Icarus was quite taken aback by Apollo's response. It was so... nonchalant and humble in comparison to the arrogant and self-absorbed nature he had heard the sun god possessed.

He also looked nothing like his marble counterparts. His hair wasn't wavy and neatly atop his head; it was dark, long and in dreadlocks that cascaded down his back like a jug of spilt wine over a table. His cheekbones were a lot sharper, his lips slightly fuller, his nose defined and his eyes large and emotional. And from what Icarus could tell, he was slightly shorter than he'd thought the god to be, and less athletic. He could've passed for a normal man, if he were to talk through town, albeit a very attractive normal man.

"I always imagined gods to look a lot less..." Icarus paused. "Mortal like."

Apollo smiled, and almost laughed at him, as if he had heard Icarus's words a thousand times, which he probably had. Maybe even more so. "Mortals were created in our image, I suppose."

Icarus nodded, having been told the story of mortal creation many, many times. The story of two halves being whole, the story of a person's eternal love being their other half.

It had never occurred to Icarus up until that point that he'd never find his other half. Not whilst he sat trapped in Minos' tower.

"Why are you here?" He asked, still scared to make eye contact with him.

Apollo though, had no shame in making consistent eye contact with Icarus, as if he were staring a beautiful work of art. "I've heard your words, every single time you called for my help." He frowned. "And before today, I never said anything. Today, I decided I'd come to you, offer my comforts in any way I can, because you seem to have no one in this world, and everyone needs someone."

It somewhat warmed Icarus' heart to hear that his prayers had been heard, that he hadn't been talking to nothing, but then his heart only went cold when he wondered why no one did anything, why no one offered to help him or rescue him. It may have felt nice to be heard, but it felt worse to be heard and then ignored.

"Why didn't you say anything before now?" Icarus replied, sounding almost bitter. "If you heard my prayers, every single one, why didn't you help me? Why didn't you give me sign?"

Apollo's face fell as far as it could as he reached delicately for Icarus' hand. He took it in his own and squeezed it gently. "Every time a god interferes with a mortals' life, it doesn't end well." He said quietly, as he ran his smooth thumb over Icarus' dry hand. "I didn't want to ruin your life, as I knew I would if I tried to help."

"What is there of my life that isn't already in ruin? I have nothing to loose, because there is nothing for me here."

Apollo couldn't help but smile. "You underestimate how much other people value you. Your mother for example, you are her entire world. And your father? He loves you more than you think. He's building the Labyrinth for you, so he can show you the world and all of its' wonders." He said. "You have many things to loose."

Icarus frowned and found himself unable to meet Apollo's warm gaze. "I wish you would've interfered in my life." He said sadly. "Maybe you could've helped me leave this forsaken island; you still could, if you wanted to."

"No god's history with mortals is good, mine is no exception. I want to help, I want to whisk you away from this place, but I'm afraid all I can do is comfort you. It's all my morals will allow."

"Since when did the gods have morals?" Icarus spat. "Poseidon forced Pasiphaë to fall in love with a bull and give birth to a beast, Zeus killed Asclepius for helping people, not to mention you had Marasyas flayed alive. It sounds completely hypocritical to me for you to claim to have any sense of morality at all."

Apollo seemed at a loss for words, though he knew Icarus was right. "I'd like to claim that I have changed since then." He said. "That I was a thoughtless child then, but that would be wrong. I know for a fact that I have not changed. I am an immortal, I know nothing of change."

Icarus didn't say anything in reply, and just let his hand rest comfortingly in Apollo's as he looked out of the window to the now darkened horizon. He could feel Apollo's dark yet warm eyes watching him intensely, as if there were something about Icarus that he didn't understand. He was looking at Icarus as if he were the Gordian Knot: a puzzle that was almost impossible to solve, but not completely. Just because no one had solved the puzzle yet, didn't mean that no one ever would, and Apollo wanted to solve the puzzle of 'Icarus'.

"Have you ever left?" Apollo asked. "Minos' palace, I mean."

Icarus shrugged, only now finding it within himself to meet Apollo's gaze directly. "My mother tells me that she used to tether me to her front, have a basket on her back, and pick grapes from the vineyards, though I can't say I remember that." He smiled sadly. "I suppose, when I think about it, I haven't. If I have, I don't remember it."

