,,,,### Day 0
Your name is [[████]], and you are a knight of [[Order]]. Your mission is simple: the witch [[Jeanne]] must not be allowed to live, for [[crimes against nature]].
You stand on the outskirts of Insbrud, a medium-sized town a couple days walk out from your garrison. The evening sun lays low near the horizon, and the lesser moon is hanging in the sky, pale and green. Not too far off, you can see Jeanne's [[mansion]] atop a nearby hill.
You're entirely certain that your name is ████. It's what you were assigned at birth, it's what people have called you your entire life. There's nothing else that could possibly be your name.
And yet... and yet. There's a faintness in the back of your head, something that rebels at the thought, at the touch of your name. Something called[...]<no|
(click: ?no)[No. It's like staring at the sun, like touching an open wound. You reflexively recoil from the thought in psychic shock.
You clear your head and try to center yourself on [[your mission->Arrival]]. It almost works.]Your superiors never told you what her crimes **were**, exactly. Too terrible, too heinous, to burden the mind of even one as steeped in Order's ways as yourself. But you know the general sorts of people that the Order takes action against. Tyrannical necromancers, who use their control over the dead to control the living. Those who try to prolong their body beyond its natural lifespan through unnatural means. Mages who draw on so much magic it threatens to destabilize the fabric of the Prime itself. Perverters of the natural way of things.
Regardless, it doesn't affect [[your mission->Arrival]].Jeanne va Sokhai. Her name is spoken in feared whispers among those of Order. They say that she devours the souls of men and women with a kiss, that merely gazing on her is to invite death, that her very words are poison.
Of course, you know better than to believe every foolish rumor spread by an overly-credible novice, and your superiors were certain to set your head straight. She's a powerful magician, to be sure, but neither invulnerable nor omnipotent.
You're certain that [[your mission->Arrival]] to punish her for her [[sins->crimes against nature]] will be a success. All you have to do is break the wards around her mansion, enter it, and kill her. You have no need to bring back her head or some other grisly trophy; you are of Order, so your word will be enough.The Order are the defenders of, well, Order. Not so much protectors of the innocent; that's more left to other organizations. The Order ensures that the world remains the way it is so that there are innocents left to protect. [[Your mission->Arrival]] doesn't involve crimes against people, but [[crimes against nature]].It's not really mansion-sized: a mere two stories tall, and small enough that one person could probably take care of it all themself. But, well, she's a witch, and all the Insbrud locals called it her mansion, so the term stuck with you.
As you walk up the hill towards it, you scan the layout, planning out your attack. The enchanted scope the Order gave you reveals that there's a web of spells woven around the mansion, strongest at the front entrance, but they should fall easily enough. So instead you think about potential interior layouts, where Jeanne might be at this time of the evening, how she might try to stop you.
Eventually, you reach the top of the hill. You rustle around in your bag and pull out a diamond-shaped bit of crystal the size of your fist, covered in runes that hurt your eyes if you stare at them. The wardbreaker. You press it against her door, and it starts to vibrate. Slowly at first, but then faster and faster and faster, humming and squealing with power.
Eventually, there's one last ear-piercing shriek, and the space around the mansion seems to shatter into a billion pieces. The wardbreaker crumbles to dust in your gauntlet.
[[Well, so much for stealth]].Jeanne is sitting in front of you, giving you a look that you can't quite interpret (something like a mix of hope and anticipation)--before you can think about it too much, you check over your own body.
You look the exact same as you did before.
It's not surprising, of course. She'd told you. But for a wonderful moment in your dream-that-was-not-a-dream you truly felt at *home* in your own body, and no matter how much you try to hold onto that feeling, losing it still feels like a dagger through your heart, and you can feel the burning tears start to well up.
Jeanne moves a bit closer on her bed, arms held open, offering you a hug.
[[You practically throw yourself at her]].
She nods. "Oh, I'm fine. It's just... hard to do that. I spent the past hour or two channeling all my mana, so I won't be able to cast at all for a day or two." She pulls away from you a little, looks at you with her head slightly askew. "So. What are you going to do now?"
You wonder for a moment what she means, and then reality intrudes on your reverie. The Order. Your mission. You try to collect your thoughts, plan out your future, but everything comes up blank.
"What *can* I do now? The Order won't take me, and even if they did... I wouldn't want to go back." If they'd lied to you about Jeanne, even if it was a 'mere' lie of omission, how else had they deceived you? The thought makes you sick. Best not to dwell on it.
She rests her hand next to yours, between the two of you.
"You could stay here."
You turn your head to look at her. She's smiling.
"You'd do that for me?"
"I mean, I'd expect you to help out around the place, especially since I'm going to be out of mana for the next few days."
You flush deep red; your cheeks are burning with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. "I, uh. Thank you."
"And I can help you out with getting used to being a woman, and with picking out a name." She smiles, and you finally smile back.
"I'm in your debt for all your assistance, Jeanne."
"Of course. What good is all this magic if I don't use it to make the world a better place?" She squeezes your hand gently, then pulls it away as she flops down on her bed. "But for now, I'm tired, and your body's starting to rebuild itself. Get some rest, okay?"
You nod. "[[Okay.]]"
It's decorated a bit like Jeanne's, but with less of her seeming obsession with black and purple. More neutral tones, a bit of blue, a bit of red. The bed doesn't look nearly as lavish as hers was, but once you settle into it, you're surprisingly comfortable.
And surprisingly *tired*, too. You spent most of today on a light march, but even as your head races with questions your body just seems to sink into the mattress, soon taking your mind with it and pulling you into a [[dreamless]] sleep until [[the next morning]].Dreams are manifestations of the Astral in the Prime. Their incoherent nature is as a result of the Astral being less rigid and rule-bound than the Prime. Part of Astral scrying is imposing the necessary rigidity on your thought to make sense of the Astral; without it, it would simply be like a very dangerous waking dream.
(This wasn't part of your training, but the Order encouraged its mages and knights to expand their study beyond sorcery and swords, so sometimes you would sit in the library and read whatever you could understand of the mages' books.)
But for now, your Astral self has been pulled into the Prime to reshape your body, and it's exhausted. Your soul is simply too tired to dream. So it just rests until [[the next morning]].### Day 273
"Jeanne! Prepare yourself to face the light of judgment!"
You can hear him screaming before he's even opened the door. Were *you* that awful? You shudder a little at the tender memory, but even then, you don't remember yourself being this... well, boorish.
He looks shocked to see you, and for a second he's stopped dead in his tracks, but soon he rallies himself with a look of disgust on his face. "[[████->post-transition deadname]]! Traitor!"
[[You are so very done with that name.]]You haven't heard that name in a year, but you can still feel its scar on your soul. When Marcus yells it out, you can feel a tremble of your old fear and weakness come back. But you just tighten your grip on your sword in response: you are Alice, and [[nothing anyone does or says can change that->epilogue]]."Take that name out of your mouth before I take it out *for* you, Marcus. My name is Alice va Sokhai, executor of Lady Jeanne va Sokhai's will."
Disgust. Loathing. "Hah. I didn't want to believe it, 'Alice'." You can hear the mockery in the way he says your name, and it makes your blood boil. "But I guess you really are ████. I guess I shouldn't be surprised you fell to the witch, considering---"
[[You are so very, *very* done with that name.->very done]]You reach out into the air, fingers and glowing with your magic, and shove upwards. A simple telekinetic spell. Marcus's jaw closes mid-sentence, and you can see his jaw and throat straining as he tries to speak.
"I told you. My name is *Alice*."
It only takes him a few seconds to muster enough will to shatter your control, but you still enjoy the look of pure rage all the same.
"Fine. I won't call you ████ any more. Because gutter trash like you doesn't deserve a name!"
He's fast, mana pouring off of his back to accelerate him towards you. But the reason they sent you to Jeanne in the first place was that [[you were better]].You block his sword with yours, take the force of the blow and redirect it into the flooring. You counterattack with a fist to his gut; armor creaks against armor, and your own mana floods out and knocks him a couple feet back.
