The late Irish afternoon fog was beginning to thicken. The heavy atmosphere promised rain on this cool, spring evening. Heero Yuy looked up at the iron gates ahead in mild annoyance and rolled down his window to press the buzzer. This wasn't his usual kind of assignment and the fact that it had been given to him irked him. With all of the interesting sites from the wars that could be reported on he was assigned to check out an old castle and the mysterious ghost story surrounding it.
The castle ahead loomed in the distance beyond the winding path; a dark silhouette in the dense fog. A few years ago, nothing stood here but old stones and rotting timber but that had changed when the property had been purchased by an unknown billionaire rumored to be a relative of the family that had once owned these lands.
Little was known about the woman except that she seemed to have a healthy love of their culture and a deep understanding of their history. When his boss had assigned him the story to cover the rebuilding and restoration of the castle he had been intrigued. The legend surrounding the area only added to the intrigue. It was said that a ghost of an ancient queen roamed the mists. Heero was anything but superstitious, however, such lore and legends were common parts of Ireland's history and it was his job to uncover as much of the truth as he could.
He wasn't native to Ireland, exactly. His father was a buisnessman that had married an American and thus he had spent much of his youth on the American shores. Coming back to Ireland in his teens had been difficult but his love of his homeland had always been fostered by his father. It intrigued him greatly to learn more about the land and its people and this article would be a great way to do that.
The front gate opened and he drove up the winding, narrow road that led to Lowe Castle. The gravel crunched under the tires as he slowed to a halt in front of the castle. Heero got out of the car and looked around, appreciating the atmosphere created by the old stone fortress. He had been sure to call ahead so it would be little surprise to the hostess that he would be there. Heero wasn't sure what he had expected, but her appearance wasn't exactly it.
The woman that came out to greet him was young, perhaps in her mid-twenties, honey-golden hair pulled up high on her head in an elegant twist, her long slender neck was covered by a blue, cashmere turtleneck which brought out the color of her aqua eyes. Her mouth was narrow, but sweet and her nose and cheekbones were high and proportionate. She was the picture of regal grace so much that even her turtleneck and jeans seemed elegant. She wore no jewelry save for a pendant around her neck the likes of which he had never seen which seemed to bear some sort of crest. She smiled at him, but the smile faltered, and her eyes seemed to cloud over as she clutched her hand over her heart. Had she gasped? He hadn't had much more time to think about it because as quickly as her surprise came, it cleared away giving way to a smile that stirred something inside him. He barely noticed the large Irish Wolfhound by her side that stood obediently and still as it observed its mistress approach him.
"You must be Heero Yuy." She held out her hand in greeting. He took it, feeling a tingle go through him. Who was this woman? Why did she seem so… familiar?
"Yes, ma'am, from the Celtic Historian." He answered and finally released her hand. It did not escape his notice when her other hand came up to massage the one he'd released.
"My name is Relena Dorlan Lowe. I am the owner of this estate. Welcome to my home."
"My thanks, Ms. Lowe." She shook her head.
"Please, there is no reason for such formalities. Relena will do." Heero nodded.
"Very well, Relena." He offered her the smallest of smiles as he followed her into the castle.
"You're a little bit later than I had expected." She stated. She wasn't being accusatory, but rather stating an observation.
"There was a storm over the lake that caused the delay."
"I see." She needed no other explanation. Being native, she knew the tempestuous nature of the Irish countryside. She led the way down the seeming ancient corridors.
The halls were decorated with long running red rugs and tapestries that looked as though someone had plucked them out of time itself. It was surprisingly warm inside, a fire glowing in the hearth of the main entry as they made their way in. Overall, the attention to detail could not have been better in a museum. There were a few suits of armor and vases of various flowers lined the halls for ornamentation. To the right was an arch doorway that appeared to lead to a stairwell. It was an interesting design. She led him into what appeared to be a drawing room. The furniture all seemed to be from the tenth century as did the wall hangings. He had felt as though he had been taken back in time from the moment he set foot inside the grand structure.
"I suppose, being from the magazine, you have many questions."
"Aye, that I do." Heero raised a brow at his antiquated acknowledgment of her question.
She raised a brow as well, but offered him a smile and motioned for him to sit. Her hound curled up in front of the hearth, eyes never leaving him. She knelt down and gave the dog a good scratching before she stood and regarded him. He took a seat in the large bear-skin chair and pulled his recorder from his bag. It was as he saw down that the giant, wooden crest hanging above the hearth caught his eye. There was a dove with an olive branch flying alongside an Eagle, the two almost dancing past the sword that hung from the eagle's talons.
