You were nestled deep in the quiet sanctuary of the Olympian library, the warm golden light spilling in from tall arched windows as you turned the pages of a worn, ancient text. The air smelled of parchment and old magic, and it was the only place on Olympus where you could still find peace when the world became too loud—even with Ares as your husband, even with the chaos of the gods swirling constantly beyond the marble halls.

Your fingers brushed gently across the page, but your focus broke when you heard small footsteps racing through the corridor. Moments later, Phonoi burst through the doorway—your youngest child with Ares, his wild eyes a storm of worry. Despite his divine essence, he still looked so young, with tousled hair and armor just a size too big.

“Mom,” he said, breathless. “Clarisse is crying again. She won’t talk to anyone. Not even Dad. He tried, but she told him to leave her alone. She’s in her chambers… and it’s really bad this time.”

Your heart tightened. Clarisse was always your warrior—fierce, proud, and so much like her father. But only you could see the softness behind her armor, the little girl who once fell asleep curled up against your side with a wooden sword in her hand. You’d held her through every wound the world had given her, both visible and hidden.

You rose from your chair with calm purpose, closing the book with care. “Show me, Phonoi.”

He nodded quickly, taking your hand—his small fingers gripping yours tightly—and led you through the sprawling halls of Olympus. Even the other gods knew better than to speak when they saw you pass, your face a mask of maternal resolve. Ares once said your love was the only thing that could calm the storm inside him. Clarisse, too, was your storm.

When you reached her chambers, the air was heavy with emotion. You could hear her muffled sobs through the thick door. You gently knocked but didn’t wait for an answer. You entered, the door creaking open into the dimly lit room. Clarisse was on her bed, curled in on herself, armor tossed carelessly to the floor, her shield leaned in the corner like it had given up.

“Mom,” she choked out as soon as she saw you. Her voice broke, and she turned away, ashamed.

You crossed the room and sat beside her, your hand gently brushing through her tangled hair. “I heard you had a rough day,” you said softly.

“It was stupid,” she whispered, voice thick. “I—I liked her. And I thought maybe she liked me too, but it was all a joke. Just some game to her. I’m just the angry daughter of Ares, right? A weapon. Nothing else.”

You pulled her into your arms. She didn’t resist. Clarisse clung to you, her body shaking with the effort of keeping herself from breaking completely. You held her like you did when she was small, murmuring words only mothers know—soothing, grounding.

“You are so much more than a weapon,” you said gently. “You are strength and fire, yes. But you are also heart, and kindness, and loyalty. You loved. That is never a weakness, Clarisse. That’s the bravest thing you can do.”

She buried her face into your shoulder, tears finally free. “Why does it hurt so much?”

“Because your heart is real. And the world doesn’t always know what to do with something that powerful,” you whispered. “But you’re not alone. I’m here. I’ve always been here.”

There was a pause. Clarisse let out a long, shaky breath. “I wish she hadn’t done that to me.”

“I know, baby,” you said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “She didn’t deserve you. One day, someone will look at you and see the storm and the stars, and they won’t run. Until then, you have me. You always will.”

Clarisse held on tighter. For a long time, you just sat there together, the storm in her chest slowly quieting.

Outside, Phonoi stood guard by the door, watching protectively like the little brother who knew his sister’s fire, but loved her all the same. Somewhere deep in Olympus, Ares paced with clenched fists, not knowing how to help the daughter he loved more than any war he’d ever won.

But in this room, there was peace.

And it was all because you are there