𝐖𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐏: 𝐒𝐞𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞

9: Athanasia, 'I've learned from the best.'

The world around her is quiet, and the emperor takes in a breath. 

Then two.

Anastasius looking up at his father with confused eyes before the emperor held Athanasia close before he turned to Anastasius.

"Anastasius, did you know?"

The boy looks confused, asking, "What do you mean, father?"

He probably wasn't able to hear what Athanasia had been saying with his unstable mana, she gave him that.

The emperor twitches his lips, his fingers tapping out an unsteady rhythm before he brings Athanasia's small form closer to his. 

As if he could protect her from all the dangers in the world by keeping her in his arms.

"...Cyrene..." 

His wordless plea is heard as she nods before burrowing into his neck and as he held her, she can feel one of the women knights drew down her socks just enough for the gathered people to see the magicked wounds on her skin.

Red welts that were still bleeding on the back of her calves, some wounds on her that were days old, purpling bruises that were in the process of yellowing that led a predictable trail down to her feet.

At the horrible sight, everyone collectively breathes in sharply, unrest swirling in the ranks as they avoid the emperor's eyes, some swallowing the hard lumps in their throats as they think of their children waiting for them at home.

To see such pain inflicted on someone so young, and someone of a rank like an imperial princess? It was unheard of.

Noble houses often hired strict teachers for their children to do the best in academies or to be the next heir of the house, but most would never stand for such treatment.

If they did, they were quickly reported and captured by the imperial guards and answered for their crimes.

The emperor jerks his chin up at his eldest son and two knights step up, flanking the prince.

"Father, what is going on? What are they doing!?" 

Anastasius is still floundering around as the knights apologize once before they hold his arms out to the sides for the emperor to come around to his back.

"Do it."

At the emperor's command, Anastasius is immobilized, his pants being rolled up to his calves, his shoes and socks being taken off.

He stands in front of the emperor, completely indignant, and with smooth, unwounded skin.

The emperor heaves a sigh, perhaps thankful that his son had not endured such treatment, or perhaps disappointed that his son had not thought to tell him of the indignities royalty had endured.

They were Obelias. 

They shouldn't have to endure anything- even in the name of education. 

Education should be in the form of intelligent conversations and debates, inquiring questions answered with the same enthusiasm.

Not...there was no other way to say it but- not abuse.

Especially not on young children who were still growing. They should be taught with firm words, yes. Not being wounded when they say something that is considered wrong.

He lets Anastasius wrench himself away from the guards to put himself together, looking disgruntled as he glares at the people around him

Either way, he says, "Go get the second prince from his other lesson."

A few knights dispatch to where Claude is in the palace and in that time, the emperor carefully asks Athanasia, "When I put you down, can you...show me?"

He receives a little nod and Athanasia fidgets in place before toeing off her little flats, nearly falling over before a few knights come over to her to offer their hands, all of them too late as the emperor steadies her first.

She takes one and balances whilst holding his hand, sliding off her knee-high socks and a chorus of shocked gasps echo in the room before it grows silent again, an unease filling the room as Claude reaches the door.

"F-father? Elder brother? Elder sister?"

The emperor seems to show some interest and gestures him closer to him, asking her father the same question but a little flatter. 

"Show me your wounds, Claude."

Claude freezes in place, but seeing Athanasia with her small legs and feet covered in the same wounds he once had before she had healed him, made him pause.

She runs over to him, holding his hands, tears in her eyes as a knight holding her shoes and socks goes to her side to help put them back on.

"It's okay, Claude. I've already told father what happened with the teacher, show him."

She holds his hand tight and Claude looks at her with big eyes, as if telling her that since she had been healing him every time it happened, he didn't have any scars.

She gives a little extra squeeze, and he seems to get it. Her father had been smart since he was young after all.

Claude stands before the emperor with bloodied feet and crisscrosses of both new and old wounds on the back of his legs and the emperor slides a hand across his face, massaging the bridge of his nose.

Anastasius, having seen the wounds of the two, seemed to question when and where they had gotten them from the teacher who had nothing but praises for him, and squints at the blood.

Athanasia hides a smile. Sorry uncle, you won't be able to see past my mana. 

I've learned from the best after all.