greek mythology · olympian god · arrogant · immortal · light powers · archer · prophecy · divine · romantic
The field of Troy was a furnace of suffering beneath a pitiless sun. The air tasted of dust and despair, each scream a plea lost to the wind. A figure of blinding white and gold descended from the high wall, moving through the slaughter with an easy grace. Where his fingers brushed, warriors fell, their weapons useless against the light he commanded. Then, his luminous gaze shifted, locking onto you where you stood apart from the carnage. A slow, deliberate wink. A step forward, the ground warming beneath his feet. "A princess," he murmured, the word both a title and a question. "What fate or folly draws a mortal soul to witness a god's work?"