"The child would play in the garden of roses, with her mother's slim hand in hers. The hateful words spoken about the woman were ignored in this garden, as no one can get in, and no one can hurt them. But now the child is a woman, who is unlike her mother. She still plays in the garden, but the roses turned into illusions."

She couldn't understand why, but the parties that her aunts hosted in their luxurious home felt forced, almost out of place despite the heavy air that was ripe with laughter and boring conversations. People all around her gave their congratulations, shaking and kissing her hand, their faces pulled in a smile that she could see was just a mask. Living as an aristocrat since birth; this would be her life. Snide comments and filthy looks hidden behind smiles and kind words. The party was for her aunt Lydia's birthday, the older woman ensuring that the party always had the most beautiful music playing in the background; the loving notes the only thing that was calming Julia Boyle down.

The parties that were held at her home were detested by the heir. Ever since that night she came downstairs after a nightmare, and walked straight into another one, she hated having people in her home that she did not know. Their intentions were as hidden as the faces behind the masks.

The glass in her hand was swirled softly, the red wine that was held in it following the movement without ever being spilt. Staring down at it with her dark, calculating eyes, her plump lips pursed in thought. Just then, a deep voice laughed beside her and pointed out. "Your aunt knows how to throw exquisite parties, Lady Boyle."

A quiet hum was her only response. Her gaze moved from the wine in her glass, and moved to the man that the voice belonged to. With combed back hair that was coloured a mousy brown, and blue eyes that sparkled with anticipation, the man was nothing short of handsome. Julia found herself going over his youthful features; his strong jawline and thin lips that were pulled up in a smirk. A bored tone was evidence in her voice. "I find it dragging myself, Daniel."

"Oh? Surely, someone of your significance would find these events anything but?" Daniel complimented, adopting a coy tone when he added. "If I may be so bold, your outfit compliments your stunning beauty even moreso tonight."

"Thank you. You're too kind." She mumbled. Daniel had always been infatuated with her since they were children. Showering her with gifts and compliments about her beauty, but his feeling were never going to be reciprocated by her. Despite that, the gifts he gave her were rare and expensive, so that was one use for keeping him around.

"I'm not being kind if it's the truth, am I?" He smirked, moving closer to the heiress. She ignored the advance, even the hand that wrapped itself around her waist, but it was when he moved to kiss her was when she objected with fake embarrassment.

"Daniel!" she gasped melodramatically, using her hand to keep him from coming closer. "My beautiful self is being saved for when I choose a husband. Surely, you understand the need for tradition with my bloodline."

"Of course, Lady Boyle." He accepted, removing his hand with a grumble. "That was uncourteous of me."

"It seems that the wine has gone to your head. Why don't you be a dear and go sober up?" she suggested, waving her hand to dismiss the drunk lord. His face showed embarrassment at the rejection, and yet there was something in his eyes that was different. Something darker. However, Julia couldn't examine further as he just dismissed himself, turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowds of laughing aristocrats.

The lady just stood there, her face losing the playful smirk and instead just looking solemn and unimpressed. Taking a sip of her wine, she moved with a regal grace about her, weaving through the guests that were attempting to initiate a conversation with her; only to be scorned as her patience for these people finally drained out. At that moment in time, she just wanted some alone time and fresh air. The heels on her boots tapped rhythmically against the marble floor, her reflection clear on the polished surface, and yet the sound was absorbed into the surroundings.

Passing through the library to get to the balcony, the young woman paused for a moment, her eyes looking forwards when they felt the pull to the portrait that was hung over the roaring fire. Her heart ached. The pain felt like a knife was being plunged into her chest and twisted, and she finally gave into her temptation to gaze on the magnificent piece of art. Despite the quality of the piece, the emotional agony that it caused her was evident; her eyes staring at the tightly coiled bun of blond hair that the woman in the painting had, her back to the viewers and would remain like that for eternity. The pale white outfit, giving the woman a feeling of purity, was very similar to Julia's own, and both looked identical save for the black hair that the heir kept in a bun.

Moving closer to it, a fragile hand brushed against the dark frame, Julia's voice barely a whisper when she muttered. "I miss you, mother."

