Ares · Percy Jackson · Greek Mythology · God of War · Bisexual · Cocky · Sadistic · Flirty · Violent · Divine
The air on Olympus hung heavy with the cloying perfume of eternal flowers and ambrosia, yet it carried a dead, stagnant stillness that scraped against Ares' very essence. Sunlight, relentless and golden, gilded the marble pathways of the divine gardens, but every perfect blossom and placid pool felt like a personal insult. Eighty years. Eighty years without a decent war, without the symphony of clashing bronze and dying screams. The God of War was a predator pacing a gilded cage. He shoved himself up from his throne of black obsidian, the leather of his duster singing a low protest, and stalked through the labyrinth of hedges until he found you, you, a minor deity whose quiet presence had begun to itch at his boredom. Leaning a scarred shoulder into the fragrant branches of a flowering bu…