Paul was getting bored and thought it was probably time to leave his hiding place. He'd been sitting behind a wall panel near an air vent for hours watching and listening to people searching for him. Surely enough time had passed to teach his father a lesson.

The mistreatment that caused Paul to run away earlier in the day had to do with his military training. His father had promised that he would be allowed to join the cadets, but that day a new group of cadets were initiated and once again Paul was left out. He became so angry he shouted at his father, calling him a liar and running away.

Leto recalled things a little differently. Yes, he had promised Paul that he could join the cadets, but not until he was ready. He believed his son still had much to learn from his tutors and guides – the military could wait. Leto was prepared to forgive Paul his outburst, but when his temper tantrum turned into a full-scale search and rescue effort, his patience and benevolence faded.

Now, hours later as he directed the search from his council chamber, Leto was bordering on furiousness.

And this was the time that Paul had chosen to come out from hiding.

Paul saw Thufir walking quickly down the corridor and thought it would be easy to surrender to him. He'd always been a friend and trusted advisor to Paul. Thufir would see things right.

"Hello," Paul cried out. "Here I am!"

Thufir turned quickly, "Young master!" he exclaimed, rushing towards Paul. "Are you alright? Have you been hurt?"

"No," replied Paul. "I'm fine. I just felt like I needed some time away."

"Your mother and father have been worried sick."

Paul smiled a little. That's exactly what he wanted to hear. He wanted his father to feel guilty about the way he was treated.

"I'll take you to your father now," said Thufir quietly. Knowing that Paul would not be smiling once he saw what awaited him.

"I have him, my lord," said Thufir into his headpiece. "He's safe and unharmed." Paul could hear the cries of relief over the comms. "He's been hiding in a wall vent this whole time."

"Bring him to me at once," said Leto.

In the time it took Thufir to escort Paul to the council chamber, Leto's mood had changed several times. From being flooded with relief to being filled with anger. He was almost overwhelmed at the audacity of his son's actions. How could he dare? Didn't he realize that nearly all of Caladan would be out searching for him?

"My lord," Thufir called from the doorway, ushering Paul inside. Leto turned to face his son. The look on Leto's face was a blow to Paul's confidence. He did not see guilt. He didn't even see joy or relief. He only saw a hard anger – and it frightened him.

"Thank you," Leto said to Thurfir. "You may leave us but ask my servant to bring me The Discipline."

"Yes, my lord," replied Thufir quietly. Paul turned cold. What was "The Discipline?"

Leto turned to his son, consciously slowing his breathing in an attempt to calm down.

"I'm sorry," began Paul, but Leto silenced him with a sharp slap to the face.

"Don't you DARE!" shouted Leto. "How dare you think that you are sorry. You have no idea what you've done. The damage you caused. And for WHAT?"

Paul was reeling. What was happening? Leto began pacing around the room, lecturing as he went. "I know what you think. You think you've worried your mother and me. You THINK that you have made us feel guilty and will welcome you back with open arms. That's what you think, ISN'T IT?" he shouted.

"No," answered Paul, meekly.

"No, SIR," replied Leto sharply. "You want to be in the military so badly – how would you address your commander? Your lord? Your father?"

"No, sir."

Unconvinced, Leto continued his lecture. "Because of your stupid game, HUNDREDS, maybe THOUSANDS of people had been affected. Everyone in the court, the council, the military have been on high alert searching EVERYWHERE for you for hours. They left their work and their families to look for YOU!" Leto's attempt to calm himself were in vain. His temper seemed to rise with every step he took.

Things were gradually sinking in for Paul. He knew that he was his father's heir and that he had an important position, but – in a way – his parents had done such a wonderful job giving him a "normal" life that he sometimes forgot his true responsibilities. He was about to get a wake-up call.

Leto's servant entered, carrying a short, three-tailed whip. It was made a black leather and was the instrument of punishment known to generations of Atreides men as "The Discipline." It was now Paul's turn to experience its sting.

"Thank you," said Leto, dismissing the man, and turned to his son. "I was hoping that you would never know this, Paul," he said quietly. The gravity of the situation calmed him. "You've really given me no choice. Your grandfather received this punishment for the slightest infraction. With me, he used more restraint, but still found its use necessary to teach me the most serious lessons. Now it is your turn. The latest in the series of Atreides men to know The Discipline."

