The hand of the red king, an usually stong and composed man, was now missing. The Red king had sent patrols to search for him but never got any positive results. He even ended up joining the search himself. The battle field was nothing but a desertic place now that war had ravaged its population and cultures. Smoke was taking fully over the place, making it hard to both breath and see. Desesperate and lost without his precious hand and war compagnon, the king foud himself taking less and less time to take care of himself, even skipping meals sometimes...
Knights, advisors and maids were all worried about him and they all quickly understood something : The king would not rest until he found his beloved.
One day,someone was found. Or rather...something.
At first, it was just a dark silouete and the king thought he was hallucinating but as he got closer, the more clearer the shapes took a more steady form until the king was close enough to make out a face;
Martyn?
he called out, reconising the familiar feature and, through a bit used and dirty, clothes of his beloved.
The blond man turned his head and only then did the king realised, Something was wrong.
... Martyn..?
Ren was now walking, approaching more slowly. Careful.
Purple eyes fixed onto him, it felt like he was observing his every movement, breath.
Wait.
Purple eyes...?
No, Martyn's eyes were green, emerald green even. The king surely rembered that much of his hand.
...Right..?
who are you?
Ren asked, stopping a few feets away. The only answer he recived was a stare from theses glowing purple orbs.You're not my Martyn. Who...are you?
He asked hesitantly,
the one standing in front of him, their body, features, and everything except the eyes, were his similar if not the same as his hand's.
...
***