No one told him how hard the 'after' of this kind of realization is. Sometimes, he wished he could go back in time and never read that book and never realized how terrifying it was to have words to describe the dissonance he felt between body and mind. When he glanced into the mirror in the morning, it no longer reflected back a slightly off-putting version of himself that he could shrug off as a thing of his imagination, but instead it was a face and body he could hardly reconcile as being himself. Staring at his face meant looking at his sister, something that he had never quite bothered to think about before but was now in the forefront of his intrusive thoughts. This conflict became evermore so conflicting when he felt conflicted with the desire to be seen as a boy, with masculine terms and a much-less feminine name while also taking great pride in traditionally feminine attire such as his long hair and traditional, skin-covering robes and drapes. All arguments he had in his head or curled up in his bed at night centered around if he was 'queer' enough to count. If perhaps he was in his head the whole time and didn't know what he was talking about.

What makes someone queer compared to someone who simply preferred a certain outfit or style? This question was the crux of his identity crisis that troubled him so.

"Hello?" Alphinaud jumped, eyes training on the commanding voice in front of his desk. Giggles and stares were all he got as his teacher tapped on the oak wood of his workstation. His brown eyes, which were usually understanding and kind to him, made him shrink in his seat at its intensity. Alphinaud ducked his head down, hoping the heat he felt in his face and deep embarrassment wasn't easily noticeable.

"I sincerely apologize, Professor Romilion." Alphinaud rushed out. The man sighed, taking a few step back from the desk.

"Next time you decide to doze off in my class, I will be less lenient. I expect more from you, young lady." the words only made his anxiety raise, hand twiddling his pen as he nodded again, half bowing over his desk hoping his voice didn't betray his trepidation.

"Yes sir, sorry sir."

After a few moments of the classroom getting back in order, the lesson continued swiftly, making Alphinaud's thoughts a complete mess of historical facts and dates that pushed all his troubles aside for the time being. Before he knew it, lunch bell rang throughout the Studium, the teacher motioning for all the students to rise before seeing them off for break. The room rang abuzz with mutters and conversation, the scratching of chairs and clapses of bags opening as everyone got their items in order. Alphinaud took a few moments to let everyone else sort through their inventory first, taking the time to finish some minor annotations on the lesson plan and organize his papers for later.

Once the room was empty aside from his professor, he was able to relax much more, the wandering gazes of his peers curious as to why the perfect daughter of a Forum member would suddenly ignore a lesson being too much to deal with alongside his other troubles. Motioning to stand, he bowed at his teacher before turning to leave.

"A word, Leveilleur?" Professor Romilion's voice rang from behind him and he paused to respect the request. The teacher moved around him slightly to close the door and turn to Alphinaud.

"Ah, I apologize again for my rude behavior during your lecture, it was truly my fault and won't happen again." He reiterated once again, a desire to correct his own wrongs overriding even his shame for making such a silly and embarrassing mistake to begin with. His professor laughed with a handwave, shaking his head.

"Ah, relax already child! You aren't one to do such a thing under normal circumstances, I just had to make sure students did not feel comfortable making the same error. No, what I wanted to talk to you is adjacent to what happened in class, but not directly."

"Oh…"

"You seem troubled, recently. If students are giving you a hard time, or the workload is becoming too much, I trust in your judgement to communicate this to me. You're younger than any student I've taught, and while I know the school likes to push you, it's important to know your limits-"

"It's not that!" Alphinaud blurted out, coughing to compose himself. "I- what I mean to say is, it has nothing to do with the workload, nor my peers. Though they do tease sometimes, they are not an issue, truly. I've just been… preoccupied."

He hated the taste of a blatant half-truth on his tongue, but didn't know if being open about such personal matters would be wise or even appropriate. The teacher didn't seem to pick up on this, instead leaning on his desk and gesturing for Alphinaud to sit on a desk across from him to talk more. He hesitated, before slowly making his way to a student seat and sitting on it.

"Preoccupied with what? You may be a newer student, but you've always seemed to have a one-track mind about focusing on your studies. Seeing you off-put has been an odd experience the past few days, but today seems to be even worse."

Alphinaud internally groaned and yelled at himself for being so obvious as to be noticeable by his professor. He could only hope that his other professors, or really, his father didn't pick up on anything amiss.

