The golden eyes blinked at Lucien from the darkness. He was right. There really was someone with him.

Or something.

"Who are you?" Lucien asked.

"I asked first, boy," the voice said. "Why?"

"Because she's my fiancée and she's in danger right now. I need to get out so I can save her!" Lucien said.

"Why do you need to save her?" the voice asked.

"I already told you! Please let me out of here!" Lucien said.

"I am not the one imprisoning you, boy, but depending if I'm satisfied I might help you," the voice said. "So, tell me, why do you need to save her?"

"She's . . . precious to me. She's very important to me," Lucien said.

The voice remained silent for while.

"As precious as your mother, boy?"

"Do you know my mother?" Lucien asked.

The voice did not answer. Instead, a brilliant light broke out from the darkness. It was so bright, Lucien had to squint his eyes. The light slowly vanished and in its place was a huge mansion.

"Our . . .old house," Lucien muttered in disbelief.

"Feel free to go in, boy. Unless you wish to stay in the dark," the voice said.

Lucien proceeded to go inside the mansion. He looked around in amazement. It was the same house he had lived in during his childhood. Each and every detail was the same. From every color, furniture, to every nook and cranny. It was like being transported to the past.

A maid and a man with a chef apron were coming from the opposite direction where Lucien was standing. Lucien panicked and looked around to see where he could hide.

"They cannot see you, boy," the voice said.

"Oh, thanks," Lucien said looking a bit embarrassed.

"Have you seen the tomatoes today?" The maid said.

"Yes, they look ripe already! I can make tomato soup for Her Grace," The cook said.

"Lady Cathryn is so lovely. It's such a pity His Grace is always not here." The maid said, shaking her head. "Do you think it's true?"

"What are you talking about?" The cook asked.

"About the Duke! They say he has a mistress who he always visits and that is why he is always not here!" The maid said in a frustrated tone.

"Shush! The walls have ears," the cook in a hushed tone.

Lucien had heard those kind of rumors his whole life. That his father had a mistress he was keeping somewhere. It felt like that and for a time, he also believed in those rumors until he learned the truth.

Lucien went to his mother's room. He passed through the door like a ghost. He could see his mother's back. She was standing over the balacony.

Lucien walked closer to his mother. A turmoil of emotions flooded him. He was close to crying. He wanted her to hug him and pat his head. He wanted to ask her why she hurt him. He wanted to ask her why she killed herself.

"Mother..."

Cathryn had a tender expression on her face. He couldn't remember his mother ever having that expression. Her gaze looked on fondly to the babe she was cradling in her arms. Her lips were curved in a smile.

"The resemblance is uncanny," the voice said almost in admiration.

It was like looking at a painting. A young woman with a peaceful expression. A face that time had not etched its marks upon yet. She had long white hair that almost seemed translucent from the light, like a spider's delicate web.

Lady Cathryn Ashburn looked more believable as a faerie than a mortal with her ivory skin, hair as white as a swan's feathers, and vibrant emerald green eyes. It was a wonder why the Duke, Lucien's father, would always leave her side.

"Yes, fate can be so cruel," Lucien said with a pained expression.

Why did fate have to make his mother look like HER?!

"Why are you showing me this?" Lucien asked.

"Your mother is precious to you, is she not? What if you could avenge her?" the voice asked.

"Avenge? She took her own life! What are you talking about?!" Lucien shouted.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Cathryn said.

"Apologies for the intrusion. His Grace has arrived earlier than expected. Would you like help in getting ready, Your Grace?" a maid said.

Her eyes seemed to light up. "No, it's fine! I can get ready by myself. Could you please hold my dear Luci for a while? If he cries, come and find me."

"As you wish, Your Grace," the maid said with a slight bow and received the baby Lucien carefully.

Cathryn brushed her hair then began braiding it, weaving in tiny blue jewels in her hair. The jewels were shaped like teardrops but on her hair, it was as if rain had become suspended in time in a snowy day. She dabbed a bit of rouge on her cheeks and lips and a bit of shimmering blue powder on her eyelids, like the night sky on her eyes. She then sprayed perfume on her neck.

Lucien knew that perfume. It was a fragrance he remembered well from his childhood.

