"Fritz?" The voice spoke staring the boy right in the eye. It seemed as if it were simply a thin glass wall between the two boys as they both moved freely of each other.
"Who are you?" Viktor demanded, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Despite the fear curling in his belly, he managed to keep his voice steady. The boy in the mirror - or rather, his doppelgänger - simply continued to grin, a spark of amusement dancing in those familiar eyes.
The figure extended his arms as if telling the boy to look around. "I'm what you're leaving behind."
Viktor looked rightfully confused. "What?" He asked softly.
"My memories, my family, my life… I am Viktor Kirchner, and you… Well, Viktor Fritz." It explained.
"Kirchner? Fritz?" Viktor stumbled back, his gaze never leaving the mirror. His heart pounded in his chest as he whispered the strange name to himself. "What is happening?"
His reflection — Viktor Kirchner — let out a soft chuckle that echoed eerily around the room. "It seems like this is quite a shock for you," he said, leaning back casually. "Don't you remember anything?"
Viktor shook his head, taking one more step away from the mirror. "No," he gulped, struggling to wrap his mind around what was happening. "I remember...I remember nothing."
"Well," his reflection smirked, crossing its arms. "Then I guess you're in for one hell of a ride."
Suddenly, memories flooded through Viktor's mind like an opened dam; images of grand halls lined with gold, the sharp clanging of swords, whispers of royal intrigue, and laughter filled nights filled his senses. It was too much, overwhelming and dizzying.
"I-I don't understand," he stammered, gripping the edges of an ornate chair for support as the images continued to bombard him.
"It's quite simple, really," Kirchner replied nonchalantly. "I'm you. Or rather," he paused thoughtfully, looking at Viktor's bewildered expression, "I was you."
He continued with that same smile on his face. "I ran away from this, found my way in Hoff. It's only been almost a year, yet you don't remember anything do you?" He sighed rubbing his temple. "I honestly don't remember or even know when we began to experience these things different.
"But why?" Viktor asked, voice shaking. "Why did you leave? Why don't I remember this life, this... palace?"
His reflection shrugged, "It's honestly quite complicated. I resented the royal life. The protocols, the expectations, the lack of freedom. So I fled. Found a new identity and embraced a simpler life as Viktor Fritz."
Viktor felt like he was drowning in confusion, but one thing was clear. His life as Viktor Kirchner had been real, and it was starting to slip into his current existence.
"I don't want this!" Viktor exclaimed, suddenly furious. "I don't want your memories or your... your royal problems!"
But his reflection merely smiled sympathetically at him. "What in the world are you talking about?" he said with a sigh. "You're still in Hoff, you think I actually brought you here?."
He then simply walked out of the reflection and stood beside his country counterpart. Extending his hand another smokey figure wisped into existence. It was a young man with dark hair and green eyes.
"This is Nickolas, he's older than us by two years. But he doesn't matter to us, none of them do." He finished a blade appearing in his hand, without a second thought he put it to his neck.
"No!" Viktor shouted, lunging forward in a futile attempt to stop his reflection. But his hands met nothing, passing through the apparition like a ghost, and he stumbled, falling to the cold marble floor. "What are you doing?"
His reflection chuckled darkly. "Taking back control," he said simply, and with a swift motion drew the blade across his throat.
Viktor watched in horror as his image dissipated like smoke, leaving only the echo of his chilling words. The room was silent, save for Viktor's ragged breaths. He was alone again, left to grapple with the haunting revelations and the reality of his fractured existence.
He sat up slowly, steadying himself against the opulent bedpost. His gaze fell on the mirror once again, but now it reflected only him - Viktor Fritz - looking pale and shaken in his royal chamber.
Nickolas' image lingered in his mind. He had been older by two years but held a look of naivety that seemed out of place among the palace's grandeur. Charles... Nickolas... they were Viktor Kirchner's family - his family - yet they felt distant and alien.
Viktor stood up slowly, each movement echoing painfully within him. He traced his reflection with trembling fingers, repeating those unsettling words - "Taking back control."
Was this possible? Could Viktor Kirchner reclaim his life by erasing Viktor Fritz?
A sudden spark of determination ignited within him. He would not let that happen. He wouldn't allow himself to be consumed by an existence he had no memory of choosing.