"I… have been thinking about something, and it has kind of made me realize a few other things, and I… Professor Romilion, are you aware of the history of Elodie?" His next words were carefully worded to not be so obvious to his true intentions.

His professor took a moment to think about the question.

"I may need more information than that to give you an honest answer, but not off the top of my head."

"Oh, uhm-" He cursed himself again for stammering over his words. "Elodie Anouilve. I had found a book documenting her life during Sharlayan's settlement and initial growth, and she had documented and proposed the first draft of what would be the Gleaner occupation on the island."

"The draft that eventually became the Declaration Of Gleaner Procurement? One of the founding papers establishing the necessary systems needed to facilitate the future of academic research and knowledge gathering. Yes, I do know of Anouilve. Though Gleaners are a foundational support for Sharlayan research, most of the information about its creation is seen as an, ah, 'no brainer' as most of the need-to-know details are core in our living today, so we don't cover it very deeply in class. Why?"

"Well, I had found a book that referenced her in it, but instead of her political and scholarly participation in the foundation of Sharlayan, it focused on her… personal life."

"How so?" The professor was now interested, leaning over his desk to look at Alphinaud, eager for information.

"Specifically… she was well documented and known to be engaged to… a woman."

His face was burning in embarrassment at uttering such a sentence to his teacher.

"And there's nothing wrong with that, nothing at all! I just was surprised, because such information was something I didn't expect and, it made me think about how the world is now. Even after all these years, even with some of the founding principals and people of the nation, queerness is almost… invisible, is all. And a lot of my peers are… unwise with their words on those communities of people."

He couldn't read what his professor was thinking as he rambled, continuing to prattle on in hopes he'd cut him off or clear something up.

"Why do we never talk about this kind of thing? All it does is give random morons the ability to act horrible to their fellow man in the present day, and it's something I've even seen here in the Studium! Utters of disgust at a woman that may be attracted to someone else, or-" Alphinaud 's words were cut off.

"People are afraid, Alphinaud. They are afraid of change, or difference."

A pause.

"I say this because you are wise for your age and I believe it's something you may need to hear. You're passionate, and very wide-eyed about the world. But the truth is… the world is afraid. Difference means unknowns, it means change they may not understand. And it's easier to push back against it than it is to accept that. And not everyone is a good person. You can give benefit of the doubt, that 'they didn't know it was real' or 'they felt lied to' or a million other reasons, but some people don't want differences in identity of gender or sexuality or even skin color. As for the Forum… they don't see the dissonance between seeing everything as equal, and speaking for what's right. Not enough of them encourage us to learn about the personal lives about our forefathers because looking in the past at irrelevant information is a waste of time. We'd rather learn about how they grew plants and their start on aetherial research than the history of queer men and their struggles to exist in a hostile world. It's a much better expenditure of time to research on the brutal, unfeeling facts of a rebellion or revolution because digging into the people involved and their life stories, not the cold facts, is seen as frivolous of time."

Professor Romilion sighed, rubbing his face in suddenly-visible weariness.

Because to some members of the Forum, all of Sharlayan has rights, and no one is referred to by being a Miqo'te or a Hyur or 'queer' or 'homosexual' or really anything identifying outside of name and occupation because it's 'irrelevant'. But to the people? It's easy to fall into indolence when those faced with hard questions that don't have a textbook answer quiver away from it, and when the higher-ups don't address a problem because they believe since there's no laws against queer people, they cannot be discriminated against."

Alphinaud's thoughts tangled in the mini-lecture he was just given, itching to take notes but ignoring that urge to process it more emotionally. Professor Romilion's speech was unprompted and a little bit too on the nose to be just a passing rant, but at the same time was very useful. He felt anger – at his peers for the harmful words they spewed, to the Forum's open lack of caring for anything other than persevering and research, again. Queer people were vital to their history and it was allowed to be erased away like most gender or age of most people in their history books were. They learned a sequence of facts and statements instead of why it was able to happen. And in a way, he felt pain for himself. If he understood these things deeper than off comments and independent research, would he have known who he was? Would Alisaie feel so uneasy in a place that seems to never actually have dictated if she had the right to love who she wanted legislatively?

"I- why do you know so much about this?" Alphinaud couldn't help but ask. "About queerness and Sharlayan's stance on it."

"Ah, it takes a queer person to notice the frustration and point it out, aye?" Professor Romilin winked, barely letting him have a moment to process before another bell rang out.

