After everything — escaping being sacrificed by a blood cult, fighting off undead, and dragging his exhausted body through hidden passages and damp temple halls — Perry still ended up in a dungeon.

The irony wasn't lost on him that his current accommodations weren't all that different from his room at the Golden Light Temple. The same stone walls, roughly the same size, even a small window near the ceiling letting in the same anemic shaft of light. 

The main differences were the iron bars across the doorway and the shackles around his wrists, connected to the wall by chains just long enough for him to reach the wooden bucket in the corner. Not that he was going anywhere near that until he had absolutely no other choice. 

At least this place was cleaner — the floor had been swept recently, and the straw pallet in the corner looked fresh.

His muscles ached from the tension of the past few days, and it felt as if he'd swallowed a whole bucket of sand and his stomach had twisted itself into a knot he was so hungry. The water Master Rennin had thrown in his face had left his clothes damp and uncomfortable, clinging to his skin. 

But his mental state was what worried him more — he was bone-deep tired, and it made his brain slow and sluggish. 

He tried to anyway, muddling his way through half-formed thoughts and trying to figure out why Master Rennin had gone through all this trouble to pull off that scene in front of all those important-looking people. 

The question was, why? Why? That one word kept bouncing around his head. So, as it turned out, he was basically the mirror image of the prince. Maybe that could come in hand if Master Rennin wanted to murder the prince and replace him. Except that didn't make sense because Perry was maybe the worst choice for the job. Not only because he wouldn't be a willing participant, but also because he knew less than zero about what it took to be an actual prince. 

Wouldn't that make me easier to control? 

Perry didn't like that thought one bit. Especially because Master Rennin could very well have a spell to control his mind that went along nicely with the one to control his body. And change his face, apparently. 

Perry rubbed at his temples, trying to ignore the clinking sound the chains made when he moved. 

"Think, think, think," Perry muttered to himself. Assuming Master Rennin didn't want to replace the prince with a fake nobody like him, what were some other options?

A wild idea popped into his head, but he almost immediately pushed it aside. Then he paused and decided to analyze it. It was so obvious he almost refused completely to even acknowledge it. 

What if there was no mistake? What if… what if there was a clear reason why he looked exactly like the prince? 

But that was impossible, right? The thought alone was so ridiculous Perry almost laughed. 

There was no way. There was simply no way. 

Soft footsteps alerted him of someone's approach. When the cell door creaked open, Perry looked up to find Captain Handsy standing there with a bowl and some bread. The captain's expression had changed dramatically from the last time Perry had seen him. Where before there had been longing glances and lingering touches, now there was only contempt as the captain sneered at him.

"Trying to trick me by impersonating my sweet prince," the captain said. "I should have known better."

"But you didn't," Perry said dryly. "Guess you don't know your 'sweet prince' as well as you think you do."

"You defiled his image and deceived me."

"If that was my plan, I wouldn't have run away from that room, would I?" Perry pointed out, but the captain's only response was to spit directly into the bowl he was carrying in his hand.

Perry couldn't help but chuckle even as his stomach turned. "That's nothing compared to what I've dealt with during the lunch rush at Lucky Fries."

The captain's brow furrowed even as he glared. "Hunger it is, then," he declared, setting the food just outside the cell bars – well beyond Perry's reach – before stalking away and slamming the door shut behind him.

Perry's stomach growled as he eyed the bread and stew. Even with the captain's added contribution, it smelled better than some of the things he'd served at Lucky Fries. And he was hungry. But the chains kept him firmly against the wall, so all he could do was stare longingly at his would-be-meal. 

Leaning back, he gently knocked his head against the stone wall and tried to, again, make sense of everything. The sounds of the ongoing celebration filtered down through the tiny window — music and laughter. Seemed like the celebration was still going on strong. 

He closed his eyes and tried again to organize his thoughts. He went back to the show Master Rennin put on. Then there was the guy in purple, Clan Leader Vernon or something. He seemed in charge, but still deferred to the Royal Family. Case in point, the way the prince had swooped in and "stolen" Perry right from under him. 

The gold flying discs seemed to be a status symbol. The images that shifted on the fabric and on skin, it all served a purpose, he just didn't have enough information to figure out what. 

Master Rennin's abilities didn't seem all that 'common' — whatever that meant in a place like that. But he'd still been exiled to that run-down temple, showing that skilled magic still had to bow down to politics. The way Master Rennin had specifically addressed the Queen rather than the King when making his little speech… maybe that ridiculous and obvious idea Perry has discarded didn't seem so far-fetched. 

His mind circled back to the prince. Perry's head hurt trying to understand how they could look like mirror images of each other. He'd seen enough movies and TV shows to know where this sort of revelation usually led, but he refused to let his mind go down that path. He was just Perry, the guy who served fries and overpriced burgers and dealt with entitled and rude customers on a daily basis. Nothing more.

Footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. He expected Captain Handsy to return for another round of glaring and spitting, but instead, the Queen herself appeared at his cell door.

Perry scrambled to his feet, awkward with the shackles and unsure of what was the proper protocol when meeting royalty while chained to a dungeon wall. They stared at each other in silence, and Perry found himself studying her features, looking for... something. He wasn't sure what.

"How old are you?" she finally asked, her voice perfectly controlled and smooth.

Perry considered refusing to answer but found himself speaking anyway. "Twenty."

"Is your name truly Perry?"

"It's a nickname," he said, then, seeing her confused expression, he explained, "A shortened version of a name. Something friends and family call you."

"Is that what your friends and family call you?"

Perry let out a humorless chuckle. "Don't have any of those."

Silence stretched between them before she spoke again. "What's your full name?"

"Peregrin."

"Who gave you that name?" She took an involuntary step in his direction. 

"No idea." Perry shrugged. "It's just what I've always been called. It's what it says on my documents."

"How did you come to be here?" Her voice had taken on an edge of frustration.

"Well, the weird guy from the Golden Light Temple kidnapped me. Actually, first he painted some weird stuff with blood on my face and—"

"No," she cut him off, voice sharp. "How did you come to be here, in this kingdom?"

Perry weighed his options, wondering how much he should reveal, when another voice called out, "Mother?"

The Queen startled, stepping aside as the prince appeared at the cell door. Perry pressed himself back against the wall, unnerved to look at his own face on another person.

"You should not have come down here alone, without protection," the prince admonished gently, taking both her hands in his and rubbing his thumbs gently over them. 

"I assure you, I am perfectly fine." She smiled softly at him. 

"Still, your safety is paramount. Captain Orryn." 

"Yes, Your Highness," Captain Handsy called from somewhere beyond Perry's field of vision.

"Escort the Queen back to the festivities." The prince smiled at his mother and stepped aside so she could pass. 

"Your Highness, it is my duty to protect you. I can send one of the Royal Guards stationed here to accompany her," the captain protested. 

Poor guy, he was probably hopelessly in love with the prince. If only Perry could find it in him to care. 

"As I said, my mother's safety is paramount," the prince declared. "And I am perfectly safe here. The man is chained to the wall, and there are three Royal Guards posted outside this door."

The Queen hesitated, her gaze flitting to Perry before returning to the prince. She finally nodded and allowed herself to be led away. The prince waited until their footsteps faded before calling for a chair. When it was brought, he positioned it carefully — close enough to speak comfortably, but well out of Perry's reach. His movements were graceful and deliberate, so different from Perry's own awkward gestures, Perry felt a little offended on the prince's behalf that people kept getting the two of them confused.

"I believe," the prince said once they were alone, "that you and I should have a talk."