Chapter 8 #3
“Then you come up with a plan,” Hades snapped. Dionysus focused on the creature as it bounced atop the fluffy, white cat, his gaze shifting to the street name which was highlighted in reflective green on the stoplight.
“We’ll herd them toward Hephaestus’s net,” said Dionysus. “Once they’re trapped, we can force the Kallikantzaros to tell us where they’re keeping their treasure.”
He glanced at Hades in time to see him nod, and then the God of the Underworld vanished, appearing opposite the cat and Kallikantzaros so that they would make a right.
They continued chasing, forcing them in the direction of Hephaestus’s net, knowing they were near when they turned onto the darkened street and found it littered with sweet treats.
Dionysus just hoped the trap hadn’t already been tripped.
“Head them off,” Hades instructed.
Dionysus teleported, racing toward the duo from the front. A second later, he crashed into something hard and fell back.
He knew instantly that he’d run right into Hades.
“Motherfucker! Are you made of lead?” he groaned as he sat up, facing Hades who had also fallen to the ground.
A second later, Dionysus felt something heavy blanket him. He tried to lift his arms and throw it off but found he couldn’t move.
That was when he realized they hadn’t trapped the cat or the gremlin.
They’d trapped themselves beneath Hephaestus’s net.
“Fuck,” Dionysus said.
A high-pitched laugh sounded from the dark nearby, followed by the whine of a cat as the Kallikantzaros galloped away.
“Fuck,” Dionysus said again.
He was surprised by the silence coming from Hades who sat opposite him.
“Don’t you have anything to say?”
But all he heard was Hades’s heavy breathing and suddenly, he realized this situation was likely triggering his time in the labyrinth.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Does it sound like I’m all right?” Hades asked, his voice was gruff and strained.
“I was trying to be considerate,” Dionysus said. It put him on edge to hear the usually composed Hades in distress.
“I like it better when you aren’t,” Hades replied, though Dionysus noticed his breathing didn’t seem so heavy now that he was talking. He decided to do something he wasn’t exactly comfortable with—chat.
“I was going to propose to Ariadne tonight,” he admitted. “The thing I lost, it was her ring.”
Hades was quiet for a moment and then said, “You can always propose tomorrow.”
“Except I just told you, I don’t have her ring,” he said. “And I doubt I will have it back from these fucking gremlins by then.”
“You don’t need a ring,” said Hades.
“You had a ring for Persephone,” Dionysus countered.
“The third time I asked,” he said.
“What do you mean the third time you asked?”
He heard Hades chuckle which was a bit of a relief given how he’d sounded a few minutes earlier.
“I asked Persephone to marry me twice before she said yes,” Hades said.
“How did that…how did that make you feel?” he asked, cringing as the words came out of his mouth. He wasn’t exactly interested in feelings, except where Ariadne was concerned, but he was curious, wondering if his own worries were valid.
“Are you asking if I was upset?”
“Were you?”
“I wasn’t upset with her,” he said. “I knew she had her reasons for waiting, fear mostly. I think I was most upset by that, the doubt her mother had planted and grown within her.”
“Did you ever doubt she would say yes?”
“No,” said Hades, his voice was soft and warm as he reflected.
“I knew it wasn’t about love or her devotion to me.
I think she had to decide what marriage would mean for her…
for us, which was fair. She’d imagined her life evolving so differently.
I don’t think she ever considered someone would fall in love with her. ”
Dionysus was quiet as he considered what marriage meant to him.
He’d just woken up one day and realized how badly he wanted Ariadne to be his wife.
It had come on so suddenly, like a primal need.
They had built something beautiful together in the aftermath of something terrible, and he wanted to honor that by committing his future to worshipping her.
Dionysus had the urge to rub the back of his neck, except that he couldn’t move. The tingle grew into an itch.
“I guess I just want to give her everything.”
“If you want the ring, then get the ring,” said Hades. “But if all you want is a yes, a promise, then just ask. Everything else can wait.”
There was silence between them, and Dionysus could hear the change in Hades’s breathing again, like he couldn’t quite breathe deep enough.
“I am afraid I won’t be a good father,” he said at last.
Once the words were out, Dionysus realized the sound he’d heard wasn’t from panic, but hesitation.
“Hades, of all the gods, you will make the best father,” Dionysus said.
“That does not mean much,” he replied, voice thick with disdain.
