You Don't Want the Crown

The Story of Lonan - 4

The prince is born and again everyone's life but mine is in uproar. Me? I have my training and my chores. A squealing infant hardly keeps me up at night.
My father is even busier, as he has to visit his new son now. But I don't mind. This one is little and doesn't know we love him yet. My other father is generally traumatized by the infant's existence; he doesn't like babies. I'm honestly lucky he likes me.
The princess is quite ill, so I continue to bring her flowers, and I visit my new brother now and then. I want him to know he has friends.
I leave the flowers in her room as she's not there, and slip into the adjoining nursery. As usual, my little brother is squalling, unable to be soothed. Two nurses stand there clearly at their wits end.
"Hello, you'll be blowing the horn for the hunts soon won't you, lungs like that?" I ask, tickling the baby's foot. He's in just a cloth dress that's white, and his face is red from sobbing. He's as usual fought off all wraps he hates being closed up. He's only wild.
He stops crying to glare at me, which is what siblings are for, I understand.
"Who gets the prize—oh, of course it's you who charmed him," the princess stops in the doorway, tired, her hair loose and down her back and face blotchy as though she too was crying.
"He wants to come play, Lady," I say, smiling a little, "I'll get out of your way."
"Don't you dare if you've got him happy," she laughs, coming over, "He's not slept in hours he's over tired but it's hard to settle him."
The baby grumbles, holding out his arms for me.
"Give him a rock and sing to him a bit. I'll tell Bran where you've been," she sighs, sitting down a chair.
I oblige, picking up the baby carefully. As usual he goes fully stiff in my arms, preparing to scream.
"Ah—now now, be nice," I say. He glares at me. I sing softly, and by the time I'm through the second verse he's passed out completely.
"He does win the prize," Ita claps.
"I can take him now," Lady Slaine says, holding out her arms for her sleeping child. I bring him over. He's a baby still but long and she's so tiny I'm surprised she can even hold him. "What was the song, you sang him?"
"It's an old rhyme—about the eternal queen, and the loneliest king, they call it," I say, shrugging.
"Where did you hear it?" She asks.
"I had a nanny who sang it, I think. I don't know, I was tiny, probably being rotten like him," I lie. My father sang it to me.
"You are a rotten little hound aren't you?" She asks, kissing her baby's face.
"At least you're always the first place I look," my other dad grunts, leaning in the doorway.
"I'm so sorry Bran, I kidnapped him," Lady says, laughing a bit.
"And I watched her and helped," Ita says, ruffling my hair.
"Elisedd wants big brother sometimes, don't you?"  Lady says.
"I'll teach you to catch frogs one day," I say, to the sleeping baby.
"I'll stop them from doing that," Bran says.
"I'll probably watch them do that," Ita says.
"Oh, please do that. By all means teach him to catch frogs."
My days are full as ever. I slip back to the nursery when I can or to bring the flowers. My father grows busier, though he usually finds time at least every other day to come chat with us in the armory, even if it is to talk about how the baby keeps him awake. He sighs, like he wants to want the child but can't bring himself to. Cuan doesn't quiet for him at all.
"He's so stiff in my arms, does he do that to you?" My father asks.
"I don't touch him," my other father says.
"Yes, is that not how babies are?" I ask.
"No, you were—you didn't scream like this either," my father says.
"You were like a sack of dumb jelly. You didn't cry; you wanted to be played with and talked to or you looked slightly more pathetic; it was very manipulative when I'm trying not to form any personal attachments to earthly creatures that like falling off horses as I've already got the one," my other father says, punching my father's head.
"Precisely—but I'm not going to say anything. I think its me, I don't want Slaine to worry, it's her first, I'm sure it's me it's not like I wanted—it's not the same as you," he sighs.
"But you need an heir, you don't need me."
"I got you because I love your father and I want our family, I got this one because it's good business, bit different and I don't not care for him but I can't—I don't even like holding him," he sighs.
"I don't like touching people," my other father offers.
"We know," we say, in unison, very sarcastically given he touches both of us fairly often, as in he's been poking my father this whole time and being pocked back, and he carried me back from the lake slung over his shoulder to prove he still could.
"You'll like him. It takes time with some. You know it took me ages to really like him," my other father sighs.
"You didn't like me?" I ask, mock hurt.
"I still don't like you."
"Don't, he'll think you mean it—,"
"I'm used to you—,"
"Oh stop, do," my father sighs.
"What? I like the kid, but when they don't talk or anything they're boring and hard to get to know that's all. It'll learn to talk soon," other father says.
"That was really good like you get points for pretending you like me—," I begin.
"Oh shut up, he's the sensitive one for a reason."
Time passes differently in my world than theirs. I'm made a squire, to my other father of course, and my father who is the king is consumed with his work. He travels often, often with his wife, leaving Cuan behind. My other father and Ita and I then take charge of minding him. He has his own minders but he likes us best. So I'll go lie on the floor of his room and listen to him jabber and chat with him for hours as he brings me toy after toy, babbling about it and handing it to me before trudging off to find another one.
