Prologue

Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon of the House of Raven is my name, she tried telling herself for what must have been the millionth time of her life. But just like all the previous times, this too was a lie. That's not your name, a quiet voice whispered back. A quiet voice that had not been silent for ten years now.

If she could have just one wish in the world, it would be to forget. To forget her past, to forget the life she once lived. To wake up with only the memories of a girl who had lived her full life as a princess and the consort of the imperator. She had hoped the memories could simply fade and be forgotten, but they still remained.

The true Ciri was dead, had been for years after being slain in the Slaughter of Cintra, but no matter how much she remembered that, or how much she called herself Ciri, it never felt truly right for her. The whole world would remember her as Princess Cirilla, yet…

She looked in the mirror as she finished putting on her earrings and made herself smile. The emperor was sure to tell her how lovely she looked like this. As beautiful as a queen ought to be. Nobody could deny her that much. None had ever called her ugly. Even from an early age, she'd been known as a very pretty girl. A deep part of her knew that was why she was chosen. They couldn't stomach an impersonator of the princess to be a girl that would be mocked as homely, and so they had selected her for that out of all the stray girls they could have had their choice of.

"Countess," she called out.

Stella Congrave came over to her. "Yes, dear?"

"I'm ready," she said with a deep breath. "Will you join me?"

"Of course, Cirilla. You look wonderful."

She gave a shy smile. "As do you, my lady."

Countess Stella Congrave had been the closest thing to a mother she had ever known. The woman who had raised her and educated her in all the matters of being a proper noble woman, it was only Lady Stella's help that had allowed her to make it this far.

As they made their way to the banquet hall, she found herself muttering a silent prayer to the Great Sun, hoping she would be blessed with a son soon. She did not pray to the Great Sun often, but many Nilfgardian nobles would be in the Golden City for the next month as Emperor Emhyr met with them and discussed the future of the realm. That would make for a splendid time to announce she had gotten with child. She was eighteen now, and two years had passed since her wedding. It was past time they had a future emperor.

"I give you her majesty, Princess Cirilla, Empress of Nilfgaard, Queen of Cintra, Suzerain of Attre and Abb Yarra, Princess of Brugge and Duchess of Sodden, Heiress to Inis Ard Skellig and Inis An Skellig, and Lady of Darn Rowan," the herald announced as she entered the hall. Immediately, she could tell the welcoming feast was already in full swing as nobles she had greeted just hours before with her husband were eating and drinking their fill. Looking around for a moment, she finally spotted the imperator, speaking with the young general, Morvran Voorhis.

A middle aged man walked up to her before she could make it to Emhyr. "Your highness, might you do me the favor of joining me?"

She put a hand up to her face. "Forgive me, my lord, I cannot recall your name, just now."

"Adler is my name, though you need not ask for my forgiveness. I was never introduced to you, your grace," the man said, politely.

"Where are you from?" she asked.

"Beauclair. You are more likely to recognize my brother's name, Sir Raymund. He was the Duke of Toussaint, husband of Lady Anna Henrietta. I was hoping to speak with your husband at some point tonight."

"Oh, well maybe you would like to join me with him then?"

"I would be honored," Adler smiled. "Let's go to him, then."

They sat down next to her husband, who didn't seem to mind them joining. "I'm sure you'll have no lack of noble maidens that you can marry," the emperor was saying to Morvran, the Commander of the Alba Division. "You only need to make attempts."

"Yes, but she… she will be the one," the young general replied. Morvran's father was a prince of Nilfgaard, and Morvran was a close relative of Emhyr's on both his mother and father's side. During the Second Northern War, some conspirators had apparently rallied behind the prospect of putting Morvran on the throne of Nilfgaard. In spite of that, she was certain he was Emhyr's most trusted general and advisor. "It will be the wisest choice, I think."

"Maybe," the emperor allowed.

The two men looked up at their new visitors.

"Your grace," Adler said, bowing before Emhyr var Emreis. "It is my pleasure to meet with you. I have the honor to be Sir Adler of Toussaint, the younger brother of the late duke."

