𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚆𝚊𝚛 (𝙻𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚡 𝙻𝚞𝚟𝚒𝚊)

[Lady Jace Beleren]

The screams of the soldiers and the sound of his own heart. Those were the two things that blocked out everything else. Incanda was a never-ending tide and he was here to stop it. Him and all the knights who rode beside him, all the soldiers in formation behind them. If they fell here, their homes would be next. They had no chance of survival. They just needed to make sure that their enemy did not, either. They needed more time.

Somewhere down the line, his captain raised his sword and cried out.

"Charge!"

---

Dimitri knew it was almost over. It felt like someone had filled his lungs with glass, acid burning every single muscle he could still feel. There was a gash somewhere in his side, right where the armor fastened. He was still luckier than most of his comrades. All of them, if his quick glances were any indication. There were only a few people on their feet, and none of them wore his colors. None had the black armor and red cloak that all of the knights of Vensel had put on this morning. No, all he could see were the three remaining enemies ahead of him, wearing Incanda's livery.

It felt like agony as he pulled his spear from the chest of the mage he had finally managed to catch off guard. It had cost him his last comrade and his horse, but the second biggest threat was dealt with. The mages were the real danger when it came to Incanda, their real strength. Their soldiers were poorly trained, guards who protected the artillery. And the two men who stood between him and the red haired woman were not what he worried about. The last mage. She needed to die before she caught her breath, before she could use more magic and rip him apart.

So, he charged. Spear tucked close to his side, Dimitri kept the tip forward, straight and unwavering despite his muscles begging him to stop. They were smart enough to stay their ground and not rush into his weapon, but not enough to expect his feint. A jab forward to make them raise their blades, then he turned his whole body, swinging wide with the blunt end of the weapon. The first soldier took it to the jaw, stumbling into his comrade. Dimitri kept the momentum of the spin and sank the point into his chest before he could recover, before he could untangle himself from his ally.

The second did not even have time to shrug off the dead weight before Dimitri swiped the spearhead sideways and opened his throat. He knew how he must look. Armor soaked in blood, metal and wood all slick with it. They had been fighting for hours and he knew he looked like some kind of demon. Good. The mage deserved to be afraid.

A hard boot to the chest toppled the two men, now leaning against one another as the last gasps of life left them. Dimitri stepped over them, nearly stumbling as he forced his exhausted body to keep moving. All he needed to do was kill one more mage. He was just so tired.

The mage stepped back as he approached, spear slowly moving up as he took his stance. She was doing something, trying to summon up the last dregs of her magic to melt him inside his armor no doubt. But, it did not matter. He was too close for anything refined. At best, they might both die. He raised his spear and sucked in a breath, prepared for the end, when the mage took a clumsy step back and stumbled.

A bright flash as the magic went out of control. Then, everything went black.

---

Dimitri Cartier had not been born into a noble house. In fact, he might have never held a sword in his life had Incanda not started to push their way across the continent. When it began, Vensel had been unconcerned. Over a thousand miles and two other kingdoms stood between the pair of them. They occasionally heard some of the propaganda, heard that magic would make their lives better, that all they needed to do was swear their loyalty. But, it was not their problem.

When Trembor fell and their ally to the west called for aid, Vensel had finally begun to wake up. That was when the army started to pick any young men they could find and began to train them. Dimitri had been picked for the infantry, had been lined up to receive his bedroll and uniform, when Sir Roderick pulled him aside and declared he would become a squire. Dimitri had not been especially strong or smart, not been very appealing for knighthood. Roderick told him later it had simply been because he was tall. He would have died that same year had he not been lucky enough to be a head taller than the other teenage boys who were carted off.

Four years ago, Vensel had sent a token force to help stop Incanda. Four years ago, they were slaughtered and the war began in earnest. Dimitri spent most of that time moving from military camp to military camp, sleeping in a warm tent and being trained in the ways of the knight. It had been almost... fun. Roderick constantly reminding him that he would be riding off to war any day now, sparring with squires and knights, and constant reports about how Incanda pushed closer to their borders with every massacre they left behind. Magic would save them all, if only they would surrender. Then, eight months ago, he had seen magic for the first time.

At first, Dimitri had thought it was a particularly bright morning. The light was shining through his tent as he woke, burning his eyes. When the screams started, he shoved his way outside just in time to see the ball of fire crash to the ground and explode with more force than anything he had felt in his life. It turned the camp to vapor and Dimitri could only watch, only be grateful he was a squire and was kept near the far edge in case of ambush. Roderick had not been so lucky. And that day, he became Sir Dimitri Cartier, his master's title passing to him in one blinding flash.

It turned out that seeing the horrors of magic firsthand had done wonders to inoculate him. First, he had hunted down the mage who ambushed their camp, though the other squires were even more brutal than he. Then, he was on the killing field within the week, running soldiers through with his spear. He still remembered the first kill, the first man he had attacked with the intent to take a life. It had been so easy, and he hated that more than anything. A monster to stop the monsters, it seemed.

Dimitri found himself shoved onto the front lines, boots deep in mage blood. They were the last line of defense while the capital pulled itself together, recruited more men. If they could stop the advance, maybe they would have a chance. They were rushing to their deaths, but maybe Vensel would survive. Somehow, knowing that the war would likely continue for months, years, after his death, Dimitri did not think it sounded so bad.

---

When he finally woke, Dimitri sucked in a sharp breath. It felt like he had never tasted fresh air before the way his body was starving for it. He was on his back, head throbbing. It took a few blinks to make the world finally come into focus. Hands scrambled against mud and stone as he propped himself up onto his hands, looking around.

There was no sign of the mage. No sign of anyone who was not dead or dying. Only the slight movement in the armor a few feet ahead caught his attention. Another survivor. Pushing onto his feet, he nearly stumbled again, his whole body feeling foreign. They needed to leave, needed to find a way back to Vensel and their commanders. It might have cost nearly every soldier and knight, but Incanda was held for now.

"Brother, can you stand? We need to..."

That was not his voice. When he raised a hand to his throat, there was no armor. Those same hands rose in front of him and he saw delicate, small fingers. When he raised them to his face, he felt a hood and mask, not the helmet he had expected. Too shocked to process the truth, he moved his hands down to touch his body, to tell himself there was no way this was real. And it was certainly not the body of a tall, male knight. All he could do was start at those small hands in mute shock. What had the mage done?

 

[Luvia]

"Fia." Tenderness lingered in that one single word.

"We're so close. So close to true freedom. If Vensel falls, the whole continent will be ours. No one will be able to hurt us ever again."

Fiamma raised her head to look up into her sister's face. The throne room was dark, with only moonlight illuminating the vast space. Parts of Hela's countenance were shrouded in darkness, making it difficult to tell what expression she showed in that moment.

"I'm so proud of what you've accomplished thus far. You're helping so many people. Our people. They're all looking up to you, waiting, praying. Only you and your… exceptional magic can make our dreams come true. I'm counting on you. We all are." Veiled envy hid in those last few words, though Fiamma failed to recognize it. Instead, she lowered her head once more in reverence.

"I won't fail you."

- - -

Do not fear. Do not falter. Do not yield.

​

Two kingdoms. Two kingdoms had already fallen to the overwhelming might of Incanda.

Incanda - such was the name of the continent of old that used to embrace all three kingdoms of Trembor, Lagus and Vensel. It had been an age abundant in wild and violent magic. Mages had ruled over the lands, striking fear into those lesser blessed and then some. That is - until one day, they became extinct.

The few that remained were either subdued or eradicated. Or, in the case of people like Fiamma and her older sister Hela, they were plucked from the cradle of their homes and exploited by greedy humans who called themselves kings. The disappearance of the arcane had heralded an age of war and conquest, tearing the united Incanda into a fragmented chaos.

One single mage was a powerful weapon to have, having two was incredibly unfair and guaranteed undisputed authority. Consequently, Lagus had been an oppressive force to be reckoned with. The king, Kasaran, kept the sisters on a tight leash, having them malnourished and miserable enough so they wouldn't be able to retaliate, but also strong enough to use as a possible bargaining chip whenever he wished. It had been Kasaran's biggest mistake.

Hela, the more conniving and machiavellian of the two, learned everything she needed to from him whenever he had been foolish enough to drag her along with him for political reasons, misjudging the girl as stupid and weak. Fiamma, who had been blessed with magical powers rivaling those of the mages of old, followed her sister blindly in anything and everything. And together, they brought about Kasaran's downfall; Hela with her terrifyingly sharp intelligence, Fiamma with her destructive firepower.

Over the span of a few mere months, Lagus was overthrown and proclaimed itself a place of rebirth and a new beginning - the return of Incanda. Mages from all over came out of hiding and joined the sisters, growing in numbers. Those that were held in captivity were liberated and those that stood in opposition to this were slaughtered in the name of justice.

Fast forward many years later and they were here: At the borders of the last remaining kingdom that refused to yield to Incanda's might. Vensel was vast - its lands spanned the same amount as Lagus and Trembor together. What it lacked in magical power, it compensated in sheer numbers.

A sea of black armor covered the barren mountain ranges, nearly drowning out the white finery of most of Incanda's fallen soldiers.

Their ranks were easily distinguishable - foot soldiers wore heavy armor and were bare-faced. Anyone higher in rank wore different variations of masks that concealed their identities. Those in the highest of ranks, of which there were only three, wore golden masks that covered their faces completely, wearing barely any armor, only black robes.

During this particular battle, only one such golden mask had been present in an attempt to seize Vensel's borders.

- - -

Pain.

BY THE GODS, she was in so much pain.

A blinding flash of white light was the last thing Fiamma saw before she came to. All she remembered was the scorching sensation of heat on her fingertips and the oppressive presence of the black knight who had nearly impaled her on his formidable spear.

She groaned as she attempted to right herself, startled by a stinging, burning feeling in her side. Why did her body feel so heavy?

Her ears were ringing as she fought to open her eyes, her vision blurry. Breathing alone hurt, as if she'd been exerting herself for hours. After a few more moments, she regained her bearings. And, begrudgingly, she realized that her vision hadn't been blurry at all. It had gotten darker. Her thoughts were interrupted however. Somebody was approaching her.

The knight. He'd survived.

Sitting up despite her perplexing condition, a string of curses followed the brash movement. Why did she feel so—

...

Pause.

Dread seeped into her every pore.

That wasn't her voice.

Ripping the heavy helmet off of her head, she gasped for air, then froze as she came face to face with somebody who sported the exact same mask as her.

Impossible. There was only one of its kind.

Fiamma gawked. Was she dreaming? Had she hit her head in the process of that magical blast?

"No. No, no, no, no."

She pushed herself to her feet. And, to her terror, realized one more thing: She was wearing that godforsaken knight's armor.

Her hands shot up to her face, touching it, before a single, gloved finger pointed at the person who was now in her body.

"You—unmask. NOW. This—it can't be."

She stomped towards herself, nearly slipping on a puddle of blood and mud, then grasped at her shoulders, willing to burn whoever this was into nothing but a smoking cinder.

Empty.

Not a single sliver of magic was coursing through her veins anymore.

For the first time in her life, Fiamma experienced how it felt to be oddly… ordinary.

One look around them revealed a devastating truth—they were the last ones alive.

"Reveal yourself!"

 

[Lady Jace Beleren]

Dimitri found himself trying to figure out exactly what was happening. Only the two of them were still standing in a field completely bathed in carnage. Whoever was still alive was on their way to death or had fled the field already. So, when the knight in front of him had moved, had started to rise, it was a minor miracle. An ally was still alive and that was all he needed to know. That is, until he noticed how strange they moved, how strange his own body felt. He was still looking at those hands when a pair of big hands found the shoulders of this slender body and shook him.

When he looked up, what he saw filled him with nothing but horror. The helmet was off and the face that looked back at him was familiar. Dimitri had not looked in a mirror for a long time. His only recollections of his face were in the shine of metal and his memories from before the war had started in earnest. Yet, he could never mistake it for anyone else. The hair was shaggy, dirt and sweat coating his cheeks, dried in places from however long they had been unconscious. And he gasped loudly as he realized the enemy was using his own face.

