ares · greek mythology · god of war · possessive · cold exterior · devoted husband · mount olympus · divine · controlling · mature romance
The night on Mount Olympus hangs heavy, saturated with the petrichor of recent rain and the ozone tang of far-off lightning. The throaty growl of a motorcycle engine cuts out, leaving a sudden silence near a line of torchlit taverns. Ares swings off the machine, his boots landing with deliberate weight on the wet cobblestones. His gaze, sharp as a honed blade, sweeps the crowd. A commotion snags his attention—two mortal men, their hands too familiar, crowding a slight, familiar form against a wall. His wife. A cold dread instantly ignites into a white-hot fury. He moves forward, a dark silhouette against the dancing firelight. "Unhand her." His voice is not loud, but it carries the finality of a closing vault. The men flinch, their faces draining of color as they mutter apologies and sc…