"Well met, sir. Have a seat, and drink with us." The emperor turned his attention towards her. "You look magnificent, Cirilla."

"Thank you," she said, with a smile, taking a seat next to him. He gave her a soft peck on the cheek, before turning his attention back to Adler.

"What business do you bring for me, sir?"

"The matter concerns the Duchy of Toussaint. Specifically, its inheritance. My brother failed to get a child by his wife in the years of marriage. The duchess just celebrated her thirty fifth birthday, and seems completely uninterested in remarriage."

"I see… and who is it that you believe should be her heir?"

"The duchess lacks children or siblings to follow after her, nor first or second cousins. All her remaining relatives are distant and spread far from Toussaint. By rights, the land should fall to me, as the former duke's brother. I came to humbly request your grace's support for my claim to the duchy." Sir Adler paused, taking note of the emperor's face, and choosing the next words out of his mouth carefully. "Support me, and I shall be forever indebted to you, your majesty. My line shall owe fealty to yours, and the Duchy of Toussaint will be among the loyalist vassals of the Nilfgaardian Empire."

"Thank you for your proposal, sir," the Imperator of Nilfgaard replied. "I hope that you'll find our city to be quite welcoming during your stay as I think over your proposal."

The knight looked both confused and disappointed. Clearly, he had expected a lengthy audience, not a conversation this brief. "And thank you for your consideration, your grace."

"I'll have chambers prepared for you in the palace to stay in. Until then, you're welcome to enjoy the feast." With that, her husband was clearly telling Sir Adler that their conversation was at an end and that he was best going somewhere else.

As the knight walked off, Morvran began to talk again. "The wealth of Toussaint-"

"Would be very useful in the event of a war, yes. Sir Adler seems to have forgotten something though."

"What's that?"

"I happen to be among those cousins he dismissed."

"Will you claim Toussaint yourself?" Morvran inquired. "Do you think there will be blowback from such a move?"

"The duchess is ten years my junior," Emhyr pointed out, "but should she come to a premature death, I would attempt so, yes. Or more likely, claim it in a son's name."

Our son's name. "So what will you do with Sir Adler?" she asked.

"Keep him here. He might be useful, but until I have decided how, I'll keep him from returning to Toussaint."

She still had more questions. "Why not let him return?"

"The duchess and her husband got along poorly. There were stories of it even here. If Anna Henrietta learns of her brother-in-law's trip to Nilfgaard, she may begin to be suspicious. Even more so if she hears what she spoke to me of. If not, he might face trouble regardless. Safer to keep him here." Emhyr shrugged. "The duchess is nearing the end of her child-bearing years as it is, and it seems doubtful she'll be remarrying, so I don't wish to provoke her."

"Do you really think that we'll end up at war?" Ciri asked. Nilfgaard and the Northern Realms have already fought two great wars. Must there really be a third?

"I do. It is only a matter of time before the northern kings attempt to retake Cintra. They'll take the offensive when they get the chance, and we must be ready when they do."

"We'll be ready," Morvran said firmly, "we await their move."

A look in her husband's eye seemed to indicate something else. But she didn't ask him about it. "Husband, might we share a dance when the next song begins? I feel the nobles ought to see their emperor and empress."

"Of course." He flashed her a smile.

When the next song played, they did indeed dance with one another, and when the song after that began to play, they remained with each other. Though on the third song, they split, as Emhyr continued to dance, while she ate some food.

She had a merry time that night. Feasting, frolicing and dancing had always made her happy, and today was no different. Eventually though, she grew drowsy and retired to her chambers, earlier than most in the court, her husband among them.

Upon returning to her chambers, she started to feel a soreness in her throat. One that hadn't been bothering her at all during the day, but now she could feel. So she drank some water, and hoped that with rest, it would pass.

Almost immediately upon laying down, sleep came to her, though her slumbers were disturbed later during the night by her husband's voice. As she woke up, she heard Emhyr speaking to someone on the balcony outside their room, with the door open.

