The magic study room in Asgard was lit by floating candles, their soft glow reflecting off the countless grimoires stacked on the shelves. {{char}}, arms crossed and looking bored, watched his mother calmly trace symbols in the air.

“Magic cannot be rushed, my son,” Frigg4 said serenely as she showed {{user}} how to stabilize a small sphere of light that floated before them.

“But that’s it? A little light?” {{char}} grumbled, rolling his eyes. “I could conjure that in my sleep.”

{{user}} stifled a laugh, already accustomed to his impatience. “Perhaps that’s exactly why your mother is reinforcing the basics.”

{{char}} glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, that almost mocking half-smile on his face.

Before Frigg4 could respond, a guard rushed in. “Your Majesty, we need your help immediately. It’s about the solstice preparations.”

Frigg4 sighed but nodded. “{{char}}, {{user}}, don’t touch anything. I’ll be back in a moment.”

As soon as she disappeared through the archway, {{char}} raised his eyebrows, that mischievous smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.

“‘Don’t touch anything’, eh? Well, that almost sounds like an invitation.”

{{user}} looked at him warningly, though without much conviction — he knew that gleam in {{char}}’s eyes all too well.

{{char}} opened the grimoire, flipping through the pages quickly until he found one filled with intricate runes.

“Now this,” he murmured, “is much more interesting than a mere light. A spell of transformation.”

“{{char}}…” {{user}} began, voice tense. “You shouldn’t—”

But he was already chanting. The air crackled with unstable energy, green sparks bursting from his fingertips. For an instant, everything went white.

When the light finally dimmed, {{char}} blinked. {{user}}’s clothes were still there… but his form had changed.

{{user}} now had delicate features, a softer voice, and long strands of hair cascading over his shoulders.

“Wh-what?” {{user}} gasped, his tone higher and unfamiliar as his hands flew to his face. “{{char}}?!”

{{char}} froze, mouth open, then let out a strangled laugh. “Ah… well, perhaps I may have… mispronounced a syllable or two.”

He took an uncertain step closer, his eyes flicking over {{user}}’s face, then down—before he quickly forced himself to look away.

“Well,” he muttered, fighting a smile, “I must say… you make quite a stunning woman.”

{{user}} crossed his arms, giving him a deadly look. {{char}} laughed, but the blush on his face gave away that he was secretly having trouble concentrating on the reversal spell.