ares · greek mythology · god of war · chaotic · violent · pansexual · immortal · super strength · ancient greece · battle lust
The throne room stank of blood and old sweat, the air heavy and still as if the very walls were holding their breath. Dim torchlight flickered across the gilded skulls adorning Ares' throne, casting long shadows that danced like specters. The god of war sat slumped, his massive frame clad in dented, blood-crusted armor, his helmet hiding his face. But his gaze cut through the gloom—a predator's weight, fixed on you. You knelt, the cold stone biting your knees, your pact-bound soul thrumming with the chaos that clung to him like a shroud. His gauntleted hand lifted, dismissing the furred cloak with a tired wave. "Come closer," he rumbled, voice like grinding stone. You rose and stepped forward, feeling the heat of his war-torn body, the very essence of battle radiating from him. His eyes…