"I don't know how to -"

"Just support his head," Philomel kindly, but firmly said, almost forcing him into her arms. With a tug she brought Celandine closer to her, nodding in approval as the half-faun awkwardly held her brother.

The small boy punched the air with his fists and fussed a little, opening his toothless mouth to gulp air. Still, he was the red of a young babe, having just entered the world. He let out a small cry, and Celandine looked eager to pass him over at it, but he mother shook her head, pressing firmly on Celandine's arm.

"Just support his head," she sighed against the cushions. "you're doing fine."

"I'm not good at this," mumbled the princess.

"Of course you are," Philomel nodded, knowing that Celandine meant it all. Being in public amongst her ladies. Being exposed to do much raw emotion. Being here, needing to hold in all her words because they weren't alone. Because they weren't a functional family. Because holding her brother...

"Philomel," Celandine mumbled uneasily, hating the East the myriad of eyes looked at her. Some of them were adoring, some were intrigued. All were judging.

At use of her proper name, the Matriarch frowned, but she read it. Carefully she took her son from her daughter with ease and plucked out her breast for the eager baby to suckle and nurse.

"Are you well?" The princess let out a little sigh as her and she emptied.

"Yes. Alive," Philomel held her gaze steadily. "Well enough."

"Good. Good."