I like messing with songs. I did it a lot in my fanfic The Unicorn and the Stag. But the song A Christmas Carol is mine.

Flying Dreams

Chapter One: Not-So-Merry Christmas

An aging woman with white hair smiled, worry lines fading as she looked at her children playing in the snow. Although fourteen, her children were amazingly mature, much more adult than those nasty children in town.

"Amaranta! Catch!" Aricin called.

A snowball whizzed through the air towards the female twin, younger by seven minutes. She ducked a moment too late. The snowball splattered on her ragged wine-red vest. She must be very cold, Rose Phoenix realized. She wore only a white blouse, burgundy vest, burgundy skirt and a tattered cloak of burgundy and white with the Marks crest emblazoned on the back. Aricin wasn't much warmer in a white shirt, burgundy vest, burgundy trousers and matching cloak. Their clothes were the uniforms of the servants of the Marks family, the house of the man Rose had married in hopes that she could help her children.

She herself was dressed just like her daughter, as her husband considered her only a servant. He had reportedly even gone so far as to take a lover, by whom he supposedly had a daughter the twins' age.

Rose shivered in the cold. Amaranta, always sensitive to her surroundings, turned quickly and in a few swift steps, crossed the snow to her mother.

"Are you catching a cold?" she asked worriedly.

Rose smiled. How odd their relationship was! Instead of Rose being mother and Amaranta daughter, it was nearly opposite. Amaranta seemed to always end up caring for her sickly mother, with Aricin right next to her.

"I am fine," Rose lied.

"You're lying."

Blast.

"You're going back inside. Aricin. Come."

So good at regal commands. She would have made a great queen.

Rose protested only lightly as her son and daughter escorted her back to the imposing manse that was the Marks ancestral home. The three of them carefully shook the snow off their clothes so as to avoid adding work to their schedule.

Amaranta realized that her mother was leaning on her for support. All the ladylike skills that had been drilled into her since she was two reared their heads. As lady of the house, she would have been expected to also be healer. Although in this particular house, they had Becca for that.

"Aricin, get Becca," she commanded. "Mother, you're going to bed. You've caught cold and you're going upstairs."

She guided her mother up the grand staircase and into the shabby tower room her mother used. The former queen disappeared into their small washroom to change into a dry nightgown. When she came out, Aricin had returned with Becca, who took her arm with a firm hand and tugged her straight to bed.

Rebecca Rhian Hart was the head of the house's servants and house cook, also a former employee of House Phoenix. A plump, motherly-looking, elderly woman with completely grey, flyaway hair and warm brown eyes, she was quite a good cook, a very good cleaner, an excellent weaver and seamstress, and a miraculous healer. Needless to say, she was very good at her job.

"Your Majesty, you've caught cold," she sighed. Although it was horrid etiquette, Becca still stubbornly called Rose Phoenix by royal titles. "Healing soup."

"Becca..."

"Don't bother."

Becca had been the godmother and nanny of the twins, their mother, grandmother and her sisters, great-grandmother and her sister and brothers, and probably many more before that. Amaranta and Aricin strongly suspected that she had fairy blood.

"Lad, fetch me some of the curing soup from the kitchen. Lass, get your mother some cool cloths."

Even when they were royalty the twins had obeyed Becca's orders, and now that they were servants, they did so without question. They had always been perfect rulers when they were royal, but their skills were useless now.

Her last thought before she slipped off into sleep was, How could things have gone so wrong?

*~*~*

Amaranta checked her mother's temperature again, her cool, slim hand resting on her mother's sweat-slicked forehead. Every time her mother got sick, Amaranta, Aricin and Becca cared for her, and every time it scared the wits out of Amaranta. Rose Phoenix had been ill countless times, but each time it wore down another nerve because every time she seemed to barely escape death.

She had fallen asleep before Aricin came back with the curing soup and neither Becca nor Amaranta could bring themselves to wake her.

"Child, get some sleep," Becca ordered.

"I can't. Mother's ill."

"Your brother's sleeping."

"Well, Aricin's Aricin-a boy."

"Young man now."

"Oh? You had better not let him hear you saying that or his head will blow up even further."

