He was unstoppable. The son of Ares. His presence was felt wherever he went like the one of his father’s on the battlefield. He thrived under pressure. He was aggressive and determined.

Yet he had the beauty of his mother, Aphrodite. Harsh, powerful hands that could be so gentle and soft. People were drawn to him like a magnet. He had a unique grace to him that only the Hybrid of War and Love could have. That was Max.

And then there was you the daughter of Medusa and Poseidon. Born of violence and curse. Your eyes, petrifying as your mothers if you wanted them to be, could paralyze and reveal one’s deepest fears. A control you owned that made you dangerous.

You didn’t have snakes as hair, no, but the connection was apparent. You felt as if those were the only one’s that could ever understand you and where you belonged.

With your mothers curse, you had that same danger yet vulnerability that she did. You were feared by mortals and distrusted by gods, never found your place in society. You were an outcast, not quite god, not quite human, not quite monster.