He's fast, but you're faster.
He's strong, but you're stronger.
He knows some magic, but you know more.
Light and void and fire lash out from your blade and ground themselves in his armor, cracking it and tearing at the straps. You're a blur, finding the weak points in his defenses and exploiting them to the hilt, and every little grunt of pain you can force out of him feels a little better than maybe it ought to. He's everything you've worked against for the past year, everything you strove to not be. He's a past you've left behind and a future you're thankful never came to pass.
Your sword meets his one last time, and you channel everything you have into it. All your hopes, your dreams, your life with Jeanne, everything. His blade shatters, and [[he yields]].### Day 5
You kneel before her in her foyer, one arm held across your heart. "Lady Jeanne. I pledge myself to you as your humble and obedient knight for all of my days. You have done so much for me, and I would be honored to be your protector in return."
Time passes. A second, a minute.
You feel her hand on the back of your head, warm and reassuring. Your breath catches in your throat; part of you wonders if maybe she forgot what to do, but you have to keep silent, keep your head down, so that she can see your discipline. A knight should be in control of herself.
And then she moves her hand around, down the side of your face, and gently grasps your chin, and says:
[["Arise, my knight."]]Your heart practically leaps for joy. But nevertheless, your rise is slow, methodical. The protocol of the thing is important, after all. You've done this before, back at the garrison. But even so... this is different. Then, you did it because you didn't know anything else. Here, you know exactly what else there *was* for you, and you're rejecting it.
Once you've stood all the way up, hands gently clasped together in front of you, you bow your head to her one last time. "Thank you, my Lady, for giving me this honor."
She returns the bow, a little shallower than yours. "Thank you, my knight, for pledging yourself to me." Then she takes a couple steps forward and wraps her arms around your waist; it's a little awkward being hugged in armor, but you manage to reciprocate without your gauntlets tearing her clothes.
"So, do I have to call you 'my knight' *all* the time now?"
"Only if you would like me to always refer to you as 'my Lady'."
"Well, it does have a certain appeal." She pulls back from the hug and taps her finger as she puts on her best lost-in-thought face. "Buuut, no. I enjoy seeing you smile when I call you (link-reveal: "'Alice'")[" (and yes, you do smile) "] too much for that."
"But! I do want you to continue whatever training you were doing before. I think it'd help keep you centered and focused. Okay?"
"Of course. I was planning on it anyway."
She smiles. "Good. Now, all that formality's made me hungry. But now that I have a knight, why should I have to cook for myself?" She turns around and makes her way to the kitchen.
"Well, I can't very well cook for you if I'm still wearing all of this!" You start to run after her, the [[clank-clank-clank of your armor->training start]] of your armor echoing through the hall.
She's warm, and when you rest your head against her you can hear the *thump-thump* of her heartbeat, feel her arms enfolding you. She strokes the back of your head. "Ssssh. It'll be okay. You'll look just like that before you know it." she murmurs in your ear. It calms you down a little. Two months. Just two months. Not even a season. You can do this. The more you tell yourself that, the more you even start to believe it.
Once you calm down, you can notice that her breathing is a little ragged and there's a sheen of sweat on her skin.
[["Are you okay?"]]You stand up from the bed and make your way out of her bedroom; as you leave, she turns off the lightstones with a wave of her hand[.]<1| (click: ?1)[(It occurs to you that that was the most memorable time you've ever spent in a lady's bedroom.)]
Outside, the sun has gone down, leaving only the green moon hanging in the sky, casting pale beams of moonlight through the walls. Your fingers gently trail along the wall as you make your way down the hallway, and eventually you [[enter the guestroom.]]A gentle awakening: you simply open your eyes, and you're conscious. Yesterday's events flash in your mind, and you quickly run your hands under your gambeson just in case somehow, somehow two months passed or the magic took hold faster than you expected or something. But you're still in the same body.
So instead you just hold on to that image you saw. It fits. It feels *right*. You are a woman, and even if you weren't harmonizing yourself, that's still who you'd be. [[You can do this->breakdown]]."Fine, then." He tosses his broken weapon aside. "I suppose there's no point in continuing this fight."
You eye him, sword arm still at the ready. His gaze lifts upwards, and you follow it to see what he's looking at. Jeanne is standing there, at the top of the balcony, watching the two of you. How long has she been there? It doesn't matter.
"My Lady!"
"Witch!"
"Yes, yes, I see you." She gives you a warm smile, blows you a kiss. You can see Marcus grit his teeth out of the corner of your eye, and that just makes it better. "So, who's this nasty little thing?"
"My name is M--"
You smack him on the back of the head with your sword hilt.
"His name is Marcus Sythford. A knight from the Order, sent to kill you. Or, well, to kill *us*."
"And it's the fate you deserve, you abomi--argh!" Does he ever shut up?
"Well, from the sound of it, you beat him rather quite handily. Am I not as much of a threat anymore? I'm offended." She mock-pouts.
"As loath as I am to admit it, that *thing*," and here he jerks his head in your direction, "was once one of our strongest knights. There are few that could best ████ in direct combat. We'd assumed *he* was dead, not th--"
[[You've had absolutely enough of this.]]You ready your hand to grab his head and grind it into the ground, but he stops mid-sentence, words slurred into incomprehensibility. One of Jeanne's hands is outstretched, fingers splayed, and Marcus's hand clawing at his throat with a look of unbridled fury. And of course, that only makes your heart flutter for Jeanne a little more.
"I'm not about to stand here and let you insult my knight like that."
"Thank you, my lady. What he was *trying* to say," (you kick him in the side) "is true, though. There were few in the local garrison that could match me, and those that could are likely on things the Order considers, well, more important. Necromancers, that sort of thing."
She tilts her head to the side, finger gently resting on her cheek. "Well, not that I'm complaining they sent you, but... maybe it's time we went and got back on their radar." That smile again, a mix of joy and wickedness.
"As you say, my Lady." You give her a little bow, not even bothering to suppress the smile on your own face.
[[It's all too much for Marcus.]]He manages to tear his voice out of Jeanne's grasp, but instead of yet another insult, he screams out "DIE!". He runs towards Jeanne, picking up his sword on the way, and...
Before he even gets halfway, before you can even start to bend space and put yourself between him and your Lady, he starts to struggle as if running through thick molasses. Each step seems to be more and more of an effort, and even the muscles in his neck are visibly straining. Before long, he's down on his knees, and then on all fours, looking at the ground. It's like his body has become too heavy for him to keep up.
And along the way, halfway down the stairs is Jeanne, magic wrapped around her in black and purple, a glowing cloak of night. She steps towards him, never taking her eyes off of him, one hand shrouded in nightfire.
"You know. I've met many, many people in the course of my work. And none of them have been quite so pig-headed, so bigoted, so completely *awful* as you."
She stops in front of him, gazing down. Like she's stepped in something unpleasant. "Or at least, that's what you want to hear. But unfortunately for you, it's not true. You're not the most frightening, the most violent, the most *anything*. You're going to be a joke for Alice and I to laugh about until we barely remember you, and nothing more."
She slowly gets down on one knee, the arm channeling her magic held high. Her other hand presses on the back of his head. "Because that's all you and your kind deserves to be." You can feel a flood of magic pulse out of her and into his mind, and his body goes limp.
[["... my Lady?"]]
"Just unconscious for half a day or so. I don't enjoy killing."
"No, it's not that, it's, ah." You're at a bit of a loss for words. "What you said to him. About him not being the worst you've faced."
"Well, it's true." The magic wrapped around her dissipates into the air as she steps closer to you. "And even if it wasn't, I would've said it anyway. Even [[when you first arrived here]], you were never as awful as him. You didn't thrive on fear, you didn't want to see me terrified."
You sheath your sword as she stops in front of you. One hand reaches up to gently hold your cheek, and she tilts your head down into a kiss, just like the first one you shared with her: soft, and slow, and passionate. When she pulls back, her hand slides down your front, coming to rest on your collarbone.
