Doppelganger
They were born entangled in each other, encircled by the warmth and fluid of the True Runes that were the sole reasons for their existence.
At an early age they lived separate lives, strictly controlled by a father whose face neither of them were ever allowed to see. They knew nothing of each other in the early years, as they were raised in two separate wings of the palace. Their first encounter was one of shock, resent, and later, fascination.
Touching one another was like touching themselves and it gave double the satisfaction, the sinful pleasure. Neither of them could understand this need both of them possessed, or why it was absolutely necessary for them to fight until one of them submitted to the other, with rights to the bed as a reward. Oftentimes, the Wind Bearer won, but the few times the Earth Bearer dominated were not easily forgotten to either of them.
She destroyed whatever unity they possessed by merely appearing in Court — after her audience with their father and a single look across the courtyard to the Wind Bearer, things would never be the same. Try as he might, the Earth Bearer could do nothing but stand on the sidelines and watch this invisible something steal his brother, his other half, away from him. He wept when the Wind Bearer vanished, taking along whatever power lay within him. This was something he was not ashamed of, at the time.
The father called him two nights after the Wind Bearer disappeared, and in the shadows of his chamber he spoke of order and chaos, what was made to be broken and what was made to be whole. The Earth Bearer barely listened — his grief was still too fresh. By their seventh talk, however, his tears were spent and his heart had gone cold. When his father spoke to him of justice, he agreed.
Even after all those years it was impossible to forget his brother because his face was his own: the only difference lay in the eyes. He grew to hate mirrors, yet he chose to surround himself with them. The better to know his enemy that way.