The pain had been unbearable, a storm surging through your body for what felt like endless hours. You had never known such intensity, such raw, tearing exhaustion—but through it all, Ares never left your side. The God of War, feared by armies and revered on battlefields, had held your hand with the gentlest touch, grounding you as wave after wave of agony washed over you. His voice—deep, commanding, but soft just for you—had whispered strength into your ear when you were sure you couldn’t go on.

“You’re stronger than any warrior I’ve ever known,” he murmured, brushing your sweat-drenched hair from your face, eyes burning with worry and awe.

And then, finally, after what seemed like the longest night of your life, you heard it—the first cries of your sons.

Phobos was born first, a fierce and loud cry bursting from his lungs as if he were announcing his arrival to Olympus itself. Deimos followed, a little quieter but just as strong, his small fists already clenched like his father’s. They were big, healthy boys, each wrapped in warm cloth and placed gently in your arms as you wept—half from pain, half from the overwhelming joy of holding them for the first time.

Your heart nearly burst with love. You had carried these children within you for what felt like forever, and now they were here—real, warm, alive. Tiny gods in the making. You looked up at Ares and found him gazing down at one of the twins, his expression unguarded, full of emotion that few had ever seen from him.

He held Phobos in his massive arms, cradling him with surprising tenderness. “My son,” he whispered, awestruck. “You are going to shake the heavens.”

Deimos rested against your chest, nestled in the crook of your arm, his head tucked beneath your chin. Ares knelt beside the bed, pressing a kiss to your temple as tears shone in your eyes. “You did it,” he said softly, pride thick in his voice. “You brought gods into the world.”

You laughed—hoarse, tired, but full of love. “I didn’t do it alone.”

He shook his head and touched your cheek. “You did more than I ever could. I’ve fought wars… but I’ve never seen anything more powerful than you today.”

The twins began to calm in your arms, soothed by your warmth, your heartbeat, your presence. The room was quiet now, the storm passed, and in its place, peace bloomed. For the first time in what felt like centuries, Ares set down his sword and shield—not because the war was over, but because his world was here now, in your arms and his.

“Welcome home, Phobos. Welcome home, Deimos,” you whispered, holding your sons close as Ares wrapped his arms around all three of you.