The person wearing his face was shaking him harder, yelling at him to reveal himself. Like it mattered if he did. Dimitri had no idea what this body was, but it was a far cry from him own. Being so short compared to his own body did very little to narrow it down, but that cursory inspection made him all but sure this was the body of a woman. The mask, the robes, the positions they had woken in. Only one thing made sense. The mage had stolen his body and left him with her own. The panic in this voice that was his own and not, it was real.

"Release me!"

The words were a little shrill, his own fear turning the unfamiliar voice into something awful. Dimitri raises those small hands and tried to shove the mage wearing his body away. And it felt like trying to shove a castle wall. Damn this weak body! Adrenaline hit his system as the fear and panic boiled over into something more like terror. This was all so wrong. These damned mages had killed so many of his comrades and now she had stolen something from him that was even worse. She had stolen his whole identity. As fight or flight kicked in, there was something else under it all. Something that felt like he had swallowed a lightning bolt.

"Get! Off!"

This time, when Dimitri shoved, that lightning answered his call. When his hands found the armored chest of his own body, they struck like a battering ram. While the arms were not stronger, something like pure force released from the palms, making the knight's body stumble back. It was all he needed, staggering with clumsy steps as he finally broke away. Those same hands lifted to the mask, finding it suddenly stifling in the wake of channeling all that power. Magic. He had used magic.

The golden mask sank partially into the mud as he threw it off. Staring back at her from under the hood was the mage's face. Beautiful and terrible as it twisted with anger, her own mouth snarled at her as Dimitri tried to process everything. Pulling the hood back, the red hair underneath looked like blood in the dying sunlight. And the whole time, that lightning, that power, throbbed under his skin. It felt endless. Like he could turn this entire battlefield to nothing but a crater. What the fuck was this monstrous creature that he was inside?

No matter what he felt, instinct told him to find a weapon, not to call on the incomprehensible magic that begged to be allowed to fight as the adrenaline still pounded in her veins. Looking from side to side, he saw it. A discarded sword, half underneath the body of the guards Dimitri had killed just before this all started. With a grunt of effort, those foreign hands wrapped around the hilt and he dragged it from under the corpse, blade coated in mud and blood. Holding it up felt like torture, the mage's body protesting the weight immediately, but he kept it between them, breathing harsh as he tried to keep from shaking with the effort.

"What the fuck did you do? Get out of my body, witch!"

 

[Luvia]

When the blast of her own magic sent her stumbling back by a few steps, Fiamma knew for sure then. She'd recognize it anywhere. Her magic was her. Or so she'd believed, anyway. The air between them crackled with the residue of it, tasting like static on her tongue. It was electrifying and potent. She was lucky that this knight had no idea of how to wield her powers. If he did, she most likely wouldn't be alive anymore. But it also meant one more thing - that he wouldn't be able to reverse their current situation. Not on his own terms, and certainly not anytime soon.

When the mask dropped, her suspicions were confirmed. Fiamma was staring at her own face. Not from a mirror or the plate of a soldier, but from the eyes of someone else. Diamond-shaped and covered in a dust of freckles; fierce amber eyes, reddish full lips and a small, rounded nose at the tip. Begrudgingly, she had to admit that she didn't look the least bit terrifying. On the contrary, watching this knight scurry about in her body gracelessly made her look at herself from a new light - small. Insignificant. Especially from this height. It was infuriating.

Surprisingly enough, she didn't feel threatened in the slightest when he decided to point a sword at her, at his own body. She sensed that he was eager to return to it as much as she was eager to get hers back. Besides - it barely seemed that he was able to hold it up for much longer. Forget having him swing it at her.

Against her better judgement, curiosity got the better of her and Fiamma bent down to grab a sword of her own. Light. It felt so light in her hands. No. In this knight's hands. Every muscle inside this body ached and hurt, but wielding a weapon felt as easy as breathing in it. How had he been able to keep going in this condition? How long had he pushed his body despite it feeling like hell? She didn't voice it, but she respected him for it.

One swipe was all it took to smash that sword out of his hands. She sent it flying in a high arc, and a dull thud could be heard as it landed in the mud. The both of them had watched it happen, both shocked. Their eyes met almost simultaneously right after.

Anger bubbled in her chest as she appraised him. She stalked closer towards him again, noticing how it cast a shadow over her self.

"I didn't do anything. YOU on the contrary, you— if it hadn't been for you—!"

As if stuck in a terrible nightmare, she recounted where it all had gone wrong.

"You killed my soldiers! You were so close and ready to kill me with that massive spear of yours that I—"

She turned mute.

That's right. She had tripped. And because of that, she'd lost her focus. In truth, even Fiamma wasn't fully in control of her own powers. They were largely affected by her emotions as well. There were things about it she didn't understand, some she wasn't even aware of yet. Her aim had been off, too, and by the time they'd both awoken, they were like this. In her own body, she was like a ticking time-bomb, ready to blow up at any given chance.

A huge, pained sigh left her lips and she cast her face heavenward.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Pinching her nose bridge in a girlish manner, she closed her eyes, forcing herself to calm down. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she took note of how big this knight's hands were.

"Listen here, knight." She returned to stare him down. "There is no way that either of us will be able to return to our respective camps. Not like... this." They'd both get executed on the spot. "And I can't turn us back to normal. If you're not daft, you must have noticed as well that you've just used my magic." The sarcasm on her tongue felt like a tasty morsel. In his voice, it sounded biting.

"Which leaves us with little options. I don't really know how to teach you on how to utilize it either. Our best bet is to seek the advice of another seasoned mage."

She pointed at him again.

"And you will comply. There's no way in hell I'll allow you to remain in my body for any longer than necessary."

Inwardly, she scoffed at this entire charade. It was the first time that she's spoken to someone who hadn't sworn their undying allegiance to Incanda, to Hela's cause. She'd never really exchanged more than a few words with anyone but her sister either.

"Your kind has kept mine prisoner for long enough as is."

 

[Lady Jace Beleren]

Dimitri did not often look up at people. In fact, he never did. Standing with a sword drawn against a man twice his size and in full armor felt like the dumbest thing he had ever done. Of course, the mage was not twice his size. She was exactly the size that Dimitri was used to being. He should have been ready to lunge, to fight, but there was a spike of fear in his gut, knowing that this was a lopsided fight. So, when the mage picked up a blade with his hands, Dimitri did not take advantage of the opening.

The incoming swipe was sloppy. She had not braced her feet, had not even aimed to disarm. Dimitri should have been able to knock the clumsy swing away like it was nothing. Instead, as he tried to adjust his own stance, he was met with a burning pain in the forearms of the body he was currently stuck in. His fingers slipped off the hilt like they had never held a sword before. Because they likely never had. Who needed a sword when you could clear half a battlefield with your bare hands? The blade was well out of reach as the streak of silver buried itself into the mud.

His first instinct was to reach for his belt, to grab a weapon now that he had been disarmed. All he found was a bare robe, fluttering as he patted around. He doubted the mage would destroy her own body, but being unarmed made him uncomfortable. That discomfort grew to full on dread as his own body approached him. Dimitri knew how strong he was and had just been shown how weak this mage's body was. She could force him to do whatever she wanted. Instead, she... she yelled at him?!

Of course, her argument was ridiculous. Had she missed the part where this was a fucking battlefield? That her soldiers were just as willing to kill him on the spot? Or that she had likely killed many more than he ever could? Not that he knew for sure. It had only been at the end that he hunted the mage down. Worse, though, was watching the way her face twisted in exasperation, the way she pinched her nose. He had most certainly never done that. Not once in his twenty one years. That was the catalyst for him to finally break the fear, the panic, and find some kind of calm. They were at a stalemate as long as they were stuck in each other's body.

Worse, she had a point. If they went to her side, they would either undo the magic and execute him or skip the first step and simply kill them both. Vensel had half as many options. No, they were certainly stuck. While she continued to speak at him more than to him, he looked around the field, saw how little there was remaining. If they were lucky, they could scavenge some food, but every supply wagon and horse had been destroyed or fled. The same was true for the remnants of their forces. Anyone still alive had no interest in fighting to the last man.

"Seasoned mage? There are no mages in Vensel and I'm not trekking across the continent to be executed!"

Dimitri crossed his arms, the expression on the foreign face turning cold and distant. While Dimitri was intimidating when he looked at someone like this, there was something different with the fire in Fiamma's face. It was scathing, almost hateful. And it would have been effective had he not felt so uncomfortable. It took him a moment to realize why he felt so... claustrophobic. The freckles on his face were flushed with a little color as he adjusted his arms down, tucking them under the surprising new addition to his body. Oh, he would comply.

"I have no intention of keeping this body, mage. First, we need to get off this carrion field and find food. I don't know if you have noticed, between baselessly accusing me of imprisoning mages that don't even exist, we are among the dead and soon to be."

Taking a step closer, he lifted his gaze to her own, trying hard to keep his expression neutral. It was... useless. So, he turned and took two hard steps, pushing a hand through his hair, shoving the hood off. Growling, which was pathetically weak, he stomped his way between the bodies, looking for intact packs.

"There is a hole in my side and I'm covered in blood. I'm not letting my body die of an infection because your leaders shoveled propaganda into your bottle since you were a child."

 

[Luvia]

Her jaw dropped as she watched him stomp off.

Had she heard him right? He'd stamped off her history as mere 'propaganda'?

Fiamma could feel her face flush. It started by her ears, then spread to her face and neck. It heated up with unbridled and indignant anger. Naturally, she chased after him. Her pacing slowed however when she realized that she'd managed to keep up with him in less than a step. How annoying.

"You have no idea what you're talking about, you stupid knight! You ordinaries have used people like me at every chance you could. The king you serve isn't any different from all the others. Worse yet, he did nothing. As long as people in power like that exist, my people will never have a moment of peace."

She huffed after all that, passion having her speak animatedly and urgently.

In truth, all Fiamma knew was her own story on the matter. Hela had fed her whatever else she believed to know about their rebellion. She had full faith in her. Why shouldn't she? She'd depended on her sister for as long as she could remember. Hela was the reason why they'd survived this long, after all.

The only reason why she kept her mouth shut after that was because he was right—she did have a wound on her side. And it hurt.

Top that off with the exhaustion and helplessness she felt, and Fiamma was about ready to throw a fit. Mind you, she was a tough bitch. Always was and always will. But she was also so damned tired. Their circumstances weren't exactly normal either. Far from it.

So, she continued to seethe in silence.

The sound of wet, squelching mud and the stench of blood permeated the air, causing a growing sense of nausea to fester inside her. Although the reason for many felled lives, she was actually quite the squeamish individual and couldn't really stand the sight of a battlefield.

It was the very reason why she rarely made an appearance, and if she did, it'd be over as quickly as possible. This instance had been a first—Hela had sent her into this battle as the only one in command. She'd found it odd, but as per usual, Fiamma didn't question her. She fully trusted that she'd always have her best interest at heart.

After what felt like an unending trek, they'd found a decent amount of supplies and left the war-torn plains behind them. Their battle had taken place far out of any signs of civilisation, and if they were hoping to reach some any time soon, they'd have to brave a multitude of forests first. It was prevalent that they found a clear stream of water: One, to rid themselves of the grime and dirt, and two, for prey to hunt and eat.

All the while, she was forced to walk behind him, dependent on his guidance as they navigated his territory.

When they finally did chance upon a small stream of water, Fiamma finally bristled past him and kneeled in front of it, dipping her fingers into the cool water. It was freezing, but it was also a truly welcomed blessing. She would finally be able to clean this godforsaken wound and patch it up before she had to tolerate another snappy remark in regards to it. Although she was on the receiving end of it! Oh, if looks could kill. He'd be dead thirty times over. Alas.

She began to take off the black armor, feeling relief over every suffocating piece that dropped off of her body. When she got to the chain mail and then to the dark brown tunic underneath it, she stopped in her tracks and looked behind her shoulder at the knight in her body. What was his bloody name anyway? She was too proud to ask.

Fiamma raised an expectant brow at him, wrapping her arms around herself and—she blushed. His body or not, she felt unnervingly shy in that moment.

"Well? I can take care of this myself." Lies. She'd never tended to a wound before. But he didn't need to know that.

"Give a lady some privacy, will you?" She waved him away, the motion feeling less suave than she had intended.

"I can't have you see me naked."