"The best way we can get revenge on him and his kind is to [[be ourselves->new patient]]."It feels like a lifetime ago. Even thinking back to after you accepted her offer, back while you were still becoming you, seems so strange and far-off. You remember what you used to look like, but you simply can't imagine it, like it was a long and particularly unpleasant dream.
But your reverie is cut short; [[Jeanne is still speaking.->"... my Lady?"]]"Jeanne va Sokhai. In the name of the Order, I, ████ Knight of the Order, am here to punish you for your crimes against nature. As is customary, I will allow you your last words, and I promise your death will be swift and painless."
She tilts her head a bit to the side and looks at you. No; she looks *through* you and *inside* you, like you're an open book. Like she's not looking at your body, but at your soul. When she's done, her expression has turned into to something like a sad smile.
"I'd like to tell you some things I've guessed about you."
It's an unusual request. Generally they beg for mercy, or try to work out a deal, or simply meet their end in stony silence. But... well, there can't be any harm.
"Very well. But if you start casting, I *will* kill you."
"Of course." She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. Her eyes look over your shoulder, off in the distance.
"You've shielded yourself in steel, both in your body and in your mind. You guarded yourself against everyone in the Order because you were afraid to let them get too close, because your life demanded that you stay sharp and invulnerable. You wore that armor around your soul every single day of your life, learned to move with it because you knew the Order was always watching you, looking for any sign of weakness, of a softness in their honed blade. So you recited doctrine with the rest of them, hunted witches with the rest of them. But you never really felt like you fit in. Not with the Order, nor with the men within. You're not like them."
The tip of your sword is wavering, barely even pointed at her head anymore. Is she divining your past? What does she mean, "the men"? You try to respond, but you can't quite find the words.
"You've been far kinder to me than most of the knights would. You tried and tried to make yourself believe, you tried to substitute the zeal of your actions for the zeal of your thoughts, but you couldn't. Your duty was never to nature, but to *people*. I'm guessing [[you've never actually killed anyone for the Order]]. And your soul keeps grinding away at the prison you've trapped it in, trying to free itself. You're pretending to be somebody you're not, and it's tearing you apart."
No, she can't be divining, she'd have to be stillcasting without even speaking. So then...
"How... How do you know?" Your grip on your sword tightens, grows white-knuckled. Your arms are shaking with tension and fear and sadness.
"Because I was the same way. I lied to myself about who I was until one day I couldn't take it. I spent years upon years studying spells for reshaping the body, and then one day I used them to become who I really am."
She turns back to you, looks you in the eyes. You can barely return her gaze.
[["And I can help you become who you really are."->offer]]### Day 3
It's all too much. The people you spent years of your life with, all of them, you'll never get to see them again or if you do they'll see you as a monster a hideous abomination against everything that you ever held dear. you have nothing you have nobody you only have yourself in a traitorous body and there's a voice at the back of your head telling you it's wrong it's wrong it's *all wrong* and you're curled up in the bed fingers balled up with your nails pressed in your palms just so you can feel pain just so you can try to distract yourself but it's not working oh light it's not working not working not working not working nothing works nothing ever works you're broken shattered into a dozen pieces that will never fit and you're an abomination you deserve death not happiness nobody will love you nobody will care for you nobody will accept you and---
[[the door opens]]Jeanne oh light Jeanne no no no no no no you can't deal with her can't manage can't can't can't
(She sits next to you)
go away go away leave fuck off never come back should've fucking killed her should've fulfilled your purpose should've just lied to yourself lied to her lied to everyone so you can be happy
(asks, quietly, in between your heaving gasping breaths, if she can hold you)
you manage to gasp out a "yes" when you surface from the abyss of despair and before you can sink back down again her arms enfold you from behind, she pulls you close against her, your breathing slows down and a ray of sun shines through the clouds, there's warmth and light and hope and you press in closer against her and her arms squeeze tight because it feels like if you ever ever let go she'll disappear forever and you never want to feel so *alone* ever again.
"Hey." her voice is soft, quiet, like she knows you're fragile and the slightest shock could break you all over again. "It'll be ok. I promise."
[["how do you know?"]]except your mind is still broken and shattered so it just comes out as "h-how do... h-how" but she manages to understand anyway.
"Because I was there." her hand strokes down the back of your neck, soft and rhythmic. "I was right where you were, telling myself it would never end, feeling like I had nobody left."
"you were... order?"
She shakes her head. "No, but even outside the Order, not a lot of people are accepting of us." she squeezes your hand at that last word. "I was alone, adrift. But I found purpose."
you try to respond, but your throat closes, so she continues. "I told myself I would help the dissonant. I practiced on myself, made it my life's work to learn how to harmonize the body with the soul so that I could make other people happy."
she sits up a little in the bed, leans over to look at you. you can't quite look her in the eyes. not yet. so you just look at her mouth, her nose, between her eyes. (her face is beautiful.)
"And I'll do what it takes to give your story a happy ending. Because you deserve it." she squeezes your hands again, then leans back down on the bed, simply holding you.
You stay there for a while, silent but for the sounds of your breathing, fingers intertwined with hers, [[until you fall asleep]].(once, she tries to pull away, but you squeeze her close and whimper a little and so she stays with you the entire night until she too drifts off; you're still together when you [[wake up the next morning]])### Day 4
The first thing you notice is that your hand is still wrapped up in hers. You turn your neck to the side, and see her: small and slim, her short hair shifting a little with each breath.
You don't want to wake her, so you're gentle and quiet as you slip out of bed and stretch your arms and legs (even if it's nice, being held so close for a while can cramp a bit). But when you turn back around, her eyes are open anyway, and she's looking up at you.
"How are you feeling?"
[[That's... a complicated question.]]But you decide to start with "Better.".
"Good." She sits up on the edge of her bed, and it's a little awkward standing, so you take a seat next to her, looking at her black nightgown and the way it folds and falls over her legs. Her hand hovers next to yours. "May I?" she asks, and when you nod she rests it atop yours, fingers wrapped together once more. It's nice.
"I just don't know what I'm going to do. Before, I had a *purpose*, something I could set my life towards. And now, well. Now I have nothing. I wish I could do what you can, but I'd need years and years of practice just to get close." Your gaze drifts down to the floor.
"Well, you're good at fighting, right? You can still do that, especially with all your practice."
"Yes, but... it feels meaningless, compared to what you do. You'd be helping the dissonant, and I'd be selling my sword arm to..."
Oh.
It's so obvious, in retrospect.
You turn your head back so that you can look at her. Your gaze meets hers, you squeeze her hand.
[["I want to protect you."]]Her eyes open wide a bit, and she looks away a little. "I'm flattered, but. I don't want to drag you into this. There are a lot of people out there that want to stop me, and I don't want you to get hurt. I could never ask someone else to take that risk."
You shake your head. "That's why I want to help! You dragged me out of a pit that I didn't even know I was in, you're kind, you're smart, you have so much potential to do good, and I want to make sure you can live up to it! If I left and I heard that you were killed, I... I don't know if I'd be able to live with myself."
You abruptly realize that you've leaned into her, close enough that your shoulder's touching hers, but that's not important.
"You said there are people that want to stop you. I'll protect you from them, and if I can't do that yet then I'll get strong enough so that I can. Because I don't want *you* to get hurt either. You care so much about everyone else, and I care about you. Please, Jeanne, let me be your knight."
You take her hands in yours and squeeze them gently. She turns her head back, and her eyes soon meet yours again.
"Alright. But only because I get the feeling that if I don't, you'll wind up hiding in the bushes anyway and scare away my visitors." She giggles, and you smile back.
"Oh! Have you thought about a name?"
It had completely slipped your mind, but [[you very much had]].It's not your first ever, but it's your first in your proper body, first as Alice, first where you've been honest with yourself. So you think of it as your first.
