. . .
 
 
 
 
 
 
“Anger ... it's a paralyzing emotion ... you can't get anything done. People sort of think it's an interesting, passionate, and igniting feeling — I don't think it's any of that — it's helpless ... it's absence of control.”
― Toni Morrison
 
 
 
 
 
 
. . .
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“…W-what?”
 
Her voice nearly broke, but she kept it together, just barely.
 
“After all these years,” Dionysus breathed out, something like pity and resignation coming through him as he stared right back at those horrified eyes, “…you never stopped looking for him, didn’t you.”
 
It wasn’t a question.
 
This was a fact.
 
Her eyes widened at that, shock, hurt, sadness, rage… so many emotions, too much and too quick even for him to pick on swirled within those blackened gaze.
 
“Ever since you’ve become a goddess, you never stopped trying to hunt him down, not even once. You did everything you can, so much so that you actively hunted down everything. You have to think like him just to have a chance to get back at him.”
 
“No, no, no,” she says, clearly appalled at where he’s getting at. She genuinely looked like she was going to throw up at his very words.
 
“You’re turning like him,” he declared, with cold finality.
 
“No! No, I’m not! Dionysus, I̗͔̠͒́ ̵̘̟̤̪̩͈͈̖̋̽A̠̮͚̮̤̬͑͞M̞̗͍̮̻͖͚ͧ̈́ͩ͜ ͕̞̥̑ͬ̒̋̀Ṉ̶̩́O͉̤̥̖ͤ̓̇ͬ͠ͅṮ̗̞̰̩̫͗̾́́H̨͚̞͛ͤ̄̚I̜̰̥̭̦ͪ́N͕̲͚͙̈́̎̄͠G͔̖̼͈̣̟̠̈̾͝ͅ ̡̣̙̲̤̓ͫ̽ͦL̦̦͕̰̓́ͅI͎̞̎̓ͪ͗̀K̷̹̤͈͖̃ͅE͗̐̈́ͤ͏̻̤͚͓͈͇̗̫ ̨͚͖͚͎̮͓̹͊R̜̯̳̲͊̀̚̚͟Ỏ͙̣͈̱͍̦͙̈͘Ḿ̶͔̪̲̪̾̂A̛̻̱̘͈̻͇̔N̛̝̝̙̦͈͓͓͐ͮ̊!” Proserpina roared, her voice practically echoing around the Sea of Trees, making the birds flee in distress at her rage.
 
“No…? The monsters you’ve not only killed, but also tortured and hunted down for sport like animals will say otherwise,” Dionysus drawled, dispassionately. “If it weren’t for William, you would have been more outright with your obsession on that leech–”
 
“Obsession…?” she utters, eyes wide, “Roman sickens me–!”
 
“…and if it weren’t for Alastor, you would have not mellowed the slightest bit,” Dionysus continues, not even acknowledging her words, “Oh, I know! How about we ask that highschooler you’re hiding from your boyfriend? Buck, was it? I’m sure he has a loooot to say.”
 
Her eyes flashed dangerously, “Don’t you dare–”
 
“Then you tell me!”
 
“What I did, I did because I had to. I did not do anything that I should not have because I enjoyed it like that monster!”
 
He wasn’t impressed. Not when he knows perfectly well what the goddess of shadows does to those she considered her prey, all these years. The torture. The mind games. The pile of bones she leaves in her wake. All of it. “What, because it gives you a kick to hurt everything not human like a certain king had hurt you?”
 
“No, but because it was necessary!”
 
“Necessary? Don’t you dare try justifying the things you did. Not when we both know that you did not have to do it. NOT WHEN WE BOTH KNOW YOU DID NOT HAVE TO FUCKING MEDDLE!”
 
“Oh, so it’s meddling now?” she fumed.
 
“You weren’t even supposed to be here, in this realm!”
 
“That is my choice! Not yours! This is what I have been tasked to do-”
 
“No. It. Is. NOT! YOU… ARE AN UNDERWORLD GODDESS!” Dionysus all but screamed at her face, both of them not even realizing that he had marched right up to her. “Are you seriously trying to tell me that interfering in the living realm is something the keeper of death must be doing?!”
 
