Disclaimer: 

Yay!

For the first time in my writing career (about two months…;) ), it's really necessary to write a Disclaimer…

I mean, everybody knows that the characters belong to JK, Melinda Metz, and others, but you guys don't know to whom the lyrics of the song that's used belong…

Or maybe you do… :)

Anyway, the song used is called "Children's Lullaby" by "Vertical Horizon". The song is nice, but it were the lyrics that touched me…

Oh, and since we're doing the disclaimer anyways, I'll just tell you, that, in case you recognize some of the sentences used in the part where Max talks to Christian, that you probably knew them from a fluff fic I wrote about a year ago, for English class. I didn't post it at Roswellfanatics, but I did post it at ff.net, so maybe you read it there, although I seriously doubt that. Besides that, I enhanced the part a little, so it's not that obvious… :)

And guys, thank you soooo incredibly much for your great reviews and sweet words! They encouraged me to write faster, type faster, and kinda inspired me. So, please, please, pretty please, keep them coming!

Enough of me babbling. Without further ado, here's the new part:

-----------------------------------------

A Rose Of Cinders

Chapter 3

Children's Lullaby
Little girl was down by the waterside,
The sun so hot and the roses so red where she lie,
As little boys sit and watch as she twirls all around,
Sunny smiles not a rain cloud could bring that girl down,

But now....

What's behind those big brown eyes,
Do you dream at night, without your lullaby?

Little boy sits alone as he sings in the dark,
Wondering if his own dreams had pulled them apart,
He sings a song of tomorrow he never can see,
Mostly sings of a lost little girl's memory,

And now...

As his dreams go flashing by,
He begins to hear a lonely lullaby

Well now…

We used to sing,
And we used to cry,
Through everything,
In our children's lullaby

Little girl on the street with nobody around
Has her head in the air, dirty feet on the ground
She shuts her eyes and she wonders 'is this a mistake?'
Now she's gone from the warmth of her little boy days.

And still...

She believes that she'll get by,
On her own without,
Her little boy's lullaby

Little boy prays to God to answer his song,
To hold her hand when everyone else's are gone,
Time goes by and the wounds slowly turn into scars,
So he makes his final wish on the midnight stars,

And he screams...

Little girl won't you hear my cry,
Won't you come back home,
To your lover's lullaby

Little girl down by the waterside

Goodbye, goodbye

Goodbye…

                                                -----------------------------

The lyrics of the song slowly drifted towards Max, kept lingering in the air, drenching him with their hidden meaning. He didn't know where the song was being sung, or by whom, but the words were so true to him that they could be derived from his soul.

The sun was slowly setting, its celestial journey across the cloudless sky almost completed. The shadows it was casting were getting longer and wider, and even though the sun was nearly down, the temperature didn't decrease.

It promised to become a long, very long, sultry summer night.

Max looked down from his balcony at the people swarming around his second-in-command, Michael, who was currently trying to stall Max's arrival in the Grand Hall.

He took a closer look.

Girls.

A lot of girls.

Thousands of them.

Well, hundreds maybe, he rationalized. Anyhow, there were plenty of them. Enough to turn every man's dream – a ball with beautiful girls that were begging him to marry them – into a nightmare.

He'd have to try and dance with every single one of them, as promised in the Royal Letter.

And why?

He wouldn't find the right one.

Over the years he'd been introduced to decades of young girls, most of them being princesses, and – he had to admit – excruciatingly beautiful. Somehow, he couldn't imagine marrying any of those girls. He knew why, though.

The girl at the carnival. Brown hair, big doe eyes. Eyes that were able to swallow him, that allowed him to get lost in her essence. She had been young at the time, and so had he. He doubted that she would remember him – at least, not in the way he remembered her – and if she did, it'd probably only be because of his Royal status as a Prince.

Not because of him.

He had no clue as to how she looked nowadays, but he knew that he would recognize her immediately. He had dreamed of her, countless times. In some of them, they were happily married, and were playing with their children.

Other dreams were more… err… arousing, and to say that they were inspiring would be an understatement…

Max cursed under his breath for the blush he knew was adorning his face, being arisen just at the mere memory of those dreams. He tried very hard to regain his composure by thinking of anything but Her.

It worked for twenty seconds, but somehow his thoughts always managed to drift back to her.

Maybe she'd be among those girls, although Max knew that he would have felt her in some sort of way, like he would have recognized her presence. It was ridiculous, he was aware of that, for he couldn't be able to distinguish any of the girls from this far away, but, at the same time, he couldn't deny his heart's knowledge.

"Your Majesty?"

He swivelled around at the sound of Christian's voice and walked into his room, where Christian was waiting for him. He breezily acknowledged the servant's presence with a friendly nod.

Christian cleared his throat.

"We received an answer from Lady Ann and Lord James, sir. They were very honored by your invitation and will surely attend tonight's ball."

"Good, good," Max replied, "very good indeed. How about the preparations?" he asked, walking over to his closet to retrieve his blouse.

"Her Highness Isabel decided to do the planning herself, Your Majesty."

Max smiled inwardly. If Izzy would take care of the ball, it was bound to become a splendid party.

"Good," he answered. "Well, that's all, Christian. You're dismissed, I'd like to change now." Max gestured at his blouse.

Christian nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."

"Oh, and Christian?" Max said, looking at the retreating servant.

Christain revolved around his axis, almost tripling over his own feet, but was just in time to prevent a huge embarrassment. "Yes, sir?" he asked when he had recovered from the almost-fall.

