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Hades slammed his back against the rough outer wall of the palace, the sharp rocks sticking into the back of his neck and shoulders helping to clear his head.
He made a mistake. It isn’t often that he does – even more rare for him to admit it, even to himself – but tonight he did. A selfish mistake that he didn’t through.
Marrying Persephone wasn’t going to fix anything. It gave him revenge, allowed him the opportunity to get back at Demeter and Poseidon for what they did to him, but he hadn’t thought far enough ahead.
Persephone expected a husband, not a king. And a king is all he has ever known how to be.
Hades dropped his head back, relishing in the pain that shot through his skull and down his neck at the impact.
“What are you doing out here?” A lilting voice sang, stumbling over the words.
Hades cracked an eye open to look down his nose at Dionysos, his long curly hair hanging limply around his face, framing his youthful features. Thechitonwrapped around his waist was splotched with wine stains and he was missing one sandal.
“I’m sulking,” he murmured, “isn’t that what the mortals call it?”
“You know,” Dionysos said, strolling toward him with a confidence nobody else could muster around while in the Underworld. “I am not entirely sure.” He cocked his head at Hades, his body falling the opposite way until his shoulder hit the wall. Not noticing the pain that must have been lacing down his arm, Dionysos continued speaking as if nothing happened. “My worshipers are quite mad with drink and ecstasy to ever…” he trailed off, blinking a few times at Hades. “What was it you’re doing again?”
“Sulking.”
“Hmm, yeah, that. They don’t do that.” He shook his head a few too many times, the ivy-crown fluttering to the ground with the motion. With faster reflexes than should be possible in his inebriated state, Dionysos caught it between his toes, and flicked it back up, stumbling to catch it midair.
“Must be nice.”
“Oh, it is!” Dionysos yelled in Hades’ ear as he fell into him. Hades grabbed him by his bare shoulders and pushed him back to his feet, letting go when the god leaned against the wall once more. He looked uncomfortable as he pressed his cheek against the wall, the rocks tearing into his smooth skin as he spoke. “Have you ever been high up in the mountains, completely disconnected from civilization – here, for you,” he interrupted himself as he remember the decanter of wine in his hand and shoved it into Hades’ chest.
A bit of the wine spilled over the lip and onto Hades’ finger. He licked it off and stepped back from Dionysos, who was getting more rowdy with every sip from his own drinking cup.
“What was I saying? Oh, yes, yes, yes.” He leaned forward again, his breath warm on Hades’ face, before stumbling back onto the wall. “Have you ever been?”
Hades blinked slowly at the god leaning on the wall beside him, letting him figure it out for himself.
“Well?” Dionysos slurred when Hades didn’t answer right away.
“Dionysos, I live alone in the Underworld.”
“I know where you live, ass. Am I such a bad,” hiccup, “friend that I wouldn’t know where you liiiive?”
Hades sighed, almost wishing he had stayed and taken Persephone right where he’d left her rather than deal with his friend. “I meant that I know what it feels like to be secluded.”
Dionysos laughed with his whole face, his eyebrows shooting up as his eyes widened. When he opened his mouth, the wine he’d just drank came spilling out, covering the front of his hairless chest. “Right! You totally get it.” His arm wrapped around Hades’ shoulders and he hugged him close, his breath stinking of wine and roasted meat. “When there’s this moment where everything melts away and your veins fill with this crackling, ecstatic energy that you can feel burning under your skin and in your heart and you just…feel. Unending feeling – not really happy, or even good, but intense unending emotion.”
Getting more annoyed with him every second, Hades shoved Dionysos roughly off of him. “What is your point, Dionysos? Nothing you’re saying is making any sense.”
“Well, Hades,” he said his name so casually that Hades’ anger melted a little, “that’s how I imagine you feel right now.”
Hades snorted.“No. That is not how I feel, Bacchus.”
As he took a much needed drink from his decanter, Dionysos grabbed the bottom and pushed it high, draining the contents into his mouth. He opened his throat to let it pour down unrestrained, but much of it still splashed down his front, dying the white fabric a purple to match the dress his bride wore earlier in the day. He proceeded to throw it at Dionysos’ head, letting it bounce off and shatter on the ground before throwing the god to the ground with a thought and starting toward the rose garden.
He appreciated Dionysos wanting to keep him company, especially since he was the only Olympian Hades could stand, but he needed to be alone.
All of the gods in his space – his realm – was putting him on edge. It was why he couldn’t stay in that ridiculous bridal chamber with Persephone. Knowing they were listening just outside in the hall, gossiping about the sounds floating through the crack under the door.
Hades kicked Dionysos’ foot as he walked by, the god’s head and shoulders shrouded by the rose bush he’d slid under. He hadn’t meant to send him quite so far, his mind still preoccupied with thoughts of Persephone and the gods roaming his home, probably searching through his things and stealing from him.
“I should come down here more often, these are absolutely beautiful close up.” The bush with Dionysos’ legs protruding shook as he pulled a rose from it, the thorns apparently not bothering him. “These roses have no scent,” an audible whiff, “no scent,” he repeated. He scrambled out, the bush swaying as he used it to shove himself out.
“Do not pick my roses.”