"That is the mid-lunch bell, little lady. Better head out before you miss out on lunch our and go the rest of your lectures distracted and tired. But if you ever need to talk, I'm here, alright?" His words were kind and consoling while also being firm, nudging Alphinaud to grab his stuff and move towards the door. Before Alphinaud fully left the room he turned around and bowed deeply to his professor, which caught the professor off guard.

"Thank you, for your words. I feel as if I understand things a little bit more, now. And… I will talk to you if I need, but I'm ok." He fixed his posture, and even with the misgendering, smiled. "I'll be okay."

Professor Romilin let out one final statement in response. "If anyone asks you why you were in the senior library, tell them I gave you permission due to a paper you're researching for my class from now on!"

Alphinaud turned to stammer over any type of excuse for his actions sneaking around, but by the time the fully spun around, the door was already closed. Another bell warning that lunch was ending soon rang out, and he swore under his breath before hiking his bookbag up his shoulders more and bee-lining it to the cafeteria.

It was nighttime already, and he had since retired to his chambers after getting home just to argue debate with his father after a long day of studying. As Alphinaud sat in his room looking out at the back of his room's large window, he couldn't help the budding anxiety building in his chest. Watching students and adults idly laugh and converse as they headed to night classes, home from work, or one of the few social bars still open that night alongside whatever endeavors they had planned after school, he tried to let his mind wander.

He knew what his place in the world was supposed to be, or at least was supposed to be in theory. For one, he was a child of a well-respected member of the forum, and for two, he was a prodigy. The same foolery that peers were allotted by playing outside, going to festivals, and spending time in extracurriculars were simple tasks that were not meant for him to enjoy – but he was okay with this. Sitting in his room with books stacked up so high that they towered over his small 8-year-old body, it felt like a whole world was at the beck and call of his fingertips waiting to be discovered. He had a loving mother who doted on him with all the care and attention he could ask for, and a grandfather who, sparingly, would wax stories about a world they were unable to truly see existing across the ocean but just as loving and kind. And of course, he had a sister who understood him even when he struggled with it himself (though they clashed a lot; just because they were twins did not mean they always got along).

The rising pressure that the two experienced as they erred closer to early entry to the Studium alongside their grandfather's rather rushed departure onto Eorzea caused an almost unspoken fracture in their family as a whole. Mistakes were not so easily brushed off and instead reprimanded, and the quiet whispers and stares they got the first year after their grandfather left Sharlayan put their father on edge. Their mother was still kind and strong, but in true Leveilleur fashion learned when a battle was lost and didn't speak up when the pressure became too much to bear, only supporting on the sidelines. And Alphinaud knew and was explicitly told the fact that he was to be of the best. The smartest, most knowledgable, and one most explicably meant to lead. The mountains of books on random topics and fictional worlds he was interested in were replaced with debate theory and thesis paper drafts on different applications of aetherology. Eventually, he landed on his actual thesis topic – Sharlayan's responsibility for the salvation of

Even with all of this and status to boot, there was something that always hung heavily over his head. And that proverbial bomb over his head was the same reason he always avoided looking into the mirror for more than a but a few moments a day, or how he spent what felt like hours on his appearance to look presentable in the mirror when he was unable to avoid. His sister always called him a drama queen, too worried about trivial things and less about his happiness and just 'getting through the monotony of the day', and he could only laugh mirthlessly and lightly bump his head against the windowpane as he wished that were true. If only the two things; happiness and public appearance, weren't intrinsically connected. Because if he were to look messy, sloppy, unkempt, unladylike, he would never hear the end of it. The means to prove himself a worthy prodigy under his father would only grow distant more. Staring at his appearance became more of a chore than a natural occurrence after a certain point, and his father emphasizing his ability to gain utmost respect and to command in any room he walked in did not lighten the burden.

"Hello? I know you're awake!" A startlingly loud voice came from his room door, a few rattling knocks following it. He sighed, closing one of the more dry books from the library that he had opened but wasn't even looking at for the past ten minutes, and placed it on the bedroom table as he rose from his spot to open the door. He paused after getting a grasp of the handle, before pulling it suddenly and taking a step back. A startled yelp was heard as the person behind his door stumbled forwards. Her hand was tightly closed into a fist and in front of his face, and she quickly pulled it away and scrambled upright. She was wearing a loose nightshirt and baggy pants, hair that was previously up high and braided now falling down her back and pinned back with hairclips to avoid getting in her face at night.

