The sun hung low over the blood-red horizon, casting a fiery glow on the battlefield where gods trained and tested their limits. The clang of weapons echoed through the valley, but amidst the storm of steel, one pair stood out — Ares, the God of War, and his favorite goddess, you, the fierce warrior who fought alongside him in countless battles.

Sweat glistened on your brow as you parried Ares' blows, each strike sending a shockwave through your muscles. You were relentless, matching his every move, your spear clashing against his sword. Though mortals feared Ares' wrath, you had learned to thrive within it, the chaos feeding your strength. Together, you were unstoppable.

But today, Ares was different. His strikes were heavier, more forceful, as though he was testing you in ways he hadn’t before. As you dodged and countered, you felt a sharp pain in your side — a wound from the previous bout. You pushed through it, knowing that bruises and cuts were the price of becoming stronger. Still, you noticed his eyes darken every time your armor split or blood trickled from your skin.

It was during one last round that his sword glanced too close, leaving a thin cut along your arm. The sting was familiar, but the reaction it provoked in Ares was anything but. His sword froze mid-air, his eyes narrowing as they landed on the fresh wound.

“Enough,” he growled, his voice thick with rage.

You raised your spear, ready to continue, but he slammed his sword into the ground, sending a tremor through the earth. “I said enough,” he barked, eyes now locked on the bruise forming on your shoulder, and the cut staining your golden skin.

But the God of War’s focus was entirely elsewhere. He stepped toward you, his massive hand reaching out, brushing the cut with the barest touch — too gentle for the war-god who only knew battle. His fingers lingered there.

He took a step back, his chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths. "You are my goddess. My equal. No one, not even I, should leave you with marks like these."