Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/472583.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Game_of_Thrones_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Daenerys_Targaryen/Viserys_Targaryen
  Character:
      Daenerys_Targaryen, Viserys_Targaryen
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Sibling_Incest, Spanking, Punishment, Masochism, Painplay, Impact
      Play, Dubious_Consent, Underage_Character, Power_Play, Unresolved_Sexual
      Tension, Sexual_Tension, Sexual_Fantasy, Hair-pulling, Manhandling, Pre-
      Canon
  Collections:
      Kink_Bingo_2012_(Round_Five)
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-07-29 Words: 1027
****** Awoken ******
by agirlnamedtruth
Summary
     Sometimes Daenerys wondered if she'd woken the dragon at all.
Notes
     Written for the kink Penance/Punishment at Kink_Bingo.
See the end of the work for more notes
Sometimes Daenerys wondered if it was the dragon she had awoken. Often she
thought that perhaps there was some possibility that she’s woken something else
in Viserys. Sometimes he’d jump on some off-hand remark or some careless
gesture with just a little too much vigour, like he’d been waiting for it, just
like she had. The glint in his eye would be a little bit too manic, a little
bit too heated. Times like those made her heart pound in something more than
terror and made her breath catch in something different to fear. She hated
herself for not hating those moments.
She’d been breaking her fast when he came in her room and announced she was to
be married. In her surprise the ornate tea cup she’d been sipping from slipped
from her grip. Her hands made another grab for it but it was too late, it hit
her knees, split its contents on her dress and bounced, falling to the floor,
smashing like it were glass. She didn’t dare meet Viserys’ eyes. The whole set
had been a gift from somebody, she didn’t recall whom but she remembered being
told it was very expensive and not a toy like all her previous tea sets. In
that moment she felt very much like the child that used to play at drinking the
sweet teas of the Free Cities.
Viserys dismissed her servant calmly and walked over to her. He didn’t say a
word and for a second she thought she’d be forgiven without punishment. She bit
her lip, not sure whether that was what she wanted. She looked up to meet his
eyes and the glint was there, she would be punished, he was just making her
wait for it.
“Sweet brother, I didn’t...” she started but she silenced herself instantly
when he raised his hand. She closed her eyes and turned her head, expecting to
be struck. She opened them again when she heard an ungodly crash. The tea set
stared up at her accusingly from its new place on the floor, each cup
transformed into fifty new pieces of china.
“Are you happy now, the whole lot is ruined,” Viserys asked her, his voice
thick with contempt.
“I’m sorry, I never meant... I’m sorry.” She scrambled to the floor to pick up
the pieces.
“Get up, child.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again, her hands shaking, not sure what would come next,
whether the sweat on her skin was from apprehension or anticipation.
He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to her feet. “I said get up.”
His fingers gripped hard enough to leave bruises and when he pushed her towards
the table, she only just turned in time to grab hold of it and stop herself
from falling. She could barely catch her breath and her head spun for a moment.
“You are awfully clumsy, aren’t you, sweet sister?” He stood to her side and
she didn’t dare turn to face him. “Your betrothed won’t like that. He will want
a woman with grace and dignity not some childish girl who falls to her knees
crying over the smallest things. Perhaps I should teach you some discipline.”
Dany turned her head and closed her eyes. She’d never heard the word used in
that context but whenever Viserys talked of discipline, it always went the same
way.
“One for each cup, I think,” he said, running a hand down her back and
gathering the material of her dress in his fist. He pulled it up over her hips
to expose her bare cheeks. He didn’t tell her to bend over and brace herself on
the table; she knew this dance step by step.
“How many cups were there?” he asked her.
“Six.” She could have lied but he would have known and it would have been worth
twice what the honest answer got her.
“Good girl,” he muttered as he delivered the first slap, hard and fast and
stinging, a shadow of the remaining five.
She cried out, not just for the pain. She kept her eyes closed so that she
could try and separate what was happening. If she couldn’t see, she could draw
lines between Viserys, the Dragon, the hot burn on her skin and the slow burn
inside. Six was not enough. Six was nothing.
When the second one landed she screamed out, more than she needed to, trying to
earn herself a better punishment. She knew she could play on his fear that
someone would hear and find out about these games of his. He didn’t ever
suspect he was just as much being played.
“Keep your mouth shut,” he instructed her, “or I shall keep it shut.”
The third one followed, almost to highlight his threat and she answered it, raw
and guttural, just as threatening. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled
her head up by it. The sharp tug ran through her whole body, making her gasp
for breath.
“You’re hurting me,” she said, her voice breaking, indulging him.
He pulled at her hair again and she could see what he wanted to do flickering
like fire in his eyes. Something in her growled in return, like a dragon had
been awoken in her. He let her go and she fell forward back onto the table top,
disappointed. She could almost hear his thoughts; she wouldn’t be worth
anything used. This husband would want her pure, untouched, a maiden. He
couldn’t have her, not how he wanted.
He gave her the last three slaps, almost too quickly, almost like he didn’t
want to anymore. She had broken him too soon.
“See that you learn from this lesson, sweet sister.” He spat the words out like
they tasted unpleasant.
She stood, letting her dress fall back into place, like nothing had happened.
Her knuckles white as her hands grasped the table tighter, the weight inside
her dragging her down. He left without another word, fleeing from her and her
small victory. She smiled to herself. It was a hollow victory, not exactly how
she had wanted it but it was a victory over him nonetheless.
End Notes
     SPaG updated 09/11/2017.
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