"What sort of job would you be hiring me for, emperor?"

"I trust that you know me, as well as my ambitions. Twice I have overseen a Nilfgaard invasion of the Northern Realms. The first time yielded Cintra but came to an end on Sodden Hill. The second came to an end during the Battle of Brenna and yielded even less. If it comes to another war, I cannot suffer another defeat. Victory must be assured."

"You want me to lead your armies for you?"

"I want you to ensure they'll have a victory. Temeria remains a thorn in my side. Under Foltest's rule, it's never clear whether he means to strike, and he is the greatest threat. With him gone, Temeria will crumble, and the rest of the Northern Realms will follow. Henselt, Radovid, Meve, and Demavend aren't threats, but Foltest is."

"So that's it… you want me to kill Foltest."

"I do. Strike quickly, and leave the kingdom vulnerable."

"I'm a witcher, not an assassin."

"So you are. But witchers are a dying breed. All your schools have long closed, and no new witchers have been trained in years. I can change that."

"I'm listening."

"Service me in this, and I will restore the School of the Viper, in Nilfgaard. Supply you with gold, resources, castles, boys, knowledge- everything you can possibly require. The School of the Viper will return, far more powerful than it ever was. Just in return for this favor."

"You want me to kill Foltest… is that it?"

"You're to kill as many kings as you can. Find a way to pin it on the Lodge of Sorceresses. Sow chaos within the northern kingdoms, leave them leaderless in preparation for war." Her husband paused momentarily. "Foltest is the one who I wish to have disposed of the most. Estered Thyssen would also hardly be a bad choice."

"How am I to do that?"

"You only need to be seen in association with one of the members of the Lodge. Seek one out, get close to them, do their bidding and earn their trust. Serve their agenda. When the time is ripe, make your move. Your first attack needn't be an attempt against King Foltest, but something the sorceresses desire." Emhyr paused. "Soon after, word will spread across the north of the Kingslayer, hired by the Lodge. The rulers and their successors will be quick to blame the sorceresses, and begin their witch hunts, blind to the truth."

"What of their heirs- all the princes and princesses who will want revenge?"

"Some of them will be competent, I'm sure, maybe even more so than their predecessors, but they do not trouble me. The goal of this is to create chaos and division, first and foremost. The northern kingdoms can rally together against Nilfgaard, that much was shown at the Battle of Brenna, even with some of the rulers being incompetent. We must stop that from happening. Divided by their petty wars; they'll fall one after the other, and leave themselves weak for my invasion."

"I see…" the mysterious man's voice showed interest. "And all this for the rebuilding of the School of the Viper? It's a steep task."

"These assassinations must not be linked back to me. At least not for the time being. Still, you'll be able to find allies. Internally, the northern kings have no lack of foes, the same as I do, foes that you'll find help with. Showering you with honors and gold would be suitable, though unfortunately that will trace the killings to me. But I'm certain you'll find agreement that a restoration of your witcher school is worth it. None with any interest in restoring them will have the wealth and resources to restore them, and those with the wealth and resources to restore them don't have the interest. That leaves only me. You won't find another offer like mine, even if it means you betray your code."

"Tell me about the Lodge."

"To start, it is best to avoid most of the sorceresses. Phillipa Eilhart is too powerful and too reliable to make a good ally in this, and Yennefer of Vengeberg is dead, as is Sabrina Glessvig. Margarita Laux-Antille remains the headmistress at the school in Aretuza, unlikely to get herself involved in politics. Francesca Findabair, Fringilla Vigo and Assire var Anahid all have ties to Nilfgaard, which would make them suspicious. And my spies have failed to find the location of Kiera Metz."

"Who does that leave?" the mystery voice wondered.

"Triss Merigold and Sheala de Tancarville. De Tancarville has seldom taken an interest in politics, and will not make for the most ideal choice, though if you can win her trust, it would suffice."

"And Merigold?"