It's not deep or lustful or torrid. It's simply a consummation of the pledge you made to her, and the pledge she made to you. That's all it is, and that's all it needs to be. Simply your lips against hers, eyes closed, enjoying her presence and everything it signifies. She has to move around a little so that her knees are on either side of your hips so that she can get comfortable, but you just want to focus on this wonderful feeling of *closeness* and the warmth of her body. It's like the night you pledged to protect her, but instead of her blanketing you, the two of you are sharing yourselves with each other, shutting out the world not because it hurts but because all you need is her, and all she needs is you.
Her arms slide around your chest, and yours circle her waist, and you break the kiss when the two of you fall sideways onto the couch without quite being able to tell if she pushed you or if you pulled her but it doesn't matter because you open your eyes and look at her, at her face and her body and her beautiful smile and her kind heart, and she can see the woman that you've become and the softness and sharpness in your soul, and you know that this, this is (if: $nsfw)[[[your purpose->nsfw start]]](else:)[[[your purpose->epilogue]]].
### Day 44
Insbrud's central market swarms with people, bartering and haggling and trading. [[You'd forgotten what it was like.]] You're nervous, pressing in against Jeanne for support (which looks a bit strange considering you have a good couple inches on her), but she has a firm grasp on your hand, and every so often she squeezes it. A silent reminder: *You're here for me, but I'm here for you too.*
She's wearing a fairly simple thing, a long blue skirt that stops far enough above her ankles so it won't brush against the ground, and a long-sleeved black top. You're wearing a matching gown that she'd already bought you so you could actually go into town, and your silver hair stands out as it spills over down to the small of your back. It's the first time you've dressed up, and you have to admit that you're enjoying it now that you actually enjoy the way you look.
You need two things: new equipment and some clothes. The [[armory]] is on the left, and the [[clothier]] is on the right, and behind you is Jeanne's floating trunk full of [[your armor and weaponry from the Order]].You haven't been around anyone other than Jeanne since... well, since you met her. When you realized what you could be, what you *would* be, the idea of anyone other than her seeing you as you were at the time felt like it would tear you apart. But even though your harmonization isn't complete yet, you're fairly far along, and she said your body wasn't likely to change that much more. So when Jeanne suggested that you go [[clothes shopping->shopping trip start]] with her, you decided that it sounded like a good idea.It had been lying in a pile somewhere in the mansion ever since it started getting too large for you to comfortably wear. And even if you could wear it, why would you wear something with those memories?
(You did enjoy putting your hand in one of the gauntlets one last time so you could *feel* how much you'd changed.)
Nobody would buy any Order equipment, of course (and technically you don't even own it in the first place), and even though the physical marks aren't hard to remove, there are magical seals that give it an unmistakable identity aura.
Unfortunately for the Order and fortunately for you, you happen to know how exactly they're applied, which meant Jeanne spent the morning before [[your shopping trip->shopping trip start]] stripping them off.<h1>Your name is Alice</h1>
This is the story of a witch, a knight sent to kill her, and how they fell in love.
This is very much *not* a choose-your-own-adventure kind of Twine; there's one path and you can't really deviate from it. Think of it as more of a book with hyperlinks.
Content warnings: There's some transphobia, both external and internalized.
NSFW warning: This twine has NSFW content. This content is **entirely optional** and will in no way shape or form affect the storyline; it's purely there for the reader's enjoyment. [[Click here to read more->nsfw toggle]].
This story's 'official' host is (link-repeat: "my itch.io page")[(open-url: "https://transcendant.itch.io/")].
[[> Start->Arrival]]
[[> Author's notes (contains spoilers!)->Author's notes confirm]]Just to make sure, this spoils the entire story. Are you sure?
[[> Yes->Author's notes]]
[[> No->Start]]This story is dedicated to all the queer people out there, whether you're out or not, no matter what. Keep being yourselves. This story, first and foremost, is written to be a bit of light in your life.
And regardless of who you are and what your identity is, thank you, reader, for playing. :)
NSFW content is currently (if: $nsfw)[enabled](else:)[disabled].
So. Would you like to hear about [[the characters->characters]], [[the story itself->story]], or [[trans narratives in general->trans narratives]]?This story is at least partly autobiographical. I wrote a lot of myself in Alice: the desire to serve, that uncertainty. It was partly written as wish fulfillment: I'm a trans woman, and I really, really wish I could simply have someone cast some magic on me and quickly transition, no voice therapy or laser hair removal or shaving or crying and feeling like it'll never be good enough.
(if: $nsfw)[The D/s stuff is also highly based off of my own feelings with respect to submission and the strength gained through it.]
Jeanne is based on (link-repeat: "Lily/@millenomi")[(open-url: "https://twitter.com/millenomi")]. She's been wonderful in guiding me through my own transition, and I got Jeanne's sense of wanting to help everyone she can from her. (If you're reading this, hey. <3)
Marcus, on the other hand isn't based on anyone in particular. I'm fortunate enough to not have to deal with shitty transphobic people like that in my life. But I've seen enough of them, online and on the TV and in the news, and I despise them just as much as they seem to despise me. So I put him in so that I could utterly humiliate him, and to give myself/Alice a way to show off.
I have no clue what Alice's deadname is, or even what she looked like pre-harmonization. It doesn't really matter. :)
[[> Back->Author's notes]]I basically started with the 'knighting' scene and wrote everything else to fit; I think it was literally the first set of passages I wrote for this story. The bit with Marcus at the end was the second. (if: $nsfw)[The knighting scene was originally *much* more D/s themed, with Jeanne taking off her new knight's armor (since it happened after they fell in love), but I decided to rearrange that when I decided to make the NSFW optional.]
I knew from the start that this story was going to be very linear. The original reason I wanted this to be a Twine was because I was going to do weird JS stuff with Alice's deadname, but then I remembered the FULL BLOCK character exists so I just used that. But I like the 'asides' that Twine lets you do.
How much magic does Jeanne know? Hell if I know. I basically handwaved it all. Same with the shopping scene; I basically decided to write it as if they were shopping in a modern city because it's not the point, and I don't know much about how Renaissance-ish clothes stores/armories would actually work.
[[> Back->Author's notes]]When I wrote this, I had to pick and choose which aspects of being a trans woman I wanted to include. I decided I didn't want the setting to be sexist, even though that's very much a part of real life, because... well, because I didn't want it to be.
Similarly, the fact that in this setting, dysphoria (or 'dissonance' in the in-universe terminology) is caused by a mismatch between the soul's self-image and the body and so is something that the person can *objectively see* does not map entirely onto the real world. The only way to tell if someone is trans and dysphoric is [[if they say they are->reductionism]]. But I wanted the scene of Alice seeing her 'soul', and to indulge the fantasy (*my* fantasy) that from a body point of view, transitioning (or 'harmonization') could simply be something I *do* with a defined endpoint. (And one in less time than it took to actually get an appointment for an HRT consult.)
In an earlier draft the transition was instant, but I figured that didn't make it enough of a story. I wanted to communicate the despair, I guess, that I feel sometimes, and part of that is her not knowing that this will go the way she hopes.
Omitting Alice's deadname was an entirely deliberate choice. Originally I was planning on doing some JavaScript fuckery to it (which is what drove me to Twine), but then I remembered that U+2588 FULL BLOCK █ exists. At no point did I ever come up with an actual deadname for her.
Jeanne's little speech directed at Marcus doesn't necessarily correlate to how you should *actually* deal with shitty people. You can't always just beat them up with your cute mage knight girlfriend. I haven't really had to deal with TERFs or MRAs or transphobes (yet). But I do think that some of them really want to feel like they got to you, and denying them that satisfaction can be nice.
[[> Back->Author's notes]]Well, if you had infinite computational power and an infinitely accurate model of someone's mind, you could simulate their brain to see whether they'd vocalize the words "I'm trans and dysphoric", but that's reductionist to the point of irrelevance.
