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Maegelle Targaryen was clearly having a bad day.
In the morning, her mother burst into her chambers and announced that they needed to prepare for a short trip to her homeland in a couple of days. Maegelle yelled back that she shouldn't be woken so early for such a trivial matter, and that she didn't want to go anywhere at all. They argued for about an hour until Jena Dondarrion snorted irritably at her daughter, then slammed the door and left.
Later, in one of the castle corridors, she ran into Aerion, and may the gods forgive her, she couldn't stand her cousin. Every encounter between them ended in disaster and while as children they might simply have fought, that wasn't the case now. They needed to resolve conflicts 'as adults should,' as her father liked to say. But what kind of conversation could a worthy princess have with fools? Aerion was a real fool.
A brief verbal spat escalated into a battle of first veiled insults, then direct ones. A passing serving girl's ears turned red when she heard the words coming from the mouth of the daughter of Crown Prince Baelor Targaryen, and she quickly disappeared.
Maegelle grimaced and pointed a finger at her cousin.
"You just can't act like a decent person, can you?"
Aerion crossed his arms and stepped toward her.
"I'm a dragon, bitch. I do what I want."
It drove her crazy every time, his fucking argument with the dragon. Every damn time.
She waved her hands helplessly.
"Just get the fuck away from me."
Her cousin grinned wickedly.
"Exactly what I intended to do. I've already wasted too much time on useless whore."
Before Maegelle could slap him, he disappeared around the corner.
Afterwards, in her own chambers, she yelled at a servant who couldn't braid her hair beautifully. She wanted her hair to be a little messy, but still pretty enough to highlight the beauty of her silvery locks — was that really so hard to understand?
The corset of her dress was too tight, squeezing her waist so tightly that Maegelle wanted to cry. Why was everything so awful? As luck would have it, she remembered that their breakfast had been disgusting, too.
She clicked her tongue in disappointment. The gods were so unfair to her.
As usual, she went to watch her brothers and cousins training in the courtyard. Daddy had told her that Maegelle always wanted to join in as a child. He remembered how she would snatch Valarr's wooden sword and swing it around, pretending to be Visenya. Maegelle smiled as she listened to his stories, unable to believe it. Now, of course, she was not interested in these stupid boyish amusements.
She watched her relatives and thought it was all just games. They hadn't been in real battle yet, didn't know how men should fight. Not like her father. He was the bravest warrior and would have dispatched all these fools with a single swing of his sword. Maegelle sighed wistfully. The battlefield was a terrifying place, but she would have given anything to see Baelor Breakspear fight. Baelor the Brave. The best dad in the whole world.
When Valarr knocked some guy to the ground, Maegelle clapped enthusiastically. Well, maybe her brother wasn't bad either.
That evening there was a small feast in honour of her little cousin Rhae's nameday, and Maegelle intended to have a great time. Sometimes it was so boring in this huge castle!
She dressed up in a black dress, donned her grandmother's ruby necklace, and even brightened her lips with one of the exotic products Lady Shiera had given her. Maegelle loved her illegitimate cousin — she certainly knew a thing or two about fun and how an attractive young woman should look.
Maegelle twirled around the dance floor, changing partners like gloves. She laughed heartily at those who complimented her, batted her eyelashes at men who stared too long, generally amusing herself as best she could.
And all was well until her uncle Maekar pulled her out of one of the dances by the shoulder and led her out of the hall.
He abruptly spun her around, and Maegelle hissed in displeasure.
"What's the matter, uncle?"
Uncle Maekar gave her a dark look.
"You're behaving unworthy of a princess."
She lifted her chin proudly.
"It's not up to you to decide how I behave. You're not my father."
She always kept conversations with Maekar short — she knew her uncle didn't tolerate insolence. But what could he do?
Well, he did something.
Maegelle gasped as he grabbed her hand and dragged her somewhere.
"Uncle! How dare you..."
"Shut the fuck up, you naughty girl. I'm not your father, am I? Then let's go talk to your father."
She bit her lip. Her father wasn't at the feast today due to his busy schedule, and that was partly why Maegelle had allowed herself to behave like this. In front of her father, she still tried to appear a little more modest than she actually was — she wanted to be a good girl for him.
Maekar knocked on the door of his brother's chambers and, without waiting for an answer, rushed inside, telling the guards to keep an eye on Maegelle, whom he left standing in the hallway.
Maegelle sighed in disappointment, realizing she was in for an unpleasant conversation.
A couple of minutes later the door opened again, and her uncle, casting a disapproving glance at her, went away. A quiet voice came from the Crown Prince's chambers.
"Maegelle, you may come in."
She held her breath and stepped inside. Her heart tightened in her chest, preventing her from taking another breath, and she felt it beat faster.
With her head down, the princess walked straight to her father's study, where he sat in a chair, his forehead wearily resting on his hand.
"Maekar reported your behavior to me."
He didn't look angry or upset and for a moment Maegelle thought she could get off easy.
"I won't do it again. I promise."
Baelor Targaryen chuckled, but he clearly didn't find it funny; even a fool could tell.
"You know, my dear, I would believe you and wouldn't even punish you, but here's the thing. This morning, your mother complained to me you were rude to her. Then a maid told me that in the middle of corridor you were arguing with your cousin, using language unbecoming of a princess. Afterwards, another maid came running to me in tears and said that she shouldn't serve you because you called her... What was it? Oh, a 'clumsy idiot'. The poor girl thought she was terrible and incompetent. Now she will serve Princess Daella, if that pleases you. And now my brother comes to me and says that at a feast attended by high lords and their heirs, you behaved like a common whore. Is that all?"
