Based on a Chrom/F!Robin pairing.
This was it. All of his training had prepared him for this moment. The long nights spent poring over his mother's strategy books, the countless hours of practice, they were all about to come to a head. And it was going to be magnificent.
Morgan could hardly contain his excitement as he peered out from behind a stack of crates, waiting. Any moment now, the war meeting would be over, and his mother would return to her tent to put away her books. What she found inside, however, would not be at all what she was expecting.
Morgan had been trying to pull one over on his mother since he had arrived at the camp, but she always seemed to be one step ahead of him. This time, he felt sure he had her beat.
As he sat fidgeting impatiently, all at once he heard footsteps approaching. He perked up to listen more closely, but his heart leapt into his throat when he heard the deep voice accompanying those footfalls.
Father...
This was not according to plan at all. Chrom was supposed to have left on a scouting mission, what was he still doing here?
With a gulp, Morgan recalled his father's warning after the last prank he had pulled. While it was true Robin herself had yet to fall victim to one of his schemes, Morgan had taken great pleasure in practicing his skills on the rest of camp. Of course, no one had been very happy about the frogs in the pudding. Or the red dye in the laundry. Or the pitfalls by the river. After each incident, he had received an increasingly exasperated scolding from his father, and the most recent lecture concluded with a promise:
"You've been warned more than enough times. Next time, there will be consequences, Morgan."
The serious look in Chrom's eyes had struck a familiar chord in Morgan's mind, and though he could not remember exactly why, he knew it would be a bad idea to give his father reason to carry out that promise. That was why this, his most brilliant scheme yet, was supposed to take place while Chrom was away.
So what is he still doing here? He thought frantically as Chrom rounded the corner, engaged in conversation with Frederick. One thing was certain: he could not allow his father to enter that tent. With this in mind, he popped out of his hiding place with the biggest smile he could muster.
"Hello Father!"
Chrom smiled back and, more importantly in Morgan's eyes, stopped walking.
"Hello, Morgan. What are you up to that has you in such a good mood?"
Morgan had to stop himself from wincing at his father's choice of words, "I'm just happy to see you! I thought you were going to be gone for the day…"
"It was decided that Milord's time would be better spent here, making preparations," Frederick explained, "And what about you, young lord? Have you taken up an interest in needlework?"
"Huh?" Morgan stared at him with a blank expression. What on earth is he talking about?
Chrom chuckled, "I believe Frederick is referring to those crates of fabric we just received for mending the uniforms. What were you doing back there?"
"Oh!" Morgan's eyes widened, "I was… um… looking for bugs…"
The amused smile on Chrom's face morphed into a slight frown, "Morgan… Are you lying to me?"
That was familiar; his fractured memory reminded him his father could always tell when he was lying. "Uh…"
At that moment, a terrified scream pierced through the air.
"Lucina!" Chrom whirled and began running towards Lucina's tent, followed closely by Frederick. Morgan trailed behind nervously. He knew what they would find, and it would not end well for him.
As the two older men reached Lucina's tent, they heard what could only be described as angry raving coming from within.
"Where is that grimy little half-baked tactician? I will cleave that devious head from his shoulders! How dare he invade my own quarters?"
Chrom and Frederick glanced at each other, then back at Morgan, whose impish smirk quickly fell away under their accusing gazes.
Morgan couldn't help the thrill of excitement that lit up his face for a moment at hearing his sister fall into his trap. He had planned for both her and their mother to fall victim to his schemes, but as it was looking less and less likely Robin would be caught in his trap, he was glad at least not all of his work had gone to waste. Glad, at least, until he saw the dark frown his father cast his way.
"Lucina, are you alright?" Chrom questioned, slowly drawing back the tent flap, "I'm coming in."
Before he had a chance to enter, Lucina came stumbling out of the tent and nearly crashed into him, dripping wet from head to toe, "Father! Oh, get them off of me, please!"
"Are those... leeches?" Chrom stared incredulously.
"Yes," she groaned, before her gaze snapped up and locked on Morgan, "You! You little... I'll..."