"Now, Ms. Lowe… Relena… What made you decide to buy this land and build the castle?" She paused for a moment, before taking a seat in the chair opposite of him and giving him a thoughtful smile.
"This land belonged to my family… It was the place of our ancestral home… there is history here: war, peace, love, hate, joy… sorrow..." Her aqua eyes turned almost to a stormy grey at that last word. His heart ached for her. Heero mentally shook himself. This was unlike him. He was never this emotional, least of all around strangers but something about this woman pulled at him.
"I see." Heero noted the tone of her voice, her body posture. This woman was a mystery; much like that of the land surrounding them. "So you are a descendant of the family then?" Relena paused again as if considering how to respond.
"I am part of the family, yes." She stood and walked over to look at the crest on the wall. "The royal family had been one of the strongest of all the warring clans. Our family was lead by the great Aiden Lowe who conquered and united much of this area.
"There is nothing in the history books about your family."
"There wouldn't be. The clan that overthrew ours was bitter and cruel. They killed the entire family and worked tirelessly to bury our line into obscurity."
"You said the whole family was destroyed. But what of you?" Again, she paused, surprise flashing across her face before she smiled.
"It was their goal to kill the whole family, but one escaped their barbarism and made it to safety. I have made it my life's mission to restore all that was stolen no matter the cost." The conviction in her words was moving and for a moment, he stared into her eyes. The woman that glanced back at him through those light blue orbs seemed far older than she should. It deepened the mystery.
"What of the legend of the Maiden of the mists? There are reports of a ghostly woman standing before five, large stones, weathered with age. She always appears at dusk twice a year, near this time-if I am not mistaken-in that spot but no one has ever gotten close enough to see her for certain to know if she is real or a spirit." She giggled, eyes dancing with merriment. Why were her eyes so captivating?
"I did not think such a prestigious magazine like yours would be interested in ghost stories, sir."
"It is part of the historical allure. The public loves a mystery." He added. She smiled and traced a finger absentmindedly across the mantle of the fireplace.
"I suppose." She mused and turned to face him. "The spirit is nothing more than an illusion. The mists like to play tricks on the mind, especially of those who are more prone to such superstitions." Her eyes locked with his, clearly amused. "But, you don't seem the superstitious type, Mr. Yuy."
"I'm not. My boss is, however, and has asked me to inquire about it." She nodded, taking in his words. Not for the first time, he felt her studying him. Her eyes seemed to rove over his face as if searching for something. He shifted and cleared his throat. "Have you ever seen this spirit?" She shook her head.
"As I said, Mr. Yuy, The spirit is nothing more than a tale told by the locals to try and attract tourists. Fortunately, this is private property. No one who wishes to look for it can try without my permission and I will not readily do so and lend credibility to the ridiculousness." She waved her hand through the air dismissively and his eyes caught sight of a simple golden band on her ring finger of her left hand.
"Are you married, Ms. Relena?" He found himself dreading her answer for some reason. Why should her marital status affect him? She froze, tensing under his scrutiny. Her eyes widened before clouding over again with a deep sadness.
"Why do you ask?" Her voice was soft, laiden with a hint of sorrow.
"You're wearing a ring. It was just an observation." She looked down at her hand and twisted the ring, almost absentmindedly as her eyes continued to hold the mournful gloss.
"This is a memory." She started, looking now to the crest on the wall. "A memory of a time long past and a love long forgotten to the ages."
"Did it belong to your ancestor?"
"You might say that."
"Then why not wear it on your other hand?" It appeared he had made her uncomfortable for she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and turned completely from him.
"I am sorry, Mr, Yuy, but some questions are best left unanswered." When she turned back to him, the eyes that met his were old; scarred by years she could not possibly have seen and burdened by such pain no one should ever know that he found himself glad to be sitting down or he may have staggered. There, in the firelight of the hearth, he thought he saw a woman old beyond her years. The way the light played on her features made her seem ethereal and timeless like a fairy from the stories and for a moment he found himself wondering if she were.
"I think that is enough for one day, Mr. Yuy. You have yet to unpack and settle in and it is already so late. I will have Pagen show you to your room. I will see you in the morning."
With that, she dipped her head in a slight bow and made her way from the room, her large dog close behind. Heero suddenly felt quite cold in the new stillness of the parlor. Who was this woman? What mysteries lay within these ancient lands and how deeply did the history run with its mistress? As he followed the aged butler up the stone stairs he found more questions building by the moment. He set his bags down by the bed and took a seat on its plush surface. In spite of the beauty surrounding him there was but one beauty that plagued his thoughts and she had honey blonde hair and blue eyes full of mysteries he found himself determined to figure out.