Disclaimer: I do not own anything, Richelle Mead does.

I know the summary is ambiguous, but it's meant to be like that. Read on to find out more.

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She stumbled against the wall, making sure to keep hidden within the shadows cast, for the moonlight would surely give away her unworldly presence. She could not allow that to happen.

It was impolite, what she was doing. She didn't know why she remained there, intruding upon the Prince's privacy, when all she gained from it was an intense pain that clawed at her chest. Her hooded lids lowered as her dark eyes took in the scene before her - her Prince, the only one she'd ever loved, escorting yet another maiden back to his sanctuary.

It always felt bittersweet, seeing him indulge in other women, other women much fairer and prettier than she was. Rose took solace in knowing that they made him happy, and that they at least were worthy of him. They at least were officials' daughters, nieces, granddaughters. They at least were of some royal descent.

Recently, Rose had noticed him seeking the same dame out – the famous raven-haired model, Natasha Ozera. She was his longest bed thrall, perhaps even surpassing merely that. The Prince had certainly seemed especially fond of her.

She couldn't give to him what she could – a glamorous life with no reason or need to shy away from the public. They could be together all they wanted, with nothing to stand in their way. They would be the most well-known couple, the strikingly handsome man of royal descent with the stunning beauty who'd earned millions from modeling.

What would Rose be?

Only an embarrassment to the Prince and his family. How could he ever love her? How could he ever want her? How could he ever have any sort of future... ...with a servant like her?

Rose knew there was no answer.

The next day called out the same routine for Rose once again, and her body got up and performed the tasks a servant had to do – bring the laundry out, clean out every nook and cranny of the castle and wash the dishes after every meal.

Something, however, did not quite occur the way Rose expected it to.

"Hathaway, where are you? Why are you taking so long with the dishes?"

Snapping out of her daydream about the Prince, she sighed and returned a reply with forced pleasantry. Dragging her body up and out of the chair, she juggled the many dishes and shot out of the dining hall as fast as she could, knowing she was in for punishment if she did not get to the kitchen on time. What could she say? It was a hard life.

A bead of sweat dropped into Rose's eyes, and she blinked furiously, slamming into what seemed like a wall in the process. The force almost knocked her flat on her back, and sent the expensive glass pottery flying. "Fuck," she swore, bracing herself for the impact which never came.

A muscled arm snaked around her waist and caught her in her death spiral towards the ground, pulling her up. Stunned, Rose looked up, only to see the molten brown eyes and handsome face of the Prince. She inhaled his scent deeply – it was masculine, strong and heady, but not over the top. Her eyes carefully took in every chiseled feature on his face, knowing this would be the only chance to do so.

She stepped away, her body screaming in reluctance, feeling the immediate loss of the electricity that was oh so powerful within them. Reminding herself sternly that he would – and could never love her, she muttered a quick apology, scrambling to pick up all the fallen dishes.

Once again, he stopped her. "Maiden... what is your name?"

His penetrating gaze sent shivers down her spine as she noted again how lovely he looked, with his silky dark brown hair falling in waves across his face, along with the teasing smirk he currently had on. "Rose, sir. Rose Hathaway."

"Roza..." she found that she very much liked the way he rolled it on his tongue. Then, slowly, he reached out and tucked a couple of her brown locks behind her ear with his long fingers. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at him, entranced.

His gaze, dark, deep and powerful, glinted as he admired her beauty. It was the first time he had ever encountered such a beautiful maiden, and the first time he had felt something other than lust. She was different, unlike any other female. She may not have been of high class like Natasha, or seductive like Camille or blonde like Vasilisa, but as he stared at her blushing cheeks and shining brown eyes, he realized she was special like no other.

Immediately, he knew that he had given his heart away to her, to Roza.

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Should I continue it? Hmmm... Well, I guess you could let me know, through reviews. :)