Shared Misery

He leaned further against his sister, burying his face into the plush leg, taking in the scent of herbs and hearth. He imagined, for a moment, what it might have been like if they had been true siblings. If he hadn’t been born a slave, or her to a tyrant. What childhood memories might they have gathered together? He imagined they would have found the mead at an early age, and driven their parents crazy. The thought had a sour tinge to it. He had no memories of his parents at all.

“Yeah, I don’t think she wanted to talk to the raving, drunk version of me” he agreed, amused at just how much he had made her laugh. That laughter reminded him… “You didn’t say. Did you wake up at the bottom of a hill?” he asked. He vaguely remembered her beside him at one moment, and gone at the next.