And then he was back… In front of him was the country style wooden home he had grown to love, below him sat Eric and Rose sipping tea at their dining room table.
They took note of Viktor's pale face. "Viktor are you alright?"
Rose asked, concern etching her worn features. The boy stood in the doorway like a specter, his once lively eyes now lost and vacant.
"I'm fine," Viktor tried to assure her, managing a weak smile. But even to him, it sounded unconvincing.
His gaze shifted to the humble wooden table laden with their simple meals, the rustic chairs they sat on, the clay mugs filled with steaming tea. They were simple, mundane sights but they held a warmth that no gilded palace hall could offer.
Eric exchanged an unsure glance with Rose, then turned his attention back to Viktor. "You sure you're okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Or perhaps a king," Viktor muttered under his breath.
"What was that?" Eric asked, leaning forward as if trying to decipher the odd comment.
Viktor shook his head, forcing another smile onto his face. "It's nothing. Just... just a strange daydream."
The older couple exchanged another glance but decided not to push further. They returned to their tea and conversation while Viktor escaped to his room, away from their prying eyes and well-meaning concern.
Once alone, he collapsed onto his bed, the weight of the revelations dragging him down both mentally and physically. He glanced at the small mirror hanging on his wall and for a moment saw Kirchner grinning back at him from behind the glass surface.
"Taking back control," he whispered again, letting each word roll off his tongue.
But how could he when he was stuck between two identities? A runaway prince who abandoned his royal life for freedom and peace or an adopted son of a humble farm couple, living a life of simple contentment? Each seemed to pull him in opposite directions, each held a part of him that he was unwilling to let go.
He ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a sigh of frustration. He was Viktor Fritz. He had been for as long as he could remember. But now these newfound memories, these haunting images of a life he couldn't recall choosing were threatening to consume that reality.
He stood up abruptly, pacing the small space of his room in agitation. His mind was a whirlwind of questions and uncertainties. How was it possible to forget an entire lifetime? And how could he have lived in both worlds without any overlap until now? Was his memory faulty? Had he truly been so discontent with the royal life that he chose to erase it from his memory?
His gaze fell upon his reflection again – the familiar face of Viktor Fritz, looking back at him with an expression as lost and confused as he felt. He wanted to yell, to shatter the mirror and erase the ghostly remnants of Kirchner that lingered in his reflection.
Instead, he clenched his fists at his sides, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I am Viktor Fritz," he declared firmly to his reflection.
But even as he said it, doubts began to creep in. If Kirchner was a part of him, then denying that fact would be denying a part of himself. But embracing it... that meant diving headfirst into a world he knew nothing about. It meant learning the ways of royalty; of diplomacy and swordplay and etiquette; all things he had no knowledge or interest in.
Was it true? Once again he went back downstairs to ask the couple.
"How long have I been here?" He asked Rose.
She scratched her head as she thought for a moment. "Eight or nine months give or take? Why is something the matter?"
Feeling a lump in his throat, Viktor swallowed hard and shook his head. "No, nothing's the... nothing's wrong," he replied, sounding far from convincing.
Rose looked at him, her eyes filled with motherly concern. She reached out and tenderly squeezed his arm. "You do know we're here for you, Viktor," she said softly.
Viktor gave her a thin smile, his heart heavy with the burden of secrets. "I know, Rose. I just... need to think about some things."
He turned away then, leaving Rose and Eric in the dining room as he retreated back upstairs. He didn't want to lie to them, but he also couldn't bear to burden them with the truth.
Back in his room, Viktor fell onto his bed, feeling utterly drained. He stared at the ceiling overhead as thoughts churned in his mind like a violent storm. He couldn't shake off the uncanny feeling of being trapped between two lives- one which was simple yet fulfilling and another that was complicated and full of royal obligations.
His gaze drifted towards the small mirror hanging on the wall. The boyish face that stared back at him felt alien. He saw the reflection of Viktor Fritz but tinted by the shadow of Viktor Kirchner.
Slowly he rose from his bed and walked towards the mirror. His hand trembled as he reached out to touch it. Would he dissolve into smoke like his reflection had done? Would he find himself back in that opulent palace room looking at figures he should recognize but didn't?
"No," he murmured to himself, "I won't let it happen."