It was true that neither of them had the best role models as far as fathers went. Hades had been eaten by his, and Dionysus’s had let his wife strike him with a terrible, all-consuming madness. Still, they’d both learned from those experiences and knew the kind of father they didn’t want to be.
That had to count for something.
“What makes you afraid?” he asked.
“I’m not—” Hades started, voice rough, but he paused and then said in a quiet voice, “These babies, they are part of me. What if my trauma lives in my blood? What if I cannot stop them from…suffering?”
“I don’t know that you can ever stop your children from suffering,” said Dionysus, which was not exactly helpful, but it was a truth better accepted than ignored.
“You know just as well as I, that is life. You can teach them how to navigate it, you can be there for them as they face it. Those are things we did not have.”
Hades did not respond, but Dionysus could feel him seething.
“I would burn this world to protect them,” he said.
“Yes, but you won’t need to,” Dionysus said. “Because we are not the gods who came before us.”
“Those are not your words,” he said.
Dionysus smirked. “No, but Ariadne is right,” he said. “In my darker moments, when I feel the claws of madness, I hear her voice. I think about the promise of our future, and I believe things will be okay.”
“I do not know that I have that kind of faith in the world or the Fates.”
“You do not have to trust the world or the Fates. Trust yourself and trust Persephone. I do.”
They were silent and then, Hades spoke. “If you tell anyone about this conversation, I will tear you to shreds and throw you into Tartarus.”
“Oh, is the big bad God of the Underworld afraid of his feelings?”
“Fuck you,” Hades said.
Dionysus chuckled.
“It amazes me you made it this far,” said Hades. “You, who took a different stranger to bed every night.”
“That is an exaggeration,” Dionysus said.
“Which part?”
“It wasn’t always a stranger, and I didn’t always take them to bed. And don’t talk to me about conquests, Hades. I know your list is just as long.”
He could practically feel Hades’s discomfort. It made him gleeful.
Serves him right.
“If the Fates had been kind to us, there would have been no one but Persephone and Ariadne.”
“I don’t think either would have cared much for who we were before.”
“Then perhaps the Fates are merciful.”
They were both quiet and then Dionysus heard Hades’s breathing change again.
“Have you considered therapy?” he asked.
“I fuck Persephone and torture Theseus. That’s therapy.”
“It…sure is something,” Dionysus said.
“No mortal wants to hear me whine about my time in the labyrinth.”
“You know this isn’t a sign of weakness, Hades,” said Dionysus.
“I liked you better when you were a fucking asshole.”
“I still am,” said Dionysus. “I think the net is making me sentimental.”
“Fucking great,” Hades muttered.
A snort came from the dark. It was followed by the glow of several nymphs, Hecate’s lampedes. The Goddess of Witchcraft’s eyes glinted with amusement.
“Do I want to know?” she asked.
“Just get this off, Hecate,” Hades said.
The goddess used her magic to lift the net. Dionysus stretched, muscles tight. He looked at Hades who was pale and covered in sweat.
“You all right?”
“Fine,” he said, voice curt, as if to say, do not draw attention to this.
“Lucky your wife is worried about you,” said Hecate. “Or I may not have found you this soon.”
Hades grunted.
“Your fucking gremlins stole from me,” said Dionysus.
Hecate’s eyes narrowed. “They’re not mine, God of Wine.”
“Well, you are the expert,” he said. “Where do they take the things they steal?”
“Wherever they feel it will be safe,” said Hecate. “Is that what you were trying to do?”
Dionysus and Hades exchanged a look.
“We thought we could capture one and…force it to tell us,” said Dionysus.
“You did not consider just…following one to their burrow?”
“We were caught up in the moment,” said Hades. “It was using a cat as a horse, Hecate.”
The goddess’s brows rose. “Oh, that poor pussy.”
Dionysus almost choked.
“Let’s hope Hephaestus has built a better trap for them by tomorrow,” said Hades. “It is Christmas Eve, after all. I wouldn’t want anyone to wake up and discover their gifts have been stolen.”
Hades vanished then, returning to the Underworld, leaving Dionysus alone with Hecate.
“In which direction did the pussy cat go?”
“Gods, you are just as bad as Hades,” he said and pointed west, down another dark corridor.
“I owe you a favor, God of Wine.”
“I’ll take it now,” he said. “Never say pussy again.”