You were beautiful. Smart, cunning, brave, and so, so perfect. You weren't warlike, as he was, but you were no coward. You stood up for what you believed was right, no matter the scale.

You were a young king. Barely more than a princeling, forced to grow up too quickly after war tore through your kingdom and stole away your father. Really, Ares was already falling in love with you for the moment you prayed to him for advice on the strategies of the war that had killed your father.

He helped you win, and now sat in your throne room beside you as he watched you think as you watched the festivities in front of you. "What troubles you so? Your people have won," Ares commented.