Chrom's firm hand on her arm stopped her from lurching forward towards her brother, "Let's focus on getting those things off you first."
While Frederick sat the fuming Lucina down and began carefully removing the slimy creatures, Chrom locked his gaze on his son, who was slowly trying to inch himself behind the nearest tent, "Morgan, come here."
Morgan winced at his father's dark tone and, not daring to disobey, slowly made his way over to stand before the older man.
"Care to explain, young man?"
"Um, well... you see..." he squirmed under Chrom's unyielding glare, "Uh, Mother and I have sort of a rivalry going on... that is, um, I have a rivalry with her... I just want to outwit her one time, and I really thought I had her this time! But I thought-"
He broke off and glanced nervously up at his father.
"You thought I would be gone," Chrom finished, and Morgan grimaced.
"...Yes sir."
"And you didn't think your mother would tell me about it when I got back?"
"Well... if I really got her good, she would have to admit defeat, and then... maybe she wouldn't have told you..." Morgan realized he was really not helping his case, and trailed off.
"Wait," Lucina interjected, "If Mother was the intended victim, why was the trap in my tent?"
Three pairs of eyes looked expectantly at Morgan, who stared at the ground and dug his toe into the dirt as he muttered, "I just... thought it would be funny to get you with it too..."
"Funny?!" Only Frederick's steadying hands on Lucina's shoulders kept Morgan from being flattened by his sister in that moment, "You think covering me in blood-sucking parasites is funny, you little craven!?"
"It's not like they'll really hurt you," Morgan rolled his eyes, "Don't be such a girl."
"That's enough," Chrom didn't raise his voice, but both children immediately snapped their mouths shut at the steely edge in his tone, "Morgan..."
He cut off when he saw Robin making her way back to the tent, and called out to her, "Robin, wait! Don't go in the tent!"
Aww, now I'll never know if I would've gotten her, Morgan thought, but decided against voicing the complaint to his father.
Robin approached the group with a puzzled expression, "What's going on?" She gasped slightly at Lucina's dripping, muddy state, "Lucina, are you alright? What on earth happened?"
Lucina's eyes shot daggers into her brother, "Ask him."
Robin turned to her son with a little frown, "Morgan?"
"Um... You should be proud of me mother! I successfully pulled off a tripwire attack!"
"Against your sister!?"
"Well..."
"Wait," understanding began to dawn in Robin's eyes, and she turned to Chrom, "When you warned me not to go into the tent before..."
Chrom nodded, "I have a feeling you would have looked much the same as Lucina if you had entered that tent."
"Oh, Morgan," Robin sighed, shaking her head, "I do need to get in the tent, though."
"Of course. Morgan," he turned back to his mischievous son, "Go in there and take down whatever it is you've done."
"Yes sir," Morgan muttered, ducking his head and trudging back towards his parents' tent. Instead of going through the door, he lifted the side canvas and scrambled through. He then set about carefully unhooking the tripwire from across the entrance and lowering the bucket down from the ceiling. When he emerged, Robin glanced down at the bucket of sludge and recoiled, clutching her books protectively against her chest.
"Ugh, it looks like you dredged that up from the bottom of the river; it would have completely destroyed my tomes!"
"Oh... I hadn't thought of that..." Morgan hung his head.
"Wait, are those leeches?" She glanced back at Lucina, a look of horror crossing her face as she noticed the small red rings dotting her daughter's skin "Morgan what... how did you... how did that even work?"
"Well, it's not called a tripwire for nothing, you know," Morgan's eyes glittered, and his voice was twinged with excitement as he jumped on the opportunity to explain his genius plan, "I made sure the wire was high enough that when you tripped on it, it would land you flat on your face while simultaneously upending the bucket above you, so the leeches would have plenty of time to-to... well, you know..."
He trailed off under the weight of the death glare Lucina was sending him. Robin just shook her head.
"Alright, go get rid of those, and then come right back here, understood?" Chrom commanded, and Morgan scampered off. After sending Lucina off to clean herself up, Chrom turned back to Robin, who still wore a bemused frown.
