Minho turned away from the mirror that hung on his wall, walking from his room when he heard his mother calling his name, her voice echoing around him, accompanied by the click that his boots made against the stone. “Mother,” he greeted, a smile returning to his face as he spied the woman who was staring out of the window at their small kingdom, her light blue gown browned at the edges from mud, alerting him to the fact that she had been out.

“Your father wants you,” She mumbled, turning her sad eyes to face her son, their hardships and guilt clear on her face, the weight on her shoulders slowly killing her, and it angered the young man to see his mother in such a state. Sadly though he had grown numb to the feeling that had boiled up within his stomach, causing his lips to pull into a thin line as he followed her to the large hall that his father was seated in, basking in the glory that he had stolen.

“Yes?” He asked the man, watching as the man who had once been strong and righteous turned to beam at him.

“My son!” He cheered, booming voice surrounding them, enough to make Minho recoil, “I need you to go out with the guards today, the people have been starting to rally, you need to stop them. You will be king one day, they should start to respect you.” He ordered, Minho only nodding in response before turning to leave, brushing past his mother who was watching him with a glimmer of hope in her eyes, hope that he would turn against his father, aid the people in their rally, break down the walls and drag the older man from his throne. But how could he be expected to do that when he was surrounded by his father's men. He would be killed on the spot.

He could only shake his head, grabbing his cloak from its usual spot by the stable exit, wrapping it around his shoulders, grabbing his blade and setting it before glancing at the mirror nearby, knowing he could use it to call Jinki but the man was likely asleep. Their only hope was resting so far away, yet only a moments call. He reached forward to touch the cold glass once before breathing in deeply and nodding, retracting his arm before storming out towards the stable to mount his horse.

He was in town within the hour, standing at the edge of the land his father owned, holding a blade to a poor man’s throat, the guards holding the rest of the townspeople back as they tried to get to the prince, shouting curses and threats. He didn’t budge, the words unable to injure him as the once had, his core burned with his own self-hatred as he turned to face them, “Quiet!” He barked, but they continued to shout, glaring at him.

“Killer” “Murderer” “Damn the Choi’s!” “We want our King back!”

His shoulders stiffened before he threw the man before him onto the ground, ignoring the outraged roar behind him as he turned and extended his palm forward, blade clattering against the dry dirt beneath him, a burst of energy escaped him, knocking the protestors down. They screamed in shock. “I said quiet!” He shouted as he stepped forward, “I am your prince now and my father is your king, your previous king was soft, he died and left you all behind. Now go home, be grateful I let you live.” He hissed, voice venomous, though self-hatred only grew within him as he leaned down to pick up his blade once again. “Do not doubt my family, lest you want to feel my father’s wrath instead of my irritation.”

He sighed, watching the crowd before gesturing for the men to follow him back to the palace.

Once he returned home Minho kicked off his boots angrily, ignoring the maids who followed alongside his mother, asking what was wrong and trying to dry him off. He wanted to be alone, in silence, so he burst into his room and slammed the door behind him. Paintings on the wall swinging with the force.  His hands were shaking, eyes clouding with tears as he walked to his window and glared out at the half-demolished kingdom, towns burned down, only marked by the dead trees that stood as headstones. There was no life, no happiness in his kingdom, it was the opposite of what he had told Jinki.

He had wanted to see the other's eyes sparkle, so he weaved a story of a kingdom that was full of life, saying the nearest city had music playing nearly all hours of the day and that he was a beloved prince. He wasn’t. He was hated and he was positive that the day he was buried in the ground would be calling for a celebration of the people. He didn’t take offense, they had every right to hate him, every right to celebrate his death. He wondered what he had seen before Minho’s father had taken over, had he heard the sounds of battle as troops marched ever closer, and he wondered why there was little to no resistance.

“Minho?”

The voice made him jump, hand pressed to his chest as he let out a breathless laugh, walking to the mirror that sat beside his bed, “Jinki,” he replied, smiling as the image came into focus, the image of the young man kneeling in the same box filled room, hair a mess and clothes wrinkled. “You look different,” he teased causing Jinki to narrow his eyes before sticking out his tongue.

“I just woke up, my parents have company,’ he explained as he reached back to rub his nape as Minho nodded and reached into his pocket to press his fingers to the small pocket watch he had been given “I don’t feel like doing anything so I came here instead,” he explained, Minho’s eyes darting down to his finger, smiling at the sight of the ring.

“Is that so? Such a lazy boy,” he tsked before leaning in closer, watching as Jinki did the same, their smiles the same as they both knew they were getting out of something that they should be taking part in.