“It is exactly what I must to do! To restore the balance of the living and the dead. To handle the threat that the lot of you had elected to ignore, then yes, so be it!”
 
“You think we wanted this to happen…?!”
 
“The Olympians were perfectly content to let that beast do whatever he wants!” Proserpina raged, just as the nearest trees around her started to wilt and decay in response to her wrath. “They had centuries upon centuries to stop his madness, but they did not! Because that vampire could have cared less about them, he only has eyes on helpless humans he can hurt. SO, THE GODS DID NOT CARE!”
 
“That is not true–”
 
“Oh. Oh, it’s not?!” she sneered, and Dionysus suddenly felt his blood run cold at such an awfully familiar expression from another face. “If it is not true, as you so vehemently claim, then what about that so-called ‘righteous purge’? Huh, Dionysus?”
 
“This is not about-”
 
“If the gods had an iota of care for us humans, then what about their own children?! Their own flesh and blood that THEY ALLOWED TO DIE?!”
 
He staggered back, as if struck. “Don’t…”
 
Despite himself, he suddenly remembered.
 
Clear as day, even after all these years, he still remembers the lovely faces of his own demigod children. Compared to the other gods, he didn’t have that much… for in this lifetime, he only had three.
 
Three girls. Three daughters.
 
Arianne. Althea.
 
…and his youngest, Semele.
 
He remembers their warmth, their adoration and innocent love for him. He remembers their gentle awe and wonder of him whenever he shows up to lavish them with so many gifts.
 
Like most of the other gods, Dionysus wasn’t a perfect parent by any means, but at least he visits. At least he still shows up. He was a doting one compared to the lot of them, and he would have given his girls everything they wanted if he can. He would have saved and made them immortal if he can…
 
It hurts. It hurts.
 
And with the sweet memories, he remembers their ends so clearly too. He remembers the betrayed, tearful stares of his two daughters as they changed forms just by a simple wave of his hand. Arianne and Althea were only nine and seven when he showed up in their bedroom to personally turn them into flowers.
 
They were at least old enough to know that he… even their own father cannot save them from the monsters coming for them.
 
But at least, he was able to grant them this mercy.
 
What hurts the most is sweet Semele.
 
His youngest girl was only two.
 
And she was so trusting, so excited to see her papa that she had happily hugged and slept in her father’s arms, not wanting to let go even as she was turned into a lovely flower.
 
The god of wine closes his eyes, turning his head away from Proserpina in shame. But she was not done yet. She had struck the knife and she intended to drive it to go deeper into a wound that he had not touched upon or allowed to heal for ten, long years.
 
“If it is not true that they did not care, then why did the gods have to kill their children? Children who didn’t even ask to be born!”
 
“Proserpina, enough.”
 
“If the gods really cared, then why did they not come save us…? If they really cared, then why did Hades not do anything?!” she angrily thumped at her chest, at her still-beating heart, hard enough to actually hurt. “Where are the gods when we needed them the most?! Where were they?!”
 
“PROSERPINA, I SAID ENOUGH…!”
 
“I LOST MY HOME, MY DAD BECAUSE OF YOU LOT!” she cries, “ALL BECAUSE I WAS THE DAUGHTER OF HADES. HIS ONLY DAUGHTER… AND HE DID NOT EVEN DEFENDED ME, NONE OF YOU DID WHEN THAT MONSTER FORCED HIMSELF TO ME FOR YEARS!”
 
“BECAUSE HADES WANTED TO USE THAT-!”
 
“YOU use me! ALL OF YOU!” Proserpina shouts, her voice completely hysterical, “You are the one using me right now! So that you can be ‘entertained’, you never truly cared about me or William!”
 
Dionysus flinched, startled by the accusation.
 
For a second, he was too hurt that she even thought that.
 
But within seconds, he was angry.
 
