Backstory-- The Woman in the Painting.

Fiammetta is one of the two twin heirs to the noble family D’Amore,  although growing up she was treated as the lesser of the two brothers.  Her parents only wanted one child and she got the short end of the  stick. While her brother Fiorenzo was seen as the good kid, she  developed a short fuse and was prone to outbursts in school, often  uncontrollably shifting. The bullying certainly didn’t help. Even the  teachers spread rumors about the tantrum-having, deviant, little  werewolf boy in the lounge at lunch. When the gossiping spread to her  brother, though, she’d have none of it. If she couldn’t protect herself,  she’d at least protect him. At least he had the luxury of being able to  control his shifting.

Eventually, she learned to control her  emotions more as she grew up. And with it, she forced herself to shift  into a purely human form. She got more involved in her family’s dealings  with alchemical supplies and potions, opting to work directly with said  materials to create new products, including a magic-dampening potion,  one for water breathing for sailors in case of a sinking ship, and one  to help firefighters get in and out of fire safely.

    As for friends, Fiammetta never had anyone she truly considered a friend--  aside from her brother. She was never particularly sociable. She had the  basics of etiquette down, but wasn’t ever tactful enough to start or  maintain relationships. Her peers looked down on her anyways, so why  even try? If she ever wanted someone’s company, she simply paid for it.

     Soon after a new kitchen maid had been hired, she noticed the quality of the baked goods increased. The new and creative flavors of the  pastries were fascinating to her. Apple lavender muffins, egg coconut  tarts, and espresso chocolate meringue cookies were among the new menu  items, and each one of them were absolutely delectable. She had to know  who was behind them, so she mustered up her courage and asked to meet  who had made them. The cook herself admitted she was not the one who  came up with the ideas. She nudged the kitchen maid beside her. They  looked nervous.

“O-oh. I’m sorry, did you not like them? I coul-”

“N-no, I quite liked them.”

A sigh of relief slipped from the maid’s mouth and they relaxed.

“I… was wondering what you had next in mind?”

Their  eyes lit up, and they scurried to grab their latest project. They were  sugar cookies, decorated as sloths. In different styles of clothing.  Cute. They started rambling about their process of creating the cookies.  Also cute. They mentioned that the visual aspect of food was their  forte, as they were a painter.

“A painter? Our family  is currently looking to commission our next family portrait. I’ll put in  a good word for you. You’re doing a great job here, after all.”

“Really?! I would be most thankful, mister… uhh...” Their voice trailed off.

“Fiorello.”

“Mister Fiorello! I apologize, I’m not very good with names…”

“I’m afraid I missed yours?”

   

 “Oh! I’m Caelyn. Caelyn Dewflower, sir.”

‘    

     Fiammetta kept her promise. And they managed to get the job. The painting went smoothly; her parents were satisfied. But she was curious  to see if Caelyn would do a special project for her. Secretly, she  called them to her room to request a portrait: one of “himself” as a  woman-- and paid them good money to keep it a secret between them. It  was just something she wanted to see, out of sheer curiosity, she  assured herself. As Caelyn got to work, they chatted about their  interests, hobbies, and eventually their identity. They went on about  how initially they didn’t realize they liked girls, but entertained  themselves with what-if scenarios. Fiammetta was intrigued, and their  musings resonated with her own feelings that she hadn’t yet come to  terms with.

What if she was a woman? Would it make her happier?

But would her parents understand? What about Fiorenzo?

For  a while she sat with these feelings, finally confronting them after  years of setting them off to the side. She allowed herself to freely  imagine herself in such a scenario. When she finally received the  finished painting from Caelyn, she couldn’t help but break into a  tearful, joyous smile. She lost her usual composure, shifting as a wave  of emotions washed over her.

“Is that you?”

She was snapped out of her daze.

“What?”

“In the picture.”

Fiammetta  looked toward the mirror on the wall to see herself in her shifted  form. When had she done that? She pulled herself together and looked  back at Caelyn.

“I-- can you teach me how to be her?”

“But you already are, aren’t you?”

And  so they formed a bond with each other, Caelyn teaching Fiammetta the  things they learned growing up as a young girl. They tried to help with  the things they could, like braiding hair and posture. Much more  feminine subjects such as fashion and makeup were out of their scope, so  instead they turned to books-- Caelyn checking them out of the library  on her behalf and sneaking them to her via a bag of holding they would  “forget” lying around.

Soon enough she became interested in how  she could change her body through alchemy. A true polymorph potion was  way out of her grasp, and she didn’t have access to the vault where such  high-valued potions were kept. Instead, she opted to create her own  form of hormonal replacement therapy. She did her research, and was able  to grow the needed reagent in her garden-- the “gender root” as Caelyn  colloquially called it.

Finally, after a year of closeting  herself, she decided to tell her family. She thought about it for a  while, wanting to come out to her family at once, but did so on a whim  to her parents at the dinner table. Fiorenzo, away on a trip, would have  to wait to hear the news. They didn’t react vehemently like she thought  they would. Rather, they seemed a little weirded out, but didn’t seem  to care either way. After that, they avoided her more than they usually  did. Then, they surprised her the next week with an announcement that  she was to be married to a neighboring nobleman, for the benefit of the  two families.

If they really wanted to get rid of her that bad,  she decided she’d be better off running away. Starting a new life. It  couldn’t be that hard, right? At night, she confided her plan to Caelyn.  She was hoping they’d care, but didn’t think they would start crying.  Did they really care about her that much?  They took several deep  breaths before they finally replied.

“Take me with you.”

“What? You’re not the one getting married off in a week. You’ll be fine without me.”

“Please. You’re one of my best friends. We’ll have each other. ”

Fiammetta  eyed them, flustered by what they said. They had a determined look on  their tear-stained face that softened the longer they looked at each  other. Never had Caelyn made eye contact like this before. Usually their  eyes just flittered around, avoiding it. She knew they were dead set on  their decision. Thus, she relented. Knowing she didn’t have to do it  alone was comforting.