 

[Lady Jace Beleren]

Dimitri had every intention of making her follow him. He doubted a mage would be very able when it came to scouring for supplies. After all, Vensel had only ancient history, well before the king or his father ever alive, but he knew what Incanda was like. Knew that being without magic made you lesser. So, when he leaned over to lift a pack from under the body of a dead soldier, he had trouble suppressing the snort as she called him an ordinary and declared that his king had done nothing. The snort was surprisingly delicate coming from her body. What was not delicate was the way he straightened and threw the pack at her.

"Vensel hasn't had a mage in a very long time. Sorry we didn't march our armies across to countries and displace thousands of people to stop something we never knew existed. Lagus was never very friendly, and Incanda doesn't seem much better."

By the time they had managed to make it off the battlefield, both the pack that he had given Fiamma and another he had picked up for himself were full of rations. Dried fruits, hard cheese, and salted meat. Not a banquet, but it kept armies moving so it would work for two strangers marching into nowhere. She managed to keep her mouth shut, which was helpful. Not because Dimitri thought she was right or might even change his mind. It was because the half-truths and outright lies were annoying him, and every time his emotions spiked even a little, that power crept up in response. It begged to be let loose, felt like static in his veins. He could tell that it would take almost any shape he wanted if he let it out. Mages could do complicated spell work, change the power into almost anything. He would just explode with flames or lightning or ice. Anything that could hurt. So, he pushed it down and tried to pretend it was fine. The last thing he took was a spear, so far away from the corpses it must have never been used. Black wood fastened to a pure silver point, with Vensel red tied around it.

When they finally found a stream, Dimitri almost dropped to his knees at the bank. This body was useless. Barely a few miles and the pack weighed a ton. He sank his hands into the water and sighed with relief as the cold water sucked some of the heat from his skin. The magic was starting to care less about his emotions. Or maybe he was just getting surly from how tired he was. Again. Either way, once the mud was gone from the delicate fingers of these stranger's hands, he lifted one to his mouth and sipped the water. If he did not feel sick in the next half hour, it was likely safe.

Being in front had afforded him some peace from the strangeness of it all, even if he cursed these short legs, cursed the way everything was touching everything. So, turning around to see her fumbling with his armor was a sight. Getting out of armor was doable alone, but pulling all the straps seemed to be giving her trouble. She looked almost amusing. Almost because it was all done at his expense. Luckily, the chain mail had come off faster, though he still had his arms crossed again, readjusting when he remembered that they were there. However, when she turned, arm over her chest and a blush on his cheeks, Dimitri looked at her with contempt. No. No fucking way.

"It's my godsdamned body! I'm not seeing anything new. And, even if you did know what you were doing, the wound is on my side. You can't reach it to stitch the damn thing!"

If it had been her body, it might have been charming. Coming from a grown man, it was unholy. So, he took a few very short and stomping steps toward her and grabbed the hem of the shirt. It started as a battle, with the knight's body clearly at an advantage. However, it appeared her foolishness had pushed him over the edge, magic pooling in his palms before it spread up his arms. He nearly threw her and the shirt into the air together as the garment gained a life of its own and attempted to escape. And the sight he took in made him groan.

A fucking scrape. All the sweat and movement, the armor and the straps, had agitated it something awful, made it look red and angry, but it was hardly a mortal wound. A few inches long, but shallow enough that it was already scabbing at the edges. Still, he had seen men die to less. So, now that the battle for her dignity was over, he retrieved the pack and produced a waterskin. While it looked like like he only planned to rinse it with water, Fiamma's only warning was the stinging smell of liquor as he pulled the cork. Then, he was pouring grain alcohol over it. Despite her protest, he was already back into the pack. This time, he did return with water, along with a wicked looking needle in one hand.

"Don't move. I don't need any extra holes in my side."

When the small fingers touched her skin, though, the magic leapt into action again. Maybe it recognized it's former own, or maybe he was truly as worried about stitching his own side as anyone might be. Either way, little licks of heatless flame spread out, spreading as a glowing light. The wound closed in a blink, not so much as a scar left behind.

"Hm, not bad. I doubt you use it for that very often, though, do you?"

 

[Luvia]

Fiamma squealed in shock and raised her hands in front of herself as he began to stalk towards her. It was a comical sight, given that he's probably never heard his voice make such noises before. It was a meager attempt at warding him off. Was this knight actually daft? Could he not read the damned figurative room here?

"You insensitive brute! S-stop!" At first, she pushed a hand into his face–hard, and shoved at it, practically swallowing it with how broad her palm was. Keeping him at an arm's length came as easy as breathing, all thanks to the fact that this body's limbs were conveniently long. The knight continued to wrestle his way towards her, and she kept pushing him away as if dealing with a petulant child. Had she not been as exhausted and tired as she was, she would have bet that she could have sent him flying. One powerful push and––woooo! Fiamma's smugness over this faded however, when she realized that this would end up being her once they'd managed to switch bodies again. Her mood soured even more.

"You fucking pervert, get! Off!" Their squabbling and punching continued until she could taste and smell the telltale signs of her magic. Static. He was about to use it again.

"Oh no, don't you dare– Noooo!"

A tingling sensation of heat was her only warning before the tunic seemed to have been granted with a life of its own and it forced her arms upward. Cold air greeted her sudden state of forced nakedness.

Humiliation and embrassment were written all over her face as she froze, with her arms still up in the air. Kill. She was going to kill him for this.

Instinctively, her arms wrapped around herself once more, though when her gaze wandered down her upper body, Fiamma couldn't help but gasp. Instead of peering down at a decently handful of boobs, she was looking down at the chiseled body of a man. Strong, athletic, broad. For a moment, she couldn't help but just stare in awe. Even from this angle, she could tell that this knight's body was incredible. She'd even go as far as describing it beautiful. He wasn't burly or overlty muscly, but he filled out nicely in all the right places. Well-defined shoulders, arms, pecs and abs transitioned into a trim and sculptured waist. She could tell that he'd worked hard for it. His body was a far cry from her own, most likely the result of hours upon hours of training each day. Where he was delectably hard, she was very much soft.

She'd seen naked men in their ranks on occasion, but never this up close. She was so absorbed in studying herself that when the first splash of alcohol hit her wound, Fiamma cried out in protest and nearly jumped out of her–his skin.

"OW!" Tears pricked at her eyes but she willed them away, gritting her teeth instead. She growled. That shit burned. She had half a mind to kick him in retaliation, though when he turned around to face her with something decidedly worse, she sputtered at him like a fish who had accidentally jumped on land.

"No. Chance." She wouldn't let him stitch her up with that. Was he mad?

She kicked at the ground beneath her, crawling backwards and away from him. Another surge of static permeated the air, and before either of them realized it, the wound was healed. She'd felt it too, how the tissue reconnected and zipped together almost seamlessly, painlessly. Her fingers ghosted over where the scrape used to be. Huh.

Her eyes went from the now gone wound to the culprit who'd closed it. Perhaps, there was hope with this Neanderthal after all. At the very least, he was able to use some of her magic. Perhaps with time, he'd be able to reverse their current predicament as well.

Fiamma narrowed her eyes at him, breathing heavily, overcome with a sudden desire for vengeance.

In a matter of seconds, she pushed herself up on her feet, dusting off the black pair of pants she still wore. Then, she lunged at him, itching to test her new strength.

She tackled the knight and they tumbled towards the ground, with her on top of him. She easily managed to grab him by his wrists and pinned them above his head, keeping him locked in place with her full weight. It felt odd to look at herself in such a way, but she had to force herself to overlook it.

"Hm, not bad. I doubt you use this body of yours for that very often, do you?" She nearly spat back at him, mocking him with his own choice of words from before. Then, her free hand moved. She trailed her fingers over his throat, before wrapping them around it.

"Step over my boundaries again and consequences be damned, I'll kill you. Just like this." She squeezed, though not too harshly, not making good on her threat yet. She tilted her head. "For a knight, you don't take to orders very well, do you?" She scoffed. "If you and I want to get along, we'll have to learn to... respect each other." She grimaced at that, as if the mere idea repulsed her.

"But before that, I'll get my revenge, hm?" A downright sadistic smile was all he got before Fiamma's hand around his neck vanished.

Instead, she did something entirely awful and ridiculous all the same. She tickled him. After all, he was in her body. She knew exactly where and how to torture herself the most. Underneath her arms, over her stomach, the sides of her neck–she was relentless and ruthless in her attack until she saw him become breathless, whiney and teary-eyed.

Satisfied with her work, she got off of him and stood, running a hand through her hair. She stilled. So short.

"You better keep your eyes where I can see them when you wash up, or this––," she pointed at her groin. Then, she help up a hand, curling her fingers into her palm until only her middle and index finger remained. She wiggled them together in a scissor-like motion. "Do you understand?"

 

[Lady Jace Beleren]

Dimitri did not mind being called names. He was a soldier, fancy title or not. Sometimes, he was treated like trash in the name of discipline and sometimes he simply got into a fight on the more tense days when all the troops were on edge. What he did not enjoy one fucking bit was being the short one in a game of keep-away. There were plenty of indelicate noises escaping as he tried to wrestle with his own damn body, face covered by a huge palm. It was, in a way, worth the effort to see how absolutely absurd she looked. His body or not, he was not the one embarrassing himself by covering a male chest like his chastity depended on it. He chose not to notice how she was immediately distracted by that chest, and certainly tried to block out that awful sound of her squealing in his voice.

The rest was surprisingly easy, though he doubted it would have been that way if her magic had not been so cooperative. While she was impressed, Dimitri was becoming increasingly concerned about how they were going to survive when every emotion had a chance to literally blow up in their face. He had turned to return the needle to the healing kit he had found when she rushed him.

This time, it was Dimitri's turn to let out a noise that unsettled him. The needle flew off somewhere into the brush and he let out a half squeaking and half screaming cry that filled the clearing around the stream. She was so much fucking stronger than him that it was frightening. No one had ever overpowered him like this in his adult life. This time magic did not come to his call, because the emotions inside of him were more than slightly confused. His hands were pinned above his head and he looked up at her with the confusion written all over his face. She might kill him, unlikely as it was even as her hands found his throat, but there was something about this position that completely fucked with his equilibrium. Thankfully, she was also being insulting and that helped guide him.

"I don't usually tackle mouthy mages with a superiority complex to the ground, no."

Those fingers tightened and a gasp of air escaped. Her gaze was lethal and he knew she meant it, though her boundaries were certainly not reasonable given the circumstances. A little respect would go a long way given that they were stuck together for the foreseeable future. He should have been listening, but there was something very strange happening to his stomach, or near his stomach. An uncomfortable heat that was incredibly distracting. He managed to shake it off for a moment, trying to give her his acceptance, when she announced her need for revenge. Then, his face dropped.

Dimitri hoped he never made noises like this again in his life, however long it was. Her fingers found exactly the right spots to render him helpless, arching and squirming on the ground as he tried to stifle the giggling that erupted. No matter what he wanted, there was no way to make the sound anything but purely feminine. It was torture, her weight keeping him from going far. By the time she released him, he was practically wheezing, curling up and panting against the dirt, tears running down his cheeks. Before he could even get back to his feet, sniffling a bit as he wiped his eyes, she threatened him again. And this one ticked a nerve.

"Oh, get over yourself. I agree about the respect and I'll be mindful of your... boundaries, but I'm not going to play games over taking care of our bodies. Unless you want to wash me yourself, I'll be doing to job and looking wherever I need to."

Now feeling absolutely boiled in this stupid robe, he started to tug it up at the knees. Dimitri was aware that she had something underneath and that there were no pants. Otherwise, the robe made it nearly impossible to tell. It was covering everything that mattered and plenty else, so her boundaries were safe. When the robe finally pulled over his head and he threw it to the ground, though, he found himself distracted.

Not simply because there was most certainly a woman's body underneath that robe, and one that he could see plenty of very appealing curves on, but because of the dress that he wore. It was like someone had taken a priestess out of a temple and told her she needed to be beautiful. The whole thing was tailored to fit, hugging every curve in a way that made him want to run his hands over them. Her bust was certainly not overly large, which he was grateful of for many reasons, but he could see why he had been so claustrophobic crossing his arms. The dress outlined them, hugged them tight, then went down the flat plane of her stomach before flaring out at her hips. Her hips were when he realized he was staring at his temporary body too much. So, he tried to make it obvious he cared about the dress. Pure white with a collar that covered half his throat. It had a river of gold going down the center from top to bottom with all kinds of creeping vine-like patterns and swirling embroidery on the sleeves and shoulders. It was, thankfully, slit up the sides to the knee for mobility and he could even see sensible half-length boots at the bottom. Only once he was done with his unwittingly appraisal did he realize how long he had been quiet for.