"Well, that was certainly not how I expected this afternoon to play out," She looked up at her husband with an exasperated sigh, "What are we going to do about that boy?"
Chrom kissed her temple and nudged her towards the tent, "I'll take care of him. They're waiting for you to explain the strategy for the recon mission back at the meeting tent."
"Oh, right! I almost forgot why I came back here; I need a different book," she paused and glanced back at him again, "Chrom... what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to teach our son a lesson. I promised him there would be consequences the next time he pulled something like this."
"Ah," Robin smiled ruefully, "I have a feeling that's one promise he would just as soon you not keep."
"I have to follow through with what I said," Chrom replied, shaking his head, "He needs that stability from me, even if he doesn't know it. Besides, all these pranks and traps have to stop; they're getting worse and worse."
"I agree, and I trust you to take care of it."
Robin pecked her husband on the cheek before gathering up the books she needed and heading back to the meeting tent. Chrom looked out in the direction Morgan had left, but there was still no sign of the boy. He was certainly taking his time disposing of those leeches.
Just as he was beginning to wonder if he should go find him, Morgan came trudging back into camp, his feet dragging and his hands fidgeting with the sleeves of his coat. Chrom waited until his son was standing right in front of him before speaking, "Look at me, Morgan."
Morgan's eyes flicked up, and he forced himself to meet his father's stern glare.
"Do you remember what I told you after your last prank?"
"They're not really pranks," Morgan shifted his eyes downward and toed the ground, "It's more like... practicing my tactical maneuvers..."
"So you plan to defeat the Risen with red dye and leeches?"
Morgan winced, "Well..."
"I'm still waiting for an answer: What did I tell you last time?"
"You said next time there would be... consequences..."
"That's right, and I meant it, Morgan," Chrom placed a hand behind his son's shoulder and guided him forward, "Come on."
Morgan hesitantly allowed himself to be guided to his parents' tent, casting a worried look up at his father, whose stern features remained unchanged.
"Um, Father... what are you going to do?" There was a familiar feeling stirring in his stomach that whatever was about to happen, he was not going to like it.
Chrom turned his son to face him, tilting the boy's chin up with two fingers as he locked eyes with him, "I've given you multiple warnings, and you have ignored all of them."
"But-"
"Enough, Morgan; it's clear I'm not getting through to you. This time, I'm going to make absolutely sure you understand that your behavior has to change."
Chrom took hold of Morgan by the arm and pulled him forward as he sat on the edge of the bed, toppling the boy over his knee. Somewhat disoriented, Morgan tried to push himself up but found his father's hand on his back had him pinned firmly against the mattress.
"Wait, Father… are you…" The next moment his situation was made perfectly clear as his long coat was flipped aside and his trousers pulled down past his knees, "Huh? Father! Wait, don't- Ah!"
A fiery sting blossomed right in the middle of Morgan's backside, accompanied by the unmistakable crack of impact between skin and skin. Morgan gasped at the sudden pain, but had no time to react further before another swat landed just below the first. He squirmed fruitlessly against Chrom's restraining hand as the blows continued to fall in quick succession, each one smacking across his ass with considerable force and leaving a terrible sting in its wake.
"Ow! Father, stop! I'm sorry, I promise I won't do it again!"
Chrom shook his head, easily holding his wiggling son in place as he continued to spank him at the same pace, "You had more than enough opportunity not to do it this time, Morgan. You need to understand your actions have consequences."
"I-I do understand!" Tears were beginning to gather in Morgan's eyes, and his anxious squirming evolved into more focused responses to the building pain as his father's unyielding hand continued to smack across his upturned bottom.
"Do you, Morgan?" Chrom responded without letting up his relentless pace, "Because your actions say otherwise. So, why don't you tell me why all these silly pranks of yours have to stop?"
"I-I..." Morgan whimpered, the tears in his eyes spilling over to trail down his cheeks. The truth was, he really did not know the answer, and was finding it difficult to think clearly about anything apart from the awful sting his father's hand was creating in his bottom.
