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It’s one of those days where she later wonders if she got up on the wrong side of the bed. Her fuse isn’t always so short, but she doesn’t suffer fools gladly. It’s a trait she’s proud to share with Mother even if it doesn’t extend to the rest of their family.
Case in point: enter Cynthia, a fool.
Though to be honest, she’s just occasionally insufferable in the ways only a younger sibling can manage. More often than not, it’s endearing, but lately Kjelle’s had a chip on her shoulder and hasn’t figured out how to patch it up. Even worse, it’s throwing her whole game that morning.
“It’s lance time! Lance tiiime!” Cynthia chants from her seat atop a horse that she and their mothers had picked out not even two weeks ago. Kjelle’s face burns at the memory followed by a painful twist of her gut that’s fueled by a poisonous mix of envy and shame.
The playful tune sung to a melody only Cynthia herself knows is the first thing to annoy her.
The second is when Kjelle nearly knocks her from her saddle as if they’re jousting except both of them hold wooden practice staves and there are no observers of note. Her initial worry that she had sent her sister tumbling quickly sours into further irritation as Cynthia trots away, trumpeting her success for the entertainment of an imaginary audience.
Kjelle won’t ever forget that she could never quite make it as a cav. That she isn’t suited to horseback when Cynthia might as well have been born ready to sit in the saddle. Doesn’t seem to matter if it’s a pegasus or a horse. Kjelle would bet money Cynthia could ace her way into a wyvern promotion, if she had half a mind to try. Seemingly effortlessly, she maintains her balance (if not her dignity) as she strolls past, lining up for another face-off.
Burbling laughter follows each dodge, Kjelle’s armor clanking as beads of sweat roll past her temples to gather at her chin. The sun beats down as mercilessly as her doubts pick at old wounds. Maybe they should have started earlier, but it’s not like it’ll be any kinder on the battlefield. Not where they’re headed, the Plegian Court looming in their minds.
“Ha! You’re too slow for me, fiend!”
Cynthia doesn’t wait for a reply before swooping behind her and tapping one of the massive pauldrons that flank Kjelle’s head with the butt of her staff. The sound rings in Kjelle’s ears long after. Without waiting to regain her bearings, she leans into a sloppy forward thrust in retaliation and Cynthia makes a verbal note of that, too. Kjelle snaps back with a roar, but in the end it’s just noise as she whiffs, letting her anger get the better of her. In battle, she’s as intense as Mother, but a petty little inner voice warns her that she doesn’t have half the discipline.
A distant part of her knows Cynthia’s tactics aren’t malicious. It’s just one of her silly games. They’re all a little different in one way or another, Kjelle included, and playing is how Cynthia blows off steam. As soon as practice is over, she’ll be back to calling Kjelle a hero and coming up with grand entrances and daring feats that they’ll perform as the daughters of the greatest knights who ever lived.
Right now though, big sister or not, she doesn’t have the patience.
“Hey.”
Her voice doesn’t come out right. She goes for casual with a hint of annoyance and instead gets raspy and weary and too quiet for anyone to notice even if Cynthia weren’t still babbling nonsense. But it’s the last straw and next round she moves quicker than she thought possible and smacks the staff straight out of Cynthia’s hands. Before either of them can recover—Kjelle’s even a little surprised herself—she gets mean.
“Hey! Would you just shut up already?”
And for the first time it’s quiet, the only sound a dull throbbing between her ears as her heart beats faster than she can take in ragged breaths.
Cynthia manages to pull a face that’s even longer than her mount’s and Kjelle starts to feel kinda bad for barking at her like that. Real down in the dumps. She’d been worried sick when they hadn’t arrived in the past together and sure enough Cynthia had gone and gotten herself tangled up in some bandit’s scheme. And now they’re hanging out and their kind of, sort of moms are still alive and Cynthia even asked her to spar and—
Sniff
It’s not the little sister who is the baby and isn’t that just great
Horsefeathers.
Instead of righting things like she should, she decides to ride a final wave of ire to its petulant, sputtering conclusion.
“You know what? F-forget it.” She gulps another breath back and steadies her voice. “We’re done here. Find another training partner since this is all a joke to you.”
But Cynthia’s already dismounted and pats her on the hunk of metal over her shoulder—the non-ringing side. She has to reach up high enough that it looks awkward and offers a close-mouthed smile even as her brows knit in a very unCynthialike fashion. Last but not least, she hugs the metal shell around her waist that’s probably hot to the touch, but she doesn’t flinch.
And then proceeds to ruin the whole thing as she takes a step back.
“You stink, sis.”
“Least I don’t smell like a horse’s rear end.”
“I’m gonna tell Mom on you,” she sings as if they’re both ten years and one trip back in time younger.
But she’s back to grinning and Kjelle can sense the bluff for what it is—a joke. Cynthia then cocks her head to the side in a rare moment of contemplation (Kjelle’s always found Cynthia to be more of a doer than a deep thinker, but maybe they’re both a little like that).
“Wanna go on a ride after we’re done?”
Kjelle frowns.
“Horses ‘n me don’t get along. You know that.”
“Aw Charlie is a softie. She wouldn’t toss you even if I asked.”
“Gods. Who let you name your war horse Charlie?” she mutters, but Cynthia still picks up on it.
“Mom did! She said it was a good name!”
And since Mom is the unofficial patron saint of all
horses—with or without wings—Kjelle can’t really say much back except: “Yeah, I guess she kinda does look like a Charlie, huh?”
Cynthia nods, fully recovered from their little spat—she tends to bounce back fast, which mostly just serves to pile on some more guilt. Instead of wallowing, Kjelle figures she should get over herself as well. After a deep breath, she exhales with a great shuddering sigh. At the end of it though she feels a lot better. Maybe she’ll ask this timeline’s Mother about horse riding lessons. If they really expect things to be different this go around, why not in that arena, too?
“Alright, back in the saddle. I wasn’t joking about only wanting a serious opponent though. Mother’ll knock us flat if we slack off. We’ll talk about after practice when we get there.”
Cynthia nods and smiles in a way that says she’s not really worried about any of that. She’s always been fearless (though reckless might be more accurate).
“Aye aye!” she says with a salute.
Maybe if they don’t knock each other around too hard, she’ll see about improving her lackluster equestrian skills. Cynthia’s knack for riding might just be the remedy she had never previously considered back when she used to think anyone weaker wasn’t worth her attention. Her mind wanders briefly while Cynthia busies herself with reclaiming her seat. There was a time Cynthia used to follow in Kjelle’s footsteps instead of the other way around. It’s possible she’s growing wise enough not to mind it so much anymore. At the end of the day, they will all continue forward in this new world together, come what may.