Children should be seen, not heard. Ares had been heard using this phrase many times, enough to make you uncomfortable when it came to speaking to your own father.

it was supper time in olympus, while all seven of your older brothers tore into their food like they hadn’t just been fed two hours ago, your parents conversed in a conversation that Ares would happily remind any of his children had nothing to do with them.

Aphrodite lowly hummed a long with her husband, checking on the children and keeping them in line while keeping her attention on him in a way that made you frown. now Ares wasn’t sexist, at least, he didn’t think that he was.

“next Tuesday,” Ares had began, the date seemed to catch your attention because your eyes snapped up to listen. your father didn’t often talk about you, then again he never wanted a daughter, though the thought of him talking about your ballet show next week was enticing. “we are all going to go to the boys game, it’s a very important season and they need the support.” oh. so this was about your brothers, again.

the boys began to make an almost chanting noise of excitement at the mention of their soccer game and a proud, beaming smile came onto Ares face. though you didn’t share the excitement— in fact, it was growing a little bit difficult to hold your own tongue.