[[> Back->trans narratives]] The lighting in the armory is bright, gleaming off the endlessly-polished metal that decorates the walls. Chain mail, half plate, full plate, leather, all sorts of swords and polearms and things that you can't quite remember the name of (what in the world is a bec-de-corbin, anyway?).
You make your way to the counter, where the proprietor stands: a fairly average-looking woman with short-cropped black hair. (if: not $has_clothes)[It's the first time you've talked with anybody other than Jeanne in months.](else:)[You're still a little shaken up from your experience with the clothier.] Some part of you is scared, worried that she'll somehow see through all the harmonization, see the self you've tried so desperately to leave behind.
Jeanne squeezes your hand.
[[You can do this->inside armory]].
The lighting here is even and neutral, the better to show off the colors of the silks and fabrics that seem to cover every single inch of the shop. There's so much that you barely even know what to look at first, but Jeanne quickly starts picking out clothes and dashing back to you, holding them up as if imagining you in them.
"Soooo, what do you think? I know you like black and white and blue, so I thought we'd try..."
In the blacksmith's you were in your element, but here... well, you're overwhelmed. You barely have time to nod or shake your head at one piece before she picks out another, and before long you've got quite the collection draped over your arms.
"Jeanne, I think this is enough!"
She turns back in the middle of pulling something and pauses, collecting herself from her shopping frenzy. She mock-pouts a little as she gently sets down the skirt she's holding.
"Aw. Alright, fine. Go try everything on to make sure it [[fits->shapeworking]], okay?"
You make your way back, passing by the clothier (a tall, slightly thin man who barely pays you any attention), and Jeanne follows you [[inside the fitting room]]."What can I get for you, ma'am?"
(Just hearing her call you 'ma'am' is thrilling, brings a little smile to your face.)
"Ah, I'd like a set of underarmor, half-plate and a longsword. I have some old equipment to offer in exchange."
Jeanne brings the chest full of armor forward, and the blacksmith's eyebrows raise a bit as she looks it over.
"Mmm. That's very high-quality crafting. I could just metalshape it to fit you instead; not to diminish the quality of my work, but it'd be far better than anything I have here."
There's a brief tension in your chest, but it passes. "No, no. It belonged to... a friend who passed on. He'd rather have it this way."
Se gives you a look, not quite sure to make of your explanation, but instead of pressing further she just steps around the counter to give it a more thorough inspection. Probably looking for some kind of trick, a hidden weakness in your old armor. Maybe she thinks it's stolen.
"I'm sorry for your loss, then, miss...?"
"Alice. And this is Jeanne." Jeanne bows.
"Miss Alice, then. My name's Davolt. If you'd step this way and get dressed, I can begin the shapework."
She hands you your new set of under-armor and you quickly duck into a private room so you can change, your old dress folded neatly over an arm when you exit. Donning the unshaped half-plate is a bit of an exercise that requires all the dexterity Davolt can muster, and it feels clunky and loose around your body, but once it's done and the blacksmith lays one of her hands on it and starts her work, you can feel it tighten up. The extra material disappears from your armor and reappears in the blacksmith's hand as it better conforms to your shape, and once the leather straps tighten up and feel properly snug she lets go.
"How is it? Can you move well?"
You do a few quick exercises to check: jumping jacks, running in place, bending forward and back.
"It's wonderful, Ms. Davolt."
Next up is the sword, but that's far simpler: there's no shapework involved, just picking out one that's about the right size. You try a couple, swinging them around, feeling the weight and the heft. Once you've found one that fits the best, you do a careful little twirl for Jeanne, who claps her hands and smiles: even a knight in shining armor should look her best.
And you smile back because, well, it feels *right* to be wearing armor again. You'd certainly enjoyed the clothes that Jeanne had picked out for you, flowing and loose or tight and sheer, but armor and a weapon feels like safety, like power, like you can make sure that nothing will ever hurt you or Jeanne ever again.
[[And then Jeanne turns to the blacksmith...]]
(set: $has_armor to true)
"I just realized! I have absolutely no clue how to help her into her armor. Could you show me?"
Se looks back and forth between the two of you, and you'd swear that Jeanne's grin is infectous because she's wearing it too. "Oh, of course! I'd be happy to show you how to help her don her armor... as well as take it off."
Your deep-red blush lasts well until after the first time Jeanne's taken off your half-plate, and the first time she does it without Davolt's assistance you swear that her hands spend longer on your skin than usual. Then again, you don't really mind.
Eventually, once she's had her fun you pay Devolt and (if: not $has_clothes)[[[depart for the clothier->clothier]]](else:)[[[make your way back home->after shopping]]], armory in tow and hand firmly clasped in Jeanne's.Shapeworking fabrics is much harder than shapeworking metal; there's far more small-scale structure. It's like trying to draw each individual leaf in a painting of a forest. Some can do it, but they typically only work with garments that are expensive enough that it'd be impractical to produce them in multiple sizes.
Which is why Jeanne is flicking through clothes like a woman possessed [[looking for things that will fit you->clothier]].It's small and cramped; there's barely enough room for Jeanne to look away while you change in and out of the outfits she'd suggested for you. You occasionally take a look at yourself in the mirror in various states of undress; light, you look *cute* now.
Eventually you settle on your favorite outfit: a blue off-the-shoulder shirt; some white gloves that go all the way past your elbows to your forearms; and a black skirt, narrow enough to show off the shape of your body, but still wide enough to be comfortable moving around. (You'd utterly refused to get anything that you couldn't sprint or fight in, no matter how much Jeanne gave you those puppy-dog eyes.)
You're a little sad as you change back into your other clothes, but you give yourself another look in the mirror and realize: you look good anyway. So there's a bit of a spring in your step as you [[exit the fitting room]].### Day 23
"One!" Slash.
"Two!" Parry.
"Three!" Dodge.
Over and over and over. You've practiced your swordwork every Thunderday; why stop now? Your muscles are changing, but their memory stays the same. The sword seems a little heavier, your body a little lighter, but you can adjust. There are no dummies to strike or swordghosts to counterattack, but you can adjust. Just one step, one swing, one block at a time.
The practice is a ritual as much as it's exercise for your muscles: always in the same order, always in the same poses. Push-ups, squats, other exercises mixed in to make sure you can keep moving with all that [[armor]] strapped onto you.
Because you can see it in your mind's eye: Jeanne's face when she saw you. Crestfallen. Sadness. A life's work cut short. She knew then and there that you could have killed her.
[[You want her to never have to feel like that again.]]There's something in the back of your heart, something that you've known for a while. Not at first sight, but not long after. Something that you're desperately hoping that she harbors as well, because if she doesn't you're worried you might just shatter into a billion pieces. So you summon up every bit of courage you've ever had lean in until you're almost touching, squeeze her hand, and say [the four words you've wanted to say for weeks]<love1|:
(click: ?love1)["Jeanne, I love you."
Time slows. She blinks, once. Her mouth opens as if she's searching for words, but they can't quite come. For a brief moment you wonder: did you overstep? Is she not ready? But then she composes herself, and [she says exactly what you hoped she would]<love2|.]
(click: ?love2)["I love you too, Alice."
Her lips part, and so do yours, and together you close that last bit of distance for [[a kiss]].]"One!" Slash.
"Two!" Parry.
"Three!" Dodge.
Your sword shimmers with faint fire as you move. Jeanne's been teaching you magic and letting you browse through her library at your leisure. You'd asked if she could teach you harmonization, but she said it'd take years to master. So you asked her to teach you destruction instead, sorcery for your sword so you can be her shield.
You strike one of the wooden logs you've been using as targets, and when you pull your sword back, runes glowing along its length, the edges of your cut are charred. Another blow, and another. Keeping the enchantment up while you fight requires concentration or the flame will gutter and die. So you practice until it's second nature, until the mystic threads in the back of your mind barely require any focus to tie together.
There are other spells Jeanne knows, of course, spells to wash and clean and do all those little domestic things that you'd always done by hand, but those can wait until later. Now, [[you want to sharpen yourself]].
"One!" Punch.