"You completely miss supper and now go on to ignore me? See if I ever try to check on you again." Alisaie, his annoyed sister grumble. She tilted forwards to stare at him almost expectant of an apology.

He chuckled lightly, taking a step back to allow her inside. She swiftly took the invitation (not without trying and failing to win a staring contest), waltzing into his room before swinging around to splay herself over his bed.

"Comfortable?" He asked, smiling lightly at his sister's theatrics and taking the free room to the side of her body to sit down cross-legged.

"Oh yes, very. Anywho, I was wondering why you decided to hole yourself in your room all day. I told father you were working on your thesis and he took it for now, but I cannot explain to him why you haven't left your room lest you want to deal with it yourself." She grumbled.

"Thank you for covering for me, and if it does help, I did spend quite a few hours today refining my thesis so it wasn't a complete farce on your end. I think he'd be rather proud of my new topic, actually." He pondered out loud. She turned to face him within a flash.

"You picked a topic already? I haven't even thought of mine, it isn't due until the end of the semester and we just started our first day at the Studium a week ago!" Alisaie questioned incredulously. He chuckled, reaching over to grab a stack of messy papers from his nightstand drawer before trying to organize them on his lap. He sat against his headboard, with his sister finally gaining some modicum of sense and following him to do the same. With a theatrical wave of his hand and a fake cough to clear his throat, he proceeded.

"With Sharlayan being a beacon for some of the brightest historians, researchers, and philosophers, it is imperative that we understand where our country has come from throughout the centuries it has thrived as a nation. It has grown from an isolationist policy; one born of both a desire to survive and thrive in a world commonly wrought with Umbral Calamities. But as we grow and document the changing tides of the star's history and present as a whole, we have forgotten a core principle of our learnings – 'those who do not respect history are doomed to repeat it'. We have since grown from educational institutions and politicians determined to allow the history of this star to weather the cycles of life to an existence of complacency among our peers in neighboring countries. As research into the world's plights continues to be pursued and cultivated, so too does our ever-pressing and growing responsibility internationally come to the forefront. Sharlayan has a duty; a responsibility that hundreds of years of negligence and avoidant policies have only made more perilous. We have censored and removed the voices and words of many scholars in the past, those that advocated for the allyship of the Eorzean Alliance for New Sharlayan, those that we pushed away from our history textbooks that established key systems that Sharlayan needed to function. It's time we embrace our history and move forward, instead of staying in isolated solitude, never able to truly grow or learn outside of our isolated city." Once he was done reading the opening to his first rough draft of his thesis, he turned to Alisaie only to notice that her mouth was agape, at a loss for words. His voice died in his throat and he fiddled with his note sheet in his hands.

"Was it… that rough of a first draft? I thought you would quite enjoy the dramatics of it even if you don't agree with the message-"

"No no, that's not- you realize father will kill you if that is your thesis topic, correct?" Her question cut his train of thought off but was not surprising overall, though he still had to pause and think for a moment. He had weighed the pros and cons of solidifying on this topic ever since he found out he would be able to attend the Studium early – whether being true to his ideals was worth the ire said peculiarities of his stance would be wrought. Unfortunately for him, his ideals always seemed to supersede his personal well-being, and he couldn't toss the idea once he had landed on it.

"Tis something I'm aware of." He clarified finally. "But frankly, it should be stated. And by the Twelve, I went through seventeen different thesis ideas that I could not write simply because I did not care enough about the random idiosyncrasies of Allagan technology in modern literature or the history of aetheric connection."

The shuffling of his bed was heard first before he felt his sister lean her head on his shoulder. Placing his papers back into his nightstand was a bit more difficult with said person half on top of him, but he made do. After doing so, he shuffled to get comfortable before laying his head on hers in return. They sat in silence for a moment respite, the only thing Alphinaud having to pay attention to being his sister's quiet breathing and the soft sound of the crackling of oil lamps in his room.

"I won't question your thesis, but I will probably steal your rough idea about aetherical application of combat you had before this. Though I do think martial-arcane combat is both more a broad yet accurate version of that idea." She finally stated, before sighing dramatically as she curled up next to him.

