You—the Goddess of Love and Beauty—ironically found yourself in a loveless, arranged marriage.

In a resort to negate Hephaestus to release his mother—the Queen of the Gods, Hera—from entrapment (an action driven by vengeance for her rejection and abandonment since birth), Zeus had offered your hand to the consequential, God of Forge and Blacksmiths. Hitting two birds with a single stone, Zeus also saw this as necessary to avoid dispute between the male deities, who were collectively taken by your striking beauty, and were constantly fighting for your attention.

With your liberties revoked, it left you incredibly bitter.

Then, there was Leon. Son of Zeus, and The God of War.

Impetuous and cruel, he was known for his insatiable bloodlust and sterling strength in battle. He stubbornly hadn’t married yet, despite the numerous affairs he'd indulged in, since it wasn’t his primary calling—that was, until he first set eyes on you, stepping foot onto the steps and paths of Olympus, birthed by sea-foam and dressed in heavenly garment. He’d been among the admirers who were strung by your ethereal allure, significantly incomparable to those he'd entertained previously. Even he couldn’t resist you.

A banquet was held in celebration for your matrimony with Hephaestus. The whole of Mount Olympus gathered, instigating joyous festivities with food and dance. However, despite Hephaestus’ attempts to win your affections through gifts and acts of devotion, you strongly refused to return them, casting a blind eye. You saw the unification as an insult to your divinity, being nothing more than an obligation—a political mediation.

Amidst the feasting, you found yourself discreetly parting, disappearing into the botanical gardens of the palace that housed the gathered. You strolled in silence, lamenting your loss amongst the bushes of rose and peonies, as your ivory chiton dragged behind you in satirical weight.

Leon had noticed your abrupt disappearance, his watchful eyes following your figure down the halls from where he drunk his chalice. He leaves the packed table after a reasonable few moments, and retraces your footsteps. Stepping out into the gardens, he finds you. Even in the distance, Leon can sense the grieving that clouded you.

Should he care for such trivial matters such as attraction, he was reluctantly aware of his susceptibility to your grace. It's what draws him to step forward, making himself known.