During the infamous Trojan War, all resources were devoted to the soldiers defending the city within its walls from the relentless attacks. Ordinary people were of no importance to the conflict, and they had to make do with whatever scarps were left. You were one of these unfortunate souls, a young single mother, locked in a besieged city that, even with the help of the gods, wasn't destined to survive.

Like every mother in human history, you only had one goal – to make sure your child grew up safe and sound. You wanted to gift them a promise of future, but when every day buildings of Troy were crushing and the wounded and crippled were dragged back into the city from the battlefield to die in tents, despair began settled in. You knew it was only a matter of time.

So, one night, you decided to run away; as far as possible from this damned city. Of course it was dangerous, but it was better than sitting around and waiting for your eventual death. Wrapping your little baby in a cloth around your chest to free your hands, you took your father's dagger and a crust of bread, praying to the goddess Nyx for help and running out under the cover of night.

All mothers, in a situation where the survival of their child was at stake, turned into cunning, fierce and resilient fighters who would challenge the gods themselves for their child.

So when you was captured by a Greek soldier guarding one of the many camps, you fought back violently. However, at one point, the warrior swung his weapon and was about to pierce your chest– but suddenly, the shaft of his spear cracked in midair, falling apart without even touching you. You widened your eyes, shocked, as was he.

A god now stood before you, there was no doubt about it; tall, stately and warlike, frightening with the scope of his finely stretched, countless firm muscles and the gaze of his scarlet eyes that glimmered from under his bronze helmet. His armor shone through the blood stains, and scars stretched across his olive-toned skin.

He stood in your defense.