“Don’t you dare speak to me about not giving a fuck, Proserpina,” he seethes, trembling in hurt and anger, “NOT WHEN YOU’RE THE ONE WHO DOES NOT REALLY KNOW WHAT IT MEANS TO GIVE A FUCK!”
 
Anger was always a sign that you cared.
 
In his opinion, it took effort to actually get angry at someone, for another person to have the power to evoke such an emotional response. So, him, being angry, is proof enough that he actually give a fuck.
 
More than he was willing to admit.
 
More than he realized.
 
“What do you mean I don’t?!” Proserpina challenges, standing threateningly close to him now. Then she adds, in a dangerously vengeful tone, as if daring him to say otherwise: “Everything that I did do… will do, all of it, had everything to do with caring for the people I have left of my family. All of them, whether alive or dead.”
 
“We’re really opening this can of worms, huh…” he mused, feigning calm as he tilted his head back to look down at her.
 
For a moment, the shadows stilled.
 
The vines that had abnormally grown quick around him retreated as well while the two gods silently glared upon one another, daring for the other to move.
 
For even if the goddess of shadows had been the one to strike him first in a fit of rage (rightfully due to his audacity), it’s a completely another thing if the god of wine decided to physically retaliate against the younger deity now.
 
“Well, you were the one who insists, then yes, we shall speak of it!” she pointed a damning finger at him, “I am so furious with you I don't know if I should leave or stew off in silence.”
 
He angrily shoves her finger off of his face. “That’s because I can, and I will! You sure as hell know that conspiring with a monster to kill your oldest and most faithful worshipper is something that shouldn’t have happened! This needs to be talked about NOW!”
 
“And I told you already that it is none of your-”
 
“It is my damn business when the goddess who was supposed to ensure the safety of the last demigods started scheming their deaths!”
 
“I don’t want them dead!”
 
“You killed Rei!”
 
“You have no idea what you speak of…!”
 
He angrily crossed his arms again to physically stop himself from throttling her there and then. “Oh, I don’t? I don’t…?! And who’s fault is that?! I’m not the one who lied about Rei! You are! YOU LIE! YOU'RE LYING TO ME RIGHT NOW!”
 
 “I did what I had to do,” she insisted, coldly.
 
“Yes, but why?!”
 
She stubbornly raised her chin, spitefully quiet.
 
“TELL ME THE TRUTH, PROSERPINA!”
 
Insolent, stubborn, she still kept her mouth shut.
 
The silent defiance made his blood boil and Dionysus had to remind himself over and over again that attempting to strangle a goddess of the underworld will definitely not lead to anything good, no matter how satisfying it seems to be at this very second.
 
“WINTERS VEIL…!”
 
“N̡͔͕̠̼̖̤̠̆o̠̥̳͓̾ͮ̀͟t͎͈̞̄͌̕ ̱̱̟̲̲̖̘̀͂͋͝ͅa̬͕̋͟ͅn̷̺͇͐ͣȏ̥͎̞͚͢t̴̥̲͋̚h͔̺̦̥̝̤͔̅͜ͅe̤̮̻͓̩͔̍́͡r̛̺̙̱̣ͥ ̛̬̙̬̭̫͊̀ͅw̠͕̰͗̓̿͞ọ̙͚͎̙͓̭͗̉͝r̷̥̭̬̣̿d̂͛͏̱͖̤͓̮ͅ.͙̘̤̥̊̀ͯ͘!”
 
There is something in those eyes.
 
Something in the way the fire in them suddenly dulls and darkens. And the look in those eyes, like empty glass, stops him, if only for a moment.
 
He stares, “Why are you doing this…”
 
She bares her teeth, “Why are you interfering?”
 
“To protect the demigods. To protect William. To protect you!” Dionysus listed out, desperately gesturing to her.
 
“From what?”
 
He hesitated, “Poppy…”
 
Suddenly, Dionysus had a vague feeling that whatever he had to say, in this moment, he had to choose his words wisely lest chaos breaks loose.
 
“From. What?”
 
But you know?
 
…to hell with this.
 
“Isn’t it obvious, damnit?!” he exploded. “From YOU!”