Brother and Sister

As time passed, my muscles developed enough to finally allow me to crawl, granting me freedom from the cradle where I had spent much of my early life (although with how much I slept, it was hard to recall).

Crawling meant freedom, at least within the confines of my bedroom.

The first thing I did after being set free was crawl all the way to a mirror. Sitting before it, unlike most babies, I didn't babble or make silly noises; instead, I examined myself.

My blonde hair had started to grow, no longer leaving me bald. My eyes were red like my father's, though mine were a deep, blood red. Apart from that, my features seemed… well, baby-like. It's not like babies have distinct features, after all.

I sensed the maids' watchful gazes behind me, almost as if they were curious about my reaction. Before I could mentally sigh, the door burst open, and two more annoyances entered, accompanied by their own maids and mother.

My three-year-old sister and brother.

My three-year-old sister, Elara, rushed in with her usual exuberance, her curly blonde locks bouncing as she moved. Beside her, my brother, Lucas, followed more sedately, his solemn blue eyes scanning the room with curiosity. Their maids, loyal attendants at their heels, wore gentle smiles as they monitored the siblings.

Elara's face lit up with excitement as she spotted me by the mirror. "Baby brother!" she exclaimed, toddling over with clumsy steps. "Look, Lucas, he's sitting by himself!"

Lucas approached more cautiously, his gaze thoughtful as he studied me. "He's growing fast," he remarked quietly, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

I watched them both with a mix of curiosity and wariness. They were my siblings, yet they belonged to a world I was only beginning to understand. They had likely grown up together, while I had arrived as a new addition to the family under mysterious circumstances.

The maids hovered nearby, ready to intervene if needed but allowing the siblings to interact freely. I sensed their protective presence, ensuring no harm came to any of us.

Elara reached out a chubby hand toward me, her red eyes sparkling with innocence and curiosity. "Can he play with us, Mama?" she asked, turning to mother who was behind them.

Mother, looking as warm as ever with her golden hair tied behind her back, smiled indulgently. "Not just yet, dear," she replied gently. "Your little brother is still very young. But you can say hello."

Elara nodded enthusiastically and leaned in closer, her face mere inches from mine. "Hello, baby brother," she said with a grin.

I stared back at her, taking in her features—the freckles sprinkled across her nose, the dimples that appeared when she smiled. She seemed genuinely delighted by my presence, a stark contrast to my own uncertainty about this new life.

Lucas, ever observant, remained quiet beside her, his expression curious as he regarded me. I could feel childlike curiosity radiating off him.

I ignored my siblings and turned to mother and said my first words in this life, "Mama!"

_________________________________________________________________________________

Being a baroness and a mother wasn't easy. While my husband handled most of the estate's affairs, managing the household was a new challenge for me, coming from a humble village background.

I cherished my children deeply. Elara and Lucas had just turned three, and they were absolutely adorable!

And Lancelot—what could I say about him? He was the cutest baby, alongside Elara and Lucas, though I might be biased as his mother.

His chubby cheeks, newly sprouting blonde hair, and deep blood-red eyes made him resemble both Elara and his father, yet he had a unique charm of his own.

Responding to their persistent requests, I accompanied Elara and Lucas to Lancelot's room. It was important for them to spend time with their baby brother.

I smiled warmly as I watched Elara greet Lancelot. Then, unexpectedly, Lancelot turned to me. His red eyes softened, and he opened his mouth, uttering, "Mama!"

My eyes widened in astonishment, my jaw dropping in disbelief. I couldn't help but raise my hands to cover my mouth as I gasped.

Pride surged within me, but even more so, I was utterly shocked.

Lancelot was only six months old, yet he had already spoken his first word! Lucas spoke his first word at ten months, and Elara at nearly a year old.

"Fetch my husband," I instructed a nearby maid urgently. She nodded, her face flushed with surprise, and hurried off to relay the incredible news.

"What is it, my dear?" he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and concern.

I turned towards him, still processing the unexpected moment. "Lancelot," I began, my voice trembling with emotion, "he just said his first word."

His eyes widened in surprise, mirroring my own astonishment. "Already?" he exclaimed softly, his gaze shifting to our youngest son who was now babbling happily in front of the mirror.

"Yes," I affirmed with a nod, a sense of wonder washing over me. "He looked right at me and said 'Mama.'"

I gazed at Lancelot, and he responded with a giggle, then repeated, "Mama!"

"Incredible," my husband muttered under his breath as he squatted down to pick up Lancelot. Our baby boy looked at his father with a curiosity that seemed far beyond his months. Then, with a deliberate focus, he said, "Dada!"

"Did you hear that, Kaya?" my husband exclaimed, his face flushing with excitement. "He said 'Dada' as well!"

"Yes, I heard," I replied, still in shock at our son's rapid development.

"My son is a genius!" my husband declared, joyfully bouncing Lancelot in his arms. Lancelot laughed heartily, his small voice filling the room as he repeated, "Dada" and "Mama" over and over.

"Mama," Elara asked, tugging on my dress with her curious red eyes fixed on me, "What did Lancelot do?"

"He said his first word, and he's very young to be doing that," I explained gently, bending down to caress the back of her head.

"Is that good?" Lucas asked, tilting his head as he approached, nudging closer so I could pat his head as well.

"Yes, it is very good," I replied, a smile spreading across my face.

"Do you think he will be able to walk already?" my husband asked excitedly. He placed Lancelot on the ground, holding him up to stand on his tiny feet.

Lancelot's legs trembled, clearly unable to support his weight, and my overly enthusiastic husband let go of him.

Thud!

My son fell face-first to the ground, his cheeks reddening as tears welled up in his eyes.

I turned to my husband, who looked at me sheepishly. I smiled at him, though my eyes held a hint of exasperation. "Dear, what do you think you are doing?"

"I-I just thought that if he learned how to talk already, maybe he could walk!" he explained frantically, raising his hands in defense.

My smile widened, laced with a touch of playful menace. "I think you need a class on babies before you father any more," I said, my words making his face pale.

As I scooped up Lancelot, I gently comforted him, wiping away his tears and blowing softly on his face.

"Mama," Lancelot murmured as his eyelids drooped, and he fell asleep in my arms. I smiled, kissed his forehead, and carefully placed him in his crib.

"Do babies sleep that much?" Elara asked in a hushed voice, trying not to wake her brother.

I almost chuckled at how adorable she was before replying, "Yes, at this age, babies usually sleep for half the day. They need sleep to grow strong and healthy."

Lucas nodded solemnly, his big head wobbling slightly as I ruffled his hair. Taking my children's hands, I led my family out of Lancelot's room, leaving a few maids behind to ensure he had a peaceful nap.

The moment was a gentle reminder of the simple joys and precious responsibilities that came with raising my children. Watching them grow and learn, even in these small ways, filled my heart with a warmth that made every challenge worthwhile.