"Loose the whole your-majesty-stuff, would you?" Max semi-ordered him, a friendly undertone present in his voice. He had known Christian for over 3 years now, and Christian still wasn't able to call him by his first name.

When Christian answered with a solemn "Yes, sir," Max let out an exasperated sigh.

"The sir-crap, too, Christian," he said. "You can call me Max."

"Okay, sir," Christian responded, but quickly corrected himself when he saw Max arching his eyebrow.

"I mean Max, sir," he said, curtsied and quickly walked away.

Max smiled weakly, and walked over to his window, bracing himself on the windowsill. He could see the farmers working on the countryside and had a bird's eye view of the world.

It was all going to be his.

His kingdom.

He thought of the question he'd been asking himself the whole month. Did he really want to do this, get married to one of those girls, being bound for the rest of his life? He'd been taught from childhood that the kingdom demanded sacrifices and that it was a gift to be asked to give an offering.

He sacrificed a lot.

He gave up nearly everything, but could he give up love? Because that was what he would do, by getting married. He did not like any of those girls, and he didn't know how he ever could. The Council wanted him to marry, though, and he couldn't go against the will of the Council. He was supposed to do his proposal this week, at the ball or in the after hours of it, so that the survival of the Unity would be guaranteed. Maybe they were women who he had to learn to love.

Or perhaps, he thought, perhaps he was doomed to live a life without love…

He shook his head, trying to get rid of those depressing thoughts.

'Think happy thoughts,' he told himself.

And, as usual, his mind raked up the image of his dream girl, at least, the way she looked in his dreams. He was yearning for a name, for a way to call her his.

Pretty soon he was lost in his daily fantasies and reveries about her, and he was startled when Michael called him, pulling him back to the harsh reality.

"… waiting for you, Maxwell," were the only words he managed to constitute out of Michael's sentence.

His eyes fluttered open and he looked right into the eyes of his best friend and second-in-command.

"I'll be right down," Max said with a curt nod, and he was about to get lost in his dream world again when Michael resisted.

"Maxwell!" he cried out, only partially faking despair.

"You can't be serious! Those girls are literally pulling the clothes off of my body, clinging onto me, begging me, beseeching me to get at least one dance with the Prince! You can't stall any longer!" he stressed.


"Michael…" Max warned, his voice filled with an authority, determined and persuasive, a way of speaking that he didn't use very often. "I said that I would be right down," he firmly stated.

Michael reluctantly nodded. "Of course, sire," he mockingly said, a bitter undertone audible in his voice.

Max averted his gaze and looked at Michael, and when he saw the hurt in his friend's eyes, he felt guilty.

"I'm sorry," he hastily apologized, "it's just that… I don't want to do this…"

Michael raised an eyebrow.

"Maxwell, please… Those girls want you… They love you!" he loudly tried to reason, not even bothering to keep his voice down in front of a member of the Royal House.

"They don't even know me, Michael," Max flatly replied. "All they care for is the prospect of a life at the palace, a life as a Queen, a life of wealth. They only want me," he said while forming quotation marks with his hands, "because of what I am, not because of who I am…" he trailed off and turned to look out of his window again.

The sun had finished its long hike, only to start it all over again tomorrow.

It was, astronomically seen, totally incorrect, Max knew that, but it was an excellent metaphor for how he felt at the moment. He lived one day, ended it, and the next morning, he had to start all over again.

His life held no meaning for him.

His dreams did.

His dreams were beautiful, marvelous, filled with Her. They made him feel, they made him alive.

She made him feel… As well in the spiritual sense of the word as in the more physical meaning of it…

He felt his ears starting to glow again, a blush covering his cheeks. He thanked his lucky stars for the fact that twilight had settled down on them.

When he turned to look at Michael again, he found him staring at his face, his expression – as usual – unreadable. Michael smiled weakly at him and nodded a silent, unknown agreement. "I'll tell them you're on your way," he softly said, care and pity both present in his voice.

"Thank you, Michael," Max timidly uttered his gratefulness towards his friend.

Michael disappeared, leaving Max alone with his thoughts. He swiftly walked over to his balcony and threw one last glance at the sky. Closing his eyes, he mentally prepared himself for what was to come.

The inquisitive chirping of a bird shook him out of his trance.

It was a little sparrow that could fairly easily fit into Max's hand. Its brown, shiny feathers glistened in the pale light of the moon, and when it moved its tiny intelligent head, one could see a little red spot just below its gray throat. Max took a closer look, and for a moment, he could have sworn that he saw Her in the pitch-black eyes of the little bird. The sparrow nodded at him, yes, Max was sure, nodded at him, and a second later it spread its wings and flew away, disappearing into a dark night.

Max watched until the bird was out of his range of vision and then leaned back, tracing the adornments on the railing of the balcony. He turned his eyes up, ready to face the lonesome moon, its usual companions, the stars and planets, lost in the inky sway of the night.

He inhaled the warm air deeply, but wasn't able to find any calmness in it, the humidity making the air thicker and clammy. After one last look at the moon and a quick prayer to its Goddess, he left the balcony and bristled through his room, not ready at all to face his nightmare, but aware that he couldn't remain in his room any longer, merely for Michael's sake as for his own.

                                             ------------------------------

What did you think? Please review! :)

I've already written part 4 (Josephin already beta-read it, she's the bestest beta-reader in the whole wide world!!! :)) and if I get enough reviews, I might post it tomorrow or on Wednesday… *hint, hint* ;)

Lots of love,

Katie