"Merigold is likely the wisest choice in my view. She was once thought to have given her life fighting against me in the Battle of Sodden Hill, so it is of paramount importance that you do not reveal the truth of our agreement. Of the remaining members of the Lodge, she is the most likely to have troubles with the northern kings and the most involved in their politics. Win her trust, stay at her side, and do her bidding until the time is ripe."

"Where will I find her?"

"In the north. I've heard reports that she has taken up residence in Novigrad, though where in the city; I could not say. However, if you pursue her, you will need to let her find you, not the other way around. Do something that will gain her attention, and cause her to seek you out. It won't be the most difficult thing, I imagine. She is reputed to have a soft-spot for witchers."

"Hmm…" the mystery man must have been contemplating Emhyr's words. "I'll do the job, but I want certain assurances."

"What sort of assurances?"

"Your plans for the School of the Viper. I want details. Will you be rebuilding Gorthur Gvaed? Or will you be giving us other castles?"

"The destruction of the castle was the work of my predecessor, the usurper. If it's your wish that it is rebuilt, I will make it so. But if you desire a new location…"

"A restoration of Gorthur Gvaed would do nicely," the man said, "not to sound greedy, but I think multiple fortresses might be useful too. A new and an old one. Maybe a more secret keep, just as a precaution in case the people turn on our order like before."

"How many others of your order are there?"

"I was traveling with two others, up until recently. I mean to use their help in this mission, if you wouldn't mind. I trust them enough to get them involved in a task like this. There's two more besides who should still be on the path. When word spreads of the school's restoration, they'll return."

"Their knowledge would be vital to the rebuilding of the school. If you would be able to direct them here, that would expedite the process." They were silent again for a few moments, until the emperor began to speak again. "The Scoia'tael will prove to be the most useful allies in whatever you plan. They have a hatred for the northern kings, and an uneasy alliance with us. A rogue band would hardly be traced back to me."

"Mmm… any in particular that you know of?"

"There's one who I know of. Iorveth, a commander of an elven commando, the last one that fell in the Second Northern War. He hungers for revenge, and has the skills to make a useful partner in this."

"What's the catch?"

"Like most soldiers, he'll likely be too proud to do an assassination himself. But if you find him, he'll likely help you all the way until the knife is at the throat of Foltest and the rest."

"And would you know where to find him?"

"Not at all. That will be for you to do."

"Should leave before the morning. So no one will see me climbing down your palace walls."

"I agree. We shall meet again, Letho."

The large figure, the man named Letho, began climbing over the railing of the balcony, and she saw Emhyr starting to walk back into the bedroom. I should have just stayed asleep, she thought to herself, but her throat was getting sorer. As Emhyr was almost back to the bed, she involuntarily coughed for the first time.

"Are you awake?"

She didn't answer, instead pretending to still be sleeping. Her throat felt even more sore than it had been when she woke.

Without getting an answer, Emhyr got back into bed.

When she woke the next day, she felt even worse. Her throat was still very sore, but as she tried to sit up, she felt light-headed. By the time her husband awoke, she was sweating profusely and shivering at the same time, her forehead hot with a fever.

"My lady, are you alright?" he said, as he finally became aware of the world around him.

"No," she said, shaking her head. Her voice was weak and quiet. "Bring me Countess Stella."

Emhyr quickly got out of bed, and went to do just that, while she remained, unable to get back to her feet.

Several days passed, with her not getting any better. The countess and her husband remained at her side constantly, rarely going off to attend to other matters, and plenty of others came to wish her well or give her comforts. They tried several different cures, everything from honeyed water to help her throat feel better to keeping a warm fire burning at all times.

None of it helped. Her condition only continued to get worse, with her spending most of her time just trying to sleep in order for the pain to not affect her. Even then, all it brought was even crazier dreams. She dreamt of lions and wolves hunting together and of a raven, white wolf and vampire fighting another vampire beneath a twisted crescent moon, over a bloodied ribbon. The next night brought dreams of a truly evil force being released from a fortress that had long contained it, bringing woe and dread to the world. After that, came the dreams of a albino dragon emerging from the depths of the ocean with a seastar in hand, while a black raven with three eyes emerged to peck at the seastar.