Snowdrops.

The Duke would always gift his wife with a perfume made of snowdrops, flowers that bloom during the winter. Its scent was very light, as if a snowy breeze carried a few petals in its midst.

Cathryn treasured the perfume, thinking that the Duke chose it for her because of her snowy appearance. Lucien would find out years later that the scent of snowdrop was HER scent. Living in snowy mountains with winter flowers had made HER smell of snowdrops and the Duke just wanted Cathryn to smell like HER.

It was twisted and disgusting and Lucien wanted to hurl the blasted perfume on the wall and see it shatter to pieces.

How dare he make his mother a substitute for HER?! His mother was a living being. She was not a doll to be molded for his sick fantasy!

Lucien watched his mother helplessly as she tied a white lacy veil around her head, covering her emerald green eyes.

"Such a shame, Your Grace. Your eyes are so beautiful to look at," the maid said in a dismayed tone.

Cathryn merely smiled. "It's fine. His Grace just prefers not to see my eyes. It's a matter of preference among gentlemen, I assume. Some men just have preferred taste over their women and it could be worse."

"Can you still see clearly, Your Grace? Would you like for me to call someone to guide you while walking?"

"The lace is light. It's just like a fog covering my vision a bit but it is no bother. I think I have gotten used to it if I must say so myself," Cathryn said.

Lucien's mother went to the hallway, her steps small, her hand lightly touching the wall. A few servants saw her and quietly watched over her. They were ready to run towards her and catch her if she would ever trip but she didn't.

She reached the study room. The Duke would always go straight to his study than to his wife and Cathryn knew that.

"My dear Raynold, is that you?" Cathryn asked as she entered the study.

"You could not wait," the Duke said, not looking up as he continued writing in his journal.

Lucien knew that journal. After his death, he would find that journal and learn about HER. About the places he had been to just to find HER. About the woman that his father tried to make his mother into.

"I'm sorry. I just missed you a lot, my dear. How have you been?" Cathryn asked.

"Same. Busy as always managing the business so you'll have food to eat everyday," Raynold said.

"Y-yes, of course. I um . . . can I sit here, my dear?" Cathryn asked, pointing to an empty seat in front of his desk.

The Duke finally looked at her.

"No, come here. Let me see you," he said.

Cathryn walked towards his side. He stood up. He resembled the King a lot. They were brothers, after all. Raynold just looked like the faded version of the King with his hay-like blonde hair and pale blue eyes. He wasn't as charismatic as the King. He had a terrifying aura as if he was trying to restrain his temper all the time.

He tipped up her chin, his expression unchanging as he breathed in the scent of snowdrops on her skin.

"My dear," Cathryn murmured.

His hand tightened on her chin. "Silence. I have no need of your voice."

He turned her over, and pulled the lace that was covering her eyes.

"Don't turn your head. Do not let me see your eyes," Raynold said in a harsh tone.

Cathryn nodded.

He tied her hands behind her back with the lacy fabric and pushed her head down. Her nose almost touching the bookshelf of his study.

"Please, my dear, not like this. Let's go to the bedroom," Cathryn pleaded.

Lucien was horrified at what he was witnessing. It was not the intimacy that made him want to run away. It was the look on his mother's face as she begged his father.

"Quiet, woman! Did you not come meet me to be taken?" Raynold said.

"N-no, I just wished to see you after such a long time. Please, my dear. The walls of your study are thin. Let's go to the bedroom," Cathryn pleaded.

"You are in no position to command me. Now, be silent. If I hear your voice again, I will punish your bastard child," Raynold said.

Tears were now flowing down her cheeks.

"He's your child," she whispered.

Lucien knew that his mother's original hair color was not white. It was a known fact in society that Lady Cathryn used to have black hair but due to an unknown incident before she became a married woman had turned her hair to white overnight. Her family had become hard-pressed to look for a man willing to marry her after that incident. When the Duke learned of Lady Cathryn having white hair, he married her within a week even though they had never spoken to each other before.

Everyone thought it was love at first sight but Lucien knew the truth now.

The Duke was obsessed with someone else who had beautiful snowy white hair and he was just using Lady Cathryn as a substitute.