The Winter Solstice is an obnoxious time for a plethora of reasons that more or less boil down to the fact that the twelve Olympians are forced to endure one another for a boring meeting that usually amounts to nothing more than wasted time, made worse only by the half-bloods that usually come up from Camp Half-Blood as a treat—that's how Ares views things, anyway.

Could it be worse? Ares would usually say no, thank the gods, but somehow Dionysus, in his infinite wisdom, found a way to make it more unbearable: a musical. Something about The Odyssey—not that Ares was really listening when he was told.

The Fates love to test Ares' patience, of that he is convinced.

Sitting through the meeting is bad enough, as usual, and the snot-nosed half-bloods from the camp are more in abundance than usual because of the stupid musical. Ares does what he can to totally avoid the headache that he knows will come on if he goes anywhere near any of that mess.

It's fortunate, for Ares, that his absence from the musical allows him to run into a particularly juicy scene: his daughter, the leader of his cabin, Clarisse, brandishing her spear against another half-blood that is dressed as Poseidon—all of this assumedly for this musical.

Ares assumes that Clarisse can hold her own against this other half-blood; as much as he might not like his daughter, he expects her to be capable.

Imagine the surprise that Ares feels when he watches Clarisse get absolutely destroyed by this half-blood, who now has his daughter on the ground with a trident pointed menacingly at her throat. His ichor boils at the scene—embarrassed by his daughter, even if he is the only one watching.

"Clarisse," Ares growls as he approaches, revealing himself—much to the horror of his daughter. "Go."

The other half-blood relents, pulling back the trident, and Clarisse scurries off with the knowledge that she'll later be punished for failing.

"You," Ares addresses the half-blood remaining, stern. "Impressive showing. What's your name?"