He was barely into adulthood when their mother died. At nineteen years old, he still had never considered himself a grown man.
It took him a single day to realize that he was not a boy anymore. The change came upon him more brutally than he ever imagined he could handle, as he woke the morning after his mother's passing.
And, in the silence of the house, he realized he was alone.
Soft breathing punctuated the quiet from his side, Miriam still resting where she had curled up against the wall. It was not yet dawn.
He was not alone, logic reminded him. But he certainly felt it.
There had been no time wasted in dumping a household of responsibility on Aaron - the bottom of the overpowering pile starting with the death of Amram, coming to a boil with the loss of Moses from their home, and finally completing itself with Yocheved's passing.
God apparently had every intention of making Aaron the head of their household, from the very start - if not earlier.
It wasn't something he wanted, something he would gladly give to his sister without a moment's hesitation. She was older, after all. Stronger, perhaps. And most certainly more courageous.
But that was not be, it seemed. Had Miriam been his brother, it would have been a different story altogether.
Aaron couldn't help a snort of laughter at the thought. He couldn't imagine his sister as anything other than she was; all spitting rage and flying skirts. She had a confidence few people dared show here, one of which was not her brother. He would gladly grovel on his knees and bury his rage afterwards, if it meant being able to feed themselves for another day.
No - that wasn't quite right.
Finger scratching at his chin, Aaron wondered if, had he been truly alone in their house, if he would be more like Miriam. Without his sister by his side, without anyone to think of first or to protect. Without someone who mattered more than he did.
Maybe then, he thought, watching the first light of dawn break across the skewed blinds, he might not be so willing to kneel before Egypt's royalty. Because then the only life at stake would be his own, something he was free to risk and gamble with as he pleased.
He could never gamble with Miriam's safety.
So, he chose to grovel, rather than stand up as his sister did. Take life as it came and deflect every blow that came their way. Like a shield, he supposed, rising to his feet and stretching the stiffness from his back. His joints clicked painfully under the strain.
It wasn't a bad likeness though, he admitted as he bent over the clay basin on the floor. He swirled the warm, stale water under his fingers for a moment before splashing some over his face. Running the liquid across his quickly growing beard, Aaron took a moment to rub the tension from his temples.
If he was their shield, then his sister was undoubtedly this household's sword. She was too just and fearless to be anything but.
As funny as he found the imagery to be, it brought a far more uncomfortable thought to Aaron's mind. One that drew the smile from his face, his motions becoming still in the quiet of the room.
If he was their shield, and Miriam was their sword, then what did that make Moses?
Aaron decided that was a thought best left untouched.
He turned twenty soon after that.
Miriam was so melancholy about it, a mix of joyful celebration and utter misery that her younger brother was growing up so fast. He'd been taller her since he'd turned ten, he helpfully reminded. Even with her watery eyes, she still managed to swat him perfectly across the ear. Her aim had always been excellent, even with Aaron's head all but out of her reach now.
There were perks of getting older, too. Well, there was for Miriam.
Aaron had never seen her laugh so hard than the day he woke up with flowers braided into his beard. He'd mistaken them for locusts at first, letting out a shrill yelp as he tried to swat them away. Upon closer inspection - and with the commotion having woken his sister, who promptly started hooting with laughter - he realized that they were merely Hibiscus leaves.
Miriam had taken absolute advantage of her brother having fully-grown facial hair.
He'd left home to work that day with the petals still clinging to his chin.
It had been a nice talking point, since those who pointed and laughed were always charmed by Aaron's brief look of shock, before he started laughing too, having forgotten all about the flowers for a moment. And maybe it brightened some of their people's days, too - as even the most sunken and lifeless eyes crinkled with smiles as the man with the flowery beard passed by.
Miriam took the blame with gusto. She was so proud of herself, only made prouder by her brother's constant muttered explanations of "Miriam did it." and "My sister thought it would be funny."
Somehow though, even in such happy moments, it wasn't all laughter and smiles.
Because, though he pretended not to notice, Aaron still saw his sister looking out their small, square window that evening, an expression of sadness etched onto her features. He had seen the sight before, far too frequently for his liking. It would follow a pause, maybe a sigh as Miriam came to a stop in whatever she worked on, her brow creasing as if she was fighting the urge to sneak a glance.
Yet she couldn't help it, and always turned to stare out the window. Across the slanted hovels and red jagged stones. Over the neatly stacked homes of pale stone, and upwards, climbing the rows upon rows of steps that lead to the palace gates.
Miriam worried about her youngest brother more deeply by the second, no longer safe in the knowledge that he was being watched over by their mother. Moses was alone now, in her eyes - and alone meant unprotected.
What the solution was, neither of the pair could say. Since, had Miriam even thought to volunteer in her mother's place, a sixteen year old prince did not need a wet nurse. In fact, he didn't need a maternal figure of any kind, besides the queen herself on occasion.
What he did need, apparently, was servants to wait on his every need.
At least, that was the presumption - what with Pharaoh's eldest son becoming busier and busier bearing his father's responsibilities, and Egypt's second prince growing older and more demanding of distraction.
Growing older, and about to celebrate his seventeenth birthday.
A celebration Aaron was not looking forward to in the slightest, for more than just the usual reasons. Besides the great banquet, parties, and other pleasures that Egypt's slaves were going to be working overtime to help achieve, of course.
No, Aaron loathed the yearly celebrations of 'The arrival of Pharaoh's second son' for another reason. One that he had a front row seat in experiencing annually, unable to escape it even if he had wanted to.
Because the celebration of Moses' appearance in the palace, a gift from the Gods, never failed to deal a blow to Miriam.
Though she worked almost enthusiastically to ensure their part in the festivities was completed in its entirety - despite the fact that they were never to actually enjoy the fruits of their work - Miriam couldn't fully hide the cracks in her smile. The sadness and disappointment that seeped through her ever-hopeful expression.
Aaron loathed Moses' "birthday" - because he loathed seeing his sister so unhappy, spending hours of the night staring across the streets towards the palace. A place still illuminated with music and laughter well into the hours of the morning.
He might have loathed it that year too, had the circumstances not been so different.
A/N: Feel like I just finished a prologue - ah, well! Expect actual plot-worthy content in the next chapter!