The night before a big interview called for a nice dinner, to celebrate, one would hope.

Sadly, neither Tina nor Ryan had more than a few coins to rub together.

So, naturally, they went to Roxy’s tavern, and ordered the cheapest bit of bar food on the menu. A drag show was on that night, but neither of them were particularly in the mood for a show. They picked a remote corner to eat their sad little bits of tavern food.

"So," Ryan said, "He offered you knighthood."

"That he did."

Nothing much happened. They ate in silence, and the jubilant show filled the void of quiet between the pair. A queen was up on stage, dressed up in some fancy (yet still tacky in the best way) getup that invoked the Sorceress.

Some might have considered such a thing blasphemy, or perhaps an invitation for Evil to nest in one's heart, like a cowbird laying its eggs in another birds' nest. Ryan, however, thought differently.

Sure, the Sorceress was evil, or whatever. But, that said, every account of her sounded both hot in the 'i'd date her' way and the 'man, i wish i looked like her' way, which was a normal thing every man attracted to women definitely felt, and he was not taking constructive criticism or input on the matter.

"You've been distracted," Tina said.

"Oh yeah? Since when?"

"Since right before you found Apple Sauce with your incredible psychic powers."

Tina smirked, and Ryan just shook his head.

"Not psychic powers, Henry."

Of course, he meant Tina, but they were in public. Also, every time he called her Henry she seemed to smile a little, and that made Ryan smile, too.

"Prove it."

Ryan rolled his eyes.

"You want me to prove that I don't have psychic powers."

"Yes! I do! What am I not thinking about right now?" Tina said.

Despite himself, Ryan laughed. Tina grinned at him with her crooked smile.

"I knew I could make you laugh," she said, "I love it, seeing you smile and enjoy yourself."

A cavernous quiet settled in at their table again. Tina took little nibbles out of her soggy piece of chicken, while Ryan just sort of frowned at the floor. He shifted around, but no matter where he placed his weight in his chair, he still felt a great unease.

"You're distracted," Tina said, "Don't try and deflect it, you know I'm right."

"I may be. Who's asking?"

Tina leaned in, with an earnest look on her face. She reached out an open hand to her forlorn companion.

"I am. Because something is bugging you."

"...Would you believe me if I said I was tired from the long day?" Ryan asked.

In response, Tina shrugged, in that way that refused to commit one way or another.

"Fine, I'm not tired. Hell, I won't be able to sleep, probably. It's..."

The art of selecting a proper half-truth was old as language, if not even older. Some linguists theorized that the first sentence ever spoken was a lie, in fact, though other linguists found that to be way too cynical to entertain seriously as a theory.

What Ryan was after wasn't a full on lie, exactly. All he needed to do was sculpt the truth to avoid discussing the eight legged deer in the room and in his memories and in the forest and-

Okay, he had to take a deep breath and start again. Hyperventilating and freaking the fuck out like that would do him no favors.

"It's seeing that old house," he said, "you know, the illusion we saw?"

It wasn't a lie, exactly. Being confronted with his first conscious memory realized as an illusion wasn't a great experience, especially because said first conscious memory was of a house fire and the smell of smoke and sulfur. But... it wasn't the whole story.

That damn deer. The forest Presence. That creature wanted something from Ryan.

It's not that he didn't know how to feel about it. He knew exactly how that made him feel: terrified, paranoid, uneasy. But there was more than that to it. Somewhere, deep in his bones, he felt a sickening curiosity. That deep part of him saw the prospect of danger, of dealing with creatures older than God and twice as vengeful and said 'I want more'.

"I understand," Henry (Tina. her name was Tina, she had said so, right?) said, "I'm sorry, Bailey."

"Me too," Ryan said.

"You really should eat something... it might help."

Ryan sighed, and took a bite out of his piece of soggy chicken breast. God, it made him feel gross. It wasn't even that bad, though. This was just one of those times literally all food sounded unappealing for some reason.

"Happy?" He asked, without swallowing.

"Okay, now you're just being sullen," Tina replied with a laugh.

He struggled through chewing and swallowing. He was hungry, yes, but he also sort of didn't feel like eating. Eating meant putting in effort towards self-care, and right now, the idea of self-care sounded like cruel and unusual punishment, tantamount to a lifelong sentence of worthless toil.

