Two portals open in a small room, closed off to the rest of the world. Two doors that can’t be unlocked. Two mirrors on opposite walls, and then the most peculiar addition—two figures spewed from the depths of the swirling magic within. They both stand at the same time. How they managed to completely miss each other, too, is beyond one’s comprehension.

Rubbing their heads in pain, the men groan. One of them, a golden haired gentleman dressed quite sloppily in a pearly white shirt, colar left untucked. Copper-colored trousers and high leather boots. Women would absolutely fawn over his icy gaze and sharp features. The only downside would be his rather poison-like and immature persona, but that shall soon be apparent enough.

He peeked into the mirror to fix his equally unkept hair—why, even he didn’t know. “Fates sake,” he cursed, “how did I manage to leap into the wrong portal?”

The other man in the room fixed his coat. Two portals. Two mirrors. Two blondes, with equally unserious attitudes. The earth quivered with interest at what was to come.

The second, allowed more confusion to arise on his features, whilst the first was more careless. So as to say, at least one of them _could_ be more concerned towards the situation, or situations that deserved concern in general.

They both wore clean suits, dressed handsomely. The second, however, carried more grace with his clothing. He was well put together, and perhaps a tad shorter, but not by much.

“Ah, good evening sir.” The second one spoke with a bow.

The more lazy of the two blinked his eyes into a roll. “I have more important things to do than converse with a rather dumbed down version of myself from another universe.” he said with a flick of his wrist as he searched for a way out.

“How very cordial of you,” the other man returned between a clenched jaw. “As it happens,” he said, “I need to get back to someone as well.”

“I never said _someone.” _

“Yes, well one wouldn’t be so desperate to escape unless there were a certain women—or man—involved…”

The unkept one paused and turned to the person. “What did you say your name was?”

“Nikolai Lantsov, and you are?”

“Number one, you are infuriatingly pleasant—I despise pleasantries. In fact, they bore me and the sound of their endless enthusiasms makes my ears bleed. Number two, I do happen to be attempting to find my way back to a _women,” _he emphasized,_ “_of none of your concern. Number three, my name is unimportant and useless information to the likes of you.”

Nikolai placed a hand over his heart and winced as though the man’s words pierced a whole in his chest. (Of course, this was just an over exaggerated response.) “Ouch,” he said. “Then I suppose it’s nice to meet you, Jacks.”

Jacks turned slowly, once more, then took two long strides until he faced, in his mind, the lesser of the gentlemen. “How do you know my name?”

“You seem to have dropped this note on your way through the portal.” He heald up a small piece of paper with the name “Jacks,” printed on the front in the most beautiful writing.

“You seem to have stolen it.” Jacks snatched the note back and put it safely in his pocket once more. Nikolai jumped back slightly, wondering how a person could ever be so cold to the touch. Could this Jacks be dead?

“So, who is _LF?” _He chose to ask instead.

“That’s none of your—”

“Lovely friend? Lothful—”

“_Little Fox,” _Jacks_ _corrected.

“What an odd name…”

“It’s not her real name, anyway. It’s just a nickname.”

“You like her?”

“I most certainly do not. We merely have unfinished business.”

“A man does not give a girl a nickname for no reason.”

Jacks narrowed his eyes. “And I suppose you have never given anyone a nickname before? Not that anyone would ever be interested in you.”

“In fact, I have not. The women I love is known by the whole world as a saint. Alina Starkolv, who just so happens to be the most powerful Grisha in the land.”

“And she shoots glitter from her hands, yes?”

“Beams of sunlight.”

“Same difference.”

Jacks went back to searching for a way out, and Nikolai did also.

Both of them needed to get back to their loves. They didn’t know it, but they were more alike than it appeared. They both chased after a girl (though Jacks would never admit to chasing a girl) they couldn’t have. Girls who sought others and gave Jacks and Nikolai dreamy, girlish glances but wouldn’t say much until the stakes were higher and nothing could _be_ left unsaid.

Two storylines so diverse yet so similar if you looked hard enough. Two princes who were as desperate for love as a sailor is for the sea. Two boys who would drown without ever finding their happily ever after.

Finally, the portals glitched back into existence. Before the Prince of Hearts and the Prince Nikolai returned to their own tales, they looked back. Or, rather, Jacks did.

“This Alina… don’t chase after a saint you can’t have. It’s impossibly stupid and will only end in heartbreak.”

To this, Nikolai chuckled. “It’s _improbably_ stupid,” he corrected, “and could end in something very magical. You should try thinking that way sometime.”

And before Jacks was able to reply, Nikolai disappeared through the portal.

Funny, how both pieces of advice seemed to foreshadow each others futures.

(Though I’m not saying exactly how, for those that haven’t read A Balled of Never After or the Shadow and Bone trilogy.)

Jacks scoffed and rolled his eyes once more, before jumping into his own portal. He needed to get back to Evangeline.