts, I think I'm good right here."

The group flinched at the sudden shatter of stone that echoed through the air. Jason narrowly dodged the giant's swooping spear, which only encouraged his bloodlust. "So, child of Zeus! I have finished my boasting, and now it's your turn! What were you saying about destroying me?"

He sounded so confident, fuelled by a stolen sense of strength and secured by an army to do his bidding. One word from Porphyrion and they would tear them to shreds. Kit Dempsey was good but not invincible. He would bleed before he could break. His friends, Leo… they would all be dead or wishing for it to end, and Porphyrion knew that. But Jason was nothing if not strong-willed, stubborn until his final breath. 

"I'm the son of Jupiter!" With one bone-chilling gust of wind, Jason had risen from the ground until he was hovering in line with the giant's waxen jaw. Kit smirked. "I'm a child of Rome, consul to demigods, praetor of the First Legion." Kit had no idea what this meant, and he had a feeling that Jason didn't either -- not completely, at least -- but they had the desired effect Jason wanted. The giant king's face paled in the white patch of moonlight that shone in through the ceiling. "I saw the Trojan sea monster. I toppled the black throne of Kronos, and destroyed the Titan Krios with my own hands. Now, I'm going to destroy you, Porphyrion, and feed you to your own wolves."

"Wow, dude," Leo murmured then, and Kit scoffed at his amazed tone. It wasn't that impressive… "You've been eating red meat?"

Never mind.

Both of them went ignored as Porphyrion bellowed until he went red in the face, "You dare?"

Kit expected more, but the giant king had been floored. In the deep end, he floundered, clutching at driftwood in the hopes of keeping his head above water long enough to find a new bruise to poke at. 

Jason didn't hesitate. He'd found the perfect moment, and Kit watched closely as he robbed Porphyrion of his own weapon. The giant stumbled back in horror, and Jason buried the blade in his ear until black blood spurted from the eardrum. Jason's shout of 'For Rome!' was lost in the strike of electricity that blasted through the sky. It met its mark and Kit instinctively shielded Leo and Piper as Jason went soaring, his back slamming harshly against stone.

Porphyrion roared. His hair smouldered with smoke and ash, streaks of charcoal scarring the skin of his face until he looked like a melting candle. He ripped the sword from his ear with ease. More blood spilled, but Porphyrion was not phased. He only seemed inconvenienced, and thoroughly pissed off.

"Well, fuck."

Hera glowered at Kit's back. "That doesn't sound reassuring, Kit Dempsey."

"Apologies. I forgot my sole purpose in life was to appease you, My Queen."

Hera snarled, but Kit ignored her, turning his back to watch as the wolves growled, the Earthborn hissed and storm spirits rumbled in their own miniature thunderstorms. The circle quickly closed around Jason, who was pushing himself to his feet far too slowly for Kit's liking, but Porphyrion waved a hand at his army in warning.

"No!" he barked, then stomped his foot like a petulant toddler. Kit snickered at the accurate comparison, storing it away to share with Leo later. You know… just in case they somehow escaped with their lives. "I am going to kill him myself!" 

Jason readied himself as Porphyrion hefted his spear onto his shoulder. It was now or never, do or die, kill or be killed. "You want to play with lightning, boy?" the giant king shook his head. "You forget. It is me who is the bane of Zeus. I was created to destroy your father, which means that I know exactly what is going to kill you."

But whatever it is that Porphyrion knew, they would never find out. Not then, at least.

Behind Kit, a power chord crackled, wood splintered, and Leo let out a triumphant laugh that had Porphyrion faltering in his speech. "Got it," Leo had shouted, Piper putting every bit of strength, courage and power she had into lulling the cage one last time. The rest of the woven bars crumbled into dust -- Piper was so strong that even the wolves had drooping eyes -- and several things happened at once.

Kit whirled around as Hera crawled out of the earth, a Goddess reborn with an irate desire to punish. She towered over the giant king, her power having returned tenfold, and Porphyrion backed up with his confidence smeared to ash. Kit's sword lowered as Hera proclaimed, "Now I shall have my revenge!"

But as it turned out, Porphyrion would live to see another forsaken day. With one last glare at the four demigods now lined up behind Hera, he slammed the pointed tip of his spear into the earth until the whole Mansion rumbled and groaned in a desperate plea for salvation. The giant king's body melted into mud, and disappeared into the earth like he'd never truly been there to begin with.

Kit breathed sharply into the sudden, tense silence.

Hera roared with anger.

And she erupted.

Overflowing like Mount Vesuvius, she sought vengeance on the army that Porphyrion had abandoned in his return to Gaea. The wolves retreated. The Earthborn cowered their heads pleadingly.

It was no use and they knew it.

A blinding white glow began to emit from the smooth marble of Hera's skin. She barely bat an eye at the demigods as she shouted over her shoulder at them, "Cover your eyes, my heroes!"