Removing her hand, she took in a deep breath to control her emotions, adopting her stoic expression once more as she left the portrait alone. She left the library, opening both doors and immediately shivered when the wind blew in, causing goosebumps to appear all over her skin when she exited nonetheless. Over the balcony, she could see the beautiful gardens that were kept to suitable standard by her gardeners, the flowers that she planted herself visible just below. Beautiful bushes of roses. She could recall when she planted them; a remembrance to her mother, who's favourite flowers were roses. A genuine smile came across her lip, Julia placed the glass down and leaned her arms against the small wall that stopped her from falling into the garden.

The powerful wind blew across the trimmed grass, the movement resembling waves across the sea. The sight was beautiful, quiet, and most of all Julia could enjoy the sights without bothersome people attempting to interact with her every five minutes. Having grown up in this lifestyle, she was still annoyed with all the social graces she had to uphold with other people. That, and the needless implication that soon she would have to marry someone. Her aunts had told her that, due to her twenty-first birthday coming up, and their not so subtle hints that the man she should offer her hand to be Daniel Brisby. He was someone of her level, but he was cowardly and useless; someone she did not want having his hands on her fortune.

She wanted a husband. The man she wanted to offer her hand to had to be strong and able to care for her, like the Lord Regent was to her mother. They may not have been married but the man treated Julia like his own flesh and blood. He scolded her when she was misbehaving, and yet she also approved of her when she done something good. The only thing she disapproved of was when he made it clear he didn't like her playing rather than studying. She could recall him, standing tall compared to the short stature of her when she was ten years old.

A moment at play is a moment wasted, Julia. He would snap, sending her away to revise history and numbers. It was boring. She wanted to play hide and seek, or fake battles, something that would stem the loneliness she felt as a child. Even though he denied her those privileges, she still thought of him as more of a father than her biological one; the horrid man never spending any time with her even before her birth. She never saw him. No one would tell her his identity or what he was like, only reminding her that he abandoned Esma when she was pregnant with Julia, and never even cared enough to see his child. Her relationship with her mother was better, if only strained by Esma's excessive drinking that stemmed down to her aunts scolding her for her drunken and promiscuous antics.

Honestly, Julia saw more men leave her mother's room than she saw in the streets of Dunwall.

Regardless, she adored her mother more than anything else in the world, and when she was murdered at the party all those years ago; Julia could never forget it. All she can see when she dreams are the blood and the pale, lifeless face of Esma, with the screams loud in her ears and the smell of copper stinging her nose. She didn't have a good night sleep since that fateful night. The stress and sleep depravity had affected her health tremendously, her fits and lung problems getting worse.

Her chest ached, the feeling of her throat closing sending her into a small panic, before she reached into the pocket for one of her special cigarettes. It was strange how these helped her breathing, whereas the ones that the other aristocrats smoked only caused her condition to worsen. The doctor gave an unnecessarily complicated explanation as to why that was, as something inside the cigarette helped the passageways in her lungs and throat. Honestly, she couldn't even recall the name of the stuff they put in her cigarettes. Unable to find a reason to care, she just placed the cigarette in her mouth and lit it, dragging on it before she kept it in her lungs. After a few seconds, she exhaled and already the smell of herbs within the sticks could be smelt.

From behind, she heard a feminine voice call out. "Why are you out here, Julia?"

Without turning around, the heir could tell that it was her Aunt Lydia behind her from the worried tones in her voice, taking another breath of her cigarette before muttering. "I just needed fresh air."

"You're smoking. Have you had another attack?" she pointed out, staring at the stick in Julia's hand.

"I'm fine."

A grunt was the only reply she got from her aunt. Slowly, she could see Lydia appear beside her from the corner of her eye, still staring outwards onto the immaculate gardens without saying a words. The two women stood there silently, instead just enjoying each other's company whilst the sound of the party continued to echo from within. Glancing over her shoulder, Lydia returned her gaze to her niece with a soft whisper. "You feel it too, don't you?"

