Previously, on Roswell... :D

The end of Chapter 1:


"Bertha?" Liza quietly asked, a hesitant hint in her voice.

Bertha didn't hear her and just went on talking to Tess.

"Bertha?" Liza asked again, a little louder and more self-confident this time.

Bertha looked up, angry for being interrupted in her discussion and an impatient look disgracing on her face.

"Yes?" she asked, rather furious.

"Could I… could I" Liza stammered and she sighed, frustrated with her sudden inability to talk without stuttering. She took a good, long, deep breath before looking Bertha deeply in the eye.

"Could I go as well?" she breathed out, shivering at the cold glares she was receiving from both Tess and Bertha.

She expectantly looked at them.

"Please?" she added.

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A Rose Of Cinders

Chapter 2

Tess looked at her mother, a horrified expression disgracing her face. Her eyes were silently begging her mother, pleading her to forbid Liza from going along.

Bertha looked at her, a conspiratorially smile drawing her lips in an even thinner line than usual. The wink she gave Tess was sufficient to let her know that Liza tagging along with them was out of the question.

Tess released her breath, immensely relieved with this knowledge. She wasn't likely to admit it, but she envied Liza. She envied her beauty, her kindness, her intelligence, but – most of all – she was jealous of her gift.

Tess hadn't been born with a gift, and did everything thing in her power to keep this a secret. Bertha used to blame her late father, since – according to her – he hadn't had any powers or a gift either.

Bertha did have a gift: she could mindwarp people, and she didn't hesitate to use it to achieve things, even though it could be very risky at times. Once, a man had found out he was being mindwarped by her, and had tried to have her arrested. They nearly managed to escape from the King's soldiers that were after them.

Jeffrey Parker had been the perfect victim for Bertha's mindwarp: a rich widow with no close friends – except Amelia DeLuca, but she was eccentric, and nobody would believe her – and, besides that, he had been very tired and sad, something that made him extra vulnerable for the mindwarp. The only problem had been his children, Alexander and Elizabeth, but they were minors so there was nothing they could do.

A problem.

That was how Tess had always regarded Liza. As a huge problem. The only thing she was good enough for was cleaning the house and helping her dress up, which, Tess had to admit, she was very good at.

Bertha turned towards Liza, smiling sweetly – a false smile, Tess knew – and raked a hand through her already tousled hair.

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Liza swallowed and said a quick prayer. 'Please,' she begged, to no one in particular. 'Please, let me go.'

Bertha smiled at her, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Those cold, shallow pools of blue, impenetrable, remained as unmoved as they ever were. They didn't allow anyone to see her thoughts, her soul.

And suddenly, Liza felt sorry for the woman. And regardless to the fact that she had every right to despise her, to hate her for everything that she had done to her, she didn't. She pitied Bertha. She pitied her for the lack of feelings, for the lack of emotions, for the lack of humanity. And even though she knew she shouldn't feel sorry for her, that it was ridiculous, she did. It must be awful to not have feelings, to be unable to love.

Bertha was still smiling, but somehow, it didn't appear as a smile to Liza, it being more ominous than friendly, more a smile of deceit than a smile of sincerity, genuineness.

She swallowed again, trying to clear the lump that was rapidly forming in her throat. They weren't going to let her go to the ball. They weren't going to let her go.

Bertha reached out to touch Liza's cheek, her long, thin fingers forming a major contrast with the rest of her huge body, the sharp, red-polished nails scraping painfully over the tender flesh of Liza's face. She slowly tilted her face to one side, studying it intently, the coldness of her bright blue eyes piercing right into Liza's soul.

Liza shivered. Bertha's eyes were so different from Maria's, even though they were both a shade of bright blue. Maria's eyes were sparkling with hope and joy, whereas Bertha's were solid like ice. Maria's eyes expressed love, kindness and friendship, yet all Bertha's eyes were able to express was disgust and hate.

Liza looked at Bertha while she was taking a deep breath, a breath that made her chest swell and that made her appear even huger.

"Do you really want to go?" Bertha asked her.

Liza nodded slowly, cautious as to not get her hopes too high, or to look too eager.

