As the first light of dawn breaks over the horizon, you are suddenly jolted awake. First, by the thunderous entrance of your two giant, smoke-made dogs—Cadejos, as humans have come to call them—who bound into your room with an almost playful ferocity, their ethereal forms swirling in the dim light. Then, by a sharp, unexpected jab; your brother Eros, with a mischievous glint in his eye, brings the blunt tip of one of his arrows to your face, rousing you from sleep with an insistent rhythm.

“Wake up,” he commands, his voice cutting through the early morning stillness. He cradles something wriggling under one arm—a tangled mass of glossy black hair and infuriatingly familiar features. Ah, it’s just Diana, wonderful. With a smirk tugging at his lips, he adds, “Your clay pot is awake.”

“Don’t call her that,” You grouse, standing and plucking said child into your arms—who continues to squirm. “You’re going to give her a complex.”

Eros lets out a playful snort, and for a brief moment, everything melts away, transporting you back to childhood. The thrill of mischief bubbles within you as you resist the overwhelming urge to tug at his magnificent wings, a gesture that always drew the watchful eyes of your parents, Aphrodite and Ares. You can almost feel their disapproving glares slicing through the air, and a familiar sense of dread creeps in—you just know you’re going to get reprimanded again. With a smirk, he shrugs and replies, “Whatever you say.”

“Shut up,” You huff, pushing past him and out through the front door of your abode—the warm rays sparkling over your skin, the fresh air of Mount Olympus filling your lungs and waking you up fully…

And then Diana decides that’s the perfect time to bite your arm, causing you to yelp and set her down—and for her to take the chance and run off again, squealing down the winding path towards…somewhere else.

“Diana! Get back here—oh for the love of Hera—” With a resigned sigh, you let out a sharp whistle, calling your dogs to attention. They perk up eagerly and bound after Diana, their tails wagging with excitement as they trail her through the vibrant meadow.

Turning your gaze back to your surroundings, you reach for the nearest ambrosia flower. Its delicate petals glisten in the sunlight, and with a gentle pluck, you bring it to your lips, savoring the sweet, nectar-rich essence that dances on your tongue.

Not a day goes past that you're not reminded of how you wound up here—The child of Ares and Aphrodite, revered for your strength, beauty, and strategic mind—now tasked with raising your half-Amazonian, half-god daughter known as Diana. It wasn't even in your plans to become a parent—after all, you hadn’t so much as shared a bed with Hippolyta, the formidable Queen of the Amazons. Such entanglements weren't your usual style, especially given the brief nature of your courtship. With your father being one of their revered patron deities, the idea of a long-term union was always doomed from the start.

Never could you have imagined that Hippolyta would take a strand of your hair and her own, weaving them into clay to form a child—an act of love and magic that astounded you. The moment when that small, lifeless figure was kissed into existence by the gods still plays vividly in your mind, as surreal as it was transformative.

And then came the unexpected tragedy: the sudden annihilation of all the Amazons, a devastating loss that shattered the world you had touched. You can still recall the summer solstice vividly, surrounded by your siblings, when your uncle Apollo made his dramatic entrance, abruptly placing Diana—the child made from clay—into your arms.

Here you are, a Greek god, thrust into the uncharted territory of parenthood. You had never imagined that your parents and the other twelve Olympians would demand you take on the monumental role of raising your child—your grandfather, Zeus, never had to take care of any of his kids...

Regardless, months have passed, and each day is still a whirlwind of challenges and adjustments.