"I always feel it whenever you or Aunt Waverly throw a party." Julia mumbled, lowering the hand holding the cigarette as she exhaled another plumage of scented smoke. A short cough came after it, but the panic she felt had long gone with the tightness in her chest and throat; her voice sharp when she added. "I always think he's going to appear out of the crowds and get one of us. Just like with mother."

"I know you miss her dearly." Lydia noted, staring at the younger one with sympathy in her eyes. Julia made no attempt to look at her aunt. The sympathy she received was welcomed as Lydia was the only aunt that gave any to Julia, whereas Waverly was more cold with the child ever since her birth. To her, Julia reminded the youngest Boyle sister of the biggest mistake Esma made; sleeping with the heir's father.

"You must miss her as well, Aunt Lydia. She was your sister." She pointed out, finally looking at Lydia after flicking her cigarette away. The stub fell down into the dark gardens below, the light from the still burning end disappearing when it hit the ground, most likely falling into one of the bushes that lined the building.

"She was a pain most of the time… But yes, I do miss her." Lydia acknowledged. Slowly, she lifted her hand and intertwined it with Julia's, holding onto it like she would disappear if the elder Boyle didn't. The sick woman allowed it. She normally detested closeness and touching from other people, but she relished it from her own family, returning the tightness of Lydia's grip with a soft frown. With both of them watching the grass in the distance, the silence was welcomed and comfortable, the presence of her family member putting Julia's mind at ease.

"I remember when you first planted those rose bushes." Her aunt recalled, a genuine smile playing on her lips as she continued. "After what happened to Esma, you told the gardeners that you wanted to put rose bushes where you used to play with her, for remembrance. I remember watching you planting them yourself, refusing to let anyone else help you. If there's anything you've inherited from her, dear, it's Esma's stubbornness."

"You know when you and Waverly kept bothering me to marry a husband soon?" Julia spoke up, still staring ahead whilst Lydia turned to face her, her fingers picking at the gloves she wore. "Sometimes, I wish that my mother was still here. She would bother me to find someone like the Lord Regent. When I finally found someone, she would gush over them and make inappropriate remarks about us, but on our wedding day… I would look into her eyes and see that above anything else, she was proud in me."

"Your mother may not be there for your wedding, but me and Waverly will be. When you walk down that aisle to your husband, I will be proud for the both of us." Lydia promised, before she stood upright once more. "Come on, dear. It's time for cake."

"I'll be in there in a moment." Julia brushed off, watching as her aunt just nodded and then disappeared inside once more. Turning her head around, she stared at the rose bushes on more time, remembering that day that Lydia described to her in vivid detail.

"Lady Boyle, maybe it'll be better if you let the skilled gardeners plant your mother's rose bushe-?"

"No!" A young Julia snapped, her face dirtied as well as her hands, her eyes narrowing at the servant that was minding her. Kneeling in the ploughed dirt, she had already made a hole to put the plant in, but most of the dirt that was dug out had landed on her cream dress and exposed skin. The servant coiled back from the loud protest, her face stunned before she just solemnly nodded and allowed the ten year old continue her work.

Her hands ached from the manual labour, something that she had not come into contact with all her life, and when she glanced at the potted bush sapling, she couldn't stop the tears from welling up in her eyes. It has only been weeks since Esma's murder, and the scene had been burnt into the back of her mind forever. Alone, hurt and scared that the man would come back for her or her family, Julia just rubbed her eyes to get rid of the tears. Despite all the emotions she was feeling, the strongest was betrayal. The Lord Regent was not at the party that night. If he had, maybe he could have saved her. In Julia's eyes, he was the ruler of the entire city and country, and yet he failed to save her mother. He betrayed them both.

"Julia?" Waverly called out, her voice stern as she pointed out. "You're getting your clothes all dirty. Let the gardeners do the work and come inside!"

"No!" she repeated herself, dropping the shovel she was using and began to drag the sapling over to her, lifting it up with surprising gentleness despite her angered words. When her aunt called her name again, she dropped the sapling into the hole and explained. "This is my mother's bush! HERS! I have to be the one who plants it!"

"No one will be disappointed if you have some help, my lady." The servant tried to coerce, kneeling down beside the snivelling child. "I could help. Just us two."