Once he was through that bite of chicken, he turned his attention back to his companion.

"...He offered you knighthood."

"Didn't we already have this conversation?" Tina asked.

"Yes, but I want to circle back to it. What do you think about it? Are you going to take it?"

What didn't Tina think about it?

Knighthood was, at its core, a religiously-ordained license to wander the world and fuck around on deathly adventures, right? It wasn't exactly her speed. She was, at her core, not suited for action or danger or anything.

But, then again...

There would be training. She could learn. Plus, there would be time to back out if it was really not for her. It wouldn't be a commitment to anything other than learning and paying attention. That didn't sound all that bad, really.

"Henry."

"Hm?" Tina asked, not at all paying attention.

"What are you thinking?"

She shook herself, as to return to the present.

"I don't know, to be honest with you."

Ryan nodded.

"But... I mean. Sir Henry has a nice ring to it..." Tina said.

"Hell yeah it does!"

Sir Henry. He would go around the world, being brave and kind and good. There was an allure to that, that idea that Tina could be good, that she could be this heroic man that could bring hope to the needy. And, yes, she could do that all as herself, but... it would just be better as Henry.

Not because she wanted to be Henry. That would be a silly thing to want. Being a man was out of her reach, so there was no point in desiring it. Sure, would it be nice to be a guy? To be thought of as one? To be someone's husband, boyfriend, father? Without a doubt. But Tina had to be a realistic thinker. The universe was chaos, after all, so she had to pick up the slack and behave in an orderly fashion.

And, to be clear-

"Sir Henry," Ryan said, with an evil grin, "Sounds like the kind of guy you'd hear songs about. They'd write epic poems about him. He'd go around fighting evil while talking in rhymed couplets about how the world was worth fighting for."

Whatever Tina had been thinking about went right out the window. Somehow, Ryan's sly teasing brought her out of herself a little, and made her feel...

Well, pretty good, to be honest. She smiled at her companion.

"Oh, stop it," Tina blushed.

Ryan's grin turned even more wicked, and he leaned back in his chair. How did he pull off being smug so well? Why did that evil grin stir up Tina' insides so much? Why did it feel kind of nice when he teased her?

Oh, never mind all that.

"What are you looking so satisfied about?" She asked.

"Oh, nothing..."

"You're the worst, Bailey."

Ryan laughed.

"Beats mediocrity! Plus, hey, you're the hero here. I'm the evil one. Being the worst is my thing!"

"You make a good point, but consider this."

Nothing happened for several seconds.

Well, at least Ryan was polite enough to wait...

The problem at the center of the issue was that Tina didn't have an argument. Maybe, if she kept stalling and saying nothing, she would think of something! It would happen any second now.

Any... second now.

Any. Second...

"Oh, I see, you've got nothing."

"Shut up!"

"Oh, very clever, sir knight," Bailey said, "Your wit knows no bounds."

Sir knight.

Oh god, Tina wanted it so bad. She could make every excuse for why she shouldn't do it, but...

Okay.

It would going to be grueling years of training and being a squire first, yes. But, it couldn’t have been as grueling as being a maid. Between the lack of real breaks, the constant staying on one’s feet, and the general lack of humanity granted to one while on the clock, her old job was more than just back-breaking, grueling, and demeaning. It was work that, because no one valued those who did it, wore down on the human psyche faster than the insole of a cheap boot.

Knights, conversely were heroes, the kind that slew monsters and liberated villages! And she could do that. She could do all of that. That sounded like a cakewalk compared to her previous line of work.

Sir Henry. Sir Henry brought us hope. Sir Henry uncovered a corrupt clergymen and saved a small community from being taken over by a cult. Sir Henry rode into Lantern Springs and-

Okay, that was enough about that.

"I'm going to go for it."

"Don't forget about little old me when you're traveling the world and saving all the lovely damsels, now," Ryan said.

"Oh, please. Like I could forget you."

A moment passed, where they just looked at each other. There was a nourishing quality to their gazes, as if they really saw one another, and that was both kind of scary and also healing beyond measure.

"And, honestly," Tina said, "I'm not going anywhere. If you want me around..."

She looked at the floor.

"...Would you take me, as a friend, as I go through all of this?"

