AN: This is a Princess and the Pauper type story, with magic and political intrigue and all that jazz. Probably not going to have any romance, just friendship. It's my first story on here that I've written on my own, so I would love feedback. Their stories are meant to mirror each other in an abstract, halfway fashion. Thus, Half-Mirrored Worlds.
Chapter One: Dinner With the Family
Mikaela's Story
Mikaela Ciel sat primly in her chair, delicately picking at the food on her plate. Her father beamed proudly from the head of the table, and her mother exuded a grace and elegance that Mikaela strove to match.
Mikaela's father had strong features: Piercing eyes, a square jaw, and heavyset shoulders to go with his dark brown hair. Her mother was very different, with cold, regal eyes, a sinuous figure, and honey blonde hair that she kept elaborately coiled into a bun. Mikaela looked like neither of them. She had a soft featured face, gentle eyes, and a petite body. To top it all off, she had a shock of red hair that nobody could put a place to. It didn't appear on either side of her family tree but for six generations ago on her mother's side, leading to a near scandal when she'd been born. She was an only child with a yielding personality, a perfect flower of fragility and lonliness.
The family made light conversation as they ate, casting vapid remarks about the weather and what flowers would be coming into bloom this time of year. After they finished eating, the dishes were cleared away, and each member of the family bid good night as they retired to their respective rooms.
Joel's Story
Joel Marcut sat haphazardly on the edge of the bench, vying for space with three of his brothers as they elbowed and squirmed to get at their plates. His father was nowhere to be seen, probably out drinking away this week's rent money, Joel was sure. His mother sat quietly across the table from her children, radiating a tired peace as she calmed Joel's colicky baby sister.
Joel's father was a weasel-featured man: long nose, thin face, shrewd eyes, and a gangly frame to go with his greasy black hair. His mother was worlds away, with very plain features, survivor's eyes, a figure like any other, and mousey brown hair that hung to her shoulders. Joel looked more like his father than he would have liked, even though the resemblance was negligible. He had black hair, rough features, and surprisingly, clever, dancing eyes. He was a rough and tumble type, used to fighting the other boys in the neighborhood for entertainment. He was the second of six boys, and had one baby sister on whom all of the brothers doted.
The family joked and laughed as they ate, the conversation growing ever louder as they jockeyed for attention. The boys talked about word on the streets, who was working for who, food prices, the state of the country, and Joel's elder brother made the announcement that he'd been taken on as a blacksmith's apprentice. Naturally, this news brought about an impromptu party, which lasted until their father returned home, drunk and cussing, telling them to shut up and go to sleep.