Julia paused, staring at the lopsided sapling in the hole, before she just nodded at the request. Rubbing her eyes, she sniffed quietly when she agreed. "Just you."

"Alright, just me." She smiled sadly, taking the plant and straightening it out. With her help, the sapling was planted properly and stood healthily amongst the tilled earth. Staring at it, Julia couldn't bring herself to smile at her hard work; her face cold and distant whilst the servant just watched her with worried eyes. The child was quiet for the first few weeks, and in fact that was the first time since her mother's death that she showed any emotion, even if it was anger.

"My lady, would you like to water the plant now?" she asked, waiting for any sort of response. When she received a sharp nod, she turned to the gardeners and took the watering can from them, giving it to the noble child gently before just watching as Julia slowly stood up. Her breathing was laboured, an indication that another attack was soon coming if she didn't take it easy, and the servant noticed Lydia walking towards them. Standing up quickly, she gave the aristocrat a bow before leaving the woman and her niece.

Julia paid no attention as Lydia placed a hand on her small shoulder, her words soft and full of sympathy when she suggested. "How about we go inside? We can read your favourite book together?"

Saying nothing, Julia passed the watering can back to the gardener, the man accepting it with a short nod, and then she disappeared back in the empty house with her aunt. Not once did she spare another glance at the rose bush growing in the spot she and her mother used to play together.

Walking back inside the home, she welcomed the feeling of the roaring fire on her skin, the goosebumps on her arms disappearing with the warmth. Rubbing them to get rid of the rest of the cold, she moved to the bookshelves that adorned the walls within the library, scanning through the books that she kept as a child. Most of them were stereotypical fairy tales, except much more darker. Most ended in death and despair, with the villains often getting fates that involved their feet being roasted over fires or being bludgeoned to death by angry crowds. Thinking back on it, she wondered why her mother allowed a young child to be reading these book, and yet again Esma was mostly drunk when she read these books to Julia. She didn't mind the drunken slur in her voice, in fact when she did the voices of the villains it only added to the humour.

Her eyes paused on a book, the subject written inside it entirely different to the children stories of the surrounding books. It was on the subject of the Outsider, the supernatural being that the Abbey of the Everyman condemned as heretical. Deeply religious herself, Julia never touched the book and often judged it as nonsense despite never reading it. Looking over the thick leather cover, she read the words carved into the cover with raised eyebrows. Spirit of the Deep.

"What useless drivel." She muttered, shoving the book back into the bookcase with an unimpressed look. Instead, she moved to the more grown up books that she often saw Lydia reading when younger. A musical genius her aunt was, and it seemed to be the trait that Julia inherited from the family, as her grandmother was known to possess the ability to carry a tune as well. Taking out one of the books about famous musicians, she moved to the fireplace whilst opening it. Inside was pictures and information about all the famous musicians that ever lived, the writing small and densely packed on each page.

Flicking through the pages halfheartedly, she didn't hear someone entering the library from behind her. Due to being premature, and her birth not exactly a natural one as well, she had developed some health issues like her breathing difficulties. Along with that, her hearing wasn't the best compared to her other family, or even the other guests in her home. Typically, she would be around someone when she was younger, and only when she reached adulthood was she allowed to spend time on her own. The only time she noticed the presence of the person was the hand landing on her shoulder. Her heart stopped, the ache in her chest welling up and she quickly turned around; face wide with fear and shock before she recognized the person in front of her.

Daniel, with messier hair and darker eyes, stood there and grumbled to himself. Unable to understand what he was saying, Julia just placed the book on the marble fireplace and questioned him. "Is there anything you want, Daniel?"

"Do you love me?" His question was sudden. Caught off guard, Julia was shocked by his blunt way of asking if she felt anything for him, and she knew by the haze over his eyes that he was completely blathered.

Choosing her next words carefully, she placed her hand on top of his with a smile. "I do care about yo-"

"That's not what I asked." He snapped, his tone low and yet so vicious as his grip tightened on her shoulder, his other hand grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand off of his. "I asked if you love me?"

