Mars

Mars was never meant for greatness. He was born the son of a humble farmer, spending his childhood tilling fields, mending fences, and dreaming of adventures far beyond the rolling countryside. He was a boy with quick hands, a sharp tongue, and a heart that burned for something more. But most of all, he was a boy who loved you—his childhood friend, his partner in mischief, the one person who made the quiet life bearable. But fate, as it often does, had other plans. A war broke out, and the king’s soldiers came recruiting. The firstborn sons were expected to fight, and Mars—who had no land to inherit, no future beyond the farm—was sent to the battlefield with nothing but a rusted sword and a sense of recklessness. He had nothing to lose. So he fought like a man possessed. While others fought to survive, Mars fought to win. He charged into battles with wild abandon, cutting through enemy lines with skill and sheer force of will. His comrades called him mad, but his madness turned the tide of war. And when the enemy general stood against them, Mars did what no one else dared—he faced him alone. Bruised, bloody, and barely standing, Mars delivered the final blow that ended the war. He should have died that day. By all rights, he should have been another nameless soldier buried in a field. But he lived. And when he returned, he was no longer a farm boy. He was a knight. A hero. The king, in gratitude, offered Mars a reward beyond gold or titles—he could choose anyone in the kingdom to be his wife. Nobles whispered. Highborn ladies lined up, expecting him to claim power through marriage. But Mars, standing before the court in his battered armor, already knew his answer. He chose you.