Each dream brought her more fright and seemed less comprehensible than the one that had come before, until she finally fell asleep on the fourth night after the grand feast.

The dream was clear. Clearer than any other dream she'd had in her life.

She was at the top of a mountain. A man and a woman stood together, looking out at the harbor and sea below, a young girl- almost certainly the woman's daughter, sitting atop her mother's shoulders. The girl's hair was ashen grey and her eyes were like two green emeralds, and the young woman looked a lot like she did, which was surprising. And the man…

Emhyr, she recognized. He was years younger, his face less worn, and with a full beard, but she knew that face well enough to recognize her husband. "Your mother wished us to return from Skellige tomorrow," he said.

This can't be real, she thought to herself. What was Emhyr doing on Skellige?

"She did," the young woman said, "but we don't have to listen to her about everything."

"She's the queen," the man pointed out. "Queens don't like to be argued with."

"And I'm her daughter. We can stay a few more days here. She won't do anything."

Emhyr did not argue with the woman. "As you say, Pavetta. Still, if your mother is angry, I will be sure to let her know this was your idea."

"What about you, Ciri? Do you want to stay?" Pavetta asked.

Ciri?

The girl nodded as the couple looked up at her. "I want to stay, mama."

"She's only saying that because she doesn't want to sail," Emhyr pointed out.

"I like boats, da!" Only Skelligers call their fathers da, but the real Ciri was Cintrian. Except Queen Calanthe was married to one. I know that story.

"Oh… I know you do," Pavetta said, looking up at the girl with a smile. "We'll be sailing soon, Ciri, just not tomorrow."

The girl… Ciri… no… no it can't be. Emhyr… no, no, no…

"I'm marrying Hjalmer when we come back!" the child declared with a grin.

"You're marrying Hjalmer?" Ciri's mother looked confused.

"We're betrothed," she said, proudly.

"Says who?" Emhyr asked.

"Hjalmer did." The girl seemed very pleased by all of this. "I'm to be his wife."

"You're too young to be his wife," he reminded her.

Pavetta was playing with the girl on her shoulders while she spoke. "Your father is right. When you're older, maybe you'll marry Hjalmer. But certainly not the next time we're here."

The girl who had been so happy with her plan just moments before now seemed on the brink of tears. "But… but Hjalmer…"

"Hush, child," Emhyr said. There was an almost off-putting lack of love or true affection within his expression. This isn't the Emhyr I remember. Not at all.

A tear was glistening in the girl's eyes, making it now look almost like it was shining. "I want to marry-"

"-Not yet, you don't."

The girl started crying, and her mother took her down from her shoulders, now holding the sobbing Ciri into her chest. "Someday, I promise, you'll find someone just right for you. I know it," Pavetta whispered.

The trio began to walk away, leaving her alone. Ciri was his daughter? How could he…

She had known that much of her husband's past was ambiguous. What he had been doing during the reign of the usurper was a mystery that he had never spoken about, even when she had tried asking him. But this… this was about as far from what she had ever imagined.

The dream was fading.

It can't be… it can't be… it can't be… it can't-

She woke up coughing.

"Cirilla…" her husband's voice suddenly said, warmly. "We thought we had lost you."

You did, she thought to herself. "I…" she began to say, while her voice was incredibly weak. "I want to go home. I don't want to be married to you anymore."

"Cirilla," he repeated, a bit more sternly. "You're sick… you'll feel better when-"

"It's not my name," she said, suddenly, before a coughing fit took over. "I'm not Ciri. I'm…" she let out another cough.

"The illness is fogging your mind," Emhyr guessed. "It is alright, Cirilla. That's not who you were when you were born, yes, but it's who you are now."

"Yes," she agreed, her voice still sounding incredibly feeble, "but I don't want to anymore."