"He knows it, as you know that you are a young woman now."

"I feel so complimented."

"You should. Now go to bed."

"I'm not tired," Amaranta yawned.

"You're lying. Now go to your room and sleep!"

Amaranta leaned over, kissed her mother on the forehead, and walked out the door and ten paces down the hall to her and Aricin's room. As she'd expected, Aricin was not sleeping at all, instead reading one of the books that they'd snuck out of the palace.

"You're worried," Aricin said, without looking up.

The twins were incredibly intuitive, and when it came to each other, they were nearly telepathic. They also had an odd skill where they always seemed to know what was happening and going to happen, Amaranta more than Aricin on that.

"She's worse this time," Amaranta said heavily.

"She won't get better, will she." A statement, not a question.

The former princess sighed deeply, comfortingly, and shook her head.

*~*~*

Amaranta's sleep was scattered with flitting images, some dark, some light, some running towards her and some away. Two, bright as the sun, seemed to be struggling, unsure of whether to go forwards or back. Then a dark horseman rode up and stabbed a sword made of the fabric of time through their hearts, and they died, and Aricin and Amaranta sent beams of light flying from their crowns to stab him. Then they put the crowns on, and they appeared wearing beautiful, royal clothes.

She awoke to a pounding on the door. She rolled over and off the bed and pulled on her clothes. Aricin was still asleep. She opened the door, and Becca stepped jerkily in.

Amaranta could only remember having seen Becca truly scared once before, when she was seven and Lord Riley Harris's troops were taking the palace and they had found that King Aricin Phoenix IV, the twins' father, was dead. Becca and the last of the royal family were fleeing from the guards through a series of passages built by King Aricin I when Lord Riley's, soon to be King Riley's guards caught them. Becca was actually frozen in fear, so much that the guards had to drag her. That had scared Amaranta more, that Becca, the bravest person she knew, was frightened.

But she was frightened now. She was moving jerkily, and her breath was coming in short, sharp bursts. Her eyes were wide, and her hair was falling out of its net. She grabbed Amaranta's arm.

"Wake your brother," she whispered loudly. "Your mother's dying."

Amaranta could hardly believe it. She had seemed fine only hours ago. "But..."

"I know, lass! Wake him!"

Amaranta threw herself into a crazed frenzy. She grabbed Aricin's shoulder and shook him until he woke.

"Get up, get up!" she cried hysterically.

Aricin knew something was wrong immediately through the twin vibes. He woke quickly-which was a rare event, if it occurred at all-and followed his sister's dash down the hall to their mother's room.

Their mother was barely visible under blankets and comforters. Becca was laying cold washcloths on her forehead.

"Becca, let me talk to my children," she commanded, though her voice was weak.

Becca nodded her head. "Yes, milady."

Amaranta knelt by her side, and Aricin stood next to her.

"Children, I know we're not royal anymore, but we're still family," she whispered. "I swear to haunt you if I find that you two have been arguing." She laughed, but it turned to a hacking cough that brought up blood. Amaranta tenderly wiped it off her chin. "You take care of Becca, now, and take care of this manor. I know you hate it, but it's your home, and you should treat it well. Amaranta, my things are yours. Aricin, you inherit your father's. And I know you've been waiting for me to kick the bucket to get it."

Amaranta laughed a little, although tears were forming in her eyes. She laid her head on the pillow beside her mother's.

"Do you remember that song we used to sing at Christmas?" Amaranta said softly.

Her mother nodded sleepily.

"Although the snow is falling, and outside friends are calling, I'd rather stay with you, and sing a Christmas tune," Amaranta began. Aricin joined her, and their mother whispered the words.

"Sing a Christmas carol, sing a happy song, If you do not know this tune, you can still sing along."

Their mother coughed again. Blood splattered on the blankets, but she didn't seem to care. Her face was starting to shine a little, with a beautiful white light. She touched her children's faces and smiled at them, then looked to someplace beyond, above them.

"My love, it has been too long," she whispered.

Then the glow faded, and her warm breath gradually slowed, and stopped.

Sobs shook the room, and a long cry, the cry of death, echoed off the walls.