"Dimitri... my name is Dimitri Cartier... Sir Cartier."

His face was flushed again as he cleared his throat and tried to make it less awkward that he had blatantly checked out her body after telling her it was ridiculous to worry. Instead, he threw the robe out into a fanning blanket for the floor of the forest. He felt fine enough, aside from still being short of breath, his throat burning with thirst, his legs aching, and his entire brain being far too aware of every move he was making.

"The water from the stream seems safe. We should eat a good meal and make sure we refill the water before we leave. Otherwise, I don't see much else we need to discuss. Do you?"

His eyes avoided her like it would bring his death to have them meet. Dragged the pack toward the robe, he moved to sit, taking a few tries to find something comfortable. He settled for sitting on his knees, legs tucked tight together.

 

[Luvia]

Wash him herself?

Fiamma raised her brows and jutted out her lips, then snapped her fingers, as if struck by an epiphany. That actually sounded like a great idea. She'd be washing her own body, after all. With a subtle nod a sway to her hips, she turned her back on him and resumed what she'd initially started. She sank down on her knees, feeling eager to rid herself of all the sweat and grime that had accumulated on her skin and under her nails. Yuck. She felt uncomfortable and dirty.

Due to this, she was oblivious to the way the knight assessed her body, instead busying herself with dipping first her hands into the cool stream, then her forearms. The water was too cold and too shallow to submerge herself in it, so she began to scoop a little bit at a time into one hand, pouring it over every patch of skin she could reach, multiple times.

"Hm?" She acknowledged absentmindedly when he spoke up again. For a moment, Fiamma stopped her cleaning, semi-marvelling at how smooth yet taut his skin felt under her ministrations.

"Your name?" She didn't even spare him a glance. She shrugged. "Your title suits you well, I suppose." Compared to how she'd chosen to talk to him thus far, she decided to genuinely compliment him. Fiamma usually gave credit where credit was due. "Whether you were born with these talents of yours or not, you make a fine knight. A reliable one. You're strong." She looked down at his hands, testing their flexibility by wiggling her fingers. Unlike her own, his were rough and calloused, and she could see the white outline of small, barely visible scars. He'd worked hard to be where he was today, whether voluntarily or not. She could see that.

From here on, she continued to wash herself, suddenly lost in thought.

She didn't hate talking to him, she realized.

This whole exchange was so different from what she'd imagined. Ordinaries were supposed to be evil. Heartless. Greedy. Cruel. Like Kasaran and his entire court. Ever since the tender age of six, his kind was all Fiamma had known; big, tough and scary old men who were versed in the art of war and slaughter. She'd forgotten her parents' faces, her childhood before being forced into servitude but a misty blur. The drab and cold stone walls of her little enclosure in his castle had been her world. Her daily life had consisted of sleeping away her days on a cod, curling in on herself in a constant state of fright. Stale, hard bread and cold, watery potato soup day in and day out. She was mostly spared from Kasaran and his wrath, for it was Hela who he usually whisked away or beat within an inch of her life for blatant insubordination.

The only times when Fiamma got a taste of what the world looked like beyond her stone walls was whenever he put the sisters on display for their magical powers. But even then, he'd never known the full extend of her magical capabilities, not until the day she'd used them to burn him to death. Quite literally. She'd kept them hidden and repressed, because Hela said so. And unlike Hela, she hadn't been pushed to a point of no return yet. Not in a fundamental sense. The sisters were like two sides of the same coin; like light and shadow, like the moon and the sun.

"Fiamma," she murmured after a while, her tone somber, her eyes set on the sky above. Despite their current circumstances, she felt free. Free to breathe some fresh air. Free to go wherever she wanted. Free to look at the sky unabashedly and for however long she wished. "I don't have a last name. I can't recall my family, and I have no titles either. Just Fiamma."

She couldn't believe that she was offering him her name as well. Not even a whole day had passed wherein they'd tried to kill each other in earnest. And now? They were casually talking. She knew nothing about Dimitri, but she could tell that he wasn't how she'd been told he would be; him representing the entirety of those who opposed Incanda. He was entirely too... human for that. She could sense elements of a decent person in him.

Why?

She asked herself a question she'd never thought to ask herself. Was it possible for mages and ordinaries to co-exist?

She finally tossed him a look from behind her shoulder.

That's when she noticed that he'd discarded her robe and that he seemed to avoid eye contact with her. He looked awkward, and it was obvious why. Surprisingly enough, she found it quite... endearing. It seemed that he wasn't a skilled liar at all, and she preferred that.

"Pffft, you won't last long, sitting like that." She got up from her spot in front of the stream and moved to grab her pack, fishing for a strip of the dried meat. She couldn't wait to get a proper night's rest.

Unlike Dimitri, she chose to sit on a nearby rock. Her preferred way to sit was to cross one leg over the other, so when she moved to do just that out of habit, Fiamma nearly choked on her food. What the fu––

That's when she finally, truly noticed it. That... thing between her thighs. Crossing her legs like she used to do felt impossible.

"Is it just me or are you packing, Dimitri?" She chose to call him by his name, not his title. She wiggled her eyebrows at him, though her voice revealed that she felt extremely disturbed by this. She pointed at it. "That thing feels heavy. And inconvenient! Gods. You could have warned me. I need you to learn how to control my magic as soon as possible." Her gaze raked over her new body once more and stopped at her crotch. She would be lying if she said that she wasn't... curious. "Does it need any type of special care? I'm afraid we'll have to talk about at least that much."

 

[Lady Jace Beleren]

Dimitri, luckily for both himself and the mage in his body, did not think about the complexities of the matter when it came to his body and privacy. She was simply washing it and he would be grateful that she did so. Had he known about the thoughts going through her head and how much she was enjoying herself... himself, he might have been properly irritated. The compliments, though, were startling. He had expected her to tear into him any chance she got. Instead, she was calling him talented. That was certainly a confusing set of circumstances. It did bring one thing to mind, however. Incanda was indeed secretive, and she had been marked as the commander of the army. How often did she see people who were not a part of the war effort? Had she ever been normal? She was young, around his age. That meant she had been a teen at most when the war started.

"My late teacher, the one whose title I wear, picked me because I was head and shoulders above the other children. I'm not talented. I'm just tall."

Of course, Fiamma managed to confirm that neither of them had been given a normal life growing up. No family name. Even in Vensel, an orphan who never found a home took a surname of their choice, a dream of a family. She had nothing. Her name though, was pretty. Even coming out in his voice, he could hear the sound of it dripping with her native language. Whether he call it Lagus or Incanda, they were so far apart that it was lucky they even spoke the same tongue. So, when he tried it, it came out flat and clumsy.

"Fiamma... would it be proper to call you Fia? If not, I'll figure it out, I suppose."

He had already started to nibble on a piece of hard cheese when she turned to evaluate his sitting position. Despite her warning that it would be a poor choice, he continued to eat his cheese, cheeks a little flushed with embarrassment. She was right, obviously. Her body was not used to the stress from walking and his legs already ached. The forest floor was not forgiving even through the robe, either. He lasted about thirty more seconds before he sighed and moved to sit with his legs tucked in, the slits of the dress putting her knees on clear display. Still, he did not give her the satisfaction of a response regarding his sitting posture. No, he would chew his bland cheese and keep his mouth...

Dimitri nearly spit the cheese out all over what would be his makeshift blanket, instead opting to swallow it despite it being far too unchewed. His eyes streamed tears as the pain filled his throat. But, he did not care. No. He was rising to his feet and the look on his face was somewhere between real anger, so different from the dispassionate warrior who had been on the battlefield, and absolute horror. His blush had spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears and his hands were clenched tight at his side.

"Aren't you a lady?! Gods above and below, what is wrong with you? It isn't like I've been pulling it out every time we make camp to compare."

And now, the lid was off. Dimitri had been trying to keep this civil, but clearly that was no longer an option. No, she was intent in dragging this entire thing through the mud. So, he would meet her at her own level.

"You wash it! All of it. And how the hell do you think I feel? These have been weighing me down the whole day!"

Dimitri pointed to the shapely breasts that were now so blatantly in his face with the robe off. No matter how angry he was, he had no intention to touch them. Next, he waved his hand toward the lower half.

"And your thighs are always touching one another! I had to change the entire way I walk to not rub them raw. So, I'm sorry you have to deal with my having a big cock, you lecher!"

Dimitri froze like a bolt from the heavens had cleaved his whole existence in half. Everything that he said was now pummeling him into the ground with guilt and, somehow, even more embarrassment. Conveniently, the magic decided that this indignation was not enough to do something. Maybe he could have turned invisible or just simply died on the spot. Instead, he was staring at his own damned face, trying not to storm off.

"When we get this undone, it will be too soon. I'm going to bed. If you are so damned curious, go play in the bushes like a teenage boy! I won't be a part of this!"

True to his word, Dimitri nearly threw himself onto the robe, laying fully on his back and closing his eyes dramatically. That lasted about ten seconds become the weight of her breasts started to drive him insane, so he rolled on to his side, putting one arm under them, though his hands still stayed far away.

 

[Luvia]

Wide-eyed and with her lips parted ever so slightly, Fiamma didn't move an inch as he approached her.

No, instead, and much to his chagrin she could imagine, she made it very obvious that she found—this, and him—quite amusing. It was evident in the corners of her mouth. They'd curled up.

At first, she thought she'd discouraged him by not answering his question in regards to her name. Fia. Her heart had skipped a beat when he said it.

No one but her sister called her Fia. There was value and meaning behind it. Only those closest to her should have the privilege to do so. And Dimitri? He and her weren't close by any means. Her rejection had been loud and clear without her having to say anything at all.

So, when he started to give her a piece of his mind, when he finally showed her a sliver of his true self, she couldn't help but do the same. Eagerly.

"I am a lady, you insensitive little man! You were the one who insisted on taking care of each other's bodies, no? I'm asking, because I care!"

She drank his reactions in like a sponge, dry and thirsty and willing to drown herself in them. Since their siege on Lagus and Trembor, no one had ever dared to talk to her like this—and she welcomed it.

Something about Dimitri coaxed a side out of her that was entirely more playful and daring. So foreign. It made her want to tease him, want to see just how far she could push him until he snapped.

Ever since their paths have crossed, he'd been so tight-lipped and stoic and dispassionate with her that it ended up unnerving her greatly. She felt an unexplainable need to uncover his true colors, to see just who exactly this knight was. For several reasons.

Being called a lecher dealt the final blow.

A single, sole sentiment echoed inside her mind.

Cute.

She burst out laughing, though not to mock him, but because she felt pure and unfiltered mirth. Granted, at his expense.

When it became clear that his own confessions embarrassed him to no end, Fiamma laughed even harder, tears gathering in her eyes and she smacked a knee in the process.

She'd been too wary and scared for no reason. This man was the epitome of prudence!

"You—"

Her shoulders quaked and she slapped a hand over her lips in an attempt to control herself. Unsurprisingly, she failed. More laughter caused her to blow air against her fingers, and the sounds that followed egged her on even more.

"So this is what gets the honorable Sir Cartier going. I can't blame you for not being able to ignore any of what you've just mentioned. Honestly? I feel very seen." Especially about the thigh chafing.

Her eyes followed him as she wiped away some tears, huffing and puffing. When was the last time she'd laughed this carefree?

"Hey, are you really going to sleep like this?"

No response.

It seemed that she'd truly hit a nerve.

As her breathing normalized, she stood up and peered down at his—her, face. She took note of how he avoided touching her body at all costs and it warmed her insides.

"I'll start us a fire. Good luck trying to catch some sleep."

She rolled her eyes at his dramatics, yet sported the same, cheeky grin.

Making good on her promise, Fiamma managed to create a little fire. She'd gathered rocks and sticks, then, after long and exhausting efforts, she'd produced a flame, too. In fact, it was the first of its kind, for she'd always used her magic to make her life easier.