"That's what I thought," Chrom raised his knee a bit and pressed down more firmly against Morgan's back, tilting the young man's bottom up.
Morgan gasped at the vulnerability of the new position, then wailed as Chrom's hand whacked across the underside of his ass. His squirming renewed in earnest as the swats continued to fall on the more sensitive skin between his bottom and thighs, trying in vain to relieve the fresh sting that was building under his father's relentless strokes.
"Listen to me very carefully this time, Morgan," Chrom commanded, his tone steely, "Because I don't want to have to repeat this lesson again."
"Ahh!" Morgan sobbed. The last thing he wanted to think about right now was the possibility of this ordeal being repeated in the future. Each sharp smack from his father's hand felt harder than the last, and he could not control the way his body kicked and squirmed in response to the pain.
"This war we're fighting is serious," Chrom's pace did not slow as he spoke, "How do you think it effects everyone to be worrying about all your mischief on top of everything else we have to deal with?"
"'M sor-sorry!" Morgan groaned, "I didn't- didn't mean to..."
Chrom nodded, "I know to you it was all in fun, but think about all the unnecessary stress you have caused our comrades: Cherche spent hours trying to wash out that dye, and several people have very nearly injured themselves falling into your pitfalls."
Morgan sobbed, burying his head in his arms. He recalled his mother's comment about the water ruining her tomes, and he felt truly miserable.
"Listen, Morgan," Chrom slowed his pace, using the swats to emphasize his points as he spoke, "It's alright to have some fun; gods know we need some levity from time to time. But you have to start thinking about the consequences of your actions, and how they're going to affect others. Do you understand me?"
"Y-yes sir!" Morgan wailed, "I'm s-so sorry! I-I didn't mean to-to... 'm sorry!"
With a little nod, Chrom stopped spanking and rested his hand on Morgan's hot, rosy bottom, "I meant it when I said I don't want to repeat this lesson, but if your behavior doesn't change I will turn you right back over my knee as many times as necessary to get through to you; is that clear young man?"
"Yes Sir! It-it will change, I pro-romise!" And Morgan meant that. He had never intended to harm anyone, and his heart sunk when he thought of the real effects his mischief had caused for this comrades. Anyway, he had no intention of giving his father cause to spank him again anytime soon.
"Alright, good boy," Satisfied that the boy had really learned his lesson, Chrom ran his hand through Morgan's hair and waited for the tears to subside.
Morgan's sobs waned fairly quickly, soothed by the feeling of his father's hand stroking the back of his head. The hand resting on his bottom also rubbed gently, calming some of the heat from his well-spanked skin.
When he saw his son's breath returning to an even rhythm, Chrom guided Morgan up to look at him. Wide, watery eyes gazed back at him, and a tiny hiccup shook the boy's frame. Chrom placed his hand behind Morgan's head and rubbed gently with his thumb as he spoke.
"I think you owe your sister an apology, yes?"
Morgan's head bobbed vigorously up and down, "Yes sir! I-I will, I promise!"
With a little smile, Chrom pulled him tightly against his chest and rocked gently back and forth as he continued to stroke the back of the boy's head. Morgan melted against the solid expanse of his father's chest with a shaky sigh, giving himself over to the warmth and comfort of the strong arms holding him in place. He felt so safe, so secure; like nothing in the world could hurt him as long as he was held in his father's arms.
Chrom noticed his son's breaths lengthening as he neared sleep, and he gently pushed the boy away from him and tilted his chin up. A soft smile touched his features at the sleepy eyes that blinked back at him.
"You have some apologies to make before you fall asleep, little boy."
"Oh... right... yes sir." Morgan yawned, allowing himself to be guided up off his father's lap. Gingerly, he righted his clothing, wincing as his trousers rubbed against his smarting skin.
As the two of them exited the tent together, Morgan looked up at his father and smiled. He may not remember what it was like to have a father before, but he liked the feeling of having one now, in spite of his aching backside.