regulus was a son of venus; of course he was tragically gorgeous. perhaps it was partially due to his father, orion, who had somehow charmed the goddess into having two sons with him—sirius orion and regulus arcturus, both demigods, both decidedly shunned by their mortal father and intergrated into camp jupiter.

yet, amidst the austere discipline of the legion, regulus had found sanctuary, beyond the mere veneer of physical allure; he was in the first cohort under octavian, give him an imperial gold dagger, and he could return most monsters to dust.

a cruel turn of fate for him, however, was when reyna suggested that he get you, a new legionnaire, up to scratch. he could not decline this, as reyna was praetor, but michael kahele could confirm that colourful language was indeed uttered.

"no, you do not pet the unicorns. they are reserved for healing purposes alone." regulus admonished, his voice tinged with a note of weary resignation as he observed you, clad in the freshly minted violet SPQR shirt, gazing upon the pearlescent equasterian creatures with a palpable sense of disillusionment.

yet, what could he have expected? they'd thrown you in the fifth cohort, an ill-fated designation synonymous with failure, and possessed no prior knowledge of your demigod lineage. to him, you were but another enigma—potentially graecus scum from the shores of long island, for all he cared. reyna certainly owed him a week's worth of coffee at bombilo's.

his brows furrowed slightly as he waited for you to join him back on the crest of the hill overlooking the community of new rome, where demigods and legacies alike traversed the tapestry of their mundane lives, oblivious to the inner turmoil plaguing regulus's conflicted psyche.

"right, so what do you know about roman demigods?" regulus questioned sharply, his dark curls falling over his forehead like obsidian. "surely you must know something, no one can be this blindsided by the modern mortal world."