He moved a hand to brush her hair out of her face. If she were stronger, she might have slapped it out of the way. "I asked you once what your name was, and you said that you were Cirilla. You said that you had nothing else besides that name. I asked you if you wanted me to send you home, and you refused. You said you wished to marry me, and I allowed it. We are wed now… it is too late to go back."

"You lied," she said, weakly. "You lied a-bout… Ciri…"

Emhyr var Emreis's face was concerned, but it didn't betray anything. "How so?"

"You were Ciri's father… I dreamed about it." She coughed again. "Ciri called you da and cried when you told her that she couldn't marry a boy named Hjal-mar."

For once, the carefully trained face of the Imperator of Nilfgaard betrayed something.

"Say it," she demanded. "The full story. I want to hear it. I want to know all of it. Who are you really?"

"I am Emhyr var Emreis," he said, quickly. "That much has always been true. You know the history of my family, don't you?"

"Yes," she coughed.

"And you know the story of how I was an exile."

She nodded weakly.

"Then you will know that my family was usurped. I'll spare you the boring details, but eventually, I found myself marrying Princess Pavetta of Cintra. I was cursed, you see, and by her agreeing to marry me, the curse was lifted. Together, we only had one child, Cirilla, who had already been conceived by the time of our betrothal and subsequent wedding." He scratched his chin. "I lived under the name Duny, in those days, an illegitimate son of King Akerspaark of Maecht. But I could not stay there forever. I had to return to Nilfgaard. There was a movement growing against the Usurper, support that someone like I could rally… and a man named Vilgefortz, who came to me with his own interest in mind."

"Vilgefortz," she repeated, trying to recall where she had heard that name before.

"The men who brought you here were working for him," Emhyr explained. "Vilgefortz had studied the line of my wife and daughter. I was well aware that Pavetta was a source with powerful magical potential, but I did not know the full extent of it. He gave me a prophecy, and told me that it was crucial that I married Ciri myself and was the father of her children.

She slowly recoiled away from her husband as he kept talking.

"Cirilla was my daughter, yes, but her son was destined to unite the world, and would save the world from the White Frost of Ithlinne's Prophecy. Her bloodline could not be tainted. So Vilgefortz and I devised a plan. We traveled to Skellige often, so one time, when we were returning back to Cintra, Vilgefortz was to conjure up a storm. Everyone else on the boat would die, but Cirilla, Pavetta and I would all be protected by Vilgefortz and brought to Nilfgaard. My wife would be taken to Darn Rowan, as you were, allowed to live at the farthest edge of my kingdom, where she could not reveal the truth to anyone, and Cirilla would be kept away for a time, until she didn't know what I looked like at all." Emhyr grimaced. "Pavetta suspected something and put Ciri on a different ship just before we left. I didn't find out until it was too late, and Vilgefortz went through with it. Pavetta was lost in the storm…"

"You're lying ag-ain," she said. "You had a plan to save Pav-etta too… so why wasn't she saved?"

"Some things are best left unsaid," he replied.

"Where is she?"

"The bottom of the ocean," Emhyr said, bluntly.

A lie. She felt certain of it. "Continue."

"I returned to power and won back my status as the Emperor of Nilfgaard. Not long after that, the First Northern War began. Queen Calanthe and King Eist died, as you know, King Eist on the battlefield, and Queen Calanthe during the Battle of Cintra. My men were hunting for the true Cirilla, but couldn't find her. As it turned out, she found refuge with a man named Geralt of Rivia, who had aided me years earlier during the betrothal banquet where my curse was lifted and my marriage to Pavetta was secured. She was promised to the witcher through the Law of Surprise, and he had found her not long after the Battle of Cintra." He seemed to focus on her again, rather than reminiscing as he told his story. "Rumors began to swirl about you being the Lion Cub of Cintra. I knew that we had been close to capturing the girl before, knew there were men who she truly was. And I of course would know her for a certainty. When you were brought to me after the Coup on Thanedd, it served to confirm the betrayals of several men. Vilgefortz, for one, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach for another."

She coughed again when he broke off. "And the real C-iri… what happened to her? She get turned into a wit-cher?" A coughing fit quickly took hold of her.

