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Kratos grabbed Atreus' arm and pulled him close. "You need not agree with me, but you will not speak to me this way. Are we clear?"
Atreus muttered a sulky, "Sir."
Kratos' nostrils flared in annoyance. He felt Atreus' attitude could probably do with some adjustment. Had he been a boy in Sparta, acting as Atreus was right now, he would have been pressed against a wall, and a belt or some other leather implement would be stinging his back all the way down to his legs by now.
He glanced around, looking for something suitable. Catching sight of an old, sturdy-looking crate pressed against the wall, he quickly pulled Atreus over to it.
Kratos paused when he reached the crate. He knew as a boy he would have been shoved over it and whipped, but something in his heart panged at the idea. The concept seemed too cold.
Before he could think much further about it, he was already sitting down and set about baring his son's bottom. He ignored his increasingly frantic protests and calmly pulled him over his knee.
Atreus was decidedly less calm. He thrashed, trying to get free despite knowing how fruitless it was. He knew if his father wanted him pinned over his knee, then that is where he would remain. And if that wasn't already embarrassing, given Kratos' much larger stature, Atreus practically dangled over his father's lap, toes not even brushing the ground, looking every bit like the disrespectful whelp his father was treating him as.
"Father, please! Aren't I too old for this?" He wiggled. If he couldn't get free physically, maybe his father could be convinced.
He groaned as Kratos' hand came crashing down. Of course. Why would his father start listening now, of all times?
"You will grow too old for it when you cease to earn it. Offer me the proper respect and obedience I deserve as your father, and I will consider it." Kratos didn't even pause while speaking, watching Atreus' skin rapidly redden under his hard palm.
Atreus squirmed. "Surely there is an age where this is no longer acceptable! You cannot mean to do this to me even when I reach your age!"
Kratos snorted. "If you still try my patience by then, then certainly."
Atreus yelped at a particularly hard swat and cried out in indignation. "Everyone tries your patience!"
"Then you should focus on behaving instead of trying to grow out of discipline. Now hush, focus on what's brought you here."
Atreus huffed but fell silent, minus his involuntary cries of pain. He knew at this point there would be no speaking or reasoning with his father.
The more he dangled over his father's large lap and the fire grew, he went over how their trip had been going so far. He could begrudgingly admit that he had been a tad less than respectful. Well, make that downright insolent. But he was almost a man now. Shouldn't he be allowed bouts of belligerence?
Almost as if Kratos could hear his thoughts, he was tilted forward, and blows started landing where he would bear the most weight when he sat. Atreus immediately stiffened, letting out yelps and soft whimpers at every swat. He could feel hot tears build in his eyes, trying to break free.
Kratos continued for a solid few minutes before pausing and resting his hand on his son's thoroughly warmed bottom. "You do not ever speak to me that way again, Atreus. I don't care if you are your current age or centuries old; if you ever speak to me in that manner again, I will repeat this lesson. Understood?"
Atreus sniffled softly, some tears leaking. "Yes, Sir. I understand. It won't happen again, Father."
Kratos nodded and raised his hand once more. "Very good. I'll see to it that you remember to keep that promise."
Atreus went limp in his father's grasp, crying steadily now. "I'm sorry, Father!" He inhaled sharply as Kratos' hand landed on a particularly sore spot. "Father, please. I have learned my lesson."
Kratos didn't speak, merely bringing his hand down repeatedly. Once he saw Atreus no longer squirming and simply hanging limply, crying softly, his bottom a deep dark red, did he stop.
He hesitated. Sure, he had punished the boy plenty. But he was never good at the comforting part; usually, he left that to Faye. It wasn't that he didn't want to or didn't love him; he just wasn't too sure how to do it.
He frowned and let out a quiet sigh. He gingerly lifted his son, righting him to stand beside him. He fixed his clothes, nodding in satisfaction. Surely the boy would feel better dressed, right? Except, Atreus let out a soft, pained cry when the fabric settled on his bright red bottom.
Perhaps his clothing wasn't the issue. He knew it hurt. He had been whipped plenty at Atreus' age, but he didn't recall crying nearly this much. Granted, his Spartan instructors hadn't looked kindly on tears, thinking them a weakness.
