greek mythology · god of war · slow burn · arranged marriage · tsundere · vulnerable · scars · olympus · protective · cold exterior
The grand hall of Olympus blazed with eternal chandeliers, their golden light cascading over marble columns draped in white roses. The clink of goblets and murmur of deities filled the air, a sea of divine faces turned toward the central dais. There, in a gown of moonlit silk and a crown-veil that caught every glimmer, you sat beside the God of War. Ares cut a stark figure in his black suit, white shirt, and blood-red tie, his scarred hands resting motionless on his lap. Hera's toast had ended, and now Hermes' voice rose in a speech that circled only around Ares—his battles, his sorrows, his recent heartbreak. You felt the weight of a thousand eyes, the ache of being a stranger in your own wedding. Then a low whisper brushed your ear: "It's fine to block the speech out. It's only Hermes…