But other than such enjoyable babysitting duties for my baby brother, the royal schedule affects me little; now and again my father will take my other father and by extension me on little trips about but I don't always know why and I don't care to.
Similarly, Bray castle will have noble guests but it rarely affects me beyond guard rotations. I'm stabling horses and the like, not speaking to fancy people. I'm becoming like my other father and starting to like it this way.
Sometimes the nobles do bring their children with them. That again doesn't affect me or the pages or other squires, unless of course they're playing where we like to and we have to relinquish our spot.
One night I have such an inconvenience, as some noble children who are visiting are down at the pond. I was going to catch a frog and show it to Cuan because I think he'd like it. He's two you ought to have a messy big brother bring you a frog when you're two so you can touch it and stick your fingers in your mouth and be nice and healthy. I don't know a lot about children.
Anyway, people, namely kids, are playing there so I'm not doing that tonight I suppose. I sigh. That's well enough. I can just slip off to the kitchens, if I'm there when Ita is fetching the little princes' milk then she'll find cookies and give them to me and if I'm lucky she'll hand me a whole tin and expect me to share it or something and I can go eat it all in one go. I'm always hungry.
I'm halfway back up to the palace when I hear a short sob. I stop, accustomed to being kind when little ones are crying; my little brother has trained me very well.
I turn, and in the shadows of the pillars, I see a boy sitting hunched up, crying. He's wearing a red suit and has dusty blonde hair.
"Are you all right?" I ask, stopping. He's one of the noble children, though he looks my age.
"Not really, but I do thank you for asking," he says, wiping his face with one hand.
"What is it?" I ask, coming over, "Shall I fetch someone or—can I get help?"
"No—no I'm just miserable. My dad shouted at me. I don't know why. I'm the third son. I'm not anyone, I don't know why he wants to be cross with me," he sighs.
"I'm sorry, I'm a squire, so I get shouted at all day, I don't like it. My fathers don't really shout though," I say, sitting down across from him, "Would you like a hug?"
"Why?" He frowns.
"It's free and when people are sad hugs usually help."
"No, I mean why do you give hugs to people who you find crying?"
"They're free and I cry too sometimes."
He leans over and lets me hug him. He's tinier than me though I suspect he's my age, and while I'm running and riding everyday and therefore thick with muscles and bruises, he's skin and bones beneath his fine coat.
"There, better?" I ask.
"Actually yes," he sniffles a little more, "I'm sorry. I'm Durst."
"Lonan, but don't be sorry. You're fine."
"Lonan what?" He frowns.
"Lonan Fitzroy," I raise an eyebrow.
"Ah," he nods, my name betrays me as a bastard.
I shrug.
"Durst of Cumhail," he smiles a little, "Pleasure to meet you."
"Was there any reason your dad was cross?" I ask.
"He doesn't need a reason," he says, rubbing his face with one hand, "I think I left my doll in our carriage, and I asked to go look. And so he railed at me that I'm not even meant to have a doll and real boys don't play with dolls and I said I didn't think I was imaginary and he smacked me."
"Well that's an easy fix.  I know where all the carriages are. I'm a squire so it's my job to clean them and the like. I'll take you," I say, standing up and offering him a hand.
"Really?"
"Of course, I'm happy to," I say, helping him to his feet. I think he weighs less than Cuan. I still carry him places he likes it, just like my dad will still scoop me up just to prove he can.
"Thank you," he says, beaming now.
"Come on, they're all this way, I'm sorry I don't remember which is yours," I say,  leading him around the courtyard.
"It's the one that looks like it's owned by an ostentatious pig."
That doesn't sound like a helpful description it sounds really really sarcastic, but it is in fact helpful. I show him to where the carriages are lined up and there is one with a lot of excessive trim and the like and actual little pictures of pigs and anyway that one belongs to Durst.
"Here she is!" He cries, happily, crawling into the back of the carriage. He holds a very fine doll. I don't know a lot about dolls but it looks nice its dress is as fancy as the noble women's, all silk with lots of ribbons and things. I don't know a lot about dresses. 
"Good," I say. I never had a doll, but I did have a toy knight my other dad brought me. I've still got it somewhere in my room. I didn't know what I was supposed to do with it so I talked to it and pretended it was my friend.
"Isn't her dress pretty? I want one just like it someday," he says, happily, studying the doll.
"Why?" I frown. Dresses look uncomfortable. And hard to joust in.
"Because it's pretty. Being pretty is my favorite thing," he says, cuddling the doll.
I shrug. I guess that makes sense.
"I should be getting in before they miss me. Thank you," he says, scurrying up. He kisses me directly on the lips very quickly, then bounces away.
"What was that for?" I ask, frowning.
"Nothing! It's free," he calls, and then he scurries off into the dark.