Kit knew what she was about to do. A trick of a God, Hera vapourised an entire army in a matter of seconds. Jason and Piper stood transfixed, but managed to shield their eyes at the last moment. Kit reached for Leo, the fool who wouldn't know any better, and he turned.

That was the ironic thing about Kit Dempsey's death.

He had known. He knew to cover his eyes, to prioritise himself first and grieve later, when the dust had settled and survivor's guilt had found a home in his heart. 

Kit Dempsey was not a hero.

But he was a boy.

A boy who felt too much, who had started to care.

And as he had always suspected, preached like a man of the holy Lord, it had cost him, in blood and in bone.

Kit Dempsey would not run from death anymore.

The traitor to pay for the blood he spilled with penance earned by fire's yield.

Deep, deep down, Kit had started to believe that the fire was Leo. The flame of his flesh, vaporising Kit as Kit came too close. Like Icarus with the sun. And perhaps, in some way, this was true and the both of them knew it. Kit's body had fallen somewhere and there was only one person he would trust to catch it.

But the fire, in reality, was Kit's own brain exploding; burning, sinking, trapped… The Underworld was a strange kind of darkness, nothing and everything all at once, where a soul like his would never hope to find Elysian. Light seared his mind until Kit could no longer see, or feel, or even exist.

Kit Dempsey was dead.

And Ares -- the failure father, the maggot of Kit's brain -- could breathe a sigh of relief.

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I am made of war
and he is made of love.
He mends
what I tear apart,
the holes in the bronze
hammered into my soul;
bruises blossom on his neck,
evidence of my savagery,
and he strokes my bones
and clutches close
my skin stitched together;
the patchwork pieces.
I would fight for him,
die for him,
again and again and again,
tear myself to ashes
if only to fall between his fingers.
My wounds are jagged
like broken glass
and he kisses them,
and only when he rises do I see
that there is blood on my hands
and blood in his mouth.
I am made of war,
and he is made of love,
but what makes war
if not love?
―if ares is the god of war, why do we shrink so from aphrodite? (I.d.)
*gender-bent version*

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"IT IS NOT YOUR time."

Luke Castellan stood beside Kit in a long line of forgotten souls. The rotten, the ones who were yet to be given a punishment or praise. Luke wasn't part of the line -- there was no wound, no blood, no darkness in his eyes -- this was Luke in his purest form. Kit's closest friend, the other half of his heart.

His brother.

Kit didn't trust it for a second.

"Why are you here?"

Luke, even as a traitor, belonged in Elysian. He always would according to the eyes of a child saved from total isolation in a never-ending world of monsters.

Still, Kit's voice was harsh.

Vaguely, in the distance, he thought he heard someone scream his name.

The soul train moved along a step. Someone else's fate had been determined. The silence was mind-numbing. Kit wanted to sink into it, and then Luke latched onto his wrist.

"What the fuck?"

Kit tried to pull away but the blonde boy refused to let him.

"Luke, let me go."

"It is not your time," the dead boy repeated firmly.

There it was again. The sob of Kit's name. The vague thrum of fire in his veins. Kit cried out and clutched at his skull with his free hand. Luke's grip tightened until he was dragging Kit from the line, and everything around him began to blur and burn, burn, BURN--

Wake up.

Kit lost sight of Luke in the darkness.

He swore he heard Leo sob his name, felt the press of lips against his forehead. Kit's bones melted.

WAKE UP.

A hand was beating against his chest. Kit could feel every punch like he'd been doused in liquid fire.

He knew no way out of the darkness.

WAKE UP, KIT.

He needed to get back to Leo.

Wasn't that what Luke had said?

His friends needed him. They were fighting to get him back. He could hear them now.

Kit followed the sounds of their voices.

WAKE UP, KIT, WAKE UP...

His eyes snapped open.

And the world went white.

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1. falling is the easy part. as icarus plummeted from the sky, the only remains of his freedom being the harness, he threw his head back and laughed. he had reached for apollo's hand, and grasped thinning oxygen instead. when it is your love that kills you, no destruction is more lovely than that of the self.

2. his skin alight with righteous fury, he can't help but wonder if this is his punishment for loving someone much brighter than he is. if he is condemned to burning alive forever, melting wax warping the supports of his wings until they, too, are now unrecognisable to the untrained eye. after all, there are only so many ways to describe being destroyed.

3. icarus landed in the sea. when he hit the water, the breath was ripped from his chest. had he known he wouldn't take another for eons, he would've memorised the way his ribcage imprinted itself on the underside of his skin, expanding the cavern inside well beyond infinity. you never realise the luxury of breathing until you can't anymore.

4. even gods need sleep, and he is no different. he dreams of water, now. it devours him as he struggles, limbs bound by sunbeams. liquid churns around him as it configures itself into ichor until he's gasping for the breath he no longer possesses, drowning in everyone's blood but his own. he wakes up thrashing, and pretends the disappointment of living doesn't reside in his throat. he is half-mortal, after all, and that is enough to keep his anatomy from collapsing into a supernova.
―the drowning of icarus (unknown)