Chapter Text
There is something intensely peaceful about laying in his vineyard on Olympus after a night of revelry. Surrounded by his vines, still feeling the effects of the night prior and the intoxication of the wine he always indulges in, coming down from the high he contributed to with his followers, Dionysus basks in this feeling. He has been partaking in more and more of the revelries his followers hold for him the past couple years or so. Through his domains of wine, intoxication, and madness, he has escaped the thoughts that have begun to surface.
Dionysus doesn’t lie to himself, he knows exactly what has been happening. He loves his niece and nephews, little sister and brother, littlest cousin. They bring unending joy to his existence, to all of their existences. No, the thoughts stem towards his siblings, parents, and uncle. He isn’t proud of it, but he finds himself becoming exceedingly jealous of them for having children of their own. He knows he has not brought it up like the others have, speaking the desire to have children to dote on and love and raise, given he was the baby of the family and was typically the one who was doted on. But the thought was always there, having a little boy or girl to have as his own. The barely there thought has become more and more prominent as more and more children have appeared.
Dionysus may be the God of Madness, but he can’t seem to silence the voice of jealousy permeating his head. Perhaps the madness domain is making it worse? He should have better control than to let the voice persist, yet it remains. He hasn’t spoken to anyone about these feelings and thoughts, they do not need to know and he doesn’t want to hurt his family. Instead, he tries to spend more time with the children. Chris specifically seems very attached to him when he is around, and Perseus is always willing to play around and spend time with him when he is on Olympus. It helps, but the voice never truly leaves him. The children quiet the voice, but it never truly dies. It aggravates Dionysus, leading him to indulge himself more and more as to not bring the negativity out. Ironic that the god of madness feels just the littlest bit insane without it being intentional.
Perhaps one day he will be blessed with a child of his own. Perhaps one day, a tiny one will kill off the intruder in his head. Though waiting for what may never come feels like torture, and the weight of the unknown is definitely aiding the voice, like giving fuel to fire. Dionysus rubs a hand down his face, allowing himself to sober up slowly. When he is no longer distracted with his revelries or with his family, the wine seems to only make his feelings worse. What curse is this that the god of wine struggles in his intoxication when alone, when he is who should have control of it? It’s beginning to make his head hurt.
Groaning, Dionysus sits up slowly from where he was lounging with his three leopards, patting them all on their heads. They have been following him around lately, rather than staying near his temple like the usually do. They seem to sense that he is not well mentally, and that company in any sense seems to help him, and have quietly integrated themselves into his daily life. The kids love it, his family is curious as to why he is now always accompanied by at least one leopard, but no concern have been raised, no questions asked for as to why it is occurring. Dionysus is relieved about that at least.
As Dionysus stands and stretches, something every out of the norm, at least for him, happens. He isn’t yet fully sober, hating the feeling of going from intoxication to clear headed so quickly. In front of him, the air shifts in a very strange way. His leopards all shift upwards quickly, eyeing the occurrence before it fully fleshes out into the so called vortex his family has discussed at length. He stands there a second, eyes closing and opening, convincing himself it is really there. He stares at the vortex for another second before going into it, shaking his head to fully clear it up to be aware for danger. Danger he does not find. The sight around him hurts his eyes, so many colors and sweet smells, before he looks down and straight into a pair of big blue eyes within a chubbier little face that looks so much like his own.