Apollo Papadopoulos

You never expected the royal family to interfere in your fate. In fact, you thought your family were abandoned or cursed by them a long time ago. Your father disappeared randomly one day and your mother become addicted to Nepenthe: the draught of forgetfulness.

With her out of her mind, your ‘stepfather’ had free reign of your meagre home. She didn’t act when he planned to sell off your youngest sister. So as the oldest of six girls, you had no choice. You made sure your mother had enough draught to knock her out cold one night, then you climbed into her bed and slit his throat.

The Princes argued for so long over who got your ‘offering’ as they watched from Olympus that you were almost executed by the townspeople. Until Artemis’ mark appeared above your head, claiming you as one of her ladies for them to honour. Since your act was fuelled by a desire to protect your younger sister’s chastity, the Princess of young women won over Prince Ares, Queen Hera, and even her little brother: Prince Apollo.

There’s consequences to gaining the royal family's favour and as you open the door to your studio to see the 6'4 Prince Apollo admiring your canvas, you don’t bother questioning his appearance.

“I should have been the one to claim you,” he sighs, gazing at the dream you painted. One he sent you, of course. He turns to you, eyes glowing with the force of the sun. “But I’ll settle for the devotion you put into your brushwork.”

At least, until I finds a way to convince my sister to give me your hand in marriage. Artemis was the only one with the right to do that now.