My Sister is my Shield! || WMMAP FANFICTION

𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟓.𝟖𝐤
𝐓𝐖:  𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒇 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈

﹕♡﹕

[ 3rd POV ]

Rain pattered against the windows of that dark office without relenting, dark clouds and gloomy skies reflecting the atmosphere of the main palace.

Claude sat at his desk, his head resting on his hand, as he stared long and hard at the grain of the wood. He wasn't actually looking at the desk - he was looking far past it, through his psyche, searching for answers to a question he couldn't quite place.

He'd been like that for a few days now. How could he not?

That child.. The daughter he desperately did not want to have, but ultimately did to avoid political confrontation. The one he tossed into that forgotten palace to be raised far away from his eyes and ears.

She broke. Or, at least, that's what it seemed like, to the crystal-eyed Emperor. The little girl he couldn't care less about shattered herself in front of him, cursing the world, and shouting sentiments that would make any mother's heart break.

And now that little girl was unconcious, sick in her elder sister's bed, whilst the Imperial doctor and Athanasia's maids rushed to nurse the six year old back to health.

..If it had been up to him, that child wouldn't exist. She was the physical proof of betrayal to his one and only love, Diana. Just the thought of her, of that girl's mother-- it made him sick.

It wasn't a lie. He didn't see that girl as his daughter, not in the way he saw his Athanasia. If he would have never had to of met that girl's mother, he'd be thrilled. All of that was true. So why..

When that little girl was wailing, blood dripping from her nose, cheeks caved in and thin arms waving about, did his chest ache? The toga he'd draped around her had already been washed and put away, but he couldn't get the image of her passing out in his toga, in his arms, out of his head.

One moment, he watched a timid little thing fumble with a teacup, and the next, the memory of Athanasia wailing with blood running down her chin came back to his mind. Perhaps that's why he did it..

Taking him out of his thoughts was the creeking of a door, and the sound of heels clacking against the marble floors. In walked Athanasia, his oldest daughter - she usually greeted him with a large, warm smile, occompanied with some form of "Hi, Daddy!"

But today, she looked grim. Solemn, as anger and regret bubbled in her eyes.

"Felix has finished his investigation. I thought I'd come and tell you the findings myself." She spoke coldly, crossing her arms, not making a move to jump onto the plush leather couch he'd put in there for her, like she usually would.

"..Those maids have been abusing her, Daddy. They dressed her in scraps and fed her weeks old soup and stale bread- and that wretch even put her hands on her..!!"

Athanasia raised her voice, her anger becoming more evident. This was something Claude rarely saw in his daughter. Her words made his chest stir, but he said nothing, letting her continue on.

"And on top of that.. you've just been teasing her." She shook her head, "No, not teasing.. Maybe it felt like teasing to you, but it was clearly torment to her."