(Euryale's POV)
Everyone says I'm the prettiest boy in the village.
Ma always smiles when people say that, brushing back my hair and saying, "He's more than pretty—he's is the cutest." But I think she likes hearing it just as much as the compliments. I don't really know what makes someone pretty. Maybe it's in the laugh lines, the brightness of your eyes, or the way you smile at someone who's grumpy. If being pretty means Ma laughs more when I'm around, then I don't mind.
Silas, on the other hand… he's not very quiet about anything.
He runs through the house with jam smeared across his cheeks, curls plastered to his forehead, shouting, "Look! I'm a dragon!" as he drags one of Ma's scarves behind him like a tail. Sometimes he roars so loudly that even the chickens outside jump.
"You're not a dragon," I say, dodging him as he charges. "You're more like… a very loud sock monster!"
"Sock monster?" he squeals, eyes wide with horror. "That's an insult to dragons everywhere!"
"I know," I nod solemnly. "I apologize on behalf of humans everywhere. Your wrath is… terrifying."
He spins, scarf flying, and stomps his feet. "I'll burn your castle down then!"
"Good luck!" I shout, holding up my hands like I'm surrendering. "The moat is dry!"
He giggles, trips over the rug, and lands in a pile of pillows. I help him up, both of us laughing so hard the walls shake.
I used to wonder what it would feel like to have a sibling. Now I know. It's like having a little star that never leaves your sky. Even when he bites me, pulls my hair, or hides my boots in the middle of the night, I love him. Even when he gets me in trouble, I want to protect him. Always.
Ma's belly is round like the moon now.
Every time the baby kicks, Silas jumps back and hides behind me. "Euryale! The baby kicked my ear!"
"That's because your ear was in the way," I tell him, trying not to laugh.
"Maybe it wants to fight me!"
"No baby wants to fight you," I reply firmly.
"But what if it does?" he asks, eyes wide, serious as a knight.
"Then I'll protect you. I'm the big brother, remember?"
He beams. "I knew it! You're my shield!"
I puff out my chest, and he does the same. We stand like two tiny warriors in the middle of the kitchen, glaring at an invisible enemy while Ma hums in the background, shaking her head.
We spend a lot of days inside now. Ma gets tired quickly, and Pa doesn't want her walking too far. I help with chores without being asked. I've gotten good at folding laundry neatly, carrying water without spilling it, and even helping Pa chop vegetables without cutting myself—or anyone else. Silas usually follows me around like a little duckling, singing songs that make no sense but somehow brighten the room.
Sometimes, I write his songs down in my notebook, like this morning's masterpiece:
"Ogres in my soup,They dance in my shoe,I bite them, I fight them,And I hug the blue."
Ma laughed so hard she nearly dropped the tea. "Where do you two come up with this?"
Silas grins proudly. "It's magic!"
We've made a nest of blankets and pillows near Ma's chair. She reads to us while rubbing her stomach. Sometimes, I lie beside her and listen to the baby's heartbeat. It's soft, like distant rain, like a secret the universe whispered only to me.
One night, Silas pokes my arm. "Do you think the baby will like frogs?"
"Everyone likes frogs," I answer, pretending to be very wise.
"What if it cries all the time?"
"Then we take turns holding it."
"What if it's a monster?"
"Then it's our monster. We can train it. But first, it has to learn to share its snacks."
He nods solemnly. "Yes. Monsters must learn manners."
I've been growing too. I can help Pa carry baskets. I climb trees and run without falling. My voice is stronger, my legs longer. When I smile, Ma touches my cheek and says, "You look older today." Sometimes, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and think I almost look like someone else—but I don't know who.
Still, I'm me. Euryale. Ma and Pa's son. Silas's big brother.
I don't need to be anything more.
One morning, Ma sits me down, her hands resting on her belly. "It's almost time."
I blink. "For what?"
"The baby," she says softly.
"Now?" I ask carefully.
"Soon," she says, smiling gently. "Maybe tonight."
The house suddenly feels smaller, like it's holding its breath. Pa takes out the clean cloths. I sweep the floors with exaggerated care. Silas draws a big heart on the wall and writes, WELCOME BABY in shaky letters beneath it, stepping back proudly to admire his work.
That night, Ma starts breathing heavily, clutching Pa's sleeve. He's calm, strong, focused. I take Silas into our room.
"It's going to be okay," I whisper.
"But what if it's not?" he asks, big eyes glimmering in the candlelight.
"It will be," I say firmly. "Pa's there. I'm here. We're together."
He snuggles against me, smaller than ever. I hold him tight and feel something blooming in my chest—a soft, bright, and fierce feeling all at once.
I lie awake for hours, staring at the ceiling. I wonder what the baby will look like. Will it have Silas's curls or Ma's eyes? Will it like frogs or dirt puddles?
Mostly, I feel something new—hope. Joy. Family.
Our family is about to grow.
And I can't wait to meet that little star.