Bound.

In a world far from this place, in a time unknown to even those who lived in it, there were two kingdoms. They fought and feuded and, on multiple occasions, nearly obliterated one another. But neither country ever gained the upper hand -- they were too evenly matched.

Yet it wasn't only in military prowess that they were similar. On either side of the thick wall that separated the countries, the same hills rolled across the land, dotted with lush forests and a multitude of rare flowers that only bloomed in that particular region. The towns and villages that sprawled across the countryside were alike in construction, scattered with fertile Fields and ramshackle houses. But it was in the cities that they were identical.

Filled with glass towers that scraped the very bottom of heaven itself, those who traveled between the kingdoms were often confused as to which one they were in. The city dwellers dressed in the same manner, a jumble of bright colours and flamboyant gaits, and held the same inflections in their voices.

Holidays, laws, celebrations, morals and traditions -- they were all alike; all parallel.

The two countries were virtually twins.

But there was one more thing they shared, one more similarity that caused outsiders to be awed at the very sameness of the kingdoms.

The curse of the Kings.

That was the one thing that marred the other-wise desirable image of the two nations. It was the cause of the on-going war, and was the only thing that denied the countries any peace.

One person -- that's all it was. The thorn on the rose. One atrocious ruler in each land that abolished any possible good. A couple of tyrants, bent on sculpting their kingdoms into the images that they desired; needless to say, the images they had in mind weren't necessarily pretty. Some attempted to claim dictatorship, and others were just content to destroy as much as they could before their time on the throne was finished.

Royal blood or not, the line of Kings and Queens that graced both kingdoms were a sorry sight that needed to undergo a few changes.

And so the people decided to do something about it; to end the reign of the oppressors and quite possibly the war that had waged on for centuries.

With the help of a group of scientists, they modified a drug used on young children to create their "soul mates" -- a process that had earned the name "a tale of two" -- so that its binding qualities were even more extreme.

Twenty-four hours. That's how long it took for the chemicals to work their way through the infants' systems, forcing them into a comatose state that was filled with vivid hallucinations. Or that is how the scientists explained it. But there was more to it than they explained, a touch of something otherworldly that truly was remarkable.

One day was all the newborns had -- two of them, one from each kingdom -- before the drug killed them. One day that seemed like thousands to them, minds linked, as they fought through the haze and hallucinations that danced in their brains. And if they woke up, were named King and Queen.

Thus the trial of two began, the parents watching, hearts fluttering with excitement and anticipation, as their children were forced into a world they would never be able to comprehend.

The question is, would they succeed?