"Two!" Block.
"Three!" Duck.
You're done with the sword; now you've moved onto bare-fist strikes against a bag of flour. You have to be ready always, even if you're unarmed, even if someone comes up to you and Jeanne in the middle of town. Open-palm strikes, closed-fist strikes, everything you can think of, working on your technique. When your motivation falters, you remember Jeanne and how many people would want to harm her. Harm *you*, the both of you. You can see the faces of your superiors in the Order. The Council of Eleven. The Arch-Logos. Your ruler. Your worst enemy.
You punch, and you punch, and you punch, until your knuckles are scraped raw. And then you sheath your sword, undoing the leather straps on your gauntlets as you [[walk back into the mansion]].You've built up quite a sweat, and you can feel it sticking to your skin. "Jeanne? I could use some help getting this armor off." you call out as you roll your shoulders to help work out a bit of the soreness.
"Coming!" You can hear the rustling of papers, and then Jeanne walks out of her study to help undo the straps pinning your armor in place. Once your fingers are free of the gauntlet, you undo the tight ponytail you'd done your hair in, run your fingers through it as you let it fall to your shoulders. Your hair's gone all the way down to your shoulders now, and from the bits of it that you can see out of the corner of your eyes you can tell it's getting lighter. Eventually the heavy armor's all lying on the ground, and you're down to your underarmor.
You pick up the pieces and carry them off to your room and lay them out along the wall before you [[head off to take a bath->bath]].### Day 70
One night, as you're lying in bed, Jeanne's arm draped around your waist as usual, you hear her stir behind you.
"Alice?"
"Yeah?"
"I have, uh. Something I'd like to ask you to try."
She drops something on the bed in front of you. Something made of matte black leather, with a metallic clasp on the opposite side of it a shining purple gemstone: too big to be a bracelet or something. In fact it's almost the size of...
"A collar?"
"Uh-huh."
You turn around to face Jeanne: despite the low light, she's quite obviously blushing, though she does manage to look you in the eyes.
"You don't think of me as some kind of common animal, do you?" You nudge her a little to show it's a tease, even though you're still a bit confused.
"No, no! Nothing like that, Alice. This is more of, well. A sign of your devotion to me. You're my knight, and my girlfriend. And I'd like you to have a reminder of that. I won't lock it. You can take it off any time. I want you to enjoy it, too, and if you don't like it I'll still love you just as much. But I'd like you to try it on?"
She looks at you with those deep green eyes and you can tell just what this means to her. And, well... a bit over two months ago you took a risk with her, and it was the best decision you ever made. [[So why not]]?"Alright. For you, my Lady."
You've seen her smile more times than you can remember, but it still makes your heart melt every time.
She fiddles with the bedside lamp to light up your bedchambers, and you sit up so that she can move behind you. Her knees are on either side of your legs, and she has to lean up a bit to get her arms in position. You can feel the padding on the inside press against your neck, soft and a little cool, and when you reach up with one hand your fingers brush against the amethyst as it jostles around while Jeanne works with the clasp.
Then there's a soft *click* when she's done, and she leans in to plant a kiss on your cheek. "Take a look in the mirror, tell me what you think."
You hop out of the bed and make your way to the full-length mirror. And there you are in your silver and blue with that collar wrapped around your neck just above where your nightgown clings to your shoulders. You twist and turn around, looking at it from different angles, but before long Jeanne's voice interrupts your train of thought.
"Oh! There's one other thing. Here, let me..."
She leans in to touch the amethyst, and with a spark of her mana, [[a familiar-looking symbol]] starts to glow from within.It's her personal rune. It's in all her spellbooks, her magic circles, the thaumaturgical equivalent of her signature, a symbolic representation of the shape of her very soul itself. And now it's decorating your body, just a few inches away from your heart.
Of course, she was in your heart before, ever since you fell in love, but having it shown like this feels different, like the first time you put on your new armor after you'd gotten rid of the old. You're proud to help Jeanne help others, proud to be her knight, proud to have her as your Lady, proud of your relationship with her. And the collar, the amethyst, represents all of that.
"Alice? What do you think?"
You wrap your arms around her, hold her tight as if you're embracing her for the first time all over again.
"It's gorgeous, my Lady. Thank you so much."
Her arms find your waist, and she returns the squeeze.
"And thank you for accepting it, my knight."
She holds you close, rocking gently from side to side, head rested atop your chest and listening to your heartbeat. And then [[she looks back up at you with that playful grin->petplay]].You need the armor's weight so you can do your [[exercises->training start]] properly, but you hate the memories with it. When Jeanne puts it on, you remember spending hours practicing with your fellow knights-in-training how to put it on and take it off as quick as you could. Mock duels, learning how to fight and how to take a blow.
You miss it.She had to have heard that. No time to lose.
You quickly push open the door, looking around for more traps or guardians or anything else. But there's nothing. Just the residual shimmer of untethered magic floating in the air.
And then, once your ears have recovered, you hear a quiet 'tap tap tap' coming from just around the corner in front of you, near what appears to be the kitchen. You ready your blade, take a few steps forward, and then [[Jeanne comes into view]].You're not sure what you expected her to look like. Death itself, or a demon, or a foul shadow.
But instead she's... well, like any other woman would look. Probably obvious in retrospect. The black robes and medium-length black hair make her look very witch-y, green eyes setting off the purple accents that adorn her rune-covered outfit. You can't quite read the runes from here, but you can't imagine they spell anything good for you.
"Jeanne va Sokhai. In the name of the Order, I--"
[[Your head swims]].It's hard to think. Hard to stay focused. You can barely see her advancing towards you through your blurred vision, weaving a spell to keep you off-balance.
"You don't have to do this. You could tell them I moved."
But you were trained for this, trained to resist magic. Your sword turns just so, becomes slightly out of tune with the physical, and you slice straight through the threads binding your head to her hand.
"Just like an enemy of Order to try to save herself with deception."
She barely has the time to look surprised before you close the gap with her and give her a solid slash to the arm. She twists out of the way, but not fast enough to avoid your follow-up, a blunt swing with the side of your blade to her gut that knocks the wind out of her and leaves her staggering.
"Hhh... why can't your fucking Order just leave me alone?"
She raises both of her hands and channels a blast of pure force, but you scream out a counterspell that drains the mana around her; you barely even notice the feeble gust she manages to conjure.
"Because your acts are an affront to the very world itself!"
You press forward, and she crosses her arms to summon a barrier to block your strike, but you dash to the side instead and slash at her backside. She whirls around, but the barrier is weak, and she stumbles forwards onto the floor onto the floor.
"Do you even know what I [*do*]<do|?" (click: ?do)[(You don't.)]
But the time she can turn herself face-up, your foot is on her chest, your sword is held above her face, and [[it's over->speech]].[[She's right->speech]]. You'd been on missions before, sure, and some of them had ended with the blasphemer in question dead. But you can never remember a single mission where you'd landed the killing blow, fired the last shot, cast the fatal spell. It was always someone else. "I don't understand!" You're almost screaming at her.
She sighs. "Please. Just let me show you. I know that pain, and it's not something I would wish on anyone."
You shouldn't accept. Every bit of training the Order gave you, every bit of your common sense, is screaming at you that this is a trap, that the second you let her do whatever she's planning, you'll wind up dead or worse.
And yet. And yet. There's a voice in the back of your head, one you haven't heard in a long time, one you've never heard out loud but that you've always known, telling you, begging you to let Jeanne show you.
"... Alright. Fine." You're barely above a whisper, now. You remove your foot from her chest and sheathe your sword. She starts to sit up, and you reach down to help her up.
"Ready?"
"I am."
She looks into your eyes once more, presses her hand to your forehead, and [[the whole world goes white->seeing self]].The light fades after a moment, leaving you in utter darkness. Did she blind you? No, when you look down you can still see yourself, even though there aren't any lights.
"Hello? Is anyone there? What is this?" Your voice echoes strangely, as if you're hearing it from all around... wherever you are.
