Chapter 4
Dionysus
Dionysus stared at the small tree in his living room until the colors blurred together, his mind occupied with thoughts of Ariadne, Acamus, and the weight of the engagement ring in his pocket.
He had picked it out a few days ago after visiting a jeweler with Naia.
Maenad, he had once called her and the other female followers of his cult, but he avoided that word now. It was too impersonal to describe his feelings toward the women who had cared for him during and after the curse of Hera’s madness.
They were his friends, and they’d died horrific deaths in the tunnels beneath his club.
All of them but Naia.
She is practical, his oldest friend said. She doesn’t want pomp and circumstance. Don’t overthink this.
But he was overthinking.
Ariadne might not require a ring, but she deserved one and he wanted to choose the best.
In the moment, he’d felt confident in his decision. He had chosen what Naia called a classic solitaire. He wanted this ring to represent the depth of his love, his endless devotion…now it seemed too small and simple to communicate those feelings.
Something tugged his shirt, pulling him from his thoughts.
He looked down to find Ariadne’s nephew, Acamus, staring up at him with wide, brown eyes.
“Uncle,” he whispered. “Hungry.”
He and Ariadne had been teaching Acamus to use his quiet voice, especially in the morning before everyone was awake.
He grinned at the toddler and lifted him into his arms. “You’re hungry? Well, what are you hungry for? We’ve got eggs.”
He shook his head, curly hair bouncing.
“What? No eggs?” Dionysus teased. “Okay, what about…yogurt?”
Acamus shook his head again, smiling this time.
“No yogurt, either?” he asked, feigning surprise “What do you mean no yogurt?”
Dionysus tickled his stomach and Acamus giggled.
“Hmm. No eggs and no yogurt. I can’t imagine what you might want.”
“Uncle,” Acamus said, small hands pushing against his chest. “Pancakes.”
“Oh, pancakes!” Dionysus exclaimed, exaggerating his tone. “How could I forget! Of course you can have pancakes for breakfast. Get your chair so you can help.”
He lowered the boy to his feet and followed him into the kitchen.
A second later, an abrasive grate filled the room as Acamus pushed his chair to the counter.
Dionysus retrieved the supplies which he kept on a designated shelf in the pantry.
Pancakes were the only thing Acamus had eaten for breakfast for the last month, so while he teased the boy with other options, he knew what he would choose.
“Here is your bowl,” Dionysus said, setting them on the counter.
He measured out the ingredients and handed it to Acamus who dumped them into the bowl.
“Time to stir,” Dionysus said when everything had been added.
“Stir, stir, stir!” Acamus repeated, giving up on using his inside voice entirely as he moved the whisk back and forth in the bowl.
Eventually, Dionysus had to convince the toddler to let him help so they could move on to cooking the pancakes, though he wasn’t sure Acamus cared if they were cooked judging by the batter all over his mouth.
“You are messy,” Dionysus said.
“Messy, messy,” Acamus repeated.
Dionysus pulled Acamus’s chair to the stove before pouring a ladle full of batter onto the flat surface of the griddle.
Acamus mimicked the sound of sizzling pancakes, letting out a low hiss.
“Ready for chocolate chips?” Dionysus asked.
“Yes!” Acamus said, holding out his cupped hand. He knew the drill and so did Dionysus. The first round went right into Acamus’s mouth. The second made it on the griddle. Whether they ended up on the pancakes was another story.
“Something smells delicious.”
Dionysus looked up as Ariadne strolled into the room, still dressed in one of her many rotating sets of Christmas pajamas. Her hair was down, spilling over one shoulder in a thicker layer of dark waves.
“Auntie!” Acamus exclaimed and Ariadne smiled. It was wide and warm, her eyes alight with a happiness he could not inspire.
The truth was, the months following the war had been rough for both of them, but they’d stuck it out for Acamus, growing closer in those rare, quiet moments.
“Good morning, my little dove,” Ariadne said, lifting him into her arms. He giggled as she peppered kisses all over his face. “Did you sleep well?”
“Down!” he said instead of answering.
Ariadne didn’t argue, and once Acamus’s feet touched the ground, he ran out of the kitchen.
“Well,” she said, watching him go. “At least he’s using his words.”
Up until recently, the toddler had answered every question with the word no.
Ariadne met his gaze.
“What about you?” she asked, slipping her arms around his neck. “Did you sleep well?”
Dionysus wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her close.
