Christine was angrily picking carrots from the cottage's little garden when she heard a scared whinny. As she lift her head, she saw Ceasar run into the stable and start drinking the water. However, her father was nowhere in sight. She ran towards Ceasar, noticing the mud all over his hooves and the torn up reins.

"Ceasar, where is papa? Could you lead me to him?" Christine desperately asked the animal. Ceasar softly whinnied in response. After saddling him up with her own saddle and tying a cloak around her shoulders, the two set off in a wild gallop.

Unlike other ladies of her time, Christine didn't ride side-saddle. All of the delicate French ladies at her village have almost never even rode a horse, but if they did, it would be a slow ride around town, while their prettiest dress hung around one side of the animal they were riding along with their legs. Christine, however, sat on a horse like a man would. When she and her father lived back in Sweden, he taught her to ride the horse. So that she wouldn't be forced to ride side-saddle, Christine wore barely half the amount of petticoats underneath her skirt, so that she could fasten it up on one side.

As they rode further into the forest, the temperature started to drop, snow was everywhere and the ground was covered in ice. At the end of the forest was a giant black gate with icicles hanging down from it, the frost sparkling in the afternoon sun.

Christine went with Ceasar through the snowy gardens, tying him up at the stairway to the main door. As she went to step on the stairs, she noticed a pretty big stick lying around in the snow. She took it's end as one would take a sword, the snow covering it chilling her fingertips.

"Might be useful if I run into someone dangerous."  She thought to herself.

She carefully went up the stairs and soon reached the door, which almost magically opened right in front of her. Christine spent a few seconds looking around the door, looking for the person, who had opened it. As she looked down at the ground, she noticed that it was covered in a generous layer of dust, with only one set of footprints leading through it. The foootprints must have been her father's.

"Look, André! A girl!" Christine heard a hushed whisper come from her right.

"I can see, you know. I cannot use my arms, not eyes, you idiot." A second voice replied.

"Who's there?" Christine neared the spot, where the voices should be, but all she saw was a golden candelabra and a mantel clock. Both very intrecately made, but definitely not alive.

A harsh cough resounded from the staircase. Not hesitating one second, Christine grabbed the candelabra, leaving her stick behind and ran upstairs. She followed the coughing up to a dark stairwell, which lead to a dungeon. There, in one of the dreary cells was her father.

"Papa!" Christine gasped and tightly wrapped her hands around the bars. "Papa, are you okay?"

"Christine! How did you find me here?"

"Ceasar led me here. I was so worried." Christine gasped as she took hold of his hands. "Your hands are as cold as ice. We need to get you out of here!"

"No, Christine, leave me here." Gustave protested "This castle is alive and you have to leave until he finds out about you!"

"Who is 'he', papa?" Christine asked, but was cut off from asking any other questions by a voice.

"My, my, looks like we have yet another guest..."  The voice belonged to a man and if the speaker wanted to, it would be a heavenly pleasure to listen to him speak. However, the voice was clearly hostile and such coldness radiated from it, that it made a shiver run down Christine's spine.

"Who are you? Where are you? Show yourself!" Christine grabbed the candelabra, which she discarded a mere minute ago, waving it around, trying to see the mysterious voice.

"I am the ghost of this castle, mademoiselle. And if I were you, I would advise you leave this instant or a worse fate will befall you than your thief of a father. And I just put him under a lock." The voice seemed to come from all different directions.

"My father is not a thief, monsieur!" Christine argued with the ghost.

"Well, it does seem like when you pick a rose in this accursed castle, you get forever locked up in a jail cell." Gustave said.

"A life sentence for a rose?" Christine said shocked.

"I got eternal damnation for one!" The voice said, much nearer to Christine than before. In the shadows, Christine could barely make out a silhouette.

"I wanted the rose, monsieur. If you must, then keep me here instead of my father!" Christine now pleaded.

"What did you say?" The voice said surprised. The coldness from before was gone and in it's place was disbelief.

"I will stay here instead of my father." Christine said determined.

"Do you promise, mademoiselle?"

"Only if I am allowed to see who I am giving my promises."

The figure in the shadows let out a bitter chuckle. "You wouldn't want to know, miss."

At that moment, Christine fearlessly strode with the candelabra in her hand towards the figure and lift the light towards the shadow's face. What she saw truly shocked her.

The man's face was incredibly deformed on one side, a few light scars going across his temple and cheekbone on the other side. Feathery light brown tufts of hair were on his head where the flesh wasn't mangled. Ragged and torn up clothes hung off of his skeletal form, long black strips of what used to be a cape trailing behind him. The only normal thing about him were his eyes. They were incredibly blue and held a sort of sadness and longing in them.

Christine gasped. The man took this as a sign of her being frightened by him, so he said: "Get out."

"Fine." Christine replied. "But before I go, may I say goodbye to my father?"

The shadow just turned around, ignoring her request.

"Your heart is so cold, that you won't let a daughter to kiss her father goodbye? Eternity can wait for a moment."

The man turned to her with a scowl on his face. He stared her down for a while with those blue eyes and pressed the lever opening the cell door. "Once the door is locked, it will never be opened again." He warned the petite brunette.

Christine ran in, hugging her father. While she had her arms wrapped around him, she turned so that her father was facing the door with his back. She had her plan clear to do so. As she decided to go along with her plan, she nuzzled her chin into her father's shoulder, whispering in his ear: "Don't worry. I'll escape."

Without so much as saying 'what', Christine pushed Gustave out the door, quickly shutting herself in the jail cell. The mysterious man glanced with shock at what the girl decided to do. "You traded your life for his own." He whispered.

"I won't let my father die." Christine said determined, glaring at him.

"You are a fool, mademoiselle. And so is your father." With that, he dragged Gustave away, leaving Christine alone in the high up cell.