"Look at you, creating a thesis hand-crafted to give our father an aneurism. Tell me when you intend to let him know so I can make sure he doesn't find out about my queerness until much further away." Her words were teasing but left a tinge of worry in his heart that made him immediately squeeze her hand. She squeezed back, shaking her head and turning to stare straight up at him with a grin.

"Oh, don't worry so much! I have already cried out all my tears you're allowed to see about the topic, and besides. I have you there to help take off the heat by single-handedly getting him in trouble with the Forum for spreading 'heretic ideology'."

"You seem much more comfortable with the idea than before." Alphinaud couldn't help his voice from coming off very surprised, considering her initial confession on her feelings towards other women came from panicking over a girl in their class being too pretty to invite home, lest people read her facial expressions and notice her feelings outright. Seeing his sister upset was already a jarring experience, but seeing her so upset over something that he didn't know how to help her with was greatly distressing. Though it took a while, she had finally warmed up the idea of being open with her feelings at least to him in private, and he treasured the moments where she felt safe enough to let him in her head, as chaotic as it usually was.

At his inquiry, she grinned at him, teeth bared in a way that was both reassuring and the first sign of a plan that is either ingenious or volatile enough to cause collateral to him, too. "Well, you cannot get in trouble for a crime with no evidence, right? He simply doesn't have to find out."

"What about when father starts trying to match you with suitors? He's already tried a few times with us at previous gatherings." He questioned, only to get dismissed by a scoff.

"He can barely get me to look at him across the dining room table without rabbling off about getting new dresses hemmed or speaking to mother about my future pet koi fish until he gets annoyed and bellows at me about not taking our futures seriously. And no offense to you because I truly do not envy your position; but you're much more likely to have to deal with his ridiculous delusions about the future than I." He sighed and scooted himself down until he was lying flat in his bed, Alisaie taking that as her queue to pat his head and rise to go to her own room.

As she got to the door, she motioned to leave but stopped at the last moment to turn around and look at him apologetically. "While I jest, I… do appreciate you being there for me when I was worried. But I am fine now, really." She paused, before continuing a bit more jovial. "I do not envy your position as the older sister, but I appreciate your sacrifice nonetheless. I will see you first thing in the morning!" She cheerfully saluted before moving to close the door in actuality.

"...wait." He spoke almost instinctively, cursing every fiber of his being that allowed that word to fly out of his mouth without a filter. Alisaie froze just a few feet outside of his door at the request. Turning to look in curiosity, he stared back at her knowing he couldn't hide the anxiety on his face. She looked confused for but a few moments before turning to check the hallway. After doing so, she walked into the room, grabbing his hand to drag him from the bed.

"Come outside, we can talk without prying eyes and maybe get some fresh air, hm?" Her words were clear and concise. Even with his attire being unfitting for public scrutiny, he couldn't bring himself to care much. There was no way Alphinaud was going to get out of this once her mind was set on it, so he quietly put on some slippers and grabbed his bag before he allowed her to drag him outside.

As they walked, quiet as a fly and hands squeezed betwixt each other, Alphinaud's thoughts wandered. When it came to his role, that was the true thorn in his side, wasn't it?

Looking at his reflection in the lines of long windows heading to the front door led him to make eye contact with himself, and the sight made him hyper-fixate on every detail. He could only thank Thaliak that he was easily able to hide his physical silhouette with baggy smallclothes and nightwear, and he was able to convince his family that his desire for professional pants-equipped garbs was for the practicalities of life and not due to his immense displeasure of wearing dresses and feminine clothing (not that he necessarily hated it, he truly enjoyed his hair long as well as his more feminine jewelry and tailored clothing fits, but stuff like dresses without leggings and tight, feminine tops emphasized the wrong things made people assume a bit too much for his liking). He quickly averted his gaze, thankful for Alisaie's reassuring grip and over-the-shoulder smile as they made it to the front doors and outside the estate without much fuss.

Even after the fresh air hit his face and the freedom of the open breeze made his anxiety simmer, Alisaie kept moving, though less quickly than before as she guided him to walk down the street. The two fell into a hushed silence, not exactly uncomfortable but with a lot of unspoken words hanging over the two.

"I… found a book." He spoke quietly, his hand not being held by his sister gripping his bag tightly. It was the only words he managed to get out, his shame clawing up his throat as if it were actually constricting it.

Alisaie snorted. "If it's some dry book about the establishment of Sharlayan architecture or some of the sort I'll pass, but thank you."

