As a child, Auguste had been mischievous, a fact his father had painstakingly tried to conceal from the court and the public, with only minor success at the latter. The court was too often a victim in his games to be unaware of his nature, and subsequently became wary of him in his young years. Boredom, of course, was the main cause. Everything changed one early morning during late spring in his twelfth year when tiny baby Laurent came screaming into the world.
Mother had been sickly Auguste's whole life, but more so in the months leading up to Laurent’s birth. An experienced older brother to be, Auguste hadn’t paid much mind to Hennike’s approaching ninth month, expecting this pregnancy to be like all the others, fruitless. So when he was summoned in the middle of the night by a servant to his mother’s rooms, he assumed her health had taken a turn for the worst and that he would be saying another tearful goodbye to her, just in case, like all the other times her health had failed.
But tonight his father was there too, and so something was clearly different. Mother was still as lifeless looking as she usually was this late in pregnancy, but the physicians were busying themselves checking between her legs instead of feeding her teas and soups. With weak hands Hennike beconned her baby boy to her bedside, and reached out to him as best she could. Auguste took her frail hands in his and squeezed them tight, “What is it Maman, what’s going on?”
With a steadier voice than should be possible, she responded, “The baby is coming now, Auguste, and I need you to promise me something.”
Auguste had promised his mother many things over the years. That he would stop sneaking away from his history tutors, that he wouldn’t steal councilman Herode’s fancy feather pen anymore, that he hadn’t been secretly dressing up in commoners clothing and pretending to be a cobbler selling shoe shine to the locals. Usually, Auguste’s promises weren’t worth much.
“What is it Maman?”
Hennike grits her teeth through a wave of sharp pain, and exhales in fractions. Auguste waits as patiently as a boy of just twelve can, shifting from foot to foot anxiously. One of the physicians with a funny cap places a wet cloth on her forehead.
“The baby is coming now Auguste, your baby brother, and I may not be here to help raise him-”
Aleron’s voice cuts her off sharply, “Don’t say that Hennike, you’re going to be just fine.”
Maman shoots him a look Auguste can’t decipher and continues.
“I may not be here to care for him like I cared for you, so I need you to be there for him in whatever ways he needs, do you understand?”
Auguste tries his best to keep his sniffling quiet, he can’t let Papa know he’s crying. “I guess.”
“No guessing Auguste, you have to be sure. This baby will not have his mother, so he must have his brother. You will love him, and care for him, and keep him safe, and hold him when he cries, and never let anyone hurt him.” Hennike pauses, breathes deeply as Aleron stands stiffly at her side, and Auguste crawls into the bed with her despite the physician's protests. “He’s coming early, so he will be small and sickly, and will need a lot of patience and love. You’ll do that for him, won’t you, Auguste?”
“Yes ma’am, I will.”
“Good boy, you’ve always had such a big heart, I don’t want you to hide it. Your love should be a privilege to those who receive it, but never a rarity. I love you my boy.”
Auguste chokes the words out, “I love you too Maman, it’s going to be okay.”
Hennike is silent after that, if you don’t count her cries as the physicians mess around between her bent legs where the sheets cover her down to the thighs. Auguste stays laying by his mothers side, holding her hands, and tries not to wince when she squeezes a little too tight.
After a single command from Aleron, which Auguste doesn’t quite hear over his pounding heartbeat, the physicians stop glancing worriedly at Hennike and focus on the baby coming out of her. Whether by chance or as a result, Auguste doesn’t know, but Mamans grip on his hands loosen, and eventually ceases completely as her eyes slip shut.
Auguste tries to shake her back awake, but to no avail. “Papa, something is wrong, Mamam isn’t waking up!”
Aleron’s stony face turns to his son, then his wife, away from the physicians work. He steps to the head of the bed and places a solid hand on Auguste’s shoulder, “Calm now boy, you are a prince.”
Auguste can’t see the moment little Laurent makes his way into the world, but he can surely hear him. Maman must have been wrong when she said he would be frail, since his lungs are nothing but. His screams must echo through the entire castle, waking every servant and courtier from their sleep, and Auguste has never been so afraid in his life.
The physicians pull the screaming bundle away from the bed and clean him off -Auguste hadn’t realized birth was so bloody- and the head physician holds him out to Aleron. At Aleron’s cool stare at the baby and lack of action, the physician with the funny hat gently takes him from the other man's hands and walks around the bed to place the bundle on Hennike’s chest.
The baby's cries soften at contact with his mother but do not cease. The physician with the funny hat takes Auguste’s hands and places them on his baby brother, he whispers just so Auguste can hear him, “He is your responsibility now.”
Aleron does not balk at a physician directing his son, so Auguste nods and stares at baby Laurent for the first time. He is so tiny, and so fragile, Auguste is afraid his new treasure won’t last the night.
But he does last the night, in Auguste’s arms, with Aleron standing quietly nearby. And by the time the bells ring out the morning's tenth hour, Maman opens her eyes and cries as she holds both her boys for the first time.