"Of course," Ryan replied, with a quiet laugh.

"Even if I..."

Tina looked at her chicken. It was getting cold, now. She poked at it, and decided against taking another bite.

"...even if I'm not perfect?"

"Henry."

Tina felt a warmth in her chest, her flat, broad chest. With a cautious motion, she looked up from her chicken, and her eyes met Ba- Ryan's. God, they were such a nice shade of brown. How did Tina not notice them before?

"I don't want you to be perfect. If you were perfect, you wouldn't say your dorky little jokes, for god's sake! If you were perfect..."

Ryan shook his head.

"You don't have to worry about it."

For a second, Tina just sat there, smiling.

They eventually made it back to their room at the inn. Neither of them had any idea what time it was, and neither of them seemed to care very much.

Of course, since there was no stray Alices in their room to take up one of the beds, they both could sleep separately again. But, somehow, they both ended up on Ryan's bed, with Tina sitting up against the pillows, and Ryan curled up like a cat near her.

It was just automatic that they were so close to one another, physically speaking. It was just so easy for them to lay near each other, in the deep dark quiet of the evening, staring at the ceiling. There was no conversation then. The quiet and the solace of two bodies near each other was the only sound they needed.

This, Tina knew, couldn't last. Knights were stoic types, right? They never settled. Their existences revolved around drowning their own needs and wants for the good of their order, right?

She was well versed in doing that already, really. How many times had she destroyed her own (totally innocent) desires? Something as simple as 'i want to kiss a girl again before i die' could end up shelved in a deep corner of her mind. And she knew she liked women! That was old news!

If Tina wanted to prove herself worthy, of being grade-A knight material, she would have to deny herself even more, right? Simple pleasures like playing with Ryan's hair would be lost to the the oblivion of time. She really should have just stopped herself then and there, switched over to the other bed, and pull away.

But...

Ryan did this thing, when his hair was stroked. He let out a soft, satisfied little noise that made Tina feel...

It made her...

It was such a vulnerable sound, vulnerable like someone breathing for the first time after years of life underwater. Or, perhaps, the first exhale after escaping a burning building.

What if she didn't want to give up experiences like this? What if, maybe, just maybe, she wanted more times with Ryan? What if some part of her wanted to be more vulnerable, more intimate, more everything?

Could she be this heroic toughguy if she had moments like that? Where she sat and marveled at the softness of Ryan's hair, where she listened to him make soft noises of contentment and marveled at the wonder of it all?

Maybe being brave and stoic and heroic could be sometimes things. Maybe moments like these were worth keeping.

God, she hoped so.

She stayed there, in that position, until she fell asleep, with the words Sir and Henry echoing through her mind, her body, her soul. 

But right before she lost consciousness, the word Bailey was also there. 

It was kind of funny.

As he awoke the next morning, Ryan realized that he had not once taken the ring off. He had spent a full two days with this strange and beautiful body, this false truth, this true falsehood. 

It sure felt real. Illusions must have been realer than popular consensus said, or something.

He poked at his breast, and the sensation was there. God, this was weird. He had breasts, and he could see and touch them, and he wasn’t freaking out. In fact, he felt happy to see them, as he was happy to see the mail in a mailbox, or the water in a river. It just made sense for them to be there. 

Tina, asleep in the most awkward possible position beside him, grunted in her sleep. Ryan looked her over and smiled.

They were both so different, but somehow the same. The magic had changed them, shifted things around, but it all sort of felt… natural. Of course Tina had the most handsome face with the most rugged stubble. Of course he had pretty hair and a nice pair of breasts all his own. Of course their lips seemed perfectly matched, as if begging to come together as one for a deep, hungry kiss.

He could just… keep it on. Forever. The ring wasn’t going anywhere. 

He tried to imagine a world where he kept it on. For all intents and purposes, he would be Bailey. He could live her life and wear her clothes and be with her lovers and feel her emotions.

But…

That was weird. He shifted around in bed, as if somehow the internal discomfort was something that an extra pillow beneath him could fix. It didn’t work, but it was still worth a try. 

He almost felt like, if he were to do such a thing, he would be stealing. He would be taking something away from a much more worthy trans woman, some poor girl out there who needed it way more than he did. 