Tess watched, her worries growing with the minute, a frown creasing her forehead. It was obvious that she wasn't content with the way things were going. It would have even been obvious to a blind man, with all the negative energy she was radiating.

Bertha gave Liza another one of those deceiving smiles before giving her her answer.

"Well, in that case," she replied, "you can go."

Liza looked at her, surprised with the sudden permission, a feeling of immense relief being uttered by a huge grin.

"Now," Bertha said, without any sign of her earlier smile, "go and get Tess's dresses. We don't have all day, now do we?" She tapped impatiently with her right foot when Liza didn't show any sign of an answer.

Liza quickly nodded, carefully trying to avoid any reason that would make Bertha retreat the earlier given permission by obliging as well as possible. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tess looking at Bertha, her mouth agape, somewhat resembling a fish gulping for fresh air.

Liza suppressed the urge to giggle and managed to keep a straight face. Even fishes didn't breath like this. They had gills, after all.

She silently thanked her secret, unknown God and hurried to the door to find Alex smiling at her, switching amused looks between her and Tess. He bent forward and whispered in her ear:

"Bet she can catch a lot of flies like that..."

Liza softly giggled and playfully slapped Alex on his arm. She gently pushed him out of her way, retrieving seven of Tess's best dresses out of her closet.

She sighed at the feeling of the soft fabric against her skin, silently admiring the material, the embroiled figures and pearls, the fringes, the lace and the suede. She especially liked a red dress that was made of silk. She softly let it slip between her fingers, imaging herself in it.

What dress would she have to wear to the ball? The only clothes she had were the dress she was wearing now, and another very old, very worn and very tattered dress. This one was thin, the cotton smeared and dirtied with ash, filth and other stains that refused to disappear.

Maybe she could borrow one of Tess's dresses. It wasn't like Tess could wear them all, right? Maybe the red one...

She seriously doubted whether Tess would lend her one of her dresses. She hadn't seemed all too happy with the information that she'd go along.

Maybe a dress of Maria's... Maria didn't have as many and as beautiful dresses as Tess had, but they were clean. Amelia and Maria weren't very rich, since Maria's father had left them with huge debts, but they made enough money for a living and for a few luxuries.

Liza was still lost in her musing when she entered Tess's bedroom and carefully placed the dresses on Tess's bed. Bertha nodded at her, waving with her hand, signalling to her that she was dismissed. Liza flashed a grateful smile at Bertha, determined to show her gratitude, and turned around. She was just across the bedroom, intending to leave it, when – all of a sudden – Bertha's cold voice stopped her.

"Oh, by the way, Liza, I forgot to tell you something," she said, acting as though it just came to her mind at that very moment.

Liza turned around, only to be faced with a giggling Tess and a very serious Bertha.

"There is one condition on going along with us," Bertha told her.

Liza slowly nodded, confused, but prepared to do whatever needed to see the Prince. She shot shy and worried glances at Tess, who was still giggling on her way down.

Bertha walked into the kitchen, nearing the hearth and thus nearing the straw that was Liza and Alex's bed. She took a large bowl, filled to the brim with beans and looked challengingly at Liza.

Liza refused to shut her eyes; ready to take whatever challenge Bertha was daring her to do.

Bertha turned the bowl upside-down, throwing the beans on the ground and between the straws. She mingled them with the cinders and ash in the fireplace and shoved a few of them under the – neatly made – blankets of the "bed".

"When you've selected all the beans out of the fireplace and when they're back in the bowl in less than two hours, you can go with us," Bertha said, that deceptive smile back on her face once more.

She winked at Tess, who was openly laughing at the moment, and Liza didn't move until they had left the room.

Liza sighed. She needed to do this in less than two hours?

She'd never manage to do that... There was no way she'd be able to attend the ball now...

She leaned back at the wall, sliding down against it, putting her head between her hands. She could just smash herself at that moment. She should have known that Bertha wasn't just trying to be nice to her. She should have known that.

Why did she always trust the wrong people?

A little sparrow landed on the windowsill and chirped softly when it noticed Liza's sadness and despair, silently asking her what was wrong.

Liza laughed, startling the little bird with the bitterness in her voice.

She managed to 'tell' the sparrow what she had to do and let her defeat and despair seep through their connection.