“Whatever,” Jinki snickered out before suddenly snapping his fingers together and sitting up straight, his eyes lighting up much like a child on Christmas morning. “I had a weird dream last night,” he announced as Minho leaned back against his bed, nodding as a sign for the man to continue. “So, I woke up in this weird room, and there as this portrait of me, but there was something odd about it, so I tried to leave and ask but a man told me to go back to bed. And I was about to brush it off but he called me Prince Onew,” he explained, “I’ve never been called by someone else’s name, at least not in my dreams, I don’t think.” Jinki whispered.

Minho swore he could feel his heart pause at the name, forcing a small smile onto his lips as he nodded, “That’s all?” He asked, wanting to know if they other had heard anything else.

“He said something about someone wanting to get me, that’s it. I’ve just ever had such a realistic dream.” He explained, Minho only able to nod as he did his best to brush it off until he had time to look into it. Even as every part of his brain screamed at him to go take care of it that moment, to make sure everything was okay, but the way Jinki smiled rooted him to his spot. He didn’t want to whisk away that smile just yet, he wanted it to last longer and he’d be damned if he wasted time putting together a puzzle that he never intended to open.

By the time Jinki had to go, claiming he had a doctor’s appointment that would take most of his day, Minho was drained, slumping back onto the bed as he stared up at the ceiling of his room.

Onew. Jinki had dreamed of the last night of Onew’s life. It made his head spin, there was no way Jinki could know that story. There was no reason he should if Minho told him then the male would just run and ruin his plans.

Onew. The Prince who was meant to be king, the one his father had murdered in cold blood years ago, whose body was buried deep below the castle, who’s room Minho currently lie in. The male whose ring was now sitting snug on Jinki’s finger, the ring Minho had stolen in order to find the opposite of Onew’s soul.

He let out a loud groan, throwing himself back onto his feet as he began to pace, running everything through his head once again. He was sure that the Prince was dead, he had watched as they buried the body deep in the ground, covering it in mortar so that no one could find it. He saw the boy destroyed shortly after his own parents, the Lee name dying along with him. He was sure of it! His father wouldn’t let it happen any other way, as he so desperately wanted a kingdom to burn to the ground. It had Made Minho desperate enough to find a way to the rightful Prince back.

There was a book that held instructions back in the dustiest part of the library, it said to find his opposite, which he had, Jinki. Once that was done he was to bring the man over and start showering him in gifts that had once been Onew’s until the spirit was able to take over the body.

He wasn’t the one who had given Jinki the ability to walk again, it was Onew. The moment the connection was made the prince was able to latch onto the body that fit his soul perfectly.

Of course, Minho didn’t mean to grow attached to his pawn but he was sure he could sever whatever attachment developed, he had priorities. The only thing he hadn’t accounted for was Jinki dreaming of Onew’s life.

The book had never warned of something like that, was it the ring? Was the merging happening much too fast? Minho let out a small string of curses, gripping his hair and tugging at it harshly.

He wasn’t used to being uncertain and he wasn’t taking a liking to it.

Their front door slammed shut as Jinki dashed up the stairs, his mother shouting his name behind him, only for her voice to be muffled as he swung around and closed the door behind himself, locking it and in a deep breath. She wasn’t the type to get mad but Jinki wasn’t about to run to her side and apologize, he was in the right! Why should he allow the doctors to stab him with needles and push him around like some fun new science experiment? He felt find. He could walk and laugh without pain running him into the ground. But it wasn’t that which had pushed him over the edge, it was what they had never told him.

Jinki was never meant to survive, the doctors expected for a bundle of nerves that existed beside his brain to explode shortly after he had lost his ability to walk. They told his mother, offered a surgery that could have saved him or at least prolong his life but she refused. She claimed that it was because she didn’t want him in pain, wanted him to pass away in his sleep peacefully. And it both angered him and scared him to think that if he hadn’t found Minho he would have died and would have never had a say. Where was the justice in that?

His lips curled back in disgust when he heard a knock on the door, not bothering to answer it as he made his escape into the attic, pulling it closed behind him before walking to the mirror, wanting some comfort, desperately needing Minho there, the one man who hadn’t lied to him.

Minho was propped up in his bed, flipping through a book hoping to find answers about Jinki’s dreams, his blade lying beside him as he ran his fingers along the cold metal, having never let it leave his side. He was scared he would meet the same end as Onew had.

But he wondered if it was possible that Onew was trying to warn the other, but he couldn’t fathom why he would do that, they had no connection when Onew was alive, shouldn’t he be excited for the chance to return.