After all, he didn’t feel bad about his genitals.... He actually liked having his current, unchanged genitalia, and he enjoyed the idea of using it with the right partner. He didn’t feel crushing dysphoria. He was just a guy, with the desire to be a woman all the time, for the rest of his life, for good or for ill, in a distinctly not trans way! 

Tina would understand.

Wait…

Oh man. Maybe not, actually.

Maybe Tina was trans, and just hadn’t realized it yet!

Ryan was not. He was a pretender to the throne, as it were, while Tina was the real deal, the grade A genuine thing. 

Man, Tina must have been pretty dense to not figure it out!

That was okay, though. She could take her time. He’d respect her and keep the idea to himself until she said something. It could be his little secret, between him and himself. 

...Though Ryan was kind of dying with anticipation now, at the thought. If he was right, and he was pretty sure he was, he would be the most supportive ally in the history of allies! 

“Mm…” Tina mumbled.

Ryan spoke thoughtlessly, and the words that came out of his mouth were not at all what he was expecting them to be.

“Morning, sweet cheeks.” 

If Tina hadn’t been awake before, she sure as hell was now.

“I beg your pardon?” She said.

Ryan turned beet red. The color flooded his face, as if some internal emotional dam had broken and now it was all showing. There was no way he blushed so obviously and so flamboyant before, he was sure of it. 

“Uh…”

“Is that a comment on my ass? Because it is pretty nice, I think,” Tina said, with a thoughtful look on her face, “I dunno. Seeing as it’s, you know, on my backside, I can’t quite tell.”

“Well… yeah…”

It was more than nice. It was perfect. Ryan tried to think about circles, their shape and construction, the history of two dimensional shapes, in a vain attempt to not think about Tina’s ass. But despite his best efforts, every time he drew a circle in his mind, another one appeared next to it, and then suddenly it was Tina’s ass again. 

“You have an interview today. And I have to tell Sir Frederick that I’m all in on knighthood.”

“Yeah. I know. God. This is bizarre.”

“What is?” Tina asked.

Ryan looked out the window, just to give himself a second to breathe. The sun was out and up to its old tricks again, like a comedian that only knew two (mean-spirited, unfunny) jokes.

“We, as Bailey and Henry, are going to be employed. We’re going to have lives as them. I’m going to be a…”

He frowned. All he knew about this new job was that he had an interview. The rest was a surprise, or a mystery, or perhaps some kind of enigma. 

“A whatever job Sir Frederick is setting you up for,” Tina put in.

“Exactly. I’m going to be that. That’s strange, I think.”

Tina shifted, as to sit up in bed. She looked her friend up and down, trying very hard to do so platonically. It was a total failure. Man, Ryan had nice legs. She wondered-

Nope. Time and place, and the time for that was ‘never’ and the place was ‘nowhere’. 

“Strange good or strange bad?”

Ryan shook his head.

“Neither. Both. Yes, no, maybe,” He said.

“Getting cold feet?”

“Are you kidding? Hell no. Just feeling my feelings,” Ryan replied, with a shrug.

Yeah. Tina nodded. That made sense. With a grunt, she pulled herself up, out of bed. 

Ryan did his damndest to avert his eyes, but the expanse of Tina’s broad chest was just too much to not take a peek. The jury on her chest hair was still out, since she was wearing a shirt, but…

Ugh. He was doing that thing again, where he had inappropriate thoughts about Henry Tina. Not that desire was in itself inappropriate, but he didn't want to be creepy.

"Well you know what I'm feeling?"

"What?" Ryan replied, trying and failing not to think more thoughts about Tina.

"Hungry. Let's get breakfast." 

Ryan dug his sharp nails into his palms, and nodded. Maybe it would be for the best. Maybe this could distract him from the heat within, the burning feeling of want that clawed at his insides.

“Uh. Sure,” Ryan called through the door.

Yeah. He could use this time to cool off and not think about tracing the shape of Tina’s torso with his finger. He could think about anything else besides teasing her, and being the queen to her knight, and-

Oh, damn it.

Alice Thistle had not slept a wink all night, and the telltale rumbling in her stomach told her it was time to have an omelette or something.

God, she would kill for an icebox, the kind that she could stick ice into to keep perishables fresh. There wasn't a whole lot of, you know, space for it, but a girl could dream. That sort of cutting edge tech would cut her trips to the daily produce market down considerably. And the less she had to go out there, the better.