Apollo's face looked sad; his eyebrows had furrowed deeply, his eyes looked glazed over and his resting smile turned into a frown. "There is a beautiful world out there Icarus; if you died without seeing it, you would have never lived."

"I fear then that I'll never live, I will simply exist until it is my time to stop." Icarus replied, with an alarming amount of nonchalance in his voice. Apollo never thought he'd hear a human talk about death so calmly. Death was a mortal's end, a moment in which everything would just stop, and it was something that most humans feared, yet Icarus didn't seem bothered by it in the slightest.

"If you feel that way, then I will make it my personal duty to tell you all about it, so that you can know it, if only a little bit." Apollo smiled, grasping Icarus' hand once again and slowly running his thumb over his knuckles. "We still have time, where would you like to begin?"

"How about your home?" Icarus said, letting himself soften into Apollo's touch. "How about Delos?"

Apollo spoke in length about his home island of Delos. How beautiful it was, how its' hills allowed for amazing views of the striking blue ocean, how it's rocky terrain provided a perfect playground for himself and Artemis when they were children, how from the peak of Mount Cynthus you could see the whole of Delos, and the other surrounding islands. The way Apollo described Delos made it sound idyllic, better than Olympus itself.

He also talked about his childhood; how his mother Leto was forced to give birth on Delos thanks to Hera and how, as a baby, he was looked after the nymphs Korythalia and Aletheia, who Apollo described as his surrogate mothers. He also seemed reminisced on the birthday gift that his grandmother Phoebe gave him, a shrine in Delphi, that the Titaness Themis encouraged to be used for prophetic purposes. The shrine ended up becoming the home of his most famous oracle; the Oracle of Delphi.

Apollo also spoke relatively fondly of Olympus too; he said that himself, Dionysus and Hermes would often wreak havoc for the other gods, and that they enjoyed annoying them; he said that it was his way of exacting revenge on Hera for sending Python to kill his mother, without starting a full-on war, Artemis would claim no part in it. He said that he still had a grudge against Zeus for killing his son Asclepius, and that he could never forgive Zephyrus for creating the wind that killed Hyacinthus, and for letting him think that it was his fault. He didn't like to talk about that.

After a while, Apollo moved his hand away from Icarus' and took a glance out of the window that himself and Icarus had been sat at. Then he sighed, rose to his feet, then took a step towards the edge of the window. Icarus looked up at him curiously.

"What are you doing?" Icarus asked curiously, as he sat more upright and watched Apollo curl his toes over the edge of the window. "Are you leaving?"

"I'm afraid so." He replied sadly, running his hand through Icarus' soft hair. "The sun must rise my friend, as much as I do love the nighttime."

"Will you come back?"

"Of course I will." Apollo smiled and let go of the wall that his hand was holding onto. "There is still a world to explore, is there not?"

It took a second for Icarus to register Apollo's words, but once he did, he couldn't stop the huge, childlike smile that grew on his face. "Yes, there is. And I can't wait to see more of it."

Apollo nodded. "Goodbye Icarus; for now at least." He said, before taking a step and falling from the window ledge.

When Icarus looked over the edge, the god was gone. Leaving nothing but warmth behind.

Icarus had dozed off into a blissful sleep not long after Apollo had left. It was the best night's sleep Icarus had ever had, and he didn't know whether to thank Apollo or Hypnos for it. Maybe it would be best to thank the both of them.

It had felt like a dream, talking to Apollo last night, and whilst there was nothing to tell him that it wasn't, something told him in the back of his head that it wasn't. Something was telling him that he really had been visited by the sun god, and had truly spoken to him about everything, about the world he was probably never going to see.

It seemed so surreal when he thought about it, but he knew it wasn't.

He'd spoken to a god.

"You're awake." Daedalus said, as he appeared from the floor above with a small pile of notes in his hands. "Did you have a good nights sleep?"

"Yes, actually I did." Icarus replied, with a subtle smile on his face. "Why are you asking."

"I woke up in the middle of the night and thought I heard you talking to someone, but maybe it was my imagination."

Icarus thought for a second.

"Yes, maybe it was."