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He hated hospitals. Just being around them gave him an intense dislike. Only the birth of his sister had allowed a happy occasion, his little feet all but running when at last the doctor okayed him for coming into the room. Barely did he contain himself from bursting through the door, but the sight of his mother, tired and radiant as she coddled a bundle at her chest eased his worries. His father glanced up from where he leaned a bit too close over the bed, beckoning him over.
“Come here sweetheart.” His mother had murmured, tipping the little bundle so he could see. “Meet your sister, Iris.”
He shuffled in close to get a better look, taking the vacated spot his father had held with only a little nudge from the man as he mentioned getting them something to eat. “She looks all squishy, is she okay?” the boy had asked after a long look, rewarded with a crooked grin. That, that’s where he got his smile, the king was fond of pointing out whenever they were all together. Just to poke at his Shield who bore the taunting with only a long suffering sigh.
“She has a lot of growing to do.” She replied after tilting her back up. The little lady in her arms began to fuss, and Gladio pulled away immediately, worried his leaning had caused her to complain.
“It’s okay, Gladio.” His mother soothed him as she started to rock the little bundle. “It’s not you, she probably can’t see you very well. She’s just had a rough day.” It was strange, to watch from a different angle as his mother’s throat hummed to work with a very familiar song. That was his lullaby! She made it herself. But that was also his little sister. And he was getting a little old for it, anyways. She definitely needed it more. It could be both of their songs. So he settled in after dragging over the plastic chair and hopping up, resting his arms first, then his head atop those along the rail at the side of the bed to watch as she crooned.
Listen, my lovely, my darling, my dear
This song, it’s my voice you hear
I’ll protect you heart and soul
That’s the nature of my role.
So dream your dreams into the night
I’ll be right here, to hold you tight.
And if I’m gone, when you rouse,
Worry not, my lovely, feel free to drowse.
I’ll never be far, love, my dearest, it’s true.
A part of me lives on in you.
Even he was no stranger to the call of slumber and calm when his mother sang in that low husky voice. Admittedly, it had been awhile since he’d outright heard her sing it. More often than not, nowadays, she hummed the tune as he pet his hair, easing along while they watched the rain together or when he was stuck in bed sick. Iris seemed rather keen on it, however, lulling down halfway through into her rest again. “She’s loud.” He finally offered, the lack of filter rather obvious at his age.
“Well, you’re certainly a baby Garula when you want to be.” His mother fired back, leaving his jaw agape. Apparently, having a baby didn’t really suck bad enough his mom wasn’t on her A game.
“I am not!” He whispered fiercely, after looking over to make sure he wasn’t waking his sister with his words.
“Yes, you are.” His father rumbled from the door, a tray in his hands. “Especially on the training floor.” He paused, looking as though he were in thought, before his smirk returned. “And when you’re trying to sneak another book from the library at night.”
He sputtered quietly, but his mother laughed just as low, waiting for Clarus to set the tray aside so he could carry his sleeping daughter to the little crib to the side of the bed. Having a baby seemed to make a big appetite, Gladio observed as his father spread out what was in the tray. Interesting, too, that the hospital seemed to have a lot of his mom’s favourites all ready to go. Gladio’s money was that Jared was probably cooking up a storm at home since they’d left.
It felt like ages ago, that happy moment.
The memory was hazy, but still clear enough. It was the last time he’d been at the hospital, but that was only four years ago. He’d yelled at his father, when he’d tried to tell him to go back. Called him things he definitely wasn’t allowed to know about, preteen as he was. But something in his voice, or maybe his gaze allowed him passage, as Clarus turned away to walk to the window for his phone.
This room he pushed into was different, smaller. Quieter, save for the steady beep from the instruments on the wall. The figure in the bed wasn’t propped up at all, barely a bit more upright than straight out flat. Unlike her normal updo, his mother’s hair fell in wild waves around her, making her look smaller than she was.
“Mom?” He whispered quietly, one hand coming up to grip at the railing on the bed. She didn’t respond, save for the fluttering of lashes. She was so pale, why was she so pale? Her skin always glowed rich and deeper in colour than his own, but only just. Now she was almost waxy looking, all in a matter of days. “Mama?” He called again, watching for nothing more than her lashes to flutter.
