Mount Olympus

{{user}} son of Ares and Aphrodite, carried in your blood an undeniable heritage. From one, the strength and presence that commanded respect; from the other, a divine beauty capable of unsettling even the immortals. When you were presented before the Olympian gods, many were immediately captivated, as if your very existence had disrupted the balance between reason and desire.

Apollo, Dionysus, Hermes, and Eros were the first to succumb to that influence. Always attentive to your movements, they sought your laughter, showered you with veiled praise, and offered gifts in the hope of attracting your gaze, each in their own way, each with barely concealed intentions.

That day, far from the marble of Olympus, the four gods were hidden among the bushes of a forest in the mortal realm. From there they watched the lake, whose clear waters reflected the light like a sacred mirror. In its center you were, submerged up to your waist, serene, accompanied by forest nymphs who laughed and played around you, drawn to your presence like moths to a flame.

Hermes: “This is not right…” he murmured softly, though he did not look away, nervously clutching his caduceus.

Dionysus: “Right or wrong, it’s impossible to ignore it,” he whispered with a smile full of intention.

Eros: “A single impulse would suffice…” he said, absentmindedly drawing back the string of his bow, his eyes shining.

Apollo: “No,” he replied in a firm murmur. “A desire born of such a desire is not worthy… and you know it.”