A/N: This may not be completely accurate because it's been a while since I read Fairest, but I think it's pretty accurate. (Also, I'm freaking out for Winter. Who isn't?)

Cinder did not know much about her childhood.

She knew the rudimentary basics; she had had a good time, up until Levana decided to kill her by burning her into ashes.

Really wonderful memories.

In fact, she couldn't even call them memories. She did not remember most of her childhood, only the smallest of snippets. A pink sheet. Brown eyes. Something silver. And really not much else.

When Cinder met Winter, she had been told the truth. Her mother, Channary, had loved her. The only thing in the world she ever truly loved, Winter had said. The latter also recounted some of her childhood stories with Cinder, or rather, Selene. Cinder did not remember Winter, but she took her word for it. Other than that, Winter had not known much. Clearly, Cinder's childhood was pretty uneventful. Up until, of course, she allegedly died.

It had occurred in her nursery. Cinder was sure the place had burned down with that fire, but it was not as if she cared. At least, that's what she told herself.

However, when she stepped into what had been salvaged of said room, she found herself caring a whole lot more than she would have liked.

She had stumbled upon it accidentally while she and the rest of the Rampion crew infiltrated Artemisia. She remembered that moment clearly, because it had sparked something in her, a rush of memories she had not known of.

"Stars, Thorne, stop shutting the doors so loudly!"

Cinder shook her head as she went from door to door, opening each one. She had a mission; find Levana's room. They were all confident that there would be something in there that they needed; some key or letter that they could use to make a final plan. She was lucky that Levana had gone shopping in the city and that the guards assigned to this hallway were part of the Rebellion and let them pass; but they didn't have much time. And it definitely wouldn't help if Thorne kept banging the doors like that.

She opened her mouth to reprimand Thorne as she put her hands on yet another set of handles. This door was less ornate and more childish, with hints of pink set around it. It didn't look like Levana's room, but it certainly wouldn't hurt to try.

"Thorn-" she started, but stopped as she opened the doors to the room.

The room was all pink, with bits of yellow and green peeking out cheerily. Toys and a dollhouse were in one corner, looking like they desperately needed to be played with. A large canopy bed sat in the other, with frilly blankets and mounds of pillows. A large dresser stood on the wall behind it, covered with a thick layer of dust. Though everything seemed like it hadn't been touched in a decade, it still physically looked lively and cheerful, the perfect room for a child.

But it had an eerie feeling to it, as if it were a shrine of some sort. The air was still, and everything seemed stark in the light that came through the windows. Even with its lavish furnishings, the room seemed painfully bare, as if there were more things that were supposed to be filling the corners that were not there. The floor was covered with rugs, but they did not match the room, as if they were put there quickly and without care. The walls looked newer, much newer than the rest of the palace, and there were strange black streaks on everything that remained.

The room had been burnt.

Cinder knelt down and lifted up one edge of a rug. Sure enough, the floor was scarred, parts of it completely disintegrated, from what little Cinder could see. The bed seemed oddly sturdy, and as did the dresser. On the latter were pictures, pictures of a smiling baby with large brown eyes. Another was of a young girl with fine dark hair, dressed in a voluminous little dress. There were several, which was surprising because of Levana's hate for cameras, but Cinder was drawn to a note stuck on the frame of the mirror. It was written on a piece of paper hastily and was obviously freshly added, perhaps even just a few days ago.

Good luck, Princess Selene, it had read.

And suddenly Cinder stumbled back, hit with a wave of realization and emotions. This was her room. Her old nursery. The one she was burned in. How had she not realized that? It had been so obvious! Little bits of memories came back to her like pieces of a puzzle; hiding under a blanket, drinking lemonade, playing with her dolls. She had been told that it had been utterly destroyed by the fire. Not all of it, she supposed. She wanted to stand by that dresser all day, looking at the pictures, through the drawers, finding out about her past, but there was no time now. She was reminded of that by her companion.

"Cinder! I found it!"

She winced at Thorne's loud voice and turned away, heading towards him. But before she left the room, she paused at the threshold, looking back into it. She put her hand on the door, making a silent promise; Once we win, because we will win, I will come back. And she gently shut the door, leaving the room in silence again.

Now, with the war won, Cinder was here at her own will.

She opened the double doors softly, trying not to disturb anyone or anything. She slipped inside, steeling herself as the door closed behind her. The room was the same, not subjected to the same burns and cracks as the rest of the palace was. However, she supposed it had been, a long while ago. In fact, she had learned from a reluctant maid that it had been absolutely destroyed. It had been recreated from scratch, and the floor was the only authentic part of the original room.