Oh well. At least she could get herself a tasty pressed fruit juice of some sort while she was there.

With a effortful groan, she sat up at her desk. Alright.

All she had to do was get up, stand up, and put some going-out-in-public clothes. Her undershirt-and-underwear-plus-long-robe wasn't really good for any trips past the apartment mailboxes. And, to be honest, she would wrap her robe around her and make mailbox runs when her neighbors were all asleep, just in case.

"Okay, Thistle. Okay."

She could get up, easily. It wasn't a difficult task. All she had to do was move a few key muscles in a few key places, and she would be up and at 'em, ready to take on the whole world. The fucker wouldn't know what hit it!

Would it be worth it to go out there, though? Taking on the world was hard. She must have had a packet of oats she could add some boiling water to. Some Depression Oatmeal sounded like it would do her some good. It would be caloric intake, without all the hassle of silly things like 'putting on clothes' or 'going outside'.

But... wait. Her water tank was empty, wasn't it? The last of the water had gone into making a particularly strong batch of heavy-on-caffeine tea, which kept her energized through the long night. Sadly, it also gave her a headache the size of mount Oly, but whatever.  She could write through a headache just fine.

She'd have to get up and take a trip out to the nearest well, if she wanted oatmeal, thus defeating the purpose of the exercise. Dammit.

"You're a fierce dragon, Thistle, you're a fighter," Alice said to herself, "Your parents didn't raise a quitter."

Oh, who was she kidding? Yes they did!

The second they smelled trouble, they took the whole family and move to the other side of the country, for god's sake! That was like, the expert mode version of being a quitter. Sure, they had good reason to do it, but that didn't make it any less quitting.

Not that quitting was bad. In fact, quitting was great! Giving up on things that weren't worth it was the best!

But, when it came to an empty stomach, something had to give. And Alice would be damned if she would let that 'something' be herself. She would put food in her stomach, one way or another.

Alice stood up. There. Step one, complete.

"See? You're a champion," She said, rolling her shoulders in their sockets, "You're just like the first dragons, taking flight for the first time..."

She removed her robe, which was starting to look (and smell) kind of not very good.

"Eugh. I think the first dragons at least did laundry every so often."

God, the apartment was kind of a hellhole, wasn't it? One and a half rooms, plus a lavatory, all covered in a thick layer of mess. An entire geological stratum's worth of clothing, books, and papers covered every available surface. Her whole life, all evidence that she existed, was rendered out in the many piles of stuff strewn about the place.

Hell, her old fiddle was around there, somewhere, buried in the years and years of junk. The poor thing left its case every year or so, when Alice remembered how much it had cost her parents, and how much she had begged them for one...

Never mind that. She threw on a fresh undershirt and set of underwear. Breakfast called to her. 

"Right. Okay."

Alice Thistle dug up a nice, functional dress, and put it on. It had big pockets and everything!

"Just one more thing," She said.

She wrapped her messy hair in a big bandana, took up her bag, and left her apartment.

There was nothing quite like the Watermilfoil Municipal Marketplace on a busy morning. And by that, Alice meant that there was no torture quite like the Watermilfoil Municipal Marketplace on a busy morning.

There were three central pillars to her problem with the place: One, it was loud. Two, it was crowded as all hell. Three, there were people there who could see her and remember her without her permission.

The noise was a product of the crowd, but it took on a life of its own at the open marketplace. The cries of newspeople selling copies of the Watermilfoil Watch or The Daily Apocalypse mingled and mixed with the whinny of horses, the squeak of carts, and the cries of 'fresh veggies!' and 'in season, cheap, and plentiful!' fruits and grains. The sound filled the space like water filled the sea, or like trees filled the Deep Woods. A person could get hopelessly lost in the noise and never find their way out again. Alice had taken to wearing earplugs (or earmuffs, when it was cold enough to get away with it) to filter it out.

The crowd was another issue altogether. Of course, Alice couldn't really blame people for going out to get groceries, but she did wonder why so many of them did it all at once. Didn't everyone have a visceral hatred of crowds? That crawling feeling at the back of the neck that made it hard to talk when confronted with more than ten people per five square feet? Didn't the sheer amount of market stalls, of people, of horses and pigs and chickens bother people?

