(wholesome!ares? yes, wholesome!ares. btw, this is for APH_Berlin03, they requested it some time ago but i only get to publish it now. sorry if this is not exactly what you imagined it to be :D)
It was happening for a while, there’s no way in hell you could’ve slept through it, but you slept peacefully that night. Everyone was concerned about their own dear lives, no one thought about the safety of poor Y/N laying soundly on her chambers. There was crashing and screaming, sounds of blade piercing flesh, mostly of a man who had tried to protect his family. There were cries, either war-like or a plead for help; ballistae firing and exploding concrete to rubble. Yet it took a man rushing your chamber for cover, an hour into the battle, when you finally awoke.
The red glow from the window was the first thing you took notice of. It must be the farmers, burning the hays and wild grass to start a new batch of crops. But then you remembered: it wasn’t season for planting yet.
Then you noticed the man squatting on the foot of your bed.
“The sleeping beauty is finally awake,” the man said with a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
“Ares? Wha—”
Crash!
“That—” Ares said, referring to the noise, “—that’s what’s happening.”
“The village—”
“On fire,” Ares confirmed.
Your eyes widened in shock. You jumped off your bed, and hastily strapped on your breastplate which is lucky enough to be lying around.
“Come on Y/N, we have no time for this,” said Ares, bouncing on his feet like he was eager to attack.
“Wait—” you said as you put on your scabbard. Ares immediately grabbed your hand, and your head is still fuzzy from the sleep.
“We have to retreat. They overwhelmed us. They already took most of our people as prisoner,” Ares told you as you ran downstairs.
“My stuff—”
“Y/N LET’S GO!” Ares gripped your wrist tighter, but you twisted your hand, making him lose grip of you.
“No, you don’t understand, it’s important—”
This time, Ares wrapped his arms on your waist and lift you on his shoulder, flailing as you wave the leather suitcase you managed to grab—the only item you saved from your burning house.
Ares carried you on his shoulder as you two escaped out of the village. For a warrior like you, your weight plus your armor would weigh tons, but Ares lifted you as easily as he could lift a sack of flour. You came to a dark street, where there is no one else, and Ares put you down. For a moment, you two just stared at each other, processing what had just happened.
“The villagers?” you asked breathlessly.
“We saved as much as we could. The elders and children are led to safety. The others are either with us, killed, or taken as slaves.”
“There’s no more—”
“No. There’s no more left.”
The thought of the townspeople, at least most, being safe and alive took a baggage off your chest. But at the same time, your head is buzzing. How could you not heard the boom of the cannons? If you only awoke at the right time, you could’ve saved more lives. How can you call yourself a soldier?
The battle has ceased when you walked out, townsmen’s corpses littered the ground with nothing but rakes and scythes to use to defend themselves. Fallen soldiers from both side laid everywhere with the goal of defending or destroying the village with their last breaths. The whole town was nothing else but a rubble, a ruin to remind the future generation of the misery that happened in this very ground. A place many people has died to try to protect.