"No it's- It is quite different, actually. I-I thought of you. Lord, my lack of words is frustrating right now…"

The two made it just outside of the prying eyes of the Leveilieur estate, easily motioning to sit next to each other on the cobblestone path leading back down to the port. Alphinaud took the time to dig through his bag, and underneath all the books he brought home for academic research led to a noise of satisfaction that left his throat when his hands touched rough leather. He scooped it from his bag and unwrapped it from his self-created case, handing it to her gingerly.

She took it and stared at the title, before shrugging and flipping open the first page to start and skim over the first story with Elodie. Those few moments felt like Alphinaud was going to have his heart stop. Watching her comb through the chapter's contents and read it so quickly, watching her absorb every word of the first chapter, it was anxiety-inducing. What if Alisaie interpreted this as an insult? Or as if he were talking down to her, or being cruel to her and rubbing it in her face? He could only pray she understood his intention. And of course, hope that she didn't try to throttle him momentarily. He tried to read anything on her face, notiving her eyebrows turning crooked and teeth biting down on her bottom lip, barely noticeable. He just wished she'd say something.

A yelp stammered out of his mouth when but a few moments later, Alisaie turned and quickly punched him in the shoulder. The hit didn't hurt much and her head turned downwards to avoid eye contact.

"And what in the world was that for?"

"Why did you show me this? Is this- funny to you?" Her voice was monotone, the only betrayal of her emotions being her hands clenched tightly onto the front cover of the book. Knowing he was prodding into a wound she was trying to hide and avoid, he chose his next words carefully, but earnest all the same.

"...Would you believe me if I said I found it by accident, but I also just wanted to understand you better? Would that be so wrong?" He questioned, a hand resting on his chest as his heartbeat all but pounded out of his chest. She huffed again, voice now audibly wet as she tried to contain herself. She gripped the book so tightly that he was worried she would tear it in two by accident but was surprised when she motioned to open the book again and re-read what she had skimmed over, this time much more carefully. Her mouth moved silently as she mumbled the words read under her breath, and Alphinaud was stuck sitting and watching. And so they sat, underneath the dark sky with half a tree from the adorning dirt path half-covering them overhead. The sounds of the ocean were calming to his nerves, fiddling with the ends of his tunic in anticipation of her more thorough reaction. He could only be glad that as he looked out into the rest of the residential district and down the stone pathways, there was nary a soul in sight. A rare sight to see, but one he'd be eternally grateful for.

Alisaie once again completed the first chapter that he had encouraged her to read, the hand that was previously tracing the paper shakily resting on the page itself. She didn't say a word, eyes staring into nothing as Alphinaud gave her as much time as possible to process what she just read. His hand briefly paused in the air before landing to rest on her shoulder, twisting his body just so to get a better look at her. When he saw the beads of tears at the corners of her eyes that she was trying to keep from falling, he let out a trembling breath and squeezed her shoulder tightly. A reassuring smile on his face, Alphinaud shook Alisaie slightly.

"It is okay to cry." He muttered, watching her break at those words and sniffle as the tears left her eyes. Alisaie pinched her mouth closed as her shoulders quaked, shaking her head.

"I didn't know it was okay." She confessed, and those words were too loaded for him to respond properly to. Instead of verbally responding, he leaned his forehead on hers, his own garbled chuckle escaping him.

"Well of course it's okay. It is just… now you know that other people were this way, too. Maybe you can explain it to father that way so he doesn't try to ship you off to some random man five years your senior." He joked quietly, the two leaning on each other for support.

"Oh, my god he would do that wouldn't he. Frame it as an amazing opportunity he just couldn't pass up as if he just bought eggs from the local farmhouse or something of the sort he's oft to do." A soft laugh. " Well... I guess you're the only single bachelorette available for a husband, so I'd start getting used to all the chivalry classes and courtesy training you'll have to do."

Alisaie snickered at her own analogy and Alphinaud rolled his eyes at it. An uncomfortable feeling sat in his chest at her mention of 'womanly duties', but he tried to keep his voice controlled regardless.

"I would actually pass. I've been able to get out of most of that nonsense with my clothing just fine, and even so I am too busy with all my classwork, and working in the Studium's Parliament, on top of my thesis paperwork- father will let it go."

