Lüc Fabyän, in his twelve years of life, had never once heard his mother raise her voice before. The yells of exertion and pain echoing down the hall from the birthing room were disconcerting, to say the least. Lüc’s father was not a fretful man. Lüc could hardly stop himself from watching the older man jitter about from one corner of the hall to another, bustling to his room as if to get something, only to jump out again with something nonsensical like a bookend in his hand, asking for the umpteenth time whether anything new had happened. Had Lüc been a bolder child, he would have asked the man to sit down with him and be patient like a good kid. But instead, he sat quietly on the bench in the hall.
Lüc knew what was happening, of course, he wasn’t a child after all. He simply didn’t understand why “baby” meant a near year’s worth of fussing and fretting from everyone in the household except his mother herself. What was even going to change with a baby? Lyon said when Ellärin was born, he’d nearly gone out of his mind with annoyance. She’d cried all the time, and everyone acted like she was made of glass. She was two now, and it seemed to Lüc like not much had changed; he couldn’t rightfully say he was quite certain he wanted the same thing to happen to him.
The midwife burst from the room not long after his mother’s howls ceased, and his father nearly jumped a mile out of his skin. “What is it?” He snapped, even though it was quite obvious what was happening, in Lüc’s mind.
The woman smiled, eyes twinkling. “Another son, my lord. The baroness has asked you both to come in and meet him.”
Lüc’s father leaped forward, almost wrenching the door from the poor woman’s hands before rushing inside. Lüc himself was much slower to move, getting up from his seat and approaching the door almost apprehensively. He reached the door, but stopped for a moment, looking up at the midwife without much expression on his face, but she seemed to sense his discomfort and leaned down slightly to face him with a smile. “Oh, my young lord. There’s no need to worry.” She smoothed his hair back somewhat fondly. An action not Lyon would’ve scoffed at, but Lüc didn’t really mind. “I delivered you as well, and see what a fine gentleman you’ve turned out to be? Go on, he won’t bite.”
He took a step inside. His mother was lying in bed, holding a bundle of what looked like cloth. Her hair was matted with sweat, and she looked exhausted, but she smiled when she saw him, same old mother. “Lüc.” She spoke very calmly, but it was clearly a command all the same. His father was sitting next to her in a chair, staring anxiously at the bundle she was holding, but keeping himself leaned away from it as if it might catch fire if he accidentally touched it. Lüc walked forward, wanting to shuffle his feet, but too well-mannered to do that in front of his mother. His mother reached out with her free hand and touched his cheek. “Come closer.”
He scooted a little closer. She smiled very gently, but her voice was a little sharp. “Lüc.” Holding his breath, Lüc walked all the way up to the bed and sat on its edge. She reached over, and put the bundle in his arms without ceremony, sighing and relaxing back into her bed. “You hold him for a bit, dear.”
He scrunched up his nose finally. The bundle was strangely warm and damp, and it was squirming ever so slightly, though it was surprisingly quiet. But he finally took a breath and looked down at it. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but he hadn’t expected it to be so… small. With eyes tightly scrunched up, its ruddy little nose wrinkled as if about to cry, twisting here and there in its tight wrappings as if trying to get free. A little giggle popped out of his mouth. It was weird, but he had to admit sort of cute.
“That’s your brother, Lüc.” His mother said, seeming pleased with how he was doing. “He’s going to need you from now on. To teach him and to protect him as only an older brother can.”
He looked back at his mother in surprise, not having thought of that aspect of this new baby at all. And then it pushed its little hand free, and waved its fist in his face. He grabbed it, and tucked it back into its wrappings, and it made as if to cry for just a moment… before letting out a long breath and appearing to fall asleep. Very, very gingerly, Lüc held it closer, feeling the warmth as that of a hug instead of a strange lump this time.
“What should we name him?” Lüc looked at his mother again, almost startled to note she was looking at him. Asking him.
“You haven’t decided one yet, mother?”
She smiled and shook her head. “We thought we’d give that honor to you, my dear. You are growing into a man, after all. You shall have to make such decisions yourself, someday.”
He looked back down at the bundle, thought about it for a bit, and decided, “Philyp. Philyp, because it sounds soft, and he’s so soft and small.” He almost frowned at it, but then his mother laughed out loud, and he did frown, then. Instead at her, shaking his head vigorously and shushing her. “I think he just got to sleep!” He whispered emphatically.
His mother laughed again, a little more quietly, and gestured for him to give Philyp back. “Come now, older brother. Give him to his mother, for a bit. I’m sure he cannot have fallen asleep so soon, and will no doubt be wanting to be fed soon. You did, you know.”
Lüc scowled at her, finding himself oddly unwilling to part with the little thing – he had named it, after all – but little cries convinced him that she was right, and he handed his new brother back to his mother, still leaning closer to look at it as his mother held it close.