“About as well as you, I imagine,” he replied.
Ariadne laughed as they kissed. She was usually asleep when he got home. Choir practice for the upcoming Christmas tree lighting at Monastiraki Square consistently ran late, but last night, she’d been awake and waiting. He would never deny an invitation. They were few and far between.
He was certain he would never know the true horror of her imprisonment by Theseus, but he knew the aftermath.
No part of it had been easy, and it had taken her nearly a year to decide she was ready for intimacy again.
The greatest challenge for both of them was learning what she couldn’t handle, which usually happened in the moment.
He did his best to carry her through every violent wave.
But last night was a turning point. He’d watched Ariadne allow herself complete pleasure for the first time in three years. It had been fucking phenomenal. It meant she felt safe enough to let go, and he’d do anything to give her that feeling again and again.
“Is that a complaint, I hear?” she asked, raising a dark brow.
“Love, you could keep me awake all night and I would thank you for it.”
“Auntie!” Acamus called from his room. “Help!”
The desire that coiled his muscles deflated immediately. Nothing spoiled a moment like a toddler.
Ariadne let out a breathless laugh.
“Well, the night is really the only time we have,” she said and slipped away into Acamus’s room, which was just as well because the pancakes were burning.
“I can take you to work,” Dionysus said as Ariadne clipped Acamus into his car seat.
The Hellenic Police Department had a daycare on the second floor, a recent addition after the war.
It was convenient and comforting to Ariadne, who may not have returned to work without it, too anxious to leave her nephew with strangers.
It was no secret Acamus was the son of Theseus, and some people still sought revenge against the deceased demigod, desiring a complete end to his bloodline. There had been a few threats over the last few years, but Dionysus had worked with Hades and the Olympian Council to punish those responsible.
As much as they did to protect him, it didn’t feel like enough.
“You know I like driving,” she said.
“I know. I still like to offer. Maybe one day you’ll say yes.”
He knew Ariadne could take care of herself, it was mostly about peace-of-mind. The truth was, if he took her, he had the comfort of knowing she arrived safely.
“I am grateful for the offer,” she said. “But this is easiest, especially for you. Don’t you have choir practice again tonight?”
He instantly felt grumpy at the thought. He’d done his best to corral a group of carolers for the tree lighting concert. They varied in age and talent, and instructing them was a tedious affair he wouldn’t miss when this was all over.
“I will delay anything for you,” he said.
Her eyes softened and her smile was sweet as she placed her hands on either side of his face.
“I love you,” she said.
Dionysus wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her until the ache in his chest and balls told him to stop. “I love you too.”
She took a breath, chest rising, cheeks flushed, and climbed into the car.
Dionysus watched as they made their way down his winding driveway, until they disappeared behind the tree line.
Only then did he teleport to Mount Olympus, which was no longer a mountain, but a mound of flattened rock.
Around it, the gods had erected a series of columns and within that circle were a set of twelve, plain chairs.
The porch was open to the sky and to the whole of New Athens.
There would be no secrecy in this new era.
After the war, the remaining gods had assembled the Olympian Council.
Since four of the twelve had died, the group had taken a few weeks to add to their ranks including Persephone and Hephaestus.
Dionysus had hesitated to agree, but his motivation was Ariadne and Acamus.
He wanted a better world for them, and the best way to ensure that was to be part of the leadership.
The fourth and final addition had come as a surprise to most, particularly Poseidon and Ares since he was mortal—the Apollonian hero, Ajax.
His nomination had come from Persephone, seconded by Hades, and Dionysus agreed with their argument. It wasn’t fair that a council deciding the wellbeing of mortals only included gods.
Not that one mortal made for much diversity, but it was a start.
As Dionysus took his seat, Hades appeared in a flurry of shadows, pacing. His heart dropped.
“What happened?” he asked, straightening in his seat.
Hades did not look at him, continuing his menacing stride.
“Is it Persephone?” he asked. “Are the babies—”
“They are fine,” Hades said quickly. “Everyone is…fine.”
Dionysus slumped and sat back, relieved but confused by Hades’s clear distress.
“Hades, I’m sorry!” Hermes said. His voice echoed on the shorn mountaintop before he appeared wearing a robe and a pair of pink, latex gloves.
Dionysus raised a brow as Hades whirled on the God of Trickery, casting a long shadow, smothering his innate glow.
“Did you just quiver?” Dionysus asked, amused.