Chapter XXXV: Dionysus

CHAPTER XXXV

DIONYSUS

Dionysus sat in his usual place in his darkened suite at Bakkheia. It was crowded with people who were drinking and dancing and fucking. He usually watched the revelry or at least was far more present for it—it was essentially how he received worship—but today, he was distracted.

He could not think of anything beyond what had happened over the last few days—his confrontation with Poseidon and everything that had occurred on that island, from fucking Ariadne to the death of the ophiotaurus. He was also very much aware that he had left the cyclops he’d promised to murder alive, albeit with a severe hangover.

He wondered what consequences would come from not fulfilling that debt.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened on that island?” Silenus asked.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Dionysus replied.

Nothing he wanted to tell.

“It changed you,” his foster father said. “You’re different, and I’m not sure how.”

“I’m not sure how either,” Dionysus said, which was true.

He had never wanted to face off with Poseidon, but doing so had left him feeling incapable of protecting Ariadne and very aware of the inferiority of his powers.

“Dionysus,” said a sensual voice, and his attention was brought to the present as a woman with dark hair and eyes knelt before him, hands on his knees. “You seem on edge. Can I not ease you?”

Normally, he would indulge her, but as her palms slid up his thighs, he stopped her and leaned forward. Just as he did, the door to his suite opened, and Ariadne stepped inside. Her eyes went right to him and the woman at his feet.

His throat tightened. He could just imagine how this looked.

“Ari—” he said as she approached.

“Don’t get up,” she said, and he wondered which of them she was talking to. “I need to talk to you.”

“Of course,” he said, his eyes falling to the woman. “Go.”

When he looked at Ariadne, her gaze was hard.

“It wasn’t what you think,” he said.

“Do you know what I think?” she countered.

Dionysus started to respond, but Silenus interrupted. “You must be Ariadne,” he said, leaning over the arm of his chair into Dionysus as he extended his hand. “I am Silenus, Dionysus’s father.”

“Adopted father,” Dionysus felt the need to clarify.

Ariadne took his hand, though she didn’t seem completely comfortable.

“Aye, I can see why my son is smitten,” Silenus said.

Dionysus shoved him back into his own chair. “Shut up,” he seethed and then looked at Ariadne again.

“I want to go back to the island,” she said.

“What?” That was not what he expected to hear.

“I want to bury Bully,” she said.

“Ari, it isn’t safe.”

“It’s not right to just leave him there to rot,” she said. “He deserved better than that.”

“Did you ignore the part where he is in a cave with a fucking monster?”

“A monster you were supposed to kill,” she pointed out.

Dionysus shook his head. “I am not going to have this conversation with you. We aren’t going back to that island just so you can fulfill your misguided sense of duty to this creature.”

“If you won’t take me, I’ll ask Hades.”

Dionysus ground his teeth. “Out!” he commanded, and suddenly, everyone gathered in his suite stopped drinking and dancing and fucking. As if they were under some spell, they filed out of the room—except for Silenus.

“What about me?” he asked.

Dionysus glared, and his father sighed.

“Fine.”

Once they were alone, Dionysus rose to his feet. To Ariadne’s credit, she didn’t back down.

“Do you think Hades will bend to your childish will?” he asked.

“It isn’t childish to want to give someone a proper burial,” she said.

“It is when you wish to go back to an island that nearly took both of our lives,” he said. “Why go back? Are you hoping to see Theseus?”

She slapped him, and it stung.

“How dare you,” she seethed, her voice trembling.

They glared at each other, the silence strained, and then Dionysus broke, taking her mouth against his in a hot kiss. One of his hands cupped the back of her head, the other pressing into the small of her back.

Gods, she felt so good.

He had feared returning from the island would mean pretending nothing had happened between them. He had tried, but repressing his desire felt like trying not to breathe.

Ariadne responded to his touch just as enthusiastically, hands sliding up his chest and around his neck. She pressed into him, her breasts soft against his chest. He groaned at the contact.

“I want to be inside you again,” he said, and then someone cleared their throat.

They tore away from each other to find Hermes.

“Well, that was entertaining,” the god said.

Dionysus pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose. “Oh, fuck me.”

“We’ve had this discussion, Dionysus.”

“What do you want, Hermes?” he demanded.

“Hades has summoned you,” Hermes said. “He wants to discuss the ophiotaurus.”

Dionysus exchanged a look with Ariadne.