The small bird moved its head, making it look like a nod of understanding.

Instead of comforting her, or cheering her up, it turned around and flew away.

How Liza wished she were a bird, how she wished that she could be the one to fly away and leave this place. She longed for freedom, to make her own decisions, and see more of the world.

To see the Prince...

She sighed again and moved over to the straws next to the fireplace. Gone was her chance to meet the Prince again. Gone was her hope to see his eyes just one more time. She'd die as an old and lonely spinster or maid. 'No,' she corrected herself. 'I won't even have the chance to become old. With this work, I'd die in my early fifties or sixties, or perhaps even before then.'

Suddenly there was the sound of wings in the air, and she looked up, surprised to find that the little sparrow had returned with all sorts of birds. There were a few pigeons, some other sparrows, blackbirds and all other kinds of birds she had never seen before.

They nodded at Liza and started to peck at the beans, picking them up and placing them in the bowl. They left the filth and cinders on the ground and selected the beans out of the straws and ashes.

In less than half an hour they had returned almost every bean in the bowl, and when the last bean joined the others, the birds looked up at Liza, and nodded again.

Liza happily smiled and thanked the birds for their help, the tears of sadness in her eyes replaced with tears of gratefulness, affection and hope.

She ran upstairs with the bowl in her hand and entered Tess's bedroom with an enormous smile plastered on her face. She proudly presented the bowl filled with beans to Bertha, convinced that now, she'd let her go.

Bertha looked at her and smiled wryly while she gave Liza a look-over, the expression of pure astonishment quickly turning in one of coolness.

"Did you really think we'd let you go with us?" she asked her, mock disbelief clearly evident in her voice.

"You're dirty, you don't have a dress and you cannot dance. You'd embarrass us."

It wasn't until then that Liza's smile faltered. Alex, who had overheard the whole conversation, suddenly spoke.

"Liza can dance," he piped up, defending his little sister. "Our mother taught us when we were little."

"Liza is still little," Tess said, taking every opportunity to hurt Liza.

"She isn't little," Alex replied, "She's petite. Just like you," he retorted.

Tess kept silent, indignant, knowing she wasn't a match for Alex's words or mind.

"The filth can be washed off, and she could borrow one of Tess's dresses," he continued.

His last words provoked quite a few squirts of outrage from Tess.

"She?" Tess spat out. "Borrow my dress?"

She vigorously shook her head. "Oh no, she won't! Over my dead body."

Alex took Liza's hand and softly squeezed it.

"She could borrow a dress from Maria," he proposed, positive that their friend would be happy to help Liza out.

"Mind you own business, Alexander," Bertha said. "She isn't coming with us. Period. Discussion closed."

"Discussion? Which discussion?" Alex defiantly asked her. "You don't even give her a fair chance!"

"Shut up, Alex..." Bertha threateningly started. "Go and feed the horses and prepare the coach. Now!" she yelled when Alex didn't show any intention of obliging.

"And you, Liza," she continued when Alex had left the room. "Do Tess's hair and her make-up. Make sure she's all set to go by eight."

Liza bit on her lip and tucked a strand of hair back in her ponytail, trembling from the strength it took her to control herself. Tess looked at her, an evil glint in her eyes when she started talking.

"Can you believe it, sister dear?" she asked, faking disbelief. "I am going to meet the Prince tonight. The Prince," she continued, a grin stretching itself from ear to ear. "Tonight," she stretched.

Liza just looked at Tess, succeeding in keeping an emotionless front.

When Tess didn't receive the reaction she'd expected to get, she repeated her words, talking slowly, word after word, as if talking to a little child, or a foreigner.

"I, " she started, while pointing at herself, "am – going – to – meet..." she inserted a long, dramatic pause, "the – Prince," she finished. "The P-R-I-N-C-E," she spelled, obviously disappointed with Liza's reaction, or rather: lack of reaction.

Tess sat down on the stool, which loudly protested under her weight. Ignoring the cracking, she bended forward, lifting the brush of the closet and handing it to Liza.

"Brush," Tess commanded her.

Liza started to drag the brush through Tess's hair and pulled hard at it when it got tangled – harder than necessary.


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