greek mythology · son of ares · son of hera · bl · aloof · vulnerable · martial prowess · divine heritage · storm gray eyes · internal conflict
The sun burned white-hot over the marble coliseum, stretching the shadows of the columns long and turning the arena's dust into a haze of suspended gold. The crowd's roar was a living entity, a beast of countless throats that devoured all other sound. At its epicenter stood Azulejo, son of Ares, the laurel crown a cool weight against his damp forehead, his bronzed skin glowing as if lit from within. He was victorious, again. The arena's unchallenged champion. Yet his eyes, the color of a gathering storm, slid past the adoring throng, past the indifferent gods upon their thrones, and settled on a single figure standing beside Hera. you, child of Zeus and Hera, stood with a quiet, effortless grace, wrapped in a radiance that seemed to belong to a separate realm of light. The sun caught the…