“I can give you a few moments,” said the god. “You know, to recover.”

“We’re fine,” Ariadne said.

“I think you’re speaking for yourself,” said Hermes, and then his eyes slid to Dionysus—and down to his raging erection.

“Fuck off, Hermes,” Dionysus said. “Let’s go.”

“Oh, I’m not taking you,” Hermes said. “I have an event, but there’s a car waiting for you downstairs. Say hello to Antoni for me.”

---

Antoni took them to Iniquity, where they found Hades sitting at a table in the private, members-only bar. He sat with a glass of whiskey, two fingers full. In one hand, something gold gleamed—a coin, an obol, the currency of the dead. Ilias sat nearby and nodded at their approach.

Hades did not look up until they were seated. He seemed distracted.

“I need you to tell me everything that happened on the island.”

“Everything?” Ariadne asked.

Hades looked at her and then at Dionysus. “When Theseus arrived,” he clarified. “Though it sounds like you both had quite a time.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” said Dionysus. “Theseus found us on Thrinacia, he slayed the ophiotaurus, and he has the intestines. I imagine he has already burned them.”

Theseus was not one to hesitate. He’d demonstrated as much with how quickly he’d stabbed the ophiotaurus.

“What happens when he burns them?” Ariadne asked.

They all exchanged a look.

“We don’t exactly know,” said Hades. “That’s the problem.”

“What does the prophecy say?” Dionysus asked.

The last thing he remembered about this was that Hades was going to verify that the creature had still reincarnated with a prophecy.

“If a person slays the creature and burns its entrails, then victory is assured against the gods.” Hades repeated the words carefully, as if he was trying to deduce the meaning as he spoke.

“That’s a terrible prophecy,” said Dionysus.

“I liked Hermes’s version better,” said Ilias.

“I’m not sure what you expected,” said Hades. “Prophecies are rarely straightforward, and when they are, the stakes are far higher.”

Dionysus understood what Hades was saying—at least there was ambiguity here. There were instances in the past when prophecy had been so specific, there was no avoiding the inevitable fate, no matter how mortals tried.

“Something with a little more context would have been nice,” Ilias said. “Which gods does the prophecy refer to?”

“Perhaps all of us,” said Dionysus. “Or maybe just a few. I think we should be relieved the prophecy isn’t specific. There is power in knowing what to expect. We can work with that against Theseus.” Dionysus glanced at Ariadne. “Theseus is arrogant enough to believe that the prophecy means he will conquer the gods. It will make him feel invincible when he is not.”

Hades’s brows lowered. “What do you mean?”

“At the island, I stabbed him with my thyrsus. He did not heal quickly, not like you or I. It is a weakness.”

“You mean this whole time, we could have just stabbed him?” asked Ilias.

“It’s more complicated than that and you know it,” said Hades. “He’s endeared himself to the public. If he dies by our hands, we risk losing worship.”

“Okay, so we can’t assassinate him publicly,” said Ilias. “Where do we start?”

Everyone’s eyes turned to Ariadne, who paled. She did not need them to speak to know what they were asking—they needed to know everything about Theseus.

“No,” she said, her voice even. “You cannot ask that of me. He will kill my sister.”

“I told you we will rescue her,” said Dionysus.

“With what?” she countered. “You said that’s why we needed Medusa, or did you just say that so you could add another weapon to your collection?”

Dionysus flinched at her anger and her accusation.

“Trust us when we say rescuing Phaedra will be our first priority,” said Hades. “But we cannot do anything without information, even plan her escape.”

She shook her head. “He will know I told you.”

“In the end, does it matter if Phaedra is safe?”

“It matters because she will go back.”

There was a long and stark silence. Dionysus wanted to say the most unhelpful thing, which was that perhaps then she did not need rescuing. They had put Ariadne in a difficult situation, but she was fighting her own losing battle.

“Are you saying you will not help us?” Dionysus asked.

“Aren’t you all gods?” she asked. “Can you not figure it out?”

Dionysus didn’t look at her. He couldn’t pretend to understand her reasoning, just as he couldn’t pretend to understand the trauma that kept her from helping.

He took a breath. “I’ll assign the maenads to spy,” he said. “They can gather intel on those who are involved, their weapons, their hideouts.”

They were going to need to know as much as possible to formulate their plans.

Hades nodded. “The battle’s already begun,” he said. “Now we must prepare for war.”