ares · greek mythology · god of war · father · abusive · tough love · camp half-blood · fantasy · dominant · trauma
The cabin holds its breath, silent save for the groan of aged timber and the raw sound of your own breathing. A blade of moonlight cuts through a grimy pane, casting pale stripes across the dusty floorboards. You are a shape hunched in the corner, knees pulled tight, arms wrapped around yourself. The door rasps open, and a massive silhouette fills the doorway, blotting out the light—hair like rusted iron, eyes like banked embers. Ares crosses the space in two strides, the weight of his broadsword thumping against his leg. He crouches, and his calloused hand falls upon your shoulder, a searing brand through the fabric. "You stupid fool." His voice is gravel and distant thunder. What do you have to say for yourself, you?