She sighed as if the weight of the entire world pressed down on her soul.

Her magic.

She stared at Dimitri's back across the flames, feeling so hollow all of a sudden.

She missed it, her magic; it entailed far more than her just manipulating the elements to her will. Magic was all around them—sentient, and as much a part of her as she was a part of it. They both existed for each other and for the sake of balance. At least, that's what it told her.

Eventually, Fiamma retrieved the tunic and dressed, then laid down on the hard forest floor.

Sleep didn't claim her right away.

Her thoughts went to her sister, to their allies, to her own role in this war. Would they come looking for her? Did anyone care? What if they just assumed that she'd died by the time the news spread?

No one was here to guide her, to tell her what to do. For the first time ever, she was all on her own.

She pulled her legs up and into herself, laying on her side as she hugged them.

She could only hope that tomorrow would bring her more answers.

 

[Lady Jace Beleren]

As a knight, he had been denied the company of women most of the time. He had met a few, but not done much chatting or flirting. Still, even Dimitri could read the resounding no that came off her in waves at the idea of Fia. Then, it was not just a bad idea. It was forbidden. Understood. He could deal with her a little easier now that they knew each other's names...

Dimitri was almost sputtering as he tried to deal with her response. He should have told her that she had focused completely on the wrong part of the problem. Washing had been the most innocuous thing she had mentioned. No, she had said he was packing?! And called it heavy?! What was wrong with her? With a mental sigh, Dimitri pulled in and told himself the truth. It was his problem. However, the sudden and unending flood of laughter did not help him think that. No, she was practically wheezing with it even as he threw himself onto the ground like a pouty child. And, to make matters worse, because she seemed so fucking good at making it worse, she seemed pleased with what he said. Felt seen!

No, he refused to answer her when she asked him if he would sleep. It seemed very clear he was done with her. She had been a little vulgar and extremely forward, but he had been in and around the army for almost a decade. Vensel had women in their rank and file. A few had even earned knighthood, though they were certainly the exception. He had been around women when they were in their cups with the other soldiers. Had heard plenty both in conversation and when he was trying his best to sleep. She should not have been able to get under his skin so easily. He was just so on edge from being in this body, worried he might do something that he would regret, that he was worried about every word.

He heard Fiamma going about the process of making a fire and finally managed to slip into his own thoughts. Because something else was bothering him. She had laughed so loud and so hard, but it had sounded as foreign as her own voice did when he spoke. How long had it been since he laughed like that on his own? Certainly not since the day he became a knight. Maybe not since the day he had been pulled out of line on the way to the barracks. He had laughed occasionally, but never like that. Yes, he was the problem here.

As he began to finally drift away, he heard the sound of fire crackling to life. All he could think was... Good work, Fiamma.

---

Dimitri woke on his back, his long limbs sprawled out to cover as much ground as possible. That was how he naturally slept, how he preferred to lay. His muscles ached a little, but it was nothing as bad as he had expected. With a groan, he slowly lifted himself from the forest floor. A quick look confirmed no animals had rummaged through their packs, likely because of the fire. He stretched upward, several pops coming from his lower back. When he turned, however, he saw something unexpected.

Fiamma had curled up in her sleep, tucked herself into small ball. And Dimitri was currently looking directly at the thighs he had cursed the day before, along with the full curve of her ass, barely covered by the end of the dress. His heart stopped and he noted that he had been very correct in his assessment of her figure. She was... well, Dimitri already felt a guilt-ridden rush of heat and blood to his...

He was in his own body. They both were. The magic had been temporary! He was finally able to free himself of this... this high ranking commander and incredibly powerful mage. Possibly even a key part of Incanda's army. Had his heart even had time to start beating again before it was gripped cold in his chest. No, he had not laughed in a long time and someone just like her was responsible.

Slow as he could manage, Dimitri found the spear beside their packs. He wrapped both hands around the shaft and tried his best to lift it silently. He succeeded in bumping the wood against a rock with a hollow thunk. Quickly, his eyes shifted to the sleeping mage, trying so very hard to not think about how the shift in angle had given him even better vantage on her... fuck, what was wrong with him? He was a knight and a soldier! He had a fucking duty!

Fiamma had not moved at the noise. Dimitri straightened and walked close, already lifting the spear into a striking position. If she woke up, she would turn him to ash in a moment. He had felt how easy it would be, and panic had certainly made the magic more potent when he had it. He raised the spear and took another step.

Beautiful. Gorgeous. Quite literally perfection. That was what filled his head the moment he saw the sleeping face of the mage. It had not occurred to him until now that Dimitri had never seen her face. She had been wearing the mask when they first met. And she was a goddess. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but for Dimitri it was truly. Full, pouty lips currently looking a little annoyed by whatever was in her dreams, a little nose that just screamed adorable, and freckles. Gods, he could not stop staring at her freckles. How had he worn that face for hours and not known? Oh no, what had he said using that mouth?

There was no way. No possible way that Dimitri could bring the spear down. Vensel could hang him and he could rot in the hells. He was not going to kill this mage. It would be a cruel act to rob the world of her, no matter what horrible things she had done for her country. How many had he killed? He was no better. So, he turned as sank the tip of the spear into the dirt with a near silent slink of metal. Gentle as he could manage, he knelt and jostled Fiamma at the hip to wake her slowly.

"Wake up, Fiamma. Whatever the magic was, it was temporary. We can go our separate ways."

 

[Luvia]

Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump.

Fiamma's heart was beating wildly against her chest.

She tried her hardest to keep her breathing even and to minimize any sort of eye movement, lest she wanted Dimitri to know that she, too, was awake.

Right away, she'd known that they had returned into their respective bodies; her magic was thrumming excitedly under her skin like a pet that was happy to welcome back its owner.

As he hovered above her, watched her, she had the foreboding feeling that he'd grabbed a weapon, and the energy around them felt charged, heavy.

Her mind was racing and her survival instincts told her to steel herself. She was ready for a fatal blow, any sort of signal that would give away a strike—but, it never came.

Her fingers twitched ever so slightly, the magic on her tips calming, withdrawing back into her body.

Why did she feel so relieved?

Why did his decision to not harm her make her feel so happy?

Had Dimitri decided to kill her, she would have struck him first. She would have ended him before he could have ended her.

Do not fear, do not falter, do not yield—such was the morale that powered Incanda's might. Fiamma had certainly blossomed into a fearless mage. However. The fact that she'd spared this knight's life right then and there could have been considered as treason. She'd reclaimed her body. Objectively speaking, there was no reason to keep him alive. After Vensel had refused Hela's call to submit to her armies, her orders had been clear: Dispose of those who refused to kneel. Dimitri was a dutiful and honorable knight. He'd never bend his knee.

Her heart grew heavy and she opened her eyes. It was time to return to normalcy.

"Hmmnh," she whined, raising a hand to rub her eyes. She needed to stretch. She also vaguely noted that the sun hadn't reached its full peak yet. Dawn was still upon them.

Her long, copper hair fell behind her back as she sat herself up. She turned her head—and looked straight into the most strikingly beautiful eyes she's ever seen.

Her breath snagged in her throat as she took him in, kneeling so closely right beside her.

She caught sight of black raven hair that starkly contrasted his pale skin; a few errant strands had fallen into his face as he peered down at her.

Fiamma's lips parted in shock.

Dimitri Cartier was all sharp features and sinful lips.

It was only now, too, that she was properly able to appreciate his wide shoulders—and those eyes. Silvery and piercing. She'd never seen such entrancing eyes before.

Had she not known him to be a straight-laced stick in the mud, she would have thought him to be a devious, dangerous man. His looks were completely deceiving. This man was hot.

She pushed her thighs together, the tips of her ears turning a faint shade of pink.

"G-good morning," Fiamma averted her gaze, clearing her throat awkwardly. "Who would have thought! Aren't we lucky?"

He certainly seemed enthused. Why didn't she?

Confused by this, she moved to stand up in a hurry, suddenly feeling like putting some distance between the two.

Which, she learned quickly, turned out to be a fatal mistake.

Fiamma wobbled unsteadily and she lost her equilibrium. Naturally, her hands gravitated towards Dimitri in an attempt to catch and steady herself. Instead, she ended up throwing her whole weight at him, catching them both off-guard and flying towards the ground.

"Ugh," she groaned, her eyes closed.

For a moment, the forest was silent except for the pitter-patter of the nearby stream and the sound of a flock of enthusiastic birds.

When she opened her eyes again, she found her face buried in his neck and her hands on his chest, her body tucked snugly between his legs.

Wordlessly, the mage froze, though not without noticing how good he smelled. She inhaled his scent—amber, musky. Something heady and warm.

Fiamma raised her head in embarrassment. "I'm—woah, sorry about that."

 

[Lady Jace Beleren]

Dimitri should have been disappointed in himself. Fiamma should have died right then and there. That did not make it happen, did not make him feel shame as she shifted and slowly turned herself over to look at him. Damn, she was cute, looking slightly sleepy as she finally came fully to. When those eyes fully opened and met his own, though, there was some else in it. His eyebrow raised as she looked him over like he was a foreign thing.

That was fair enough, he supposed. Not like he had taken seeing her face so easily. It was unlikely that she had the same kind of thoughts, and she definitely was not sneaking the peeks he had even when he was seriously considering betraying her. Looking into her eyes was harder to deal with than her sleeping face. Because, her eyes were striking. Was it her magic that made them look like that? Like she was lit from within with fire. It made her freckles stand out more and that was absolutely dangerous. He needed to get her away from him before something stupid happened.

Dimitri forced a smile as she agreed with him about the idea of being able to part. Maybe he was a bleeding heart and had hoped she would decide her country was wrong when they barely even discussed the reality of the war. He wanted her to stay, and made sure that he told himself it was only because she could help their cause. A mage could change the whole war. He was already planting a hand to rise up from his squatting position when she scrambled and had nothing close to balance when she toppled into him.

They were both on the ground in a heartbeat and her small hands pressed against his chest in a sudden need for stability. Fiamma's face pressed against his neck and all Dimitri could think to do was try to help her by planting a hand on her lower back. All at once, they were in the most compromising position he had ever found himself. Her dress was blissfully long enough to keep anything from getting too serious, but he had only had a woman in his lap once before. A stupid dare during a feast after his first victory. A female soldier who had been a little too drunk climbed on him right in the mess hall. And Dimitri had shoved her off in an instant, even a little lost in his drinks. Now, he had no idea what to do.

Her face was flushed and her expression showed she was embarrassed, but the way she apologized had his head swimming. She was so fucking close. There was a small signal in his head saying he should kiss her. So, he turned his face away immediately.

"It's fine. Just an accident."

That was when Dimitri remembered his hand was still on her lower back, that he was still holding her in place. So, he let it slip away and barely moved until she finally managed make her way back to her feet. Once he was certain there was no chance of her stumbling again, Dimitri moved to his feet himself. They needed to get the hell away from each other before they made some stupid mistake and that seemed like it was becoming unavoidable. He took a long step backward, turning sharply on his heel to find the disorganized pile of armor that Fiamma had left behind.

"We have enough food for each of us to take a pack and get back to our respective sides. You have your magic back. No need to have me help you from here."

The first piece of armor was always the worst of it. Up before the sun was fully in the sky, he had to buckle himself in as best he could. Unlike his master, he had no squire to help with it. Luckily, the wound in his side had healed so quickly it might have never been there. Otherwise, the twisting it required for him to pulp the leather straps would have been hell. First, one side. Then, the other. And, as he pulled it tight and tried to fasten it, he blinked.

When Dimitri opened his eyes, he was looking at a knight trying to fit himself into his armor. He should have been frustrated. Should have screamed as he realized he was back in the mage's body. And he was, at least a little. But, there was a relief under it all. This was not over yet.

"Damn it all... it appears that we are not free of it yet. I suppose the plan is the same as before, then?"

His skin felt a little warm in this body, maybe because of the magic. But, it flushed more when he thought of something else. If they were going to walk, there was no way he could tolerate the feeling that had already started the day before. Trying to ignore how eagerly he was accepting this new situation, he turned to Fiamma, now untwisted.

"I need to wash up before we leave."

