“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.