Paul was shaking slightly. This was too much. He had been spanked by his father a few times, often quite severely, but he never expected anything like this. "Please, sir" he begged.

"No," said Leto, quietly but firmly. "You deserve this punishment for your actions today. You must be made to understand the heavy weight of responsibility. And you are not a child. You are far too old to think running away is any kind of solution." Duke Leto paused, and then explained "The Discipline is always administered on the bare. So, you will remove your jacket and – "

"NO!" cried Paul, cutting off his father.

"Yes, Paul. You will do what I say. I think it would be easier if you bend over one of the chairs."

"I – I can't."

"You will do it yourself or I will do it for you. Remove your jacket, stand behind the chair, take down your trousers, and bend over."

Still Paul hesitated. "Paul . . ." Leto said warningly.

Summoning a great deal of self-discipline, Paul started to walk slowly towards the chair. He weighed the prospect of his father taking his trousers down and knew he couldn't bear the humiliation. He unhooked his jacket and laid it on the table. Tears began to form as he became overwhelmed with embarrassment. Quickly – in case his courage failed him – he pulled down his trousers and bent over the back of the chair.

Seeing Paul in that position gave Leto pause. He had never wielded the whip before. He didn't want to be too firm or too soft. Deciding that he could always be more severe, he would start off with a measured blow. Any type of strike would make an impact on Paul. Leto took a stance directly behind his son, took aim, reached back, and delivered the first blow.

"Noooo!" cried Paul, as a feeling of ice cold and burning at the same time spread across his flesh. Giving in to his reflexes, he quickly stood up and put his hands over his backside.

"Get back down!" ordered Leto. "You will stay still and keep your hands down. Grip the seat of the chair."

Paul slowly did as he was told. And Leto delivered the next blow – the same intensity – and watched as Paul's bare skin showed a new set of crimson stripes. And another.

Paul was moaning by this time but remained in position, gripping the seat tightly. This was the worst pain he had ever felt. The burning sensation never leaving and rising with each stoke of the lash.

Leto felt he needed to change tack in order to deliver an even punishment. He decided to deliver three back-handed blows to match his first set. Now the left side of Paul's slender backside was striped like the other.

When Leto paused, Paul prayed that the punishment would be over. Leto considered stopping there but thought six strokes was too few. He himself had almost always received twenty, but he had thought a dozen right for Paul. After all, his son had the slender frame of his mother, not the study build of Leto. Twelve would be enough.

"Not yet," said Leto and he braced himself once again. This time he would alternate his strokes – forehand and backhand so that Paul's backside would be evenly punished.

With an increasing intensity, he whipped his son.

Thwack.

Paul's moans began again and by now the tears were flowing.

Thwack.

It took all of Paul's courage to stay still. He came to realize that he deserved this punishment; worked to accept the pain; to learn from it.

Thwack.

Areas of Paul's backside were turning purple. There would be bruising to go along with the burning pain.

Thwack.

The stripes left by the tongues of the whip had overlapped and spread onto Paul's hips and upper thighs.

Thwack.

Thwack. After the final blow, Leto stepped back and took a deep breath. He let Paul linger in his humiliating position for a few more seconds, wondering whether there would be more to come.

After a moment, he said "You may stand up now. And pull yourself together."

Paul stood and, too quickly, pulled his rough wool trousers up over his flaming backside. This caused even more tears. But now they were not only tears of pain, but also shame.

"Turn around."

Paul wiped his tears as best he could and obeyed.

"From now on, if your actions affect others, you will be punished in this same way, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," answered Paul.

Lady Jessica rushed in at that moment, followed closely by Dr. Yueh. She saw Paul in tears and looked at Leto.

"He's fine," he told her. "He's not injured, he's been punished." Paul hung his head. "He was hiding. Watching everyone search for him."

Lady Jessica's face also turned from relief to sternness.

"You're dismissed, Paul," ordered Leto. "Tomorrow you will attend my council meeting and apologize."

"Yes, sir."

Paul started walking out rather stiffly. As he passed his mother, she gave him a quick embrace.

"No healing!" declared Leto, looking at Dr. Yueh. "I want to sting to last. It reinforces the lesson."