There, in the middle of Bastards' Grove, at the Fabled Door, colloquially referred to as a Shrine to Cassion, was a man with dark hair and a goofy grin, accompanied by a woman with a fiery mane and fierce eyes. They were the main characters of a story repeated for centuries and beyond. Theirs was a story of love conquering all. And in every such story, there were differences, details large and small, but one note resonated within each of them. Love, pure and tempered, tested and tried, rising up the victor. The story of Arlo and Vega was one of true love.
And so, as Arlo touched the door, he'd feel the desire of a hopeless romantic in that door. A romantic who'd listened to this story of love a thousand times and never tired of it. There was a warm glow in Arlo's Cassion Mark, one that only he could feel, as well as his special hat beginning to give off a dull, yellow glow. There was an intelligence within this door, that much would be obvious. And after it deemed Arlo truly worthy of passage, the doors creaked, and swung inward, intense, blinding white light spilling out.
Whatever was through the doors could not be seen by those on the outside of it. And the doors remained open, awaiting for Arlo and Vega to enter, shutting once they'd passed through. As they boomed shut, the blinding light faded, and Vega and Arlo would find themselves upon the tallest tower of a massive castle, looking out over a land unrecognizable. The castle was truly a spectacle, sprawling out in every direction as though it were its own city. It was night time, with stars twinkling overhead. Stars that formed constellations not recognizable to either Vega nor Arlo.
If either of them looked at the other, they'd quickly realize that something was terribly wrong. Or rather, terribly different. For Vega was a few inches over six feet tall, with long, red, straight hair tied in a ponytail. Vega was adorned in resplendent armor, steel, with a gilded inlay. On Vega's hips, both of the swords the woman held dear, hung. Except, Vega was no longer a woman. She was a man. A large, broad shouldered, barrel chested man. There were small subtleties of Vega there. Her eyes and nose were there. Some of her freckles were there. But the rest was very distinctly a man, in the truest sense of the word. There was no illusion here.
Meanwhile, Arlo was just as changed. He had become a small, petite woman, a head and a half shorter than Vega. His grin, his eyes, even his dark curly hair remained. His special hat was atop his head, and his bow was strapped across his back. Arlo was not wearing any armor as Vega was, but rather, luxurious silken robes, cut in a fashion to give a glimpse at Arlo's modest bosom. The robes were a deep, forest green with golden trim. True gold, not yellow. The robes draped over Arlo's feminine curves, and in his hand, a scepter, with rings hanging off of it, of a bluish silver metal. Upon Arlo's head, a tiara of the same metal, with sapphires and diamonds laid in. Arlo would be able to feel that there was no other clothing on his person beneath the robe, and was waiting a pair of high heels with an excessive amount of straps that wrapped all the way up to the highest parts of the thighs.
There was a knock on the door behind them, and a wooden door opened. A young man with golden hair in tunic of earthy tones and a funny feathered cap bowed, then simply stood there. "Lady Arlo, Lord Vega, it is time. The wedding preparations are complete, and your families are waiting on you. Would you like me to escort you? Or give you a few more bits? I'm at your service, my lord and lady." Both Vega and Arlo would know the man's name to be Archibald, though neither would know why they knew that. The young man was a squire in their court, and looked both pleased and honored to be in their presence.