Ch. 5
Heero did not see her the rest of the day. In fact, he found out that she went out to the office in town. He couldn't blame her. He acted completely inappropriately. Not for the first time, he cursed himself. He usually had better control than this. Never before had any woman had this sort of affect on him. He sighed and ran a hand through his bangs. Her words still hung in the air.
"You're not him."
"What did she mean?" He paced back and forth in his room. "Why does it all feel so familiar?" He closed his eyes, remembering how her lips felt on his. How good it felt to hold her; like she belonged in his arms. The dreams he'd been having hadn't prepared him enough for how much he wanted- needed to hold her. The visions of her under him, calling out to him… no, not him. That other name. Aiden. The name of the dead king. His head was hurting. He needed to clear it. To calm down.
Making his way to the kitchen, he poured himself a cup of coffee. It was an older pot. Strong and Luke warm, but he downed it and poured another cup. He had so many questions. There had to be answers. He frowned and made his way to her study. The reporter in him wanted the truth, and he wouldn't get it from her. She proved that much. The family crest above the hearth almost called to him. It was unnerving. He tore his eyes away from it to focus. Sitting down at her desk, he reached to open the first drawer just to find it was locked. Not one to be detoured, he grabbed a paperclip and the letter opener and used them to pick the fist lock. He smiled. Some skills were essential when looking for information and he picked this one up from Duo a long time ago.
The drawer opened but yielded nothing of importance: office supplies and a few invoices. The other drawers contained basically the same things. He stood and looked for any filing cabinets but saw none. It was ever clearer this study was for show.
"So then where…?" The unmistakable sound of his friend's irritating ringtone broke through the silence. He answered it, preparing for the usual nonsense.
"Hey buddy boy!" Duo chirped from the other line.
"What do you want?"
"Are you done out at the Lowe place yet? It's been a week!"
"I've been following a lead."
"On what?" Duo laughed. "The ghost?"
"No."
"Oh… oh, I get it! It's the chick!" Heero could hear Duo's smirk from the other end. "She must be as good looking as I've heard to keep you wanting to stay!"
"It's not-"
"Yeah, yeah, I know." Duo sighed. "You're not the type to let a pretty face snare ya. But still, a friend can hope."
"Is there an actual purpose for this call?" Heero's patience was wearing thin.
"Yeah. Got some information that the Blarney Castle is having an event where they've invited college students for a medieval reenactment or something. I want you to go there and cover it."
"Send some else."
"Can't. You're the best historic investigator we got! We need our best on this!" Heero frowned. He knew he had to leave eventually, but he still didn't have his answers. There was no guarantee she would even want to spend any more time with him, however. He sighed.
"Ok. When is it?"
"Thanks pally! I'll send you all the details!" Heero rolled his eyes. Duo hung up the phone and Heero rubbed a hand over his face resting his head on his palm. He could not shake the feeling that there was far more to Relena than what met the eye. There had to be a secret she was hiding somewhere. He walked to his room, pulled out his laptop and found a recent image of her. Running through a quick basic image search came up with a top result and he couldn't believe his eyes: the exact same face on a college student.
Relena Peacreaft Darlian. Twenty-six years old. Born USA 1995. College student. Studying abroad in Ireland for her master's degree.
It had to be a coincidence. There were cases of look-a-likes and doppelgangers. It was possible that their similar appearance was caused by that. Perhaps they were twins separated at birth? He ran a quick search. The Relena from the college had one estranged brother and was adopted by her foster parents. But the name Peacecraft was telling. He remembered the book from the library. The one with the history of the family. The author disappeared and there were no pictures. It was too eerie. Bits of their conversation returned to him.
"Are you married, Ms. Relena?"
"Why do you ask?"
"You're wearing a ring. It was just an observation."
"This is a memory. A memory of a time long past and a love long forgotten to the ages."
The design of the castle. The family crest above the mantle. The lack of genealogy that could be traced. How had it all occurred?
"According to what you told me yesterday, you claim you came here to rebuild on these lands?"
"Yes, as I said before, my family owned these lands long ago. I took it upon myself to restore what had been stolen."
"Stolen is a strong word."
"There is an old adage, Mr. Yuy that to the victor goes the spoils? I have never agreed. Might does not make right. Just because you win a sham of a battle, does not give you the right to take what isn't yours."
"You seem so passionate about something that happened centuries ago."
"As are many who experienced injustice in the past. It does not have to happen to an individual for one to feel the pain their family suffered."
It wasn't possible. Her extensive knowledge. The similarities. The way she spoke and acted. The haunted, tired look in her eyes. It all made so much sense and yet no sense because the only explanation he had was one far too preposterous to be true.
"But the dreams…" He closed his laptop. He had to know and the only place he could think to look for more clues was the one place he hadn't been in the castle. Her bedroom.
He made his way down the stone corridors and up the winding steps. Every foot closer he came to his destination felt like a million miles. She wasn't home, and the butler only came around at meal times. Since he'd already missed supper, it wouldn't be a problem. The dog would be another issue, however. The large wolfhound was the size of a mule at full height and probably had the teeth to back it up. Fortunately, it appeared as though the hound was gone. It was possible that she took him with her or that he was prowling the grounds, but Heero was not about to waste this opportunity.
He entered the room and flicked on the light. The four poster bed had a silken green canopy and was made of a rough, local hardwood. The sheets and blankets matched the dark green of the canopy with the family crest embroidered on the comforter. This room did not look like that of what he imagined it might. The furniture was just as rough: a vanity with an old mirror, a small, plush chair with a deep red cushion. But what he saw on the farthest wall made his blood freeze in his veins.
A portrait, most likely an oil painting about twelve feet tall, hung on the wall beside the window. The textures and color were so vivid and realistic as though the people in the portrait may walk out and begin a conversation with him. But realism aside, that wasn't the disturbing part. Relena was in the portrait dressed in regal clothes from the medieval ages. She stood with two children in clothes of the same time period. The boy had unruly blond hair and the girl had long, tamed brown. The fourth and final figure, however, disturbed him out the most. Dark blue eyes, unkempt dark brown hair. Pointed nose and chin. He was looking at a painting of himself.
Heero staggered backward and tripped over the bearskin rug, righting himself before he could fall. He was shaking, a cold sweat on his brow. The portrait couldn't have been painted recently. The dust on the frame and the shadows around it on the wall spoke to its old age. But how had she known? And what of the kids? Was he brought here as some cruel joke? An obsessed fan of his articles, perhaps? But no. The picture looked to predate his writing career. Yet it was him! Unmistakably! Suddenly, a growl came from behind him. He turned just in time to see the gigantic dog leap at him, knocking him to the ground. A snarling snout lowered inches from his throat...