And then you see, off in the distance, a pale white dot. You can't make it out, but your legs still work and there's some kind of ground beneath you, so you walk closer, and closer.
Before long, you can see what it is: a woman, crouched down in a circle of light. Her hair is long and silver-grey and flows down over her shoulders, all the way to the small of her back. She's wearing nothing at all, but for some reason, that doesn't bother you.
Then she looks up at you and for a brief moment you can see her eyes: bright blue, wide open, and completely terrified. And you can feel that terror too, in the deepest parts of your soul.
But before you can react, [[you suddenly come back to reality]]."What... what... what in fucking light was that?" Your breathing is heavy in your chest, and there's a thin layer of sweat all over your body.
Jeanne pulls her hand back, holding them in front of her, nervous. Her eyes dart around your face, watching your ragged breathing. "What did you see?"
"I saw... I saw a woman, and she looked at me, and then I woke up. And she looked so *familiar*, and so scared of me. And I felt her fear."
She nods. "That's because she *is* you. It's what you really look like. Or at least, what your soul looks like to yourself."
You look at her dumbfounded. "What? Are... no. Surely there must be some mistake." And yet.
"That's what I thought too. When I saw my own, for the first time."
"You mean..."
"Mmhm." There's a bit of a smile on her face, playful and mischievous. "My body used to be, well. I don't want to say 'a man's body', but I looked a lot more like you do. I even had a beard. I told you I spent years studying spells to change myself, didn't I?"
And then there's the Order screaming in your head: *unnatural, heresy, blasphemy, kill her, strike her down, cleanse this filth!*. The mental effort leaves you shaking, but you shove the angry chorus off to the side in your head. You think about the woman you saw in your vision. How she looked when she saw you. And you realize that you'd known who she was as soon as she looked up and you saw your own eyes looking back at you.
"Can."
(click: "Can")["Ah."]
(click: "Ah")["Um."]
(click: "Um")[[["Can you change other people?"->request]]]Jeanne's smile widens like she's visiting an old friend. "I can. It's what I've been doing for the past couple months. I want to help people like you, people with their bodies and souls in dissonance. I want to bring you back into harmony with yourself. I only need to cast the spell once, it takes a few months, and I can reverse it for you anytime. I promise the end result will be worth it."
She looks up at you. You look down at her. Your heart is beating a mile a minute in your chest. Everything in your brain is telling you *no, run away, kill her*, but your heart is aching like it's ready to burst at the mere thought of leaving this chance behind. If she wanted to hurt you, she already would have. You'd stared death in the face before, fought legions of the undead and the never-living. You can do this.
[["Okay."]]She briefly moves forward as if to hug you, but then her gaze drops down. "Oh. Um. You'll need to take the armor off, I have to touch your skin right above your heart."
You turn around to show her the backside, point out just where the straps are, and a few minutes of surprisingly-rough tugging later, your chestplate is lying on the ground, followed shortly afterwards by the rest.
"Oh, and I'd rather we do this in my bedroom."
You blush deep, deep red. "I beg your pardon?!"
She laughs hard enough that she has to cover her mouth. "Not like that! The spell just takes a while to cast, and I'd rather we both sit someplace nice."
"Oh. All right." You're still blushing a bit as [[you follow her to her bedroom]].
This time, you reawaken already in the circle of light. But now the woman isn't curled up in a ball; she's standing in a suit of armor that's been fused solid from the helm to the boots, no joints or straps. You look in close, and you can see that it's covered in the Order's doctrine and devotionals, its scripture and sigils and sermons.
You built it all, of course, piece by piece as you grew up. Just looking at it and knowing what's inside *hurts*, so you turn around. But there's nothing else to look at here in this infinite void, so you just shut your eyes.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for shutting you out, for not listening to you. For trying to ignore who you are. Who we are? Who I am." Light, this is the most awkward talking to yourself has ever been.
"I just... I simply didn't know. I didn't know that this was possible. I thought it was a sickness of my soul, some aspect of chaos that had snuck in when I was made. But now I see the truth. I can't change my soul. I can't change you. But I can change my body... or, well, Jeanne can change it for me."
You turn around. There are cracks running along the surface, shining with a faint yellow light. You can faintly see her eyes, your eyes, within the helmet.
"Please. I need this more than anything I've ever needed in my life." Your fists ball up, the nails digging into the flesh of your palm. "Please." And then the tears start, because what if this doesn't work, what if you can't be harmonized, what if you're stuck in the abyss of your soul forever, what if, what if, what if---
you've got your arms thrown around her, and you're crying, and your tears are falling onto the armor and eating it away into white light that spreads over the rest of the surface and exposing the woman inside, the woman you've always been, and you can finally get a good look at *yourself* for once in your life and as the last of the prison dissolves she returns the hug and whispers two quiet words in your ear.
"Thank you."
There's another flash, but just before you [[wake up]] as you look down at yourself, you can see that your body in this dreamscape looks just like hers. It's a little on the lavish side, covered in purple and lace and other such frilly things. You briefly imagine yourself, or your soul's self-image anyway, sleeping in a bedroom like this, and decide that it'd probably be too much.
She sits cross-legged in the middle of the bed, and pats the mattress in front of her, so you join her. Once that's done, she rests one hand at the base of your undershirt.
"May I?"
You nod, and her hand moves up like a medic's, gentle but not overly familiar. It comes to rest atop your heart, she brings her other hand up to press her fingertips against your forehead.
"What do I have to do?"
"Accept yourself."
And once more, [[everything goes white->inner transition]].You spent hours the past couple nights talking with the part of your soul that you'd kept locked away for so long, trying to get a sense for who she is, who she wants to be. Thinking about names you enjoyed, names that sounded like they'd be strong and sensitive at the same time. Some of them you rejected because they reminded you of people you knew, some of them were just too old-fashioned, but one stood out.
"I'd like you to call me Alice."
"Of course I will, Alice." She squeezes your hands. "It's a beautiful name."
You blush again, cheeks heated with embarrassment and enjoyment, but you manage to keep looking her in the eyes this time.
"So, Alice. How exactly do I make you my knight?"
And [[you spend the rest of the evening telling her about ceremony->knight start]].One, two, three waterstones. You press and hold your finger against them just *so*, and water gushes out of them in torrents to fill up the tub. A firestone to heat the water up to the a nice, relaxing temperature. By the time you've slipped off your garments the tub's almost full, and when you dip your toe in the temperature is nice and warm.
Sinking into a bath after a long, hard training session feels like bliss. Before, you'd always felt a little uncomfortable looking down at yourself, but you'd chalked it up to simply not being as muscular as you want. But now you actually *like* the way that you look.
You spend a few minutes getting reacquainted with yourself, so to speak. Those slim hands brush over your front, your chest, down your thighs. Your hair floats out in a pale halo around your head as your head sinks down into the water, and when you come back up you can feel it heavy and wet, clinging to the back of your neck.
But, alas, it can't last, and you'd rather get out before the water chills. So you scrub off the sweat and the grime and then stand up, water dribbling off your body as you step out.
You take the opportunity to look at yourself in the mirror. You don't quite look like your soul does, but you're closer. It's nice. You spin around (and your hair spins with you, water dripping everywhere), [[admiring yourself from all angles]], and then you grab a towel to dry yourself off. Back before, you never paid much attention to how you look, but now... well, you're almost ready to admit that you're attractive.
It's only 'almost', but [[you'll take it->shopping trip start]].
You're shorter, but not that much shorter. Your muscles aren't quite as defined as they were before, but there's still definite tone to them. You look as strong as you feel. There are other changes, of course: broader hips, a narrower waist, but overall you're still much more 'masculine' than Jeanne, for lack of a better term. Partly because you're not quite done yet, but also partly because that's how your soul always wanted to look.
But, of course, the specifics aren't nearly as important as the fact that [[you actually *like* looking in the mirror for once->bath]].The NSFW content in this Twine involves F/F sex and Dom/sub powerplay. NSFW content is disabled by default, and must be explicitly enabled after every reload.