 

[Luvia]

When his hand on her lower back moved a little, of which she was sure Dimitri himself wasn't even aware, Fiamma had a hard time suppressing a soft little moan. She'd never realized that it was such a sensitive area for her until... well, now. How? Her dress was made of a sturdy and thick material. She was wearing so many layers as well. How did that feel so good?

Dangerous, that one.

There was a moment of charged energy, the kind that could only be produced by two people being so close together. It felt electrifying and ticklish all the same, having her eyes ghost over the expanse of his face until they lingered at his lips. A single thought crossed her mind.

Would they taste as delectable as they looked?

Good gods.

She chastized herself as she processed this.

I think I'm a special kind of stupid.

She got up and faced the other way immediately, terrified he could possibly read her thoughts.

Stop. It.

She could not sexualize a man whose comrades she'd killed on the other side of the battlefield not too long ago. Then again... so had he, no? She gave herself a mental shake.

With both of their backs turned to one another, Fiamma dusted off her skirt and picked up her robe, giving it a good shake. Instead of putting it on again though, she draped it over her arm.

"For the record, I never needed your help from the start, thank you very much, Sir Obvious."

Despite herself, she couldn't help but look in his general direction. She remembered what he'd said about the reason why he'd been chosen to fight in this war—his height. Now that she was back in her own body, she could see why. Compared to her, he was fucking enormous.

As he strapped on his armor, her thoughts returned to where she'd left them the night before. As of the latest status, Hela and most of their firepower were currently residing in Trembor. Due to the fact that it was located right between Lagus and Vensel, it served as a perfect point to oversee the war. If she wanted to return to the castle in the capital, it would take her at least a good week on foot, if not more. Neither of them had horses, which meant that it would be an arduous trek for the both of them, regardless of their destination.

"I suppose this is where we—"

...

Huh?

She'd blinked. Once. ONCE.

In a matter of the tiniest second, Fiamma could physically feel how her magic tore at her soul and slipped away. And before she knew it, she felt heavy. No. She felt Dimitri's heavy armor weighing down on her.

They'd switched. Again. Why?!

She should have been upset. Way more upset. But...

Her head whipped around to look at him.

She grew embarrassingly self-conscious as she was once more forced to look at her own body from another perspective. This was how she'd woken up?

"We had a plan?" Her hands went to her hair and she tousled it in frustration.

"We've made it off of the battlefield and managed to heal your wound. What is our next step?" She began to pace. "We need to find better accommodations. If possible, a place that is still close to a forest, as harnessing magic is simpler in nature." She stopped as she realized that she'd just given away a very defining factor about her kind. Shoot. Her hands ended up resting on her hips. "If we want to reverse this madness for good, I need some time to think and to study our bodies. We ought to make haste as soon as possible."

So when the topic of Dimitri washing up came up, she shook her head. For several reasons. Now that she knew how he looked like, it mattered not whether he was in his own body or hers.

He'd wash himself over her dead body.

She closed the distance between them and took a hold of her robe.

Srrrrt.

Fiamma was flabbergasted by how easy it was to tear a piece off of it.

She went to the stream and dipped the cloth underneath the surface, waiting for it to be completely drenched. Then, she turned and tossed it at Dimitri.

"For now, you're only allowed to wash up the surfaces that I can see from here. If you'd like to properly wash, we better get a move on. Lead us to the nearest village you can think of."

 

[Lady Jace Beleren]

Dimitri could only roll his eyes at the idea that she needed no help. Of course the mighty mage did not need help now that she was annoyed. He decided not to point out that she had asked for his help to guide them just yesterday. And if they had not been lucky enough to slip back into their reversed bodies, he had planned to tell her exactly that. Instead, he was feeling a little panicked.

And Fiamma seemed even more incensed after that. She questioned his plan, told him that he was going to do exactly what she wanted and more or less decided that everything would be her way. He barely even noticed the little secret she had dropped. Instead, he was worried about the suddenly growing static that prickled at his spine. The more she spoke, the more he wanted to throw whatever this thing inside was at her stupid face, his stupid face.

"That was the plan, you know. The entire time you had been thinking we were just wandering, I was leading us to the village to the north. It's two days away."

She charged toward him and his hands tightened into angry fists as he felt the magic try to surge out. Luckily, the grip he had on the robe made it so she did not take the whole thing with her. Instead, it tore and nearly took Dimitri with it as he stumbled forward. A growl came out feminine and angry, and for some reason all he could think to do was stomp his foot. It crackled like lightning, but nothing happened aside from a very feeble crack in the ground. Apparently, nature or not, his magic was certainly not doing what he wanted. He was looking down at the crack when the rag hit his face with a wet slap.

He pulled it away with another growl, but instead of saying something about how she was being a complete pain in the ass about everything, he started to wipe at his neck, walking toward the stream. If she was going to be frustrated, he needed to be calm.

"Fine. I'll deal with being wildly uncomfortable for the next full two days of walking because you are being unreasonable. But, I will be unhappy if you start shrieking out of nowhere and I will not tolerate this."

Dimitri made a big show of closing his eyes as he pulled the skirts of her dress up and uses the cloth to wipe the thighs of this damned body. He tried to make it clinical, tried to ignore her reaction, but they were so fucking... soft. Even just trying to wipe them down made his fingers sink in. He finished as quickly as he could, dipping it back in the water. After that, he used it on every visible part and tossed it aside.

"I'm done. I'm sure you don't want to be uncomfortable whenever you get the body back, so that how it will be until we figure this out. Now, I'm going to get us fresh food, so be quiet."

With that, Dimitri turned toward the spear he had plunged into the dirt and pulled it free. This body was weaker than the one he was used to, but he had trained with a spear since he was a teenager. A mildly showy spin, then he was standing on the bank of the stream and watching it with sharp eyes. He had not noticed before, but her eyesight was alarmingly good. And, in a flash of silver, he plunged the spear down, lifting it to show a flailing fish letting out it's last gasps.

"Still don't need my help?"

---

The next day was awkward. Neither really wanted to deal with the other and he was already sore when they started walking. Conversation was minimal at best. And when they settled down for the evening, Dimitri made sure to wrap the robe around her lower half, just in case.

The next morning was the same. He woke up in his own body. This time, he was not stupid enough to get his hopes up. And, just like the day before, they swapped after only a few minutes. With no convenient stream today, their meals were dried meat and cheese. The whole thing was beginning to stress him. So, he had been chatty.

Told her about his village, how all the boys had been lined up to join the army, how he had been pulled out of line. He told her about the training he did with a spear, all the boring and unimportant details about him until the day he became a knight. Then, he had gone quiet for a long time. Because, for some reason, sharing that part of himself felt cruel. It was not until the sun was getting low and the forest opened up to the small village, only a dozen houses that looked like they had been gutted a while back, that he spoke again.

"The day I became a knight, I woke up to mage killing maybe a hundred of us in a single spell, including the knight I served. I should hate you. But, we found that mage and the things we did... we aren't any better. So, I don't blame you. Is that foolish?"

Even as he explained, Dimitri walked up to the first house, grabbing the handle and twisting. It creaked open ominously, revealing broken furniture and ransacked cabinets.

"Well, I guess we need to check them all, don't we?"

 

[Luvia]

One day turned into two and two bled into three.

With no means to communicate to either side, both Fiamma and Dimitri were completely isolated from any news pertaining to the war between their people. They were shunned by good fortune and doomed, forced to depend on one another for company and to bear the heaviness of being alive, of carrying the burden of the fallen and those they had left behind.

Their journey together was marked by more silence than Fiamma had ever known, in a figurative sense.

What value did she have if not Hela's shadow? What good was her magic aside from 'liberating' her people? Who were her people, exactly?

More often than not, her eyes wandered to Dimitri and it really messed with her head. In the span of the many hours that they'd spent together, she felt more connected to him than to any other person her sister had ever introduced to her in the past. It was confusing. Strange. Wrong.

She found herself alone with her self, reflecting on her actions thus far, and on her stance in all—this.

As expected, magic was abundant and everywhere in Vensel as well, and when this war had started, she'd understood it as her mission to deliver its usefulness to others; help make a home for those who had been suppressed like her and bestow magic to those who didn't have any. Perhaps then, people like her would never end up envied and locked away ever again. Hela had told her that their enemies were everywhere and that if they wanted to do good, if they wanted magic to rule for a better life for all, they'd need to strike those who were opposed to it, who sought to eliminate magic from this world once and for all.

After she'd met this knight however, one thing became more clear the more he talked about himself: The people in Vensel weren't hostile to the idea of magic. Quite the opposite - they just weren't aware of it, nor much interested in it.

'Squash those who could be a threat to us' - those were the words she'd personally abided by. Now, she wasn't so sure about any of it anymore. How was Incanda any different in its approach to how she was forced into a life of submission that she'd never asked for?

Freedom was a precious and valueable thing. As things were, what right did they have to force a way of life upon a people who wanted nothing to do with it?

Her mood was somber and grim by the time they'd found their first village.

She rewarded Dimitri's words with silence, not knowing what answer to give him. His loss felt damning to listen to and she was struck with guilt. Was all this her fault?

By the time they'd found a house that wasn't too run-down to settle in for the night, the sky was drowned in a sea of stars.

Unlike the other houses, which were smaller and shabbier, this one was spacious enough for a family to live in, and as they found out, it had belonged to this village's elder and chief. It had a spacious kitchen, a big bedroom, and a bathroom; a luxury to have for most commoners, especially farmers like these.

Unlike before, Fiamma was decidedly more mute and in low spirits, and when Dimitri joined her in the bedroom at some point, she didn't stop her stargazing. She was sat by the window sill, it likely being someone's favorite spot to relax or to read comfortably at one point. Now, it was nothing.

"Thanks for the meal," she managed to mutter in his voice, referring to the dinner that he'd fixed for them with prey they'd hunted in the forest.

A long moment of silence followed before she rose her voice again.

"Earlier, you asked me if you're foolish, didn't you?"

At last, she turned her face to look at him, tossing him a deprecating glance over her shoulder.

"What if I told you that you are?"

Fiamma shifted. They were both wearing a fresh new set of clothes, both respectively from the couple that used to live here before them.

"You've told me about yourself, knight, so I think it's only right that you know whose body it is that you're occupying." She shrugged.

"Your misery and the agonizing things that you've had to endure?" A small, hollow laugh. "It was none other than my sister and I. I killed Kasaran with those very same hands." She pointed at him, at her fingers.

"We are the reason why all of this—," her gaze went outside again, through the window, looking at all the other abandoned houses that were in her line of sight. "Why all of this…"

Fiamma pressed her lips together. It was wrong. It all felt so—wrong.

Warlords had haunted their lands long before the sisters had started their conquest. Misery begets misery.

"When I lent my powers to this war, my goal was to break the wheel of power that has been fueling this continent's terrible history, time and time again. Greed and pride are humanity's biggest sins. I thought…"

She paused, as if she'd changed her mind.

"No matter what I thought. I'm coming to realize that all I've ever done so far was nurture this wretched cycle, not break it. Isn't that foolish?"

 

[Lady Jace Beleren]

Taking over a house in an abandoned village had not been his choice for the evening. The town lay on the border between the two countries, one now controlled by Incanda and one trying to protect from the oncoming war. While they picked through the clothing and found things to fit them both, he wondered if they had been evacuated by Vensel or if Incanda had come and taken them. That was the thing he truly worried about when it came to Fiamma.

If she was just a mage, even a powerful one, she could be forgiven. There was no crime in being born with a gift and no crime in fighting for your country, even if you were being deluded into thinking it was righteous. If she was a commander, someone who gave the orders to take people from their homes and relocate them as labor for the growing nation of Incanda, he might have to reconsider killing her. Incanda believed that magic was their most important gift, and treated those without it accordingly. The survivors told stories of horror, but he doubted everyone knew. Doubted a whole army, most of whom were without magic, would agree. So, when he walked into that bedroom and saw Fiamma in his body, staring out at the stars, he hoped she was just some nobody.