"Daniel, you're hurting me!" she snapped, all tact and grace fleeing when she felt the painful grip on her wrist and shoulder. She squirmed violently, trying desperately to escape his grip and yet failed due to his superior strength. Her struggling only seemed to enrage the drunken lord even more, his face contorting into rage when he released her shoulder, instead grabbing both wrists and pulling her closer to him, her face so close to his that she could smell the revolting whiff of alcohol on his breath.

"I know you have feeling for me, Julia! Why won't you admit it?! Why?!" he screamed in her face. She was frightened, trying so hard to escape from his hold and moved her face away from his, looking out at the unaware guests that were chatting away just next door. Loud cheering could be hear.

"Daniel, stop this!" she begged. Powerless, she was forced into the wall by her attacker, his lips crashing against hers in a drunken stupor. Thoughts raced through her mind, her eyes shutting tight as she heard him mumbling something, before they opened again and widened in sheer fright. Before her was not Daniel anymore, and instead of the drunken stares all she could see was a metal mask, the glass eyes staring straight into hers with frightening coldness. Her heartbeat was frantic, the feeling in her chest tightening as she looked around for a way to escape, before they fell on the antique glass statue that Waverly felt the need to put everywhere in the mansion. Freeing one of her hands, she stretched to reach it, frantically brushing her fingertips against her weapon until she managed to stretch far enough to grab it.

Staring back at the masked attacker, she pushed him back with all her might, and when he was finally off her did she then smack him over the head with the statue. The loud shattering sound of glass echoed through the air, along with the pained screams of the victim, Julia looking away from the scene as she saw blood flowing out from the open wound on her attacker's head. When she heard shocked gasps and murmurs did she turn back, seeing Daniel once again instead of the masked man. Glancing around, she saw the guests entering the library, all of them staring at the bleeding Daniel on the floor, and then at the panting Julia who still had the half broken statue in her hand.

Her aunts pushed through the crowd, both shocked to see the scene before them. Waverly stared at Julia with shock and embarrassment, whereas Lydia was concerned for her niece and tried to move towards her, only to stop when Julia raised her hand. Staring back down at the injured Daniel, she muttered apologies to him and then ran, pushing roughly through the group of whispering aristocrats. In the main hall, her heels clicked loudly as she proceeded to run up the stairs, her breath leaving her as she continued to run. Only when she rushed down the hallway and reach the door that led to her bedroom did she slow down, shoving the door open and slamming it shut behind her.

The room was dark, save for the faint glow of her lamp sitting on the crafted drawers, the mirror reflecting the whole room spotlessly. Her bed was pushed up against the wall, the four poster hanging a curtain across the wooden frame that hide the sleeping person from the view outside. The curtains were heavy and thick, designed to keep the cold out and were in style amongst the rich, sitting in front of the beautifully crafted window. A thick rug sat on the cold, wooden floor, the feeling of it missed by Julia's feet as they were trapped in her uncomfortable shoes. Moving towards her bed, she proceeded to tug her shoes off her feet, throwing them across the room as they collided with the wall opposite her, sliding down onto the floor.

Immediately, she began to strip, eager to get rid of the clothes that her attacker had touched. She made a note to burn them, before casting them aside onto the floor, and moved to her drawers to take out her expensive pyjamas instead. Pausing, she glanced at her reflection in the polished mirror, staring at the reflection that was staring back at her. Her hair had came out of the bun slight, some of the hairs popping out of the bobble and giving her a messy look, with red eyes and bruised lips. Her shoulder was already bruising, and her wrist ached from the force that Daniel grabbed her with. She couldn't bear to look at herself anymore. It made her feel sick to the stomach thinking about what could have happened. Pulling her drawers out, she took out her night clothes and slipped them on, sparing not a single glance at her mirror as she returned to her bed.

Slipping under the cover, she just laid there staring at the wall, listening as the party continued downstairs despite the attack that just happened. She didn't know what became of Daniel when she fled the scene, no doubt he lied about what happened and made her seem like the insane woman who just attacked him. Her stomach twisted painfully, and she just shoved her face in her pillow to try and convince herself to fall asleep.

That night, she did not succeed in getting any sleep.