NSFW content is currently (if: $nsfw)[enabled](else:)[disabled].
(link: "Toggle NSFW")[(set: $nsfw to not $nsfw)(goto: (passage:)'s name)]
[[Return to start->Start]]"Although, you know. With that collar on, you look like you're a bit more than just my knight."
"Mmm? What do you mean?"
"Well", and she starts to trace her finger around just below where the bottom of the collar meets your neck, "I'd say it almost makes you look like my *pet*."
Oh. That feels... wow. You bite your lip, and even in the dim bedroom light your cheeks must be visibly flushed, because she leans up and says in a almost-whispers "Do you like it when I call you that?" in a voice that makes it very clear she knows what the response will be.
"Y-yeah. Yes I do, Jeanne."
"Mmm. And what if I tell you that until you come, you'll only call me your Lady?"
Light, where did this side of her *come* from? She'd been playful around you before, but now... now even though you're taller than her, you feel so very small.
"Then I will refer to you as such, my Lady."
"Yes, you will, because you're a *good girl*."
And that makes you take a deep, shivering breath in, like her words are caressing parts of your mind that you didn't even know existed. One hand slides up your nightgown, stopping just beneath your breasts, and when you nod eagerly her fingers find their way to cup and squeeze and tug and toy with you and you start to moan out.
"Mmm, good girl... and any time you want, you know you can ask, and we can stop this. But that makes it all the more fun, because it means you know you want this, you need it, that being my *pet* makes you so wet and helpless."
You try to respond but you can't because your entire body feels like it's on fire with lust, and oh light now her thigh is rubbing up between your legs through your nightgown and you're grinding on her without even realizing it, so all you can do is just nod and whimper out a "y-yes!"
"Yes, what?" Her hand moves away, her leg drops.
"Yes, my Lady!"
"Good girl." That hand slides down your body, then back up, and her finger hooks into your collar. She leads you back to bed and takes a seat, legs spread wide a bit. "Take everything off, then sit. Back to me, legs spread."
You don't even think of disobeying.
Your gown's not difficult to take off, of course, but it's a bit harder when you're more turned on than you can ever remember being. Your bra and panties come neck, joining it in a little pile on the floor. And when you get a look at yourself in the mirror, wearing nothing but that collar, nervous and excited, you have to admit: it's a very, very good look on you.
[[And then you join your Lady in bed->petplay 2]].Jeanne--your Lady--gets back to work as soon as you sit against her, her breasts pressing against your back through her nightgown. She squeezes one of your nipples between her fingers, then her fingernails, and it hurts in the best possible way. You're dripping onto the bed and you just *know* she'll make sure you're the one that cleans it up.
"Now. Tonight, I'm going to focus entirely on you, and your pleasure, and how *good* it feels to surrender to me. Because as long as you choose to be my pet, you'll be serving me in battle and in bed. Do you understand?"
"Yes... yes... yes my Lady..." is your breathy response, jerking your hips forwards in pure desperation.
Her fingers move closer and closer, gliding against your thigh. "Would my good girl like her reward for accepting her collar?"
"Yes, please, light, please..."
"Good girl." Her fingers move inside, thumb brushing your clit, and you swear you can see stars. Your thighs press together, you squirm, and you moan, you gasp, everything inside you is crying out with utter pleasure and a feeling of *rightness* because your Lady is rewarding you, She loves you and you love Her, and in this infinite moment all you have to do is submit to Her control and let Her touch you in all the right spots; She already knows how to play you like an instrument, but now She's playing a different tune: bringing you up and down, up and down, not yet trying to get you off but trying to show you that all this pleasure comes from Her.
She's nibbling your neck, your jawline, your ear; Her breath is hot against you, and before long you're close. "M-my Lady, I'm going to come... nnh." There's no room for subtlety in your current situation; everything you are is utterly focused on the feeling of Her hand moving in and out, in and out.
"Good girl, very good girl." She pauses, leans in close, squeezes your breast again. "You don't need my permission, but... I'd say you've earned it."
It takes a bit more time (you're not entirely sure how much, because your sense of time is a puddle on the bed), but soon your body is rigid and every little bit of you is in utter bliss, in Her utter bliss, and you're so far gone you can't even form the words anymore, but that's fine because She can read you plain as day.
Eventually [[you collapse back against her->post-sex]], and she can't quite stop from falling back onto the bed beneath you.
She giggles a little as she lands on the bed, and her fingers trace up to your face, dangling teasingly in front of your mouth. You lick them clean; it's the first time you've tasted yourself, and you have to admit it's rather nice. Maybe it's just because it's Jeanne.
Once you're done, you turn around in her arms so that you're facing her, and look into her eyes. She looks back into yours, smiles, and gives you a kiss. "Hey. Did you enjoy that?"
You nod in response and snuggle in close, arms circling her. "Yeah." She reaches up to the back of your neck, but you shake your head. "Ah. I think I would like to keep the collar on."
Her hands drop down to the small of your back, and she squeezes you once more. "I'm glad. Thank you, Alice. For everything."
You bury your head between her neck and her shoulder, fingers brushing from her scalp to the tip of her hair, and murmur. "Thank you too, Jeanne."
[[> Epilogue->epilogue]]### Day 0
You knock on the tall double door, nervously looking around. "Mansion outside Insbrud" wasn't that descriptive, but, well, you don't exactly see any others.
"Coming!" It's a female voice, which is a good sign. You think. A few seconds later, the door opens to reveal a tall, well-built woman in a black and white and blue outfit.
"Hello? Um, are you Jeanne va Sokhai?"
She shakes her head, but smiles at you anyway. "No, but you've come to the right place. My name's Alice." She move aside to hold the door open for you, and you take the first step into your future.
### [[END->ending]]And now, a message from the author.
Thank you very much for reading this story! I hope that you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you'd like to read it again just reload the page. Or you can [[go to the author's notes->Author's notes]] to read my thoughts.
May you live in harmony with yourself.
~Ash(set: $nsfw to false)(set: $has_armor to false)(set: $has_clothes to false)After a bit of looking around, you find a desk where the proprietor is scribbling away at some papers. Probably doing some accounting. He's a a short, gruff-looking man, hairy in a way that reminds you a little of your old self. But that's okay. You're not that anymore. "Hello! I'd like to buy these." you say as you gently rest your new clothes on the table.
He looks up at you, examines you for a bit. "Huh. Don't think I've seen you in town before. Where'd you come in from?"
You have no clue to respond. (click: "respond")[Fortunately, before you have to, Jeanne steps in. "Oh, she's with me. Needed a place to stay."
He definitely recognizes Jeanne, because that answer seems to shut him up quick. You can't tell whether he believes you, but it doesn't matter, because he totals you up anyway and soon enough you (if: not $has_armor)[[[leave the shop for the armory->armory]]](else:)[[[leave the shop and start to make your way back home->after shopping]]].
But before you go, you whisper a quiet "thank you" in Jeanne's ear. She just squeezes your hand in response.]
(set: $has_clothes to true)You make your way back home (and of course, you hold the door open for Jeanne as a proper knight should), and once you're there you collapse into a living room couch before you can even *think* about putting everything away. You're exhausted.
"I'm proud of you, y'know?" Jeanne's standing next to you, looking down at you with her usual warm smile. "You did great for your first time out as yourself."
"I don't *feel* like I did great. That man at the clothes store made me feel scared. Almost like I did that one night after we first met." Your arm is over your face. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
"But you kept yourself together. You're strong, Alice, I know you are. Nobody's perfect, nobody has all their life together." She takes a seat next to you, places her hand in yours again so you can feel her warmth. "But you're so much *more* than you used to be. I wouldn't have accepted you as my knight if I didn't believe in you."
You turn your head to look at her, and you can see those earnest eyes, bright and pure and full of light. "I... I'm glad you believe in me, Alice. Thank you."
[[But you don't want to leave it at that->confession]].