Soap smokey water slopped onto the wet stones as Thomas sat into the bath, hissing a breath through clenched teeth. His father chuckled, handing Thomas a comb and pausing to listen at the door adjoining their living quarters.

“That’s the last of your luggage in now.” said Alcrid. His round face had a thin sheen of sweat lingering on it from carrying the hot water through the halls. “I’m glad you fetched new clothes down south. Don’t think your trews will be long enough now.”

“No, probably not.” Thomas chuckled. “Still, it might do you some good to flash some ankle. Catch some attention.” “Father…” “You’re of an age for it now, that’s all I’ll say. You’ve got your mother’s fierce handsomeness about you, people won’t approach for fear of the wrath painted on your face.” “Father.”

The warning tone in Thomas’ voice was enough of a deterrent that Alcrid held up his palms in defeat. Restlessly, Alcrid put his hands on his hips then patted the front of his shirt as if dusting off some unseen concern. Thomas found the hunk of soap that had settled to the bottom of the bath instead of looking at his father, surprised that his insistence had worked.

“I’ll set your clothes out for you then. People are gathering at sunset.” Alcrid nodded, took two steps towards the door then added, “Oh yes, Brangwen will want to take you to house before too long.”

Thomas grunted in response and Alcrid left his son to bathe in peace. The soap did its work, scalding water dispersing the worst of the travel from his skin leaving it feeling a little tight and raw. But clean.

He wondered when he first noticed what his father had been speaking of, fierce handsomeness indeed. It had taken some time for his features to settle as he grew. The terrible, embarrassing shapes he’d been still worried at him sometimes. Concerned that the long limbed, beak nosed creature that he’d been still lived in his bones somewhere. The cloth brought scalding water to his face and he pressed it against his features one after another. Taking account of himself.

Low in his gut discomfort burrowed down and unearthed a memory, tossing it up into his mind. The shameful weight of it made him curl down over the water. The cloth fell back down into it, vanishing into the opaque heat.

Just before he had started to grow, Talwyn had overtaken him. At first a finger length in height. Something small that had elated him. It meant that he was sure to follow soon. They had been about the same creature up until then. Though she had been colourless and his hair was pitch dark, at the time that was the only difference he could discern. They were used to wearing shapeless pinafores and tunics to keep them warm, short things that they couldn’t dirty easily. Then one bright day before their mother’s mirror their nanny had brought out some dresses for Talwyn.

They had been commissioned for their birthday. Long skirts that reached her ankles and hugged at her chest, fit just for her. Thomas rubbed a hand over his face as he recalled with wonder at how she looked. Shaped for the first time like the shadow of a lady. Of course, because they were the same that would be how he looked in the dress. He had, at the time, no doubt in his mind.

The firm truth that they were two halves of one creature had him demanding to try on his dress. Where was his dress? Talwyn was beautiful! He wanted the same for himself. The soft tittering of the nurse as he tugged the dress on and stared at himself in the mirror was never going to leave him, he was sure of it.

Fabric stretched over his chest, tight and uneven in places. His arms were too long, shoulders too wide but the neckline drooped sadly. It was awful. The flush of red to his neck and face turned his pale skin blotchy as Talwyn cautiously said, “I don’t think it fits you.”

Shame and indignant fury shot through his limbs, he felt he couldn’t cry, his tears would boil away immediately. This was not fair! The foundation of their mirrored living was being shattered before him. Thomas lashed out, palms slapping and pushing at Talwyn’s chest. When she yelped and cried, Thomas bolted from the room. Panic making his knees weak and his muscles like water.

The dress was discarded in the garden. Thomas discarded himself under a stone bench. He tried to wind himself as small as he could, tightly into a little ball. It was comforting. Though his limbs trembled at the knowledge of what was happening to him. To them both.

Thomas didn’t recall what his father had said to him, but he was not best pleased. Being dragged by the wrist back into their mother’s room to apologise to a puffy-faced Talwyn made him feel sick. It wasn’t his fault. She had done this without him! When he was prompted to speak, asked if he had anything to say to his sister, he furiously told her that she looked like a pig in a pillowcase. Talwyn spat in his face. They had to be separated or they would fight like sullen cats. There was no soothing this wound, not for many months.

A great, watery sigh dribbled out of Thomas as he pulled himself back upright, back against the edge of the bath. He was glad of the now dingy water so that he didn’t have to see himself half hard in its shallows. He could pretend that the idea of his sister striking him only brought him shame, and not the shuddering aftershock of enjoyment that lurked behind it.