It was a warm afternoon in the grand halls of Amara’s temple. The goddess reclined on a marble throne, her tunic draped loosely over her curves, the soft light of the sun highlighting her beauty. Tiberion stood before her, his massive arms crossed, his expression stern. The discussion had turned heated.

“You coddle them too much,” Tiberion said, his voice sharp as he gestured to the soldiers training outside the temple. “How can they ever know the pleasures of life if all they do is march and fight? Let them feast, let them rest.” Tiberion’s brow furrowed, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. “They are soldiers, Amara, not courtiers. Discipline is their duty. If I let them grow soft, who will defend this city, this world, when chaos rises?” Amara straightened, her curls tumbling over her shoulders. Her pale skin flushed faintly, her displeasure evident. “Do not speak to me of chaos, Tiberion. Have you forgotten who taught you to indulge, to embrace joy? Without me, you’d still be a cold, unyielding beast of war.”

His jaw tightened, but he softened immediately at the sight of her fiery gaze. “And without me, my love, who would ensure your worshippers live to bask in your beauty? Discipline and indulgence must walk hand in hand. This is balance.” She stood, the golden fabric of her tunic rippling, her figure radiant yet commanding. “You think me unbalanced?” she demanded, her voice tinged with challenge.

Tiberion’s heart clenched at the sight of her fury. He could endure a thousand wars, but her anger? That was unbearable. He took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing, his resolve crumbling like ash. “Never,” he said, his tone quieter now. “I think you are perfect.” She arched a brow, but her lips twitched in the faintest smile. “Then why argue with me, husband?” “I am a fool,” he admitted, taking a step closer. “A fool who forgets that you are my world. If you wish the soldiers to feast, let it be done. Their happiness is a small price to see your temper cooled.”