He clicked his tongue and tossed the book aside before rubbing his palms against his eyes. There was too many questions and too little answers. He just wanted it to be easy, for there to be a glaring sign pointing him towards the right thing to do. He was just a young boy himself, barely cresting into adulthood. For a moment he allowed himself to think of Jinki fading away, Onew taking over only to kill Minho along with his false king father. He wouldn’t be able to gaze upon the face that had once been Jinki’s. It made his heart sink, settling itself as low as t could within his chest. He had to tell himself that this was the right thing, how else would he be able to go on with his mission.

“Minho?” Jinki called, Minho prepared for it this time after having seen the image of his mirror waver. So with a sigh he set the blade aside and sat up, sliding off the bed to be face to face with the other who seemed down, eyes dropping with exhaustion.

“How was the doctors?” He asked, offering a smile only to have it wiped away when Jinki turned his head aside and take a shaky breath.

“I don't want to talk about it,” he whispered as he leaned closer to the mirror, arms wrapped around himself in a hug, “Can we talk about your day?”

Minho nodded slowly, thinking up a story to tell the other to cheer him up, knowing the truth about his day wouldn’t help either of them. “Well, I went looking for things that my father had forgotten about,” he said, knowing it wasn’t a lie, as his father had forgotten about the King and his family that had come before them, burying their things below, to rot along with the guilt he had handed down to his son. The portrait of the prince stood in the corner of the room, watching Minho as he desperately tried to find something to help along with his plan, to make things right again, but that smile seemed to taunt him. Telling him that even if he did something to help bring back the prince and save the people of his world he was doing an evil deed in the process, killing a man who had just as much a right to live. He would never be the good guy, that was something he accepted years ago.

“Oh, what kind of things?” Jinki asked, grinning wide as curiosity flickered in his eyes, hands pressing to the mirror as he tried to peer over Minho’s shoulders, as though he would be able to see something looming in the background, it made him laugh.

“Things of a past time,” he whispered as he wiggled his hands in a teasing manner before reaching out to grab the sword and holding it up for Jinki to see. It had once been the King’s, though his father had tossed it away with the rest of the Lee family items rather than plucking up the iron blade. He dubbed it the sword of failures, but Minho felt a calling to it. Jinki’s eyes lit up and he knew that the man felt the same as him. “The sword is only one thing, I found a bunch of other things too,” he said as he reached for a box, dumping its contents on his bed before picking up the locket that laid among the rings and necklaces. “See?” He whispered as he held it up for Jinki to see, his own gaze darting down to the ring.

“That looks so old,” Jinki whispered, trying to press closer to the mirror as Minho laughed before forcing his hand through the mirror barrier, dropping it in Jinki’s hand and retracting his own before the boy could try to give it back.

“You can look at it better this way,” he explained, watching as Jinki hesitated before opening the locket and peering at the yellowed paintings that lay inside it. “That the king and queen before my parents,” He explained, “They were very loved, and still are,” he whispered as he stared at the small clasp that Jinki toyed with as he stared at the images.

“They must have been pretty amazing then,” He finally whispered as he lifted his finger and delicately ran his fingers over the images, Minho’s heart constricting with guilt, a pain settling within him, body jerking upwards as he sputtered.

“I- I have to go! Really!” He said loudly, Jinki jumping and staring in confusion before Minho waved his hand over the image, causing it to go black before Jinki could tell him to take the locket back.

He spun, dashing from his room as Jinki’s face burned into his memory, urging Minho to go faster as though he could outrun it, the prince throwing himself down the stairs. He was terrible, as awful as his father, he was going to kill such a precious soul. Worse even because he was tricking Jinki into trusting him, knowing he’d never understand why.

He turned down the hall and forced open a large wooden door into the vault of the Lee’s possessions, staring at the items that littered the room before sinking down to the floor, head resting in his hands as he forced himself to breathe. Only one of them could live, Jinki or Onew. And without Onew Jinki was sick, he would die in an instant and there would be no one. If Minho persisted then at least Onew could live.

But it was wrong, despite how he tried to explain it to himself. He was righting his father's doings in a way much worse than the original sin. Yet he knew how happy the people would be when Onew strode back into the palace, his palace. They would be free and Minho would be allowed to drop the mask that had been placed upon him since he was young. He could die alongside his father knowing he had done all he could, to go to where he had send Jinki. Or would the soul of the other be trapped within his body as another played with the controls.

“Why? Why is this so hard?” He asked, voice cracking as he stared at the portrait of the real prince, his cold dead eyes staring him down, “Why can’t you both live?”