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“Ares,” chided Aphrodite. “We need to talk about it, love.”
“Why? Can’t we just tango?” Ares complained, tone pitiful and red eyes dim.
“Dite is correct. We cannot ignore this, Ares. Why didn’t you tell one of us what was going on?” Hephaestus questioned. The forge god made sure to keep his tone even—his lover was like a feral kitten right now—one wrong move and Ares would lash out.
“I. Don’t. Know!” Ares shouted, standing up and kicking the nearest footrest. The god’s tone was an equal mix of frustrated and exhausted. He sounded similar to an overtired toddler throwing a tantrum.
“Ares, darling, please,” said Aphrodite softly as she gracefully stood and walked towards her lover. “You know Hephaestus and I only wish to help, but we cannot if you refuse to share,” chided the goddess.
Ares’ shoulders hunched, a posture very few had the privilege to witness on the war god. A pang of guilt struck Ares, and he glanced up, eyes apologetic.
“I am sorry, dove.” Ares, pulling his lover towards him and pressing a chaste kiss to the goddess’ forehead. A moment later strong, muscular arms wrapped around them both.
“It is okay,” a gruff voice replied. Ares turned his head to see Hephaestus. His lover’s eyes were soft and caring. Ares’ heart squeezed painfully. He didn’t deserve Dite or Heph. They were far too good for a broken monster like him.
“Hey! Do not,” scolded Hephaestus, lightly smacking Ares’ butt.
“Ow! That hurt!”
“You were asking for it,” pointed out Aphrodite as she rose to her tiptoes and kissed Ares’ cheek before stepping away. “I would have if he hadn’t.”
“Mean! Awful, the lot of you.” Ares cried, pretending to look offended.
A merry laugh rang out that caused Ares’ stomach to drop. Hephaestus and Aphrodite sent him sympathetic looks, knowing his fate immediately.
“Hermes…”
“Don’t look so glum, brother. Father is calmer now than earlier,” comforted the messenger god as he clapped his older brother on the back.
“How calm?” Ares demanded.
“Hestia has intervened on your behalf, and Father is not unaware of the Crooked One’s power. It is not all your fault.”
Ares let out a breath of relief. "Thank us for Aunt Hestia," thought the war god.
“Father does; however, he wants you in his chambers,” admitted Hermes with a wince.
“His chambers?!”
Ares’ shout rang out in the empty room, yet neither of the other three Olympians made to scold him. They all knew what it meant to be called to Zeus’ chambers.
“You should hurry, Ares,” advised Hephaestus. “Father will not want to be kept waiting.”
Ares nodded, steeling himself for the inevitable ass-kicking that would be coming his way. He took one more breath before flashing away, Hermes’ promises of ice cream and movies, ringing in his ears.
——————
“Enter,” commanded a voice.
Ares’ insides twisted. He hadn’t even knocked yet. Don’t be a baby, the god scolded himself. He could handle Zeus. “I won’t make a sound.” Ares vowed quietly before opening the door and stepping into the grand bedroom.
The grandeur of the room hit him, every detail a reminder of his father’s power. His stomach twisted, but he squared his shoulders, determined not to falter now.
“Father.” Ares greeted, kneeling down in front of the older god.
Warm and calloused hands grabbed his arms, pulling him to stand. Ares’ red eyes widen in shock.
“Lord Father...?”
“I didn’t call you here to speak as your king but as your father. I am never your kind in these chambers, my little warrior.” Zeus reminded his son.
Ares nodded, blinking to stop his tears. He would not appear weak in front of Zeus.
The god studied his son’s face before sighing. How badly he had failed with Ares. The child was forever unsure of Zeus’ love for him, of his affection and pride in his son. "I shall fix this," Zeus vowed internally. He had not been the best father as of late, or well, in a while, but he would fix it. His children deserved better, and he wouldn’t lose another one to the godforsaken Titian.
“I assume you know why I called you here?” Zeus asked as he took a seat on his god-sized bed, pulling Ares to stand in between his knees. ”
“Yes, I disobeyed you. I sided with Kronos.” Ares’ face was pale, and his eyes were squinted—a clear admission of guilt and embarrassment.
Smack
“OW!”
“What the heck, Dad?”
“You are in trouble for not sharing that a voice was speaking to you in your dreams and for lying when I questioned you. Not for siding with that damn titan. I know my father, and I know you, my son. You were deceived,” explained Zeus. “You are not to blame for everything. I should have listened to Poseidon and paid better attention to your unusual behavior.”
Shock was the only word to describe Ares’ current feelings. Never had Zeus apologize so readily before. His father was acting oddly kind.
“I am sorry, my son.” Zeus said as he pulled Ares over his lap. “I am sorry for being a bad father, for ignoring your pain, for not realizing what was happening. I shall do better. I swear it on the Styx.
Boom
Thunder crackled as a lone lightning bolt flashed in the sky. Ares could scarcely believe it. Today was like a fever dream. Zeus was never this warm, this firm, this gentle.
“Father…” Ares’ voice trailed off, and he was embarrassed to admit it cracked.
“I know, little one,” replied Zeus. “Why are you getting this spanking?”
“I didn’t tell you about the dreams, and I lied about the bolt and helm.”
“You put yourself in danger by lying, and that is something I will never tolerate,” declared Zeus as he landed the first slap.
It was firm and stinging but not cruel. The god-king had no intention of leaving a bruise or excessive pain.
But neither could Zeus be soft. Ares could have gotten hurt badly, worse than what had already happened. With that thought in mind, Zeus brought his palm down again and again—leaving no part of his son’s behind untouched.
“You do not lie to me,” scolded Zeus, as he began his third circuit and downed Ares’s bottom. “If this happens again, my slipper and your butt will have a discussion every night for a week!”
“It won’tttttt! Owww!” Ares wailed, kicking the ground as the burn increased. It hurt so damn bad, and Ares once again vowed never to be disobedient enough to have this happen again.
“Good,” said Zeus before tilting Ares forward and exposing his son’s tender sit spots. “Brace yourself.”
And with that warning, Zeus began to harshly spank Ares’ sit-spots and thighs. This would not happen again. Ares would feel his displeasure when sitting down for the next day or so, but if it meant he was safe, then Zeus would do it again.
“Dadddd! Owww! Please,” squeaked Ares, tears falling from his red eyes. “I am sorry!”
Smack
Smack
Smack
Zeus stopped, his hand resting on Ares’s back.
“It is over, my little warrior,” comforted Zeus. He gently pulled Ares upright and then down into his lap.
“I am so sorry,” gasped Ares, tears falling like a giant downpour. “I did not mean to. I should never have listened to him.”
“Hush, now, my son. Forget about him. I will protect you. All is well. Daddy has you.” Zeus reassured as he patted Ares's back and rocked slowly.
Ares yawned. His father’s embrace was warm, and it made him feel safe.
“Hermes promised ice cream and movies,” mumbled Ares.
“And you shall have them,” promised Zeus. “But let your old man hold you for a while longer.”
“Alright,” agreed Ares, eyes dropping as he leaned further into Zeus’s embrace.
The god chuckled before leaning down to press a soft kiss to Ares’ head. His arms tightened as he whispered into Ares’ ear
“Daddy loves you.”