A/N: I got this idea when I was writing the one-shot 'Names'. I was wondering what Dionysus would have been treated like by his brothers and other family members since he was the only Olympian born a demigod. He was also the youngest and Hestia gave up her seat for him to be on the council, so there had to be some confrontation there (not by Hestia though, her being as sweet and kind as she is). I hope you like it. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: PJO is not owned by me. If it was…that would be a rather disturbing thought.

Unwanted Memories

The young demigod shifted uncomfortably. He licked his chapped lips and swallowed. His hands fiddled with his lavender tunic. He subconsciously tucked a loose raven lock behind his ear. His gray-blue eyes gazed around the room nervously. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five and here he was, in the throne room of Olympus surrounded by the thirteen most powerful beings in the world. He had bowed and showed his respect to every god, including Hades, and goddess and stood in front of his father.

Zeus eyed the young man somewhat warily yet there was a hint of pride in the king's storm gray gaze. The Lord of Olympus looked no more than thirty and was adorned in royal blue robes with hints of gray. Atop his ebony locks was a golden laurel wreath. His expression was stoic, but the corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly.

His queen, however, did not look as pleased as her husband. Upon her beautiful countenance was a disapproving scowl and her chocolate eyes were filled with hate. Her dark hair was braided with gold and jewels resembling peacock feathers, and she wore a circlet made of woven gold. Her dress was red-violet with a slip of peacock feathers. She glanced at him once more then turned away disdainfully.

Poseidon's green orbs also seemed to scan over the demigod with interest. A crown of silver encrusted with pearls and even coral rested on his dark curls. His deeply tanned skin wrinkled a bit as he smiled at him. He laid back and smoothed out his sea green robes.

Despite his physique, Hephaestus seemed to be much gentler than some would think as he tinkered with what seemed like a fragile piece of machinery. A small fire lit in the black smith's beard and he brushed it away without a second thought. He wiped the machinery with a loose scrap of his charcoal robes.

Hermes ran a frustrated hand through his salt-and-pepper locks. His bright blue eyes looked over a message and his winged sandals and helmet fluttered nervously.

The war god seemed to intimidate and frighten the young man the most. He wore a malicious smirk across his scarred face. The fire in his eyes seemed to lick at the air viciously as he gripped his helmet closer to his side, the piece of armor nearly lost in his blood red robes.

Apollo seemed to be the most carefree of the gods as he leaned back against his throne. He plucked at a lyre mindlessly and hummed to himself.

In front of the hearth was the Lord of the Dead himself, Hades. The young man swallowed as the god's dark eyes were planted on him.

Hestia smiled kindly at him. For some odd reason, he felt warm and comforted just looking into her eyes. She appeared as a child no older that ten yet she was the eldest of them all.

Demeter took no notice in him as she played with some wheat. The vines of her throne seemed to fiddle with the hem of her evergreen dress.

Athena looked him over critically. Her face was as solid and hard as stone. He gulped as he stared into her eyes; they seemed to be analyzing everything about him.

Artemis paid him no mind. She just sharpened her hunting knife in her throne. Her robes shimmered like moonlight.

Most of the blood rushed to his face as he glanced at Aphrodite batting her long lashes in his direction. His knees were feeling weak as she puckered her lips into a smile. Her blush dress hugged her every curve seductively.

"Dionysus," the booming voice of his father called him out of his trance, "son of Zeus, we, the Olympian counsel, deem it appropriate to name you god of wine."

The young demigod's jaw went slack. "U—um, excuse m—me, my lord… Did you just say g—god?"

"Unless you're deaf, that's exactly what he said," Ares sneered before Zeus could open his mouth.

"Ares," Hera reprimanded, "you are not to interrupt Lord Zeus."

"Yes, mother," he grumbled irritably.

"As I was saying," Zeus said as he glared defensively at Ares, "yes, a god, but not just a god."

"Father," Athena asked quizzically, "what are you getting at?"

"I brought it upon myself to make Dionysus an Olympian."

An uproar of interjections arose from the other deities. Dionysus stood in the center of the room, dumbfounded, with his jaw practically on the marble floor. His heart seemed to be pounding on the walls of his skull and his stomach fighting to keep itself down.

