Rings and Other Delicate Things

Richard studied the ring - how it gleamed in the artificial light, the intricate design, the cut of the stone and how age lessened its value. There was no mistaking it. It was his sisters.

No. He was just fooling himself. It was a replica, or one similar. Besides, how long ago was it since he last saw it? Only a child. Which was over three-hundred years ago. His memory of it would be fuzzy, so of course he would jump to assumptions at a ring that looked a little bit like it.

But still - he chewed on his lips and let it slip a little down his finger - there are no records of the ring or his sister using then. Not in text or in a painting. So how could it be a replica?

It must just be a be a ring that looked similar, right?

And then there was the locket, which he found on his way down the hall (rushing down it, in an almost sprint. It was only because he noticed it being out of place that he picked it up). Inside it was a portrait of a young child. Blonde hair, full lips and blue eyes. Very much in the style of a lot of portraits in the 15th century.

Hands weaved though his hair and he had half the mind to scream.

At least this man was keeping his mind of the events that happened... almost two weeks now?

But, if that man had not intervened, he would be moving on, getting back into the routine were his only love interests were his books and his ballroom. Not having this headache.

After he had left Richard the other night, he had searched the halls until the sky turned the purplish hue of approaching sunrise. But nothing. His search had been fruitless.

He had had only three possessions when he left the slavers. His clothes. The ring. The locket.

One, he had given up freely. No regrets about that one. One he still retained. But the third, he couldn't deal with having lost. That was his only concrete memory of his little brother as a child, and he had lost it. After centuries of never having let it out of his sight.

His head lifted as he noticed the familiar blond curls and strode towards the boy purposefully.

"Richard-"

He stopped, noticing the locket in the boy's hand. "Is that my locket?"

Hearing the familiar voice he snatched the ring off his finger, letting it clatter on the table.

Richard refused to greet the other male, or even look at him. Eyes glued on the table, studying each little scratch in the wood. If he look up, his anger and slight fear might return, along with giving away his expression of confusion.

Richard placed the locket down to the side of him, giving it to the other male.

'Thought it might be yours' was at the tip of his tongue, but that might suggest that he was thinking over what the other male said - despite it being true.

"I found it in the hall. I was hanging on to it until I knew who owned it."

He twisted the rings on his fingers silent for a moment, before breaking it quickly.

"I am not your brother." He was a little unsure if he was trying to get through to the other vampire to get rid of his delusions, or reassuring himself.

Edward shuffled forwards, snatching the locket back possessively. He cradled it to his chest, thumb rubbing over the metal.

"You knew it was mine."

Richard had known he had lost something. And who else would have had a locket with Richard's portrait? Nobody that he knew of.

Unless...

No. Richard wouldn't have been with anybody else. Not even if he had thought Edward was dead.

"You are."

His voice was certain. Insistent, but calm. He knew Richard would realise eventually. And it was a fact after all. Richard couldn't ignore it forever.

Richard felt his temper start to boil inside him and he found the urge to punch the other male. He had told him. How many times did he have to say it?

He breathed slowly out.

No, he will stay calm.

"I am sorry, but I'm not."

He turned to look at the other male and instantly regretted it. It made him sick in the stomach and his head spin.

It was true they looked similar. Startling eyes, same face shape, full lips. But not a splitting image - which was apparent with the physical age difference, and also with how gaunt and sickly the other male looked in comparison with his smooth skin and full cheeks.

He was going to start believing this vampire if he was not careful.

But now that he was looking at him, he found it difficult to look away.

"I'm not."

It was not suppose to of sounded cracked and doubtful, but rather firm and angry.