She marched right down to her usual poultry and meat spot.

Not that she ever bought much meat. Being on a freelancer's budget restricted it to a 'once ever month or so' kind of deal. No, she was her for one thing, and one thing only.

"How many dozen eggs today, Miss Alice?"

"Just one, Harvey," Alice replied.

Harvey nodded, and went to retrieve a carton of eggs for her.

"How's that brother of yours?"

"Just fine," She said, with a grimace, "In between jobs, but fine."

Harvey smiled at her as he brought over the carton, and stuck it an a complimentary Watermilfoil Municipal Market bag. Alice had at least forty copies  of that exact bag, but she was always glad to get another. They were exceptional bags, to the point that them being free with every trip to the market was a steal.

"Good to hear! Is he, uh..."

Alice shook her head. The complexities of Bailey and/or Ryan were not hers to expound upon, plus, her sibling was...

"He's single, but he's got a huge crush on someone, so they may as well be married. Sorry," She said.

"Ah, that's alright. Who's the lucky person?"

Alice thought that question over, as she reached for her carton of eggs. But, before she could answer, there was a loud pop noise, and then-

"Mother. Fucker."

Time stood still, like the surface of a frozen lake. The noise of the marketplace, the hum of the crowd, the motion of the day...

It was all peaceful, for once, like a life-size diorama. But... it was not a pleasant peace. It was an order imposed by some smug fuck who saw fit to screw with Alice, and that would not fucking fly.

"I was buying groceries, you prick!"

"Oh, Emma, Emma, Emma, your eggs will be there when I unfreeze time, you know. Be patient," A voice said. The voice was smug, full of itself, ready to declare itself superior to the rest of the known world. It was the kind of voice that was at its peak performance when saying things like ‘I’m a genius’.

At the grave insult from the unknown assailant, Alice whipped around, with her fists balled up.  Lightning cracked between her knuckles, in arcs of white and blue, ready to make a man regret the day he mistook her for Emma.

"I am not Emma," Alice said, "And if you make that mistake again, you'll live to regret it."

The source of the voice made himself known. He stepped out from a set of market stalls and grinned toothily.

The speaker of the voice was a man, as far as Alice knew. She didn't want to assume, but she also had bigger problems. He was tall, thinner than your average tree branch, and paler than the light of the Sister Planet's moon. His face was alight with a grin that far outpaced his voice in the smugness department, and his clothing was fancier than anything Alice had ever worn in her life.

He looked her over once more, and the smugness faded from his face.

"...Indeed. You aren't Emma. But surely you see how I mixed the you up! This is kind of freaky. You're like her exact doppelganger."

"What's freaky is that you froze time and now you're accosting me! Who do you think you are?" Alice demanded. The lightning between her fingers was building fast, and she was more than ready to give the guy a new set of electrical burns for the holidays. They made wonderful gifts for one's enemies, after all!

"I made a mistake, I admit. But now I want to know who you are! I knew Emma had a sister, but I didn't-"

Alice unfolded her fists into open hands, and the pent-up lightning arced towards him. He cried out in agony as it snaked around his arm, biting at him with burning electrical teeth.

"Ow! A tazer spell? What is your problem? I haven't done anything to you!"

"Never can be too careful. Now scram."

He let out a noise that was somewhere in the middle of the spectrum of 'dejected sigh' and 'pained groan'. The electrical burns stung pretty badly, evidently.

"You really are her sister, aren't you?"

"I said scram."

He shook his head, and in an instant, totally vanished. His timefreeze spell dissipated with him, and thank goodness for that, because Alice hated undoing other people's magic.

She stared at the man-shaped hole in space where he had been. What was that about? There had been some strange feelings coming off the guy, but it was damn near impossible to read his intentions.

Well, whatever his intentions were, he was Emma's problem, not hers. And if that fucker tried to make himself Alice's problem, too, she would show him more than a little bit of lightning.

Whatever.

She gathered up her grocery bag with a frown.

"...Miss Alice, I asked you who the lucky person was with Ryan."

"Some guy called Henry," Alice said, "Now, I'm sorry, but I am dying for an omelette. I'll see you when this carton is empty."

And with that, she took her single grocery bag with a dozen eggs in it and went home.