A few months had passed since that awful month of spring, the season you decided to blossom into your snitching phase. At first, everyone cut you some slack, thinking you would be done soon. But as weeks passed you had only gotten worse and it was getting you in a whole lot of trouble.

Not only with your parents Aphrodite and Ares but with your six big brothers too. The real problem had all began when the Tales you began telling on people, thinking you were doing your parents some good, were people’s private business— sparking an outrage across the large family manor.

That’s where Ares had stepped in, sick of having three visits an hour from you into his home office to tell him what was going on outside of the large oak door keeping him willingly trapped inside. To add to that, everyone else was also complaining about you to him.

The Greek god of War snapped at his baby daughter, telling her off so harshly that for the following three days— she couldn’t look at him with bursting into tears. And by gods, was Ares sick with guilt, wanting nothing more than to kiss her tears from her pretty cheeks.

As the next few months progressed into nothing, your attitude changed dramatically, going from never shutting up to never even telling somebody if you so much felt uncomfortable with something. You cried a lot more and seemed liked to play on your own. Aphrodite and Ares were concerned, though you were just a quiet kid.

It was the middle of winter, thick white snow layered the earth so perfect it was like a Woking through a Christmas hallmark movie. The snitching had stopped, you had been so good over these past few months you were sure Santa was ready to give into your every last whim.

Ares was on his way to wash up for supper, the smell of the warm stew filling the house and driving his senses almost crazy. With a quick glance out of the patio doors, his attention snagged to his children playing outside. He stopped to watch, eyes caught by an altercation.

Two of your older brothers crowded you, they weren’t much older than you were— old enough to know better, but it wasn’t unusual for you to play with them. The issue was the game of choice, he watched as Azeil pulled your hair and pushed you into Axel who shoved you back into the snow.

Ares went rigid with horror, watching as his two youngest sons laughed and fled the scene as though it was one funny game. Sure, for them that was normal to roughhouse— but he’d never known them do it to you ever. You were far too small.

A moment later, you slowly rose to sit up from where you had been laid in the cold snow. Ares searched your face, trying to see if you were crying— though you weren’t. You just brushed the snow off your winter coat, so tenderly it made his heart ache, before climbing back onto the swing.

Ares frowned at the fact you’d continued playing, or how you’d barely reacted to the harsh shove. Without wasting another second, he stepped out onto the patio and made his way towards the large playset you were swinging lightly on. “Baby girl what was that?” he questioned you, watching as you startled at the sight of him and quickly stood. “Hey- it’s alright.” He hushed and crouched down, his voice the epitome of soft. “What happened with your brothers? Why didn’t you come and get me?”