Clarus, for all his arguing, left him time to himself, and for that he was grateful. Though the colouring was a little scary, Gladio reached out, covering the hand that didn’t have the oximeter settled on a finger. “I’m here, Mama.” For all the good it did, he kept talking, telling her about Jared being at home with Iris, and how he’d played hooky from school because she was sad. How Dad was not doing great. How even the king came by. How it was kinda funny, even his moustache seemed sad. But his smile dropped, because that was hard. She hadn’t looked sick last week, not even over the weekend, when he’d come pounding in braying loudly about managing to hit his father in a mock battle. She looked. Fine.
His father’s presence returned right as the burn of heat threatened his eyes. Rather than usher him out, those big hands settled on his shoulders, squeezing in a much needed pressure. He didn’t say a word, letting Gladio get a hold of himself with a long breath. They stood like that for several quiet minutes, his fingers never letting go of his mother’s while he pressed back into the steadying warmth of his father’s chest.
Slowly, his throat worked, and though he couldn’t bring himself to say the words, he picked up in a rickety hum, hiccuping a little when his father’s hands tightened. It was a child’s hope, he told himself, when her hand shifted under his. But secretly, he hoped harder, that it helped bring her peace like it always did him.
At the funeral, Iris put on a brave face. She’d thrown a fit at being left out, like the hospital. She wanted to say goodbye to Mama too, after Jared had tried to explain why. Her little sniffles echoed to Gladio, even though the space was huge. The reception, at least, was at home, so she could run away and hide in her room when it became too much. It wasn’t where Gladio found her though.
Gladio found her in the garden.
It was their mother’s pride and joy. Not that she had a gardening bone in her body, no. It was more the reasoning for it. As a present to his beloved new wife, Clarus gutted the entire area and had it remade with flowers from her homeland while they were away on honeymoon. Younger Gladio had eyed his father and pointed out that it would have been cooler to have a pool instead, but his mother had just laughed.
Nestled into the old swing, in her neat little black dress, his little sister held her knees tight to her chest, face buried inside. It wasn’t hard to sneak up on her on a regular day, but his feet fell heavy and pronounced as he moved over, waiting for the raise of her head that never came. A little off balance by her lack of reaction, Gladio took a ginger seat next to her, reaching out his arm in the somewhat stiff suit jacket until he could curl it around her little form.
She hitched a breath, but it still didn’t look like she was going to be moving any time soon. That suited him fine, being out here where he could breathe was a lot better than being inside seeing all those faces looking at him with sympathy. Dad could deal with it for a little while. Eventually, his hand began to move, petting over her hair with gentle heaviness, the rhythm soothing him as much as he wanted it to soothe her.
Tentatively, he started, the words falling from his lips without prompting as his much lighter voice copied that of his mother’s. The little form below his hand froze at the beginning, and for a second, when her head jerked up, he thought she might yell at him for his efforts. He wasn’t a singer, not at all. But then those big eyes welled up and she launched herself at him. “Gladdy!” She wailed into his shirt, big sobbing cries she’d tried to hold back so hard on. The kind that made his voice thick and his own eyes drip while he rocked and sang their lullaby that their mother no longer could.
Clarus himself found them, near an hour later, long after Gladio had grown hoarse from repeating himself after his sister had quietly begged him to sing it again after the first time. Silently, Gladio scooted over so that he could sit beside them, his sister more in his lap than on the bench at that point and taking a bit of Clarus’ as well when he dropped down. Once they were settled, Clarus slowly rocked the swing, taking in the garden with them while they all quietly ached together.
Thankfully, there weren’t any hospital visits for a very long time, and none at all for his dear little sister. They fought loads, but were fiercely protective of each other, as witnessed when he near lost his mind with worry as his five year old sister listened to his big mouth and got herself lost trying to meet the prince.
Which was why, at a ripe 21 years of age, Gladio settled into the hospital bed with growing discomfort despite the later hour of the evening. The fight was over before it started, really. Some idiot and his friends, not happy with being ignored by the prince as he stepped past their drunk narrative outside the bar they were at and kept walking. Gladio hated that he’d not been watching them too close, when Noct had asked to go to the arcade down the street from the bar, pausing to get street tacos on the way.
