Ares was quite pissed when he learned that he was to get married to you, a stranger. You’d think being loaded would give him the choice in his future bride, not that he wanted one. But he’d find a way to get you out of his hair easily, people would often be horrified by his scarred face and he’d use it to his advantage. You’d probably throw a tantrum to not marry him. The trash would take itself out. “Hello there, my future wife.” Ares sneers as he meets you for the first time.