Maegelle felt her ears and cheeks flush, her fingers tugging at the hem of her dress. The ruby necklace suddenly seemed incredibly heavy, and the reddish color on her lips seemed stupid and ridiculous.
"No, I mean, I didn't mean to... I was just dancing and having fun, I didn't think I was doing anything bad."
She was lying, and they both knew it.
Baelor sighed in disappointment, and Maegelle felt like her insides were twisting into mush. Gods, more than anything in this world she hated it when her father looked at her like that. As if she were his greatest disappointment, his biggest failure. But she wasn't at all! She was trying to be good.
"I'm so sorry, daddy. I really won't do it again. I'll be humble and obedient, please, forgive me."
He looked at her thoughtfully, tapping his fingers on the armrest of the chair.
"Well, it seems I've given you too much freedom after all. You indulge yourself more and more every day, and your demands grow. And all these pompous boys only feed your immense ego. Is this how I raised you?"
Maegelle felt tears welling up in her brown eyes.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."
He interrupted her with a lazy wave of his hand.
"I suppose it's time to finally teach you a little lesson. I've put it off for so long, because you're my beloved daughter, but my patience is not infinite."
Baelor rose from his chair and strode confidently toward the sofa. Sitting down, he patted his knees.
"Lie down here."
Maegelle's mouth opened and closed in shock. Was he really going to do this to her?
"No, father, please. Anything but that."
This was humiliating.
Baelor raised his eyebrows.
"Do you want to be whipped across your back like a naughty peasant boy?"
She bit her lip. What he described was even worse. She didn't want to end up with ugly scars that she would carry for the rest of her life.
With a resigned sigh, Maegelle walked to the sofa and slowly lowered herself onto her father's lap, dreading what would happen next.
His hand abruptly lifted the skirt of her dress and all the layers below, exposing her thighs, and she felt herself blush even more deeply than she thought she could. But that wasn't the worst of it, because after that, he pulled down her smallclothes, leaving her completely exposed and open to his gaze.
Gods, that was terrible. Simply humiliating.
The first spank, not particularly hard, made her gasp sharply.
Maegelle had just managed to feel a brief sense of relief that perhaps the punishment wouldn't be painful, just shameful, when suddenly his hand came down a second time and several times harder, it seemed to her. She screamed.
"Daddy!"
Instead of answering, he struck a third time, in the same place as before, and the princess felt tears welling up in her eyes with renewed vigor. Why did he hit her so hard? Did he really not love her at all?
The fourth and fifth strikes merged into one, and Maegelle sank into the sofa with a sob, trying to suppress her screams. The next strike came, and her loud, painful groan was drowned in the softness of the sofa.
Suddenly, instead of another spank, her father's hand gently caressed her tailbone.
"Come on, baby, you can handle this. You're a strong girl, just a little unreasonable sometimes."
His words made Maegelle feel even worse, because to her shame, she felt a slight wetness between her legs. Gods, not this. Not now. His praise always made her react strangely, but now, with her backside exposed to him and his hand on her buttocks, it was far more terrible.
She was distracted from these thoughts by another slap, even harder than the previous ones. Maegelle didn't have time to muffle her scream, and it echoed throughout the room.
"Quiet, sweetie."
Each kind word he uttered was a contrast with his heavy hand, it was like a blow to her chest, and Maegelle felt herself growing hotter. Gods, please let him keep quiet.
She tried to subtly squeeze her thighs together to ease the feeling a little, but another slap across her buttocks prevented her from doing so. She hissed, and instead of another explosion of pain, she received soothing strokes on her back.
"It's almost done, my girl. Just a little bit more, you'll endure it, right?"
What burst from Maegelle's mouth this time was definitely not a groan of pain.
"Daddy, I can't take it anymore."
"You can and you will."
He firmly lowered his hand. The slaps merged into one long streak of pain, but suddenly his hand accidentally slipped and landed not on her buttocks, but lower. Maegelle felt stars sparkle in her eyes. Gods, she felt as if her soul was about to depart somewhere far, far away, and this errant blow had been the deciding one.
Baelor paused, confused.
She didn't need to look over her shoulder to know he was staring at his fingers. Ring-studded fingers, their tips adorned with warm moisture, a testament to her humiliation and madness.
The princess heard a sharp intake of breath.
She had no choice but to whisper an apology. Her father didn't even seem to be listening.
After a minute of lying motionless above her, his even voice rang out. He didn't let any emotion pass through, but Maegelle felt something lurking within him. Not contempt or disgust — no, he could never feel that for his beloved daughter — but something very close.
"Get out."
Maegelle sobbed and struggled to her feet, immediately pulling on her smallclothes and tugging at the skirts of her dress. Then, unable to bear her father's disapproving gaze, she turned and ran out of his chambers.
She overheard him ordering the guards to escort her to his chambers, but she no longer cared.
Gods, what a fool she was. She had disgraced herself before him, before the man she loved more than anything in the world. He would never forgive her. Not after what had happened.
The princess cried all night and fell asleep only at dawn. However, she didn't get to sleep — in the morning, she was awakened by a soft knock on the door.
Maegelle reluctantly opened her reddened eyes and buried her nose in the pillow.
"Go away."
A familiar, measured voice came from behind the door. So gentle and so beloved. Her heart instantly filled with hope, and she felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
"Sweetie, may I come in?"