The entire process of washing up and changing had been a nightmare. Dimitri had left Fiamma to it on her own. Interacting with her while either of them touched his body was absolutely not happening. For him, it had been uncomfortable to say the least. He had kept his eyes closed the whole time, hands perched on the edge of the tub. Thankfully, Fiamma had been clinical about the whole thing and it hurt more than anything. He would not have survived a gentle touch. Now, they were both clean and in fresh clothes. They had found some undergarments as well, but he could not get over how loose the shirt felt around the breasts that had irritated him for days. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he could only nod at her thanks. It was hard to break the silence after what he had said today.

Like she could read the worry in his mind, she spoke out into the dim silence and he felt his body freeze. Foolish. Of course it was foolish. And as she continued, he truly began to feel it. So, the woman he was borrowing the body of was not just a commander. Not just one of the powerful mages that kept their army strong. She was the sister of Hela. Dimitri knew Hela by name. Most of Vensel did. The Mad Witch, Hela the Deposer. She was the one who had turned Logas into Incanda. The woman he was with now, though? She was a mystery. Only known as the most powerful mage in the world, with no name to back it up. Golden Destroyer. Goddess of Magic. Death. Those were the things that his army had called the small woman he was bonded to. Now, he supposed he just called her Fiamma. Fia in his head, despite her protest. And something about her words did not sit right.

It felt wrong to speak as she explained who she was, who she saw herself as. It was pride and strength to start, but he felt it bleeding out of her with each word, like being around him had wounded her. No, this was all wrong. It did not make sense. So, when she finally lost her steam and asked that hanging question, Dimitri rose to his feet. Sitting on the sill, his body wa so much taller. The magic in his veins seemed to be drawn to her emotions, even disconnected from the body. It pulled him closer and he did not resist.

"It is foolish. Kasaran the Bloody died, what, a decade ago? How old are you Fiamma? You can't be older than I am. When you did that, how old were you? Ten, eleven? You were not trying to break some grand cycle of power. You were a little girl."

Slowly, the hands she had accused of being so monstrous reached out toward the large hands of the knight's body. He grabbed them softly and he knew as soon as their skin touched it was a mistake. He was going to do something beyond treason if he did not shake himself away this second. And he did not. He held her hands in his own and pulled her away from the windows. Guided her over to the bed

It was like they were both sleep walking, like this was some fucked up dream and they were both going to wake up. Dimitri would open his eyes and be back in his village. Fiamma would wake up and be a little girl again, never having killed at her sister's command. He could not believe that she was cruel enough to do all this on her own. He refused. So, he made her lay down, put her head on the pillow. Once she obeyed, he pushed his own pillow higher and put his head down. Like this, her eyes were level with his chest and he did the only thing he could think of.

Dimitri wrapped his arms around her head and pulled it to his chest. He had been through hell for two years, killed so many people, and he could not bring himself to blame her. He had seen her hesitate to hurt him too many times already. His fingers ran through the shaggy hair of his own body and he whispered into the starlight.

"I don't think you wanted any of this to happen, Fia."

 

[Luvia]

Upon being asked how old she was, Fiamma nodded, though truthfully, even she herself didn't know for sure. Five years? Six? How old had she been when they'd taken her? Her life before Kasaran was foggy. She barely remembered her parents' faces, their voices, the small cottage they used to live in. Six more years into captivity before she'd fought her way back to freedom on scraped knees, busted lips and bloody finger nails.

She must be around twenty-one or twenty-two at this point, though due to all the things she's experienced and seen and done, her soul felt more weary than that. Older and heavy.

So when Dimitri looked beyond the veil, beyond her role as the magical weapon that she's been treated as for most of her life—she felt so seen. So heard. So understood. How did he do that? What was he doing to her? Her lower lip quivered as her emotions took a plunge into unknown waters. She felt like crying and hiding this side of her. Hela had wanted her strong. Tough. Right now? She was just that little girl.

Her brows drew together in confusion and her eyes went from their connected hands to look into his face when Dimitri closed both the figurative and physical distance between them. A question lingered there. What are you…?

As if transfixed by the gentleness with which he handled her, she allowed him to do as he pleased, curious to see where this was leading to. Being put to sleep was one thing, but the hug that followed?

Her head was swimming.

She buried her face into his warmth, subtly noting that her own scent was very much soothing and inviting. Like vanilla and something decidedly sweet.

Reluctantly, she wrapped an arm around his midsection and pulled him closer, the motion easy, as if her body was as light as a feather.

What really did her in though, was when he called her by that. Fia. Coming from him this time around, it sounded so comforting. Precious. Like truly something special. And it felt right. He wasn't talking to his enemy, to her as a commander. He was talking to her.

Tears started to well in her eyes and she bit her tongue in retaliation. But—to no avail. They came in hot and fast. Fiamma grabbed him by the fabric at his back, digging her fingers into it, holding it tight. At first, they fell silently into his shirt, soaking the linen a little at a time. Then, her body gradually shook with the intensity of the emotions she was feeling. She let go.

She didn't know when she'd fallen asleep, but when she did, all she would remember the next morning were his gentle fingers in her hair and his soft breathing above her head.

- - -

Bright.

Although the sun was beating down upon them in the early morning hours, the air in the room was annoyingly cold. Winter was upon them soon and it showed in the way the days got shorter and the weather turned towards more crisp and colder temperatures.

Although she'd cried to her heart's content, Fiamma couldn't help but notice that she felt completely fine. That's when she remembered—they'd switched bodies again, as has become a common occurrence. Each time they had, they'd been able to remain in their own bodies for a little bit longer. What was the correlation? Was it their budding and surprisingly amicable relationship?

Come to think of it. What were they?

Her heart fluttered at the prospect of considering Dimitri as a friend. She found herself wanting to be close to him.

As if he had been privy to her thoughts, something—or rather, someone, stirred within her arms. Fiamma's eyes flew open and her body tensed. It seemed that they'd fallen asleep in the same position he'd comforted her in.

Heat shot into her cheeks. Her fingers in his hair twitched nervously. Dimitri responded by nuzzling his face into her chest even more, his arm around her tightening. Oddly sensitive, that little bit of friction caused for a small sound to leave her lips, sounding suspiciously much like a… moan.

Judging by how his body suddenly tensed as well, he must have heard it too. Greeeat. Just fan-fucking-tastic.

"Let's—untangle at the count of three, shall we? Nice and slow."

After yesterday, she couldn't help the awkwardness and embarrassment that tinged those words. Being around him in their actual bodies had been nerve-wracking enough as is since day one. Now? Now she felt incredible levels of shyness as well.

One, two, three—

Instead of going nice and slow, the pair did the opposite. It resulted in them getting tangled up even more, rolling and fidgeting until Fiamma ended up on her back, huffing and puffing, eyes wide as Dimitri loomed above her, with both of his hands resting on each side of her face.

 

[Lady Jace Beleren]

There were a lot of things true about Dimitri that he might never share with anyone. The reason he was being so kind to Fiamma might have been one of them. He still had not decided if he could open up about what he had seen and done because of this war. He never forgot how young he had been the day he was in line to become a soldier. He was lucky, but there had been plenty of other teenage boys and girls that had gone off then and after. He had seen them kill and be killed, had seen them after the battles too. Some of them, if they lived a few weeks or months, reminded him of the mage he held. Caustic, arrogant, hiding something inside. So, he had decided maybe he could actually help for once.

The other truth, far more damning, was that he wanted to be right. He wanted to be right about her. He wanted Fiamma to be what he hoped. Because Dimitri was a fucking idiot and she was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. Because her attitude when she gave him a biting reply was amusing, even if he reacted otherwise. The mornings were the best. Hearing her tease and threaten him in her own voice. So, when he felt her break, felt strong knight's hands bundle into his shirt and the small initial tears making her shake, it was a relief. She was human and there was a chance he could make this right.

Soon, she was sobbing in earnest and all he could do was continue to give her comfort. It felt inadequate, as Fiamma became more and more upset. However, she seemed to be happy with it, seemed to be getting everything she needed. So, he just stroked her hair until she finally drifted off. And he did soon enough as well, strangely comfortable even he held his own body.

---

Just like the other mornings before this one, Dimitri awoke before Fiamma. His eyes were burning a little, feeling bruised and puffy. He had a headache, though it was rather dim now. And, as he gripped the fabric of the shirt his hand was resting on, he knew where he was. The scent of vanilla and sweetness was flooding his mind and pushed the discomfort away. It was calming and, at the same time, made his pulse speed up. He should have moved away, but he was tired and her body felt so good in his arms. So, he stayed.

Dimitri stayed like that for a while, just hanging on the edge of waking and sleeping. At some point, he held her back tightly and pressed his face a little closer. He had been aware of where his face was, but currently he was more concerned with comfort. Until that soft, almost breathy, sound escaped from his pillows mouth. That made him very aware of other things.

When she suddenly declared that they should untangle themselves, Dimitri realized something. He did not want to. Not on three and not at all. She seemed to disagree, but he had no intention to allow it. Holding her back still, he went to pull away from her chest. That had not been what he wanted, after all. He was trying to lift his head when Fiamma decided that she was ready, that they had reached three.

It pulled him toward her, which caused him to almost tumble forward when she rolled. Instead of falling on her, Dimitri took the chance to plant his hand. They fought over the position of their body parts, over whether he would collapse on her or she would continue to roll away. In the end, she was on her back, looking up at him, and Dimitri looked down at her.

This was the most dangerous time of the day. When Fiamma was in her own body and Dimitri could see her face. She was so beautiful and there was nothing he could do to keep himself from getting lost in it. So, when he found himself looking into her eyes and glancing at her freckles, he decided that he was so fucking done with pretending. There was something here, something between them, and he was not going to ignore it. Not when it might save both of them.

"Good morning, Fiamma."

The knight leaned down and found her lips with a gentle kiss. The games they were playing happened to be extremely tedious for him. A little bit of a prude and endlessly serious, Dimitri never kissed for no reason. And the reason right now was because he wanted to. So, he held the kiss for a long moment, then pulled away and let out a long breath through his nose. It had felt good. So good. And he needed more.

Dimitri planted his knees firmly on either side of her as he caught her lips with his own again, this time treating her with a little groan of pleasure. This one was longer, and soon he was pressing harder, tilting to offer her more, ask for more.

 

[Luvia]

Her heart leapt into her throat when their eyes locked.

She could see it and she could feel it—something was about to change.

Waking up thus far had been the same. Come nighttime, he would find one end by the fireplace and she would settle down across from him. And just like that, they'd fallen asleep; far away from each other. It made those few shared moments of confusing attraction in the mornings much more tolerable. She hadn't been oblivious to the way he stared at her, just as he wasn't oblivious to how she would study him.

Now?

Now, with them this close together, running away from said attraction felt impossible.

Shockingly enough, she didn't even want to.

The inevitable happened.

The air between them warmed and Fiamma could feel her defenses shake.

The way he looked at her in that moment was foreign but not unpleasant. On the contrary—Dimitri was looking at her as if she was beautiful. Desireable. Like someone worthy of being adored and worshipped. Men had looked at her with lust before. But this? This was different. He was different.

Her eyes fluttered shut when he leaned down, her hands grabbing a fistful of the sheets underneath her.

It wasn't her first kiss per se—but it was her first kiss with a man. Back at the now flourishing Incanda, Fiamma had been kissed before, by some of her fellow mages. Curious and in the midst of puberty, they'd been eager to figure out what all the fuss was about during a night of drunken fun.

Compared to then, Dimitri's initial peck of her lips felt as light and gentle as the flap of a butterfly's wing. It was honest but cautious, just like him. Their second kiss was just as probing, but sweeter, accompanied by a hint of clumsiness.

That's when it occurred to her—had he never kissed another before? Was she his first?

The idea of Dimitri being less experienced than her fueled her with a sudden burst of energy and boldness.

First one, then two.

Her hands went from the sheets to his body, brushing from his chest upwards, over his collarbones, past his shoulders and right towards his neck. She caressed him softly, just feeling him, before one of those hands went to the back of his neck and the other to cup his face.

She broke away, peering up at him instead, melting at the sound of his shuddering breaths and the look in those stormy grey eyes of his. How was a girl not supposed to get lost in them?

The corners of her mouth curled up and she chuckled.

"Who's being indecent now, hm?"

Unable to not pass a cheeky remark, she was referring to the time when he'd called her a lecher.

Not giving him a chance to process that statement fast enough though, she licked her lips before she pulled him into another kiss, stealing the reins right out of his hands and choosing to control the pace. Unlike before, this one wasn't gentle. It was needy and intimate.

