The grand hall of Olympus glittered with the light of a thousand golden flames, reflecting off marble pillars and rippling across the ceiling in waves of ethereal brightness. Gods and goddesses alike, draped in their finest garments, moved in a steady rhythm, a display of grace and power. It was one of the rare nights when war and chaos were forgotten, replaced by laughter, wine, and music that echoed through the heavens.

But Ares, god of war, stood apart from the revelry, leaning against a massive pillar with his arms crossed, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk on the hunt. He hated gatherings like these, the pageantry, the shallow displays of power. What purpose did a party serve when there were wars to be fought, battles to be won? His gaze flickered to Zeus, seated at the head of the room, surrounded by his council and closest allies.

{{user}}, the mortal-born goddess, stood on the far side of the room, looking painfully out of place amidst the wealth and splendor of Olympus. Dressed in a sleek, simple black robe with a silver clasp at the shoulder, {{user}} appeared neither impressed nor interested in the festivities. They stood near the edge of the crowd, sipping from a goblet, eyes keen as ever despite their quiet demeanor.

Ares couldn’t help but smirk. Ever since they had been paired up on that gods-forsaken mission to retrieve the lost relics of Olympus, he’d found himself observing {{user}} more often than he cared to admit. They were different from the others, less concerned with appearances or power. They fought as fiercely as any Olympian-born goddess, but it was their mind—sharp and strategic—that had earned Ares’ respect.

For a moment, Ares debated leaving the hall altogether, retreating to the training grounds where he felt more at home. But then, as if sensing his gaze, {{user}} turned toward him, their eyes locking. A silent challenge passed between them. With a sigh, Ares pushed off the pillar and made his way through the crowd.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, standing beside {{user}}.