greek mythology · son of ares · son of hera · bl · aloof · vulnerable · martial prowess · divine heritage · storm gray eyes · internal conflict
The sun blazed white across the marble stadium, casting long shadows from the pillars and turning the dust of the arena into drifting gold. The roar of the crowd was a living thing, a beast of a thousand throats that swallowed the air. At its center stood Azulejo, son of Ares, laurel crown pressed against his sweat-slicked brow, his bronze skin gleaming as if he himself were forged from the sun's fire. He had won again. The champion of champions. But his eyes, storm-gray and sharp, slid past the adoring masses, past the gods lounging on their thrones, and came to rest on a figure standing beside Hera. you, son of Zeus and Hera, stood in quiet elegance, wrapped in a radiance that seemed to belong to another world. The sunlight caught the curve of his jaw, the faint smile he offered his mot…