the_lioness | (no subject)

It's early. Far too early, some might say. Normally, Alanna might say the same, but as it's more day than night and sleep seems nothing more than a fond memory, she ignores the fact that the sun won't rise for a good hour yet. She stands in the tack room, carefully selecting grooming supplies.

Two of the curry combs look as if they've been chewed, and her favorite soft brush bears traces of hoof polish; she will have to leave a note for Caspian about that.

Mithros seems pleased to see her, or perhaps the bucket of grain in her hands, and his soft whinny of welcome brings a smile to her face. It's gone as quickly as it appears. Murmuring quiet condemnations of his eating habits, she grooms him until his red coat shines, until he shifts his weight and turns to look at her with heavy-lidded eyes. Alanna bites her lip at the realization that she has no memory of doing so.

That's the problem with birthdays, Alanna thinks. One broods and broods, occasionally surfacing to wonder where time went.

She tosses the brush over the stall door, wincing at the sharp crack it makes when it meets the wall. At least her strength is returning. Momentarily unsure whether she wants to prepare for a ride or simply hurry outside for some fresh air, she wraps her arms around Mithros’ neck. Not for the first time, she wishes horses could hug back.

When the twins were young, their birthday had never been a time of celebration. It wasn't just a day marking another year for the twins, another step closer to the fork in their road. No, it was the anniversary of their mother's death, Father said, and who could celebrate that? Coram had always barked at Cook, ensuring that they would be presented with special tarts in the privacy of the kitchen, and Maude did her best to keep their minds off of things. But Alanna always went to bed wracked with guilt, her back pressed up against Thom's, both of them shivering in the damp chill that permeated the castle well into the spring.

At the Palace, her friends wouldn't let her forget about her birthday. They brought her presents and laughter, always before breakfast, staving off the brooding before she had time to wake up. Amused, they would brush off her words of thanks and snicker at the quietly puzzled look in her eyes.

It didn't always work. She still spent most of the day brooding, but she got better at hiding the evidence. Surrounded by good wishes, she wondered if Thom had the same, and what he was feeling. Even separated as they were, she would feel a tug on her heart and stop what she was doing to look towards the City of the Gods. Despite the presence of everything that had been missing from birthdays, the day never felt right without Thom.

Delia wasn't the only reason Alanna had been restlessly wandering the gardens the day she turned seventeen; she'd been young, in love and battling the usual birthday loneliness. She'd long since admitted to herself that if Jonathan hadn't found her first, she likely would have gone to him.

Oh, how times change.

The twins are together now, in this place, but the proximity comes with a price. Day in and day out, it's not terribly difficult to pretend that this is normal - to focus on brother and sister, not dead and alive. However, as their birthday approaches, the division rears its ugly head. Alanna spends her time remembering the look in his eyes and everything she wishes she had said just before he died. She stares at herself in the mirror, obsessively hunting signs of aging that will never be obvious in Thom's smooth skin.

She tortures herself with questions. Would she trade their time together for more of what they used to have? For the knowledge that, although they are separated, he is out there somewhere, developing the same tiny lines around his eyes? That he's still her twin in all ways, and thus she’s never truly alone?

Almost two years later, and it still hasn't gotten any easier. Sometimes she considers returning home until June, but she'd made Thom a promise. A promise she intends to keep, no matter how much she wants to go somewhere else, do other things. Because the simple truth of the matter is that she could run to the edges of the universe, but she would still be brooding when she got there.

And somehow, she knows Thom is off somewhere doing the same.

Skimming his lips against the surface of his water bucket, Mithros pays little attention to his mistress's quiet tears. He knows that when the storm passes, they will be galloping freely along the lake shore, chasing the sunrise.