"But, Father, that would unbalance the council entirely!" Athena tried to reason.

"Someone would have to give up their spot or something to make room for him, and that sure as Hades won't be me!" Apollo whined.

"Neither will I!" interjected Hermes.

"I'd sooner fade then give up my spot for that little piss ant!" roared Ares.

Immediately, the hearth erupted into a column of fire silencing everyone. The air hummed with tension as everyone turned their attention to the meek Hestia. She appeared very docile and calm in the form of a child. However, her eyes burned with an unknown determination.

"I will give up my place on the council for young Dionysus," she announced.

Zeus seemed quite taken aback, as did the rest of the gods. "A—are you certain of this, sister?"

A small smile graced the goddess's face. "I am certain, Zeus."

"B—but Lady Hestia…that would leave the council unbalanced still with only five goddesses and—"

Hestia gently cut off Athena, "But the council will remain an even twelve, as it should be."

After a moment or two of awkward silence, Zeus cleared his throat. "Then it shall be done. Hestia has given up her throne on Olympus for Dionysus."

The next hour felt like a blur to the young wine maker. He had become an all-powerful, Olympian god and he didn't even remember a second of it. A party was being held in his honor at the very moment, and yet he couldn't find any fun in it. With a wave of his hand he was able to turn simple grapes into the sweetest wine, but there seemed to be no joy for him. He was feeling self-conscious of himself from all the stares he was receiving. Some were of interest while others were of distaste. The most intense of gazes were from his brothers.

As Dionysus was leaning against one of the tables, alone, Ares marched up to him and shoved his face into his. "Don't get all high-and-mighty just yet, you got that? You're still nothing but a pathetic little piss ant. You want any respect, you earn it, and so far you haven't done shit. Do we understand each other?"

Unable to say a word as he was trying to keep his breathing in check, he gave a quick nod.

"Good," Ares sneered once more and stalked off.

"The brute isn't entirely off base," a soft male voice chirped off to his right.

Apollo and Hermes stood side-by-side with matching mischievous smiles. Something about the light in their eyes made the hair on the back of his neck rise uneasily. There was a small glint of curiosity, but a majority was of slight disapproval.

"Hestia was the most loved of all the gods," Apollo continued innocently. "And now she's gone and we have you to thank for that."

"Look, I didn't mean—"

"So if you want to be treated like you're actually a god, then prove yourself," he finished with a clipped tone.

"Plus," Hermes quipped, "it's always nice to have more victims—I mean, partners for our pranks, right Apollo?"

"Right, Hermes." With a quick flash of his teeth in a grin, they were gone.

Dionysus had to swallow hard to keep the bile from crawling up his throat. His knees her shaking uncontrollably and his whole body began to ache. Everything was coming in and out of focus until he ran. At the moment, anywhere but in that yard was a safer place to be. He blinked back his tears and choked back his fears. He kept running until his legs gave out under him. Air was pushed out of his lungs as quickly as it was pulled in.

~*0*~

Dionysus sucked in a sharp breath as his eyes snapped open. Sweat drenched his hot skin. Dried tears streaked his face. With a tired hand he massaged his face.

"Damnit, Morpheus," he cursed under his breath.

He uneasily sat up in bed and swung his legs over the side. A groan left his lips as he stood. He glanced out the window at the cloudless night sky before turning and heading out the door.

His eyes searched in a bored manner through the contents of the fridge before deciding on some grape juice. He took a swig from the bottle as a flicker of light to his right caught his attention. He turned to see Hestia sitting at the dining room table and nearly choked on the juice.

A soft snicker left her lips. "I apologize for startling you."

"No, no, no," he sputtered as he wiped the juice off his lips, "it's quite alright."

"Sleep well?" she asked after a second of silence.

"More or less," was his vague reply, though he could sense she knew what was troubling him. "It was just a dream."

"An unwanted memory, you mean."

His throat tightened. "Yeah…"

"You know I never regret giving up my seat for you."

"Really? Because I always regret taking it from you."

A/N: And there you go. Another one-shot. If you guys want me to make another one or make this a two, or even three-shot, just let me know. Oh and can you guys please check out my poll? Thanks!