As a warning, this doesn't follow exactly the premise of Crows' Nest, in which Rose really did love Zieg, but I'm rewriting that anyway. It does follow the premise that Rose knew she would die and acted accordingly.
In this, Rose did love Zieg, but only in that special way a warrior loves their leader: She loved Syuveil in the way a woman loves a man. Screw her being Zieg's fiancé!
Also, this takes place after Barbed Wire and Roses. I'd read it, as there are quite a few references to it.
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Stones that Sing
Chapter Two: Wind on Roses
Intro
The sunset was beautiful, all red and gold, pink and blue; a blur of colors more bold and beautiful than Syuveil's Rose Storm, or Zieg's Explosion, as if the very gods mocked them for their power, saying that their creation could be more wild, more beautiful than magic itself. She heard the gods' laughter in the evening breeze.
Rose felt the sweet-smelling breeze blow her hair away from the back of her neck as she stared out over the cliffs, her once-bright cloak billowing in the same direction.
Syuveil wrapped his strong arms around her waist, his blonde hair blowing to the right as he bent and kissed her neck, his arousal pressing against her and his hands at the small of her back making her straighten.
She laughed, throwing her head back and knocking him off balance
He laughed too, but suddenly the wind—a wind he hadn't called— knocked him even further off balance, and he fell.
Suddenly, Syuveil's slender shoulders broadened, and his hair shortened, and his face twisted into the features of Zieg, though the expression of helplessness and horror remained the same.
Rose felt the wind tear a primal scream from her mouth, wrenching it roughly from her throat… felt the selfsame bitter and cold wind that had torn her love from her grasp rip icy tears from her eyes and carry them to him… felt the dry, scorching wind of fear and despair rage through her soul and bring sweat to her body.
And as even as she screamed, she did not know whose name she sobbed.
1
Rose awoke drenched in sweat and trembling— her heart fluttered in her chest and would not stop and her stomach churned with anxiety she hadn't felt before falling asleep. Her mouth opened wide and her chest heaved as she gasped for breath, pressing her hand to her head, trying to relieve the ache.
She sat up, trying to reconcile the straw pallet to her memory; as she looked upon the forest, it all fell into place: She was in the Evergreen Forest, with five other Dragoons.
She stood, moved closer to the fire.
"Awake again?"
The voice had become familiar in their many late night talks—she knew the rise and fall, and all the little nuances of the tones.
"Yes, Albert. And why are you awake?"
As usual, he skillfully avoided answering—so skillfully, in fact, that sometimes she forgot that he was avoiding it.
He sat on the log opposite her. The sight of him without his armor and tunic had grown familiar, almost as familiar as Syuveil's laughter.
She said nothing— there was nothing to say yet.
"You are more serious tonight." Albert said after a while. "Why?"
"…I have my reasons." Rose was careful to keep her tone as ambiguous as possible, carefully modulating her warning tone to one of bland apathy.
"I know you do, Rose. You always have a reason." Albert sighed.
She said nothing; there was nothing to say.
"I heard you gasping."
This caught her by surprise, but she did not jump. She had long ago beaten down the response—instead, she turned her gaze fully upon him.
"Bad dream?" The teasing tone in his voice brought a familiar ache, the ache of memory. Syuveil had spoken to her just like that, when he had been alive.
She opened her mouth but said nothing; at length, she spoke. "Yes."
Albert blinked, but then flashed her a sly grin, the smug grin of a cat that has caught its prey. "About?"
She had indeed been caught, she realized. Rose scowled.
"It's none of your business."
"That's why I'm a King, not a merchant." He replied smoothly.
2
"It's none of your business, Majesty." Rose repeated.
Albert scowled; Rose had the ability to turn his title into a mockery of respect and still sound smooth and apathetic.
"None of my business, true, but I'd like to know. I'm curious."
"Curiosity killed the cat."
"But satisfaction brought him back," Albert replied through gritted teeth. "And I'm no cat, make no mistake."
Rose looked away, took on an arrogant pose. She didn't speak.
His hands ached for his lance, but he had left it near his bedroll for just these circumstances.
At length she spoke, the haughty air gone from her voice. "About some things that happened a long time ago."
"Like?"
She didn't reply.
He prodded again.
"I'd rather not say."
And again…
"Fine, fine. I saw the deaths of some…friends again."
"Who?"
"It's none of your concern."
He sighed. "Answer me, Rose."
"…."
"What, it didn't work?"
Her only response was a snort.
"Rose…"
"An old flame and…Zieg."
Albert blinked. "I…"
"I know."