"After a sense, yes," he confirmed. "My men captured her, as well as the witcher, Geralt of Rivia, and the sorceress, Yennefer of Vengerberg. I was going to take her back to Nilfgaard, marry her, but… I couldn't bring myself to."

Well aren't you just a paragon of virtue? "You should kill me now," she told him, before coughing again. She knew better than to think she would go unpunished for this, but she could not abide what it meant. "I… won't be your emp-ress. Not anymore. Not any more, yo-ur majesty."

"Your mind is addled by illness," the emperor insisted, "when you are feeling better, I'm sure you'll have different thoughts."

"Nooo," she muttered, dragging out her voice until she coughed again. "I'm… certain of it." There was the little matter of that war he was apparently planning too, hiring a witcher to kill as many kings and rulers as possible. Our marriage was supposed to bring peace to the world. What use is it if there isn't any? "I cannot love you, if…" she started coughing incessantly.

"You'll speak nothing of this to anyone, is that clear?" Emhyr said, as he sat back. "Not a word to anyone here at court, not to anyone in a letter to another castle, not even to Countess Stella, is that clear?"

Oh, I'm not a fool, your majesty. "Yes." Her throat was still incredibly raw.

That marked the end of the conversation with her husband. He left her bedside for a while, allowing for the countess to tend to her, and prompting the usual questions like if she was feeling any better.

She couldn't imagine worse timing to have discovered a truth like this- when she seemed so gravely ill. Her husband could have her killed with ease, and they'd simply say she had taken a turn for the worst. Death was a terrifying prospect, but the thought of living with that secret… she couldn't do it.

How does Emhyr live with himself knowing that? If he truly had a change of heart as he claims? How did I want to marry a monster as much as I did?

Deep down she resolved to not die as Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon. But she didn't know what she was instead. I'm not the lost little girl from Cintra anymore. I can't be her either.

At some point, she fell asleep. But when she awoke, it was in a different bed.

"W-w-here a-m, I-I?" she said, her voice quivering as she woke up in the cold and dark room.

"Where you want to be," a woman's voice said. A shockingly familiar voice, but it didn't belong to anyone she knew.

She felt better, which was surprising. Not fully better, but it didn't feel like she was dying anymore. "What is it I want?" she asked, finding her throat to still feel raw.

"Death of course," the woman replied. If it wasn't so dark, she was sure the woman would be smiling with how satisfied she sounded. "You're dead now, just like me. No longer an inconvenience, like we would have been."

"This is… the life beyond?" she asked, suddenly mystified. "Why is it so dark and cold?"

"It's not the life beyond, dear girl," the woman replied. "We're both still alive… but also dead, if you can understand."

"Dead," she repeated. "Then is this a… prison? The life that his maj-esty has given me after I- defied him?"

"We're in a dungeon of sorts," the woman agreed. "You lived at Darn Rowan for a time, yes, dear child?"

She nodded. "I did."

"Think of the place even lower than that," the woman explained. "We're important, yes. The Emperor does not wish to see us, but does not wish us dead either… even though to all the world, we are as such."

"Do you know who I-" she coughed again, ending her sentence prematurely.

"Am?" the woman guessed. "Oh, I know plenty about you, dear girl. I know who you have been. But I don't know who you really are."

"I don't either," she admitted.

"You are Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, the Lion Cub of Cintra… except, you aren't her. You're not her at all, just a girl that Emhyr's minions turned up when they needed a girl to give him, and were stupid enough to think he wouldn't see through," the woman replied. "So who were you before that?"

"I was somebody. A pretty Cintrian girl, of a decent family, whose life was… meaningless. That girl's dead now- has been for a long time," she answered. "Now I'm… nobody. Not Cirilla, not that Cintrian girl… Just dead, aren't I? Like you?"

"Oh, not like me…" the woman answered. "Emhyr made an appearance here in person; quite the rarity in truth. As long as I serve him in this, as long as I do what he wants, I might just be allowed a chance to return to who I truly am. Or a