Alethea was once a part of the Cullen Family. However, she mysteriously disappears.
Centuries later, Renesmee is born. Noticing the similarities between both of them leads The Cullens to believe she could of been another hybrid.
In a time of desper...
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Rosalie followed Alethea as she wasn't exactly sure where she was leading her to. The hallways were darkly lit, the only source of light coming from the large windows to her left. The sun had yet to rise and the manor was still as quiet as ever apart from the footsteps of both women.
"When I was younger, a person's status was the most important thing that mattered." Alethea spoke up. "It determined your place in society and the way you were perceived to be by others, not that things have changed much."
They walked around the corner, their walk coming to an end. At the end of the hallway was yet another large door. "People would brag about their wealth so arrogantly. The Earl hated that. He had never been one to show off." She finished as she pushed the door open.
They stepped inside and in an instant, the room was quickly illuminated by the large golden chandeliers on the tall ceilings. It seemed to be another dreadfully long hallway, except this one had various frames hung from top to bottom. Rosalie glanced around, her eyes scanning each and every portrait that was there. They seemed to be dated and most of the paintings were of men. They wore attire from another era, elegant gowns with excessive amounts of luxurious jewelry and adorned fur coats.
"Though he wasn't a man that flaunted, this was one of the Earl's most prized possessions. He was passionate about the arts and adored collecting it, portraits especially."
Rosalie looked at her, slight impressment on her face. She was slightly confused as to why she was telling her this. Alethea walked ahead and stopped in front of the largest frame in the room. From her stance, Rosalie couldn't see who or what was in it.
"I can sense your discomfort when I mention the Earl. May I ask why that is?" She spoke up, her gaze glued to the painting.
Rosalie stopped suddenly. She remained silent, unsure as to how to respond her sudden suspicion. Alethea motioned for her to come closer. As she stood right next to her, her eyes could finally see who was in the painting.
"Is that him?" She asked.
"Yes."
The man in the portrait was young. His hair was dark and curly and was tied back in a short ponytail. His eyes were an icy blue, like the glaciers that floated in the Arctic ocean. There was a smile on his face, warm and kind. Rosalie didn't know what to say. She wasn't exactly sure what she had expected of him.
Alethea stared at him too. It reminded her of the old times when she had first met him. Dominic was a handsome man and it had only been expected for him to receive various marriage offers in his youth. He was a young earl, after all. Having inherited his father's immense wealth surely put him on the top market. When they were engaged, Alethea had to deal with the bickering whispers of the young noble ladies who envied her. She remembered the large, playful smile across his face. It was friendly and mesmerizing at the same time. His happy character used to annoy Alethea sometimes, but at the end of the day she loved him. The Earl had the heart and soul of an angel and that would the only way she would remember him by.