Cinder stepped over to the dresser, remembering what she had wanted to do only a few weeks ago. She gently took each picture off of the table, holding it gently in her hands. That baby with the large brown eyes was her. With a wry smile, she commended her surgeons on making her synthetic pupils very similar to her real ones. She placed each picture down and took another, taking in every detail of every single one. A pair of hands behind her running figure, as if urging her to play. A few black curls making their way into one certain shot. Her childhood.

She took the note that had been left for her and tuned it over. On the back it read: From your loyal followers. She tucked that in a pocket of her cargo pants, which she was still wearing, and moved on. The drawers of the desk were bare, except for a neatly folded envelope. She took it in shaking hands and flipped it over. On the back it read; To my darling daughter.

It was from Channary. Her mother.

Taking a deep breath, Cinder gently pried open the front, the glue that stuck it together long gone anyways. The paper inside was worn, as if someone had spent several hours folding it and rubbing their fingers over it. Sighing, she opened up the letter and started to read the lavish, loopy writing.

Dear Selene,

My health is slowly deteriorating, and I may not be alive long enough for you to remember me. So I have written a letter. A handwritten letter, because if it was ever on the Palace Logs, be sure that Levana will snake her way into it and find this. I am not as stupid as I may seem.

I want to warn you, Selene. This world may love you now, because you are just a baby, but it will soon hate you. Yes, it is my fault; I have drained Luna's resources, and I am not helping. I cannot. I am writing this letter in the few moments in the day when I am sober and the greedy, selfish part of me is asleep, which says a lot about my character. I am getting sicker and sicker every day, but I am not always the person everyone says I am.

Yes, some of it is true. I am half of a drunkard. I have the uncanny ability to draw men to my bed and forget about them the next day. I am selfish. Oh, so selfish. But they say that I am cold-hearted and oblivious to everyone else. That is true to everyone - except for you. I love you, Selene. You are the only person in the entire world that I have ever loved. It was a strange feeling, when I gazed down upon you for the first time. Because no matter what, I am your mother. And your father….he was a good man. That is all.

But Levana… yes, she is your aunt, but she does not love you. She never will. She only loves her husband, who is, in essence, her slave, and even that love is twisted and demented. There is something wrong with Levana. She used to care. Now there is ice around her heart and armed guards around her mind. Do not trust her, ever.

Now, your future. You are destined to do great things. The doctors said that there was knowledge beyond your years in your eyes. I have been a failure. I can do nothing for the people of this kingdom, for I am clouded by greed. But you can.

Most likely, when you grow up, you will marry the young prince of the Eastern Commonwealth, Prince Kaito. Cinder let out a low chuckle at that line. From there, your mission is to overtake Earth. Conquer them. Make them pay for what they have done to Lunars. That is one dream Levana and I have in common, and you will too.

Do you know what you remind me of, Selene? It is even in your coloring - you remind me of burnt coals, of ash. The fire was with our generation, Levana and I. We are burning this civilization. You are what is left. You are still hot to the touch, however - but your fire is different. It is subtle. And slowly, slowly, hopefully you will stop these horrible burning flames I have created and leave just cinder.

Good luck. Do what you do best.

Channary Blackburn

Cinder let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding after finishing the letter. She folded it again, creasing it gently, and held it in limp hands. She stared out of the large windows that depicted the blue-green Earth, surrounded by stars. Misty clouds hovered over the orb, and hovering among small pinpricks of light, it looked like a rare jewel in a coal mine.

Cinder felt a pang in her chest as she remembered the hot, humid air of the Eastern Commonwealth. The memories there had not been pleasant, but it had been the only place she ever remembered. She even looked back to the memories at the marketplace fondly, with her little stall and Iko still in a generic, pear-shaped body. It had not been much, no - but it had been home.

But now she knew - and she knew it all too well - that it was not her true home. The place she legally belonged to. The place where she was born. But she had no memories here. She had only small flashes, and the rest were forgotten forever. She would certainly build new ones, but there is something about childhood experience that makes it so that it cannot be replaced.

"Cinder?"

Cinder whirled around, just to find Kai leaning against the doorway, his hands in his pockets. He stood upright, concerned at the expression on her face, but his face clearly became curious as he took in the room.

"Ah, so this is-"

"The nursery that burned to the ground, yeah. It's….most of it is a replica." Cinder said. She didn't mean to be sharp, but her reminiscent tone made her words sound melancholy. Kai walked towards her, face full of condolence.

"Hey," he said softly, "we're having dinner. Cress has been looking for you."

"Yeah," she said, sighing, "I'll be there in a bit."

He turned around and waited in the hall while she took one last look at the place. The question she had asked herself was nagging her. What was her home? Was it the place she remembered living in, where she had laughed and ran and seen for years of her life. Then there was this rocky sphere, her very birthright, where she had been born and where she would rule. What was her home?

But as she walked into the hall and Kai took her hand, she gave herself a small smile. She'd figure it out later.