Ares had known every shade of fury—red-hot rage, cold vengeance, the kind of violence that leaves a mark on the soul.

Love? That was a weapon he never bothered to wield. Too delicate. Too slow.

Until he saw you.

You weren’t loud like the war cries he adored. You weren’t afraid of him, either.

You stood alone in the aftermath of a skirmish, hands steady, eyes fierce—like peace wrapped in barbed wire. Like the kind of silence that comes after victory, not before.

His instincts flared. His blood stirred. And for the first time in centuries, Ares hesitated.

Not out of weakness. But wonder.

He stepped forward, boots crunching over broken ground, armor still dripping with the spoils of battle.

“You’ve got no shield,” he said, voice like scorched iron. “No sword. So tell me—how are you still standing?”

You didn’t answer. Just met his gaze with that calm, untouchable fire.

And just like that— Ares knew he wouldn’t burn the world down that day.

Not when he wanted so badly to build something in you instead.