Testing Boundaries

The weight of their predicament settled heavily on both Amara and Lysander as they walked back to the living quarters. The palace halls, usually so grand and imposing, now felt like an elaborate cage. Neither spoke for a while, each lost in their thoughts. The knowledge that their bodies were switched until they could "connect" on a deeper level felt both absurd and terrifying.

"What does that even mean?" Amara murmured, her voice still carrying the depth of Lysander’s tone. She glanced sideways at Lysander, who, now in her body, moved with a careful elegance, trying hard to mimic her usual grace.

“Understanding each other?” Lysander responded, his voice tense with frustration. “What, are we supposed to bond over our shared dislike for this marriage?”

Amara grimaced. “Maybe it means we have to get along. You know, stop fighting so much.”

They turned a corner, nearing their chambers, where they could finally have a moment of privacy. Amara still felt out of place in Lysander’s skin, the strength and rigidity of his frame a far cry from her own. She wasn’t used to his height, nor the depth of his voice, and every movement felt foreign.

Lysander seemed to have similar struggles. He walked with deliberate steps, hands poised by his sides as though afraid to move them too freely. The quiet tension between them was heavy, the weight of their situation slowly sinking in.

“We should practice,” Amara suggested, stopping outside the door of their shared living quarters. “If we’re going to convince everyone that nothing’s wrong, we need to know how to act like each other.”

Lysander hesitated but nodded. “I suppose that makes sense. You’d better teach me how to handle all the courtly nonsense you deal with.”

“And you’ll have to teach me how to act like you.” Amara raised an eyebrow. “Which, honestly, doesn’t seem that hard. You barely talk.”

Lysander shot her a sideways glance but said nothing. They stepped inside the chambers, closing the heavy wooden door behind them. The silence that followed was thick with awkwardness. They were used to avoiding each other, but now avoidance was no longer an option.

Amara crossed the room and sat down at the small table by the window, gesturing for Lysander to join her. He complied, sitting stiffly across from her, clearly uncomfortable in her body. She could tell he was holding himself back, trying to avoid moving in ways that felt unnatural to him.

“So,” she began, leaning forward slightly. “Let’s start with the basics. How do I act like you?”

Lysander leaned back, his arms crossed in front of him—her arms, technically—and studied her for a moment. “First of all, stop slouching,” he said, his tone clipped. “I don’t slouch.”

Amara rolled her eyes but straightened her posture. “Fine. What else?”

“You need to be more… restrained,” Lysander continued, his gaze sharp. “I don’t show my emotions as easily as you do. You need to keep your face neutral, not so expressive.”

Amara frowned. “You mean you want me to be cold and distant?”

“Call it what you like,” Lysander replied with a shrug. “But that’s who I am.”

She sighed, running a hand through her—his—dark hair. “Alright, I’ll try to be more like a statue. What about the way you talk? You barely say two words at a time.”

Lysander’s lips twitched slightly, almost as if he was suppressing a smile. “I speak when I need to. I don’t waste words.”

Amara narrowed her eyes. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“You’ll get used to it.”

For a moment, Amara couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. Lysander was impossible to read, which only made her task harder. But as frustrating as it was, she realized she had no choice but to learn his ways. They had to survive this together.

“Fine,” she said, exhaling slowly. “Now it’s your turn. You need to learn how to act like me.”

Lysander leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. “I’m listening.”

Amara studied him for a moment, trying to figure out where to even begin. “First of all, you need to relax a little. I’m not as stiff as you are. When you walk, don’t be so rigid.”

Lysander raised an eyebrow. “I’m trying to avoid looking clumsy in your body.”

“Trust me, no one’s going to think that,” Amara said with a small laugh. “Just… move more naturally. Let your hands gesture when you talk, don’t keep them locked at your sides.”

Lysander seemed to mull that over for a moment, then slowly unfolded his arms, letting them rest on the table. He raised one hand, experimenting with a slight gesture as he spoke. “Like this?”

Amara nodded. “Better. And don’t be afraid to smile. I’m not as… reserved as you. People expect me to be approachable.”

Lysander gave a stiff, awkward smile, his discomfort evident. “This feels ridiculous.”

Amara laughed again. “You’re getting there.”

They spent the next hour practising small gestures, expressions, and mannerisms, each trying to embody the other. At first, it was awkward—painfully so. But as time went on, Amara found herself relaxing, settling into the rhythm of the task. Lysander, too, seemed to ease into it, though his frustration occasionally bubbled to the surface.

“I don’t know how you deal with all these emotions,” Lysander muttered at one point, shaking his head. “It’s exhausting.”

Amara shot him a look. “You think it’s easy being an emotionless statue? I feel like I’m suppressing every natural reaction I have.”

They exchanged a glance, and for the first time since the swap, there was a flicker of understanding between them. Despite their differences, they were both struggling in ways they hadn’t anticipated. The body swap had forced them into each other’s lives, but it had also given them a glimpse into each other’s challenges.

As the evening sun began to set, casting a warm glow through the room, Amara leaned back in her chair, feeling a strange sense of exhaustion. “This is harder than I thought.”

Lysander nodded in agreement. “But we’re getting better.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the air between them no longer as tense as it had been earlier. Amara found herself studying Lysander—studying him—for the first time. He was still distant, still reserved, but there was something more beneath the surface. Something she hadn’t noticed before.

Maybe that was what they needed to figure out. Not just how to act like each other, but how to truly understand one another.

“We’ll figure this out,” Amara said quietly, more to herself than to Lysander.

He glanced at her, his expression thoughtful. “We will.”

As night fell, they both knew that the road ahead was long, but perhaps, just perhaps, this strange twist of fate was forcing them to see each other in ways they had never imagined.

And with that, the first threads of understanding began to weave between them.

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