"Hm, I don't know, I can imagine you being dolled up like father usually does to me during the family balls. Long dress, flowy hair, you'd make a fine wife if not for your independence getting you in trouble. I guess that's one thing we are the same on as twins."

"Alisaie, I have something to tell you." His voice cut through her ramble almost immediately, the girl turning just slightly to look up at him from her current place resting on his shoulder. He knew she was completely innocent in what she was saying, but the words were digging a bit too deep, and it was getting harder to breathe at the idea of his father putting even more pressure on him. If he had one more expectation, especially one that made him so viscerally uncomfortable as being paired with someone to be the perfect wife, he was going to throw up and probably crumble from it all.

"Oh? Are you alright, you have rather strangely become tense all of the sudden…"

"I.. when I read this book, I read more than the first chapter. I was curious, and wanted to know more about historical figures we learn nothing but the 'facts' about. About their lives, about… everything. So I did. And when I found something I-" His quiet, barely-constrained raspy voice made her inquisitive eyes feel all the more piercing on his soul.

"I'm sure it's fine, dear sister. Unless you, I dunno, accidentally broke a huge rule, maimed or seriously injured someone, or did something otherwise that would get you into a huge amount of trouble to get this book to begin with." His lack of response made her worry grow, hand tensing on the page. Even with her imagination going wild, Alphinaud was deeply struggling to describe what exactly he was trying to say, and instead graced her with silence.

"Well- I'll be, if you did something very bad, I'm sure this book also has some guides on murder." Her deadpan voice made him jump from his conflicting thoughts.

"Alisaie we're not murdering someone!" Alphinaud hissed out, looking in their vicinity once again in case someone heard.

"Hm… maim until they get amnesia is then an option. I have a friend who could help with that. Great swinger in that one Crystal Tower Striker game that Baldesion's researchers got imported in from the Gold Saucer. Could really pack a punch make a few people forget-"

"Alisaie, just-" He tried to take a deep breath as he painstakingly pulled her hands from its knuckle-white grip on the pages, turning the page until it landed on the one historical figure he couldn't run from since he saw the words inscribed. The name 'Pietro' was seared into his mind since he read it earlier that day, and the words in which he earnestly described his… dysphoria (that was a new word Alphinaud had a hard time swallowing) and struggles acutely resonated with Alphinaud himself.

"Read this, please." He pleaded, once again cutting her off. She motioned to continue her tirade, most likely in an attempt to cheer him up and lighten the mood, but one glance at his face turning pale and tense encouraged her to read what page he opened the book on. She did so with visible hesitance, looking up at him and then at the paper a few times to make sure he was okay with it before doing so.

Watching her read the text that made him realize how wrong he felt in his body was even harder than the realization itself, he came to find. Breath abated, hanging on every word she transcribed to her head and hoping that she would accept him the same way he accepted her. Even if she didn't though, Alphinaud knew he could never hate or be angry at her. He would accept whatever she decided, whatever she felt, and he'd take it and drown with it because if she didn't accept him, he couldn't feasibly think of any other who would.

"You- wait." She stammered after getting halfway through the letter, the pieces visibly clicking into place for her. "That's why you got oddly uncomfortable when I said sister, and bachelorette?" She asked incredulously, staring up at Alphinaud, not in anger or disgust, but in concern.

"I ah… I really dislike that word." He confessed after flinching at her blunt statement.

"You're not… you're queer, too?" Alisaie fumbled on her words in fragile hope, the two making eye contact as Alphinaud tried to not cry.

"I think so?" despite him wording it questioningly, that statement made Alisaie positively beam, whatever minuscule weight on her shoulder disappearing completely. The lump in Alphinaud's throat only grew tighter.

"I do not know what to do, Alisaie. I-I'm scared, too." Alisaie's arm was thrown around him and forced him into an oddly positioned but all-the-welcome hug. He squeezed back just as tightly, eyes pressed firmly against her shoulder as Alphinaud tried to put himself together. Sitting there, just a few moments before the final bell of curfew would sound throughout the city, they allowed themselves to feel safe and warm in the other's embrace.

"...Oh seven hells, we really are going to make our father have an aneurism, huh? What are we going to do, oh wise brother of mine?"

Alphinaud let himself sag into her arms with a ragged sob, but no tears escaped. He allowed his sister to hold him quietly, and he felt that he was allowed to exist just like she was – and she wouldn't hate him for it.

Maybe they both were on the path to being okay, now.