"Mh, that's it," he would hear her whisper, "I knew that those lips of yours were made to be kissed."

Open-mouthed and hungry, she then focused on his lower lip. When his own lips parted for her, she deepened it by adding her tongue, and gods—the taste of him. It elicited a small, pleased moan at the back of her throat.

Seeming to adjust quickly, she could feel more force behind his movements in return. It resulted in her kissing him back harder, savoring his tongue more passionately, wanting it like it was the answer to all her prayers.

Doing this to and with him was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. She'd never tasted such a forbidden pleasure, such a growing raw need like this.

Everything about Dimitri was hot and irresistible—from the way his tall body closed in on hers, his voice, his scent. What they were doing was reckless, but nothing mattered right now except for everything that he was willing to give her.

 

[Lady Jace Beleren]

Dimitri was not inexperienced with kissing. He had been busy for the last near-decade of his life. Constantly learning the ways of the knight, codes of chivalry, manners and lineages. And, twice as often as those lessons, he had fought. Knights were known for wading into battle with a sword, and his height had landed him to the spear, but he learned a dozen different weapons and styles. Vensel was without magic, so their soldiers needed to be better than good. In all of this, he had little time to learn the ways of kissing. That had changed when he joined the army itself, but only a little.

Dimitri knew he was handsome, though that was not from arrogance. Vensel's barracks were split by gender, but knights kept their own space. That meant he was a handsome, unmarried man with a potential for inheriting a whole estate if he survived. Women made themselves known to him. Mostly, this was after they had enough ale to lose all inhibition after a battle. Needless to say, Dimitri had been uninterested in more than kissing when they threw themselves into his lap and forced themselves on him. And even the kissing had been fairly unappealing. Usually, it ended with him politely shoving her into her friends' arms.

So, maybe he had been a little too cautious when he kissed Fiamma. Maybe he had been afraid of being rejected like he had rejected those women. He knew the steps of a kiss, had gotten all the way to tasting ale before he ended the first one or two. It was just that this was different. He actually liked Fiamma, cared what her opinion on his kissing was. So he was being a little timid? Who could blame him with how tense things had been at times. And when they finally split apart after that second kiss, he could see in her eyes that it had not been terrible. And then, she gave him another little jab.

"Oh, shut u..."

Then, her mouth was in his again and he gave an eager little groan of approval as Fia demanded more. The words she whispered barely registered in his head, now so full of her that he could only think about her lips. This was not some drunken soldier trying to get into his pants. This was actually... pleasant. It barely took a brush against his bottom lip for him to open for her.

When her tongue slipped into his mouth, Dimitri felt something so similar to the sensation if her magic clawing to be free he was almost afraid they switched bodies. Static ran down his spine and between his thighs and he ached so suddenly it nearly knocked the wind out of him. Dimitri gave her an eager and helpless groan of need, his tongue finding her own and attempting to coil around. Her own sounds seemed to say it was just as good. The only thing he found questionable was her hand in his hair and on his jaw. They were not bad. Not at all. It just made him feel like he wanted to fight back somehow. He had no desire to let her lead them wherever she wished.

So, he slipped a hand under head, lifting her into the kiss as he tried to make it even more intense, their teeth clashing for a moment. He was well aware he was losing whatever semblance of control he tried to fight for when it came to her. Dimitri needed this and he was sure she did as well if her eagerness was any indication. His hand moved to brush against the one on his jaw and seemed to be interested in tenderly holding it at first. Now in her own body, though, she had no chance of stopping him as he pinned her wrist to the bed. His teeth caught her tongue and he tugged, just barely biting her. When she retreated in surprise, his tongue followed, stroking along the roof of her mouth. And he went from aching to burning.

His mind was all her sweet taste, her sweeter scent, and his somewhat intimate knowledge of what she was shaped like beneath that flimsy outfit. Dimitri growled this time, releasing her wrist to sink both hands into her hair, his knees pinning her on either side. He forgot who they were and just gave in to the desire to devour her. He was certain that it would have gone further. That he was going to grab that shirt and tear it off of her because he wanted to see how beautiful she was without anything.

Then, everything shifted and his mind became confused as he lay on his back, a tongue playing inside of his mouth. When he responded to it, groaned, it came out as a sweet moan. His eyes fluttered open to see his own face inches away. Even as he pulled away like he was touching a flame, it was nothing compared to how hot this body felt. Fiamma had been no better and now...

"Fuck! Damn this stupid spell!"

 

[Luvia]

Oh?

Oh???

Who would have thought?

Who would have thought that somebody as straight-laced as Dimitri was capable of… so much hunger?

Him refusing to relent control was wildly fascinating to Fiamma. He'd shown sides of himself that were wholly akin to a timid puppy, capable of barking and blushing and sulking. Now? He felt closer to a wild animal, and all it had taken to get him there was a small poke, a little incentive.

Not good.

A playfulness she didn't know she possessed reared its ugly head.

This makes me want to tease him even more.

His reactions were just too damned exciting.

She'd grown so used to watching his mannerisms in her own body that it wasn't until now, that Fiamma realized that he, this knight, was simply a young and hot-blooded man in every way possible. What kind of expressions would he make for her if they'd take things further? What buttons could she push to see more of that upstanding wall around him crumble?

She was curious. So curious.

Then, as if fate had listened in on her thoughts and decided to put a damper on them, she could feel the tell-tale slipping of her magic and she was back—back to being in his body.

"Oh, gods—"

It was humbling and mortifying, to say the least. Seeing her own face in the middle of something very much steamy had never been on her bucket list. And now, it served as fuel for some potential nightmarish dreams. Seeing her own face flushed red was the last thing she saw before she leapt off of the bed, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession.

Dimitri's body was awfully hot, but what was even more notable was the almost painful strain against her pants. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head when her gaze went down to take in the very prominent buldge that was throbbing and twitching underneath layers of fabric.

When the HELL did it grow this much—

She was speechless. And terrified. Curious, but there was no way in hell she'd chance a look at it. Not like this. She felt silly and horny and frustrated all at once.

"I—I'll go outside to catch some cool fresh air. I—uh, I'll see you later?"

She ended up stumbling over her words, then stormed out of the door like a man on a mission. Quite literally.

- - -

"Come. Sit."

After hours of filtering through the rest of the village for more possible supplies, clothes, tools, weapons and other trinkets, daylight had transitioned into another starry night.

Throughout this entire time, she'd met him only briefly inside their house, right after it seemed he'd returned from another successful hunt.

They'd exchanged a few words, but Fiamma had been fast enough to walk out on him every time to subdue a possible attempt at a deeper conversation.

This man was messing with her brain, damn it. Ever since they'd kissed, she'd found it difficult to keep her cool. She needed it so she could find a moment of clarity to figure out their switching predicament.

She was sitting outside, wrapped in a blanket that she'd managed to get her hands on earlier in the day, resting on a lovely two-seater bench which stood right up againt the entrance wall of the house.

Fiamma nagged him further until he was next to her and bundled up inside the very same blanket. Her heart fluttered as his body heat transferred over to her against her arm.

"So," she started, clearing her throat. She was looking up at the sky.

"I've been thinking long and hard about this. I've come to the conclusion that us opening up to each other has had a direct impact on the spell."

Thinking back to this morning, her face heated.

"We stayed in our respective bodies for far longer this time around. I think it'd be worth a shot to consider this possibility."

Fiamma sighed and she scratched her head as she elaborated.

"Magic is fickle and largely works in tandem with balance. My theory is that when I tried to kill you with my original spell, and it failed, the effect reversed. Instead of killing you, it seems it is now forcing us to do the opposite—to cooperate. On a deeper level."

Intimacy and love as the price of failing to do what she had sought. Having her wake up in her enemy's body was the punishment. Until she knew for certain, this was her best guess. She dared a sneaky peek at him from the corner of her eyes.

"Let's give it a try?"

She paused as she tried to come up with her first question.

"How about something simple, for starters."

Fiamma proceeded to ask him questions such as what's your favorite color?, to which her own reply was yellow, like sunflowers.

Eventually, as the mood between them had warmed comfortably, she asked a deeper question.

"What do you think you would have done if you hadn't been forced to serve in this war? Who and what would Dimitri have become if not Sir Cartier?"

 

[Lady Jace Beleren]

Dimitri had never acted like this because he had never wanted something or someone this badly. Life had been so bland for him and he had never noticed. So, even as he tried to adjust to being moved into another body and looking up at his own face, it did not lessen. Not a bit. This had been an unleashing of something and it was painful to stop. So, when she leapt away, he was half-tempted to stop her. Whatever bodies they were in, he wanted to continue. Or, that was his immediate thought. When he took a few shaky breaths, he realized it would most certainly not be the same results.

A few minutes of kissing. He knew his own body had been reacting. And Fiamma knew from the way that her eyes widened when she looked down. However, it was abundantly clear that she had felt the same. Hot. He felt so damned hot, like his whole body had been submerged in a steaming bath. It had been fairly localized in his body, but Fiamma's was drowning in it. The worst was the tightness deep in the core of her, a needy ache that he knew was the counterpart to his own. They had both liked it and there was no denying it.

That is, until she did exactly that and denied it by all but running out of the fucking room. As soon as he was alone, it was like a huge exhale, a relief. Like her body remembered what his had done just by proximity. Slowly, oh so slowly, Dimitri lifted himself from the bed and ran his fingers through the hair he had made a mess of himself. She was right. He needed air. So, he went straight to the boots by the door.

They were the same calf-high ones from her original outfit and he laced them with quick efficiency now. The ache had refused to subside and he did his best to ignore it as he moved through the small house and retrieved his spear. Strangely, her magic had been quiet. Like it was pleased with the torment they were now both enduring. When he passed her by, he only muttered quickly.

"I'm going hunting."

Dimitri all but ran to the treeline. Talking was too difficult and he was keenly aware of every inch of her body as he moved. He had been aware before, annoyed by the little things and obsessed with her face. Now, he was curious about all of her. About the feeling of her thighs that first time he needed to wash her, the swell of her breasts, which were constantly in his way, and every other part of her. So, when he was far enough into the treeline, far enough that he knew Fiamma would not see him or follow, he leaned his spear against a tree and and joined it.

The first touch was cursory, exploratory. It was educational. He knew he wanted to touch Fiamma and wanted to do it well. So, he cupped her breasts in his hands, squeezing gently. The shudder of breath surprised him. Even more surprising was that he did not need to be so soft. He gripped harder, lifting and testing. His knees felt weak. He could never admit to this, but neither could he stop. So, he slipped a hand into the loose bottoms they had scavenged and under the waist of her undergarments. Heat and wetness and startling pleasure rushed through him. Dimitri let his eyes close.

---

Dimitri had found that when he spent too much time idle, the magic started to get anxious. It felt impossible to keep track of the do's and don'ts of it all. So, he tried to be busy. Scavenging supplies, dressing the deer he had managed to startle after far too long hunting, ignoring how awkward things were between Fiamma and himself. He was busy. But, when she finally found him and asked him to follow, Dimitri was ashamed to admit he jumped up like a puppy.

The moment they settled onto the chair, he was greedy to close the space. All he could think about was this morning. He felt that heat inside that had nothing to do with her magic, but pressing close was a soothing balm. Maybe he wanted this just as much, to be close to her. And her explanation made sense. He had felt how happy the magic felt when they opened up, when they were close. So, he would open up. Do what she wanted.

The first few topics were safe. Just little pokes into their likes. Colors. How silly. But, these kinds of conversations were familiar. Chats between people who expected to die. This felt so much easier than those. Blue. That had been his answer. Though red was starting to grow on him.

The other one... no one had asked about that.

"Baking bread, probably. My parents run a bakery. At least, I hope they still do. They weren't supposed to take my father for the army if I went. I'd be a normal man trying to learn how to make a good loaf of bread. Or, they would have taken me for a squire anyway. I stand out."

Dimitri slipped his small hand into her own, so much rougher than Fiamma's soft skin. He lifted his eyes to look at his own storm gray.

"I don't know what I should ask you. I meant it when I said I never knew about what was happening in Incan... Lagus. So, if you could do anything now, what would you do? If the whole world was perfect."