Besides, he'd seen Atreus get much more hurt and not shed a single tear. He shifted as the boy's crying didn't let up. He lifted a hand, hesitating before pulling his son into a hug.
He thought that he had done the right thing when all went suddenly quiet, but his heart dropped into his stomach, and he felt a stab of pain as Atreus suddenly started sobbing harder.
Did he not want him to touch him? Maybe he had been too harsh on the boy? His thoughts were abruptly halted as Atreus grabbed him, burying his face into his chest and practically clinging to him as he sobbed into him.
Kratos immediately stiffened. He wasn't accustomed to this. The boy rarely touched him, especially these days. He thought the boy was upset with him? Why was he clinging to him like the world was ending?
Atreus, feeling Kratos stiffen, immediately began crying harder. "I'm sorry, Father! I shouldn't have spoken to you that way. I trust your advice and value your opinion, I swear!"
Kratos let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. Realization of what the problem was slammed into him with sudden clarity. The boy thought he was still angry at him. He sighed and gathered Atreus in his arms, settling him on his lap like he had when he was an incredibly young boy.
He tucked his son's head under his chin, ignoring the surprised inhale the boy let out. "You're forgiven. You're young. You'll make mistakes, Atreus." He paused for a moment before plowing on, figuring if he could face down Thor, he could probably offer his son assurance. Even if he did think the battle with Thor was easy compared to this. "As long as I'm here, I'll catch you. You may not always like it nor agree with me, but I will help guide you on the right path."
Atreus' eyes were wid,e and he was hardly breathing, his crying abruptly cut off with shock. He almost wondered if he was dreaming. He couldn't recall the last time his father had held him like this. There were days he wondered if he ever actually had. But the warmth from Kratos' arms around him and the gentle weight of his father's chin resting on his head were definitely real. Nor was there denying the ache he was experiencing, his freshly spanked butt planted firmly on his father's hard thighs. He would shift to get more comfortable, but he didn't want to do anything that might cause this to disappear if it was, in fact, a dream.
He tentatively grabbed hold of his father's chest armor, curling his fingers tightly around it like he might disappear if he let go for even a moment. This was definitely real. His father was holding him, offering him assurances. He almost wanted to cry again.
"I may not always say it, but thank you. You're right, I don't always appreciate it, and I'm sure I won't in the future either, but" he paused and his voice lowered into an almost whisper, "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Kratos clenched his jaw, swallowing hard, feeling his own eyes mist. He knew he wouldn't be here forever, possibly sooner than the boy expected if what he had seen on the walls displaying their prophecy had been true. But for now, he just held his boy tighter, marvelling at how small he still was. He may have grown, but he was still Kratos' little boy. He could still so clearly remember in his mind the child toddling around their cabin, causing mischief in everything he touched.
He swallowed again, bringing a hand up and with a gentleness not even he knew he possessed, brushing a tear from his son's face. "I know. As I said, you're forgiven." He paused, unsure, before repeating a phrase he had been imparting for years now. "And don't be sorry. Be better."
Atreus grinned from his spot on his father's lap. When he had first been told that, it had felt like a physical blow. A clear sign he wasn't good enough for his harsh, exacting father. But over the years, he saw it for what it was. Not an utterance of failure, but a reminder to learn from mistakes. That his father knew he could learn he could be better, and that he didn't doubt for a minute that Atreus could be truly good.
He sighed and curled up further. He knew he should probably get up. This wasn't dignified for someone his age, but Kratos wasn't pushing him off or prompting him to stand, so he would contentedly soak up whatever comfort and warmth he could get, knowing soon his father, as much as he loved him, would retreat back into the hard man that didn't often show even a scrap of affection.
Similar thoughts ran through Kratos' head. He knew had it been him at this age, he would have been expected to return to the task at hand immediately. No dwadling, no need for these unimportant shows of emotion. But he couldn't help himself. He wanted to soak in every second he could have with his son. He knew he was a hard man to get along with; he was self-aware enough to know he wasn't the best at offering comfort or showing affection, but he was trying. He knew his son could see that, and that was all that truly mattered.
He took a deep inhale and sat back a little, careful not to unseat the boy in his lap. Surely they could sit here just a little longer.