That wasn’t to say he hadn’t absolutely wailed on them, but they were able to get in a few lucky shots thanks to the slice from someone’s beer bottle across his forehead. Despite the overall lack of wounds, they kept him in the hospital overnight, just to watch his eye’s damage from the blood that had slid into it during the fray and the tenderness in his bones after the potion he’d needed to knit his ribs back together where one of them had surprised him with a chair from the small patio.
“Gladdy?” The voice whispered from his door, surprising him enough that he sat up quicker than his new ribs allowed.
He hissed out a low note, and that was all Iris needed as permission to come running in. Jared was quick to follow, an apologetic look on his gentle features. “Terribly sorry, but your father couldn’t get away since Noct was involved in the altercation, and she really wanted to see you. I need to go get instructions for tomorrow’s release as well.”
“All good. Go do your thing.” Gladio murmured as he sat up more gingerly, happy that the little hands were careful in surrounding him. “I’m just fine, Iris, promise. There were some cruddy guys that tried to hurt Noct, and I had to teach ‘em some manners.”
“Well good, because I’mma kick you when you get out for scaring us!” Preteen though she might be, his little sister was quite the boisterous one. Likely from having to deal with two big boorish men in her lives. “You’re not really hurt? Promise?”
“I promise, see? I get a fancy eyepatch for a day and everything’s fine.” Gladio hovered over the eyepatch, or at least, tried to. The little giggle from his sister made him aware of how off he was. “And it’s not even hurt, it’s just a precaution while my forehead heals.”
Her little eyes squinted at him, chin tilted up in obvious doubt. His ribs would hate him, but they weren’t truly broken anymore so, he did what any dumb big brother would do to assuage her fears and picked her up, setting her beside him on the narrow hospital bed. Of course his middle screamed bloody murder, and perhaps his smile was a bit more fierce than it should be, because she didn’t make a peep of protest. “See?”
Iris snorted. “You’re an idiot.” She didn’t try to get down, however, and instead made herself at home up against his side, thankfully the one he could see on. “Dad told Jared that he’d be out late, and that Noct was totally fine. But then he told him you don’t like hospitals. So I wanted to come see you.”
“He told him that?” Surprised, Gladio shifted all his attention, watching her fiddle with the necklace settled on his chest.
“Well yeah, duh. I think he was kinda unhappy you had to stay here too. I bet he wanted to spring you outta here as quickly as possible.” His sister confided, using terms he couldn't help but grin at.
“And so what, you’re my entertainment til tomorrow? You can’t stay here, Iris. You should go home and sleep in a big comfy bed, like the one I wish I was sleeping in instead of being stuck here.” He grumbled, rocking the bed a little with the statement to make her giggle.
“Nothing doin’, Gladdy.” She proclaimed, reaching up to pat at his shoulder. “I’m gonna stay here til you’re comfortable. Jared’s gonna be busy a little anyways cuz he’s gotta pick up more paperwork or whatever from when you came in.”
A report, probably. Likely they were gonna throw everything they could on the little group that had come at them, which meant making sure they had a full documentation of his own injuries since Noct had thankfully gone unscathed. Man, the very idea of what awaited him beyond listing his injuries just made him feel tired. His shoulders sank back, but the irritation of his surroundings made for a hard bargain at any rest. At least, until a hand prodded his shoulder again. “Mmh?”
Inching herself up closer, Iris settled down with her head on his chest, fingers clutching into his shirt. They used to sit like this a lot, especially after their mom passed. She’d come into his bedroom, dragging her own pillow because she swore he drooled on his, and crawl right up on him until he sang her to sleep. Just the memory had him a little more settled. His eye began to close of its own accord, but he wasn’t quite drowsy, not yet. His stubborn discomfort remained as the next few minutes passed.
Until his sister began to sing.
She was so very light in her words, and the ache of memory at his own hesitant first try had him curling an arm tight around her while his throat worked to keep from tightening. Taking it as permission to keep going, Iris continued to sing the little tune, the words old but permanent in her heart. Little fingers were dragging along through his shirt in slow cycles as her voice whisper sang to a tune they both knew. It was Gladio’s turn, to be lulled. His hand shifted until he could pet her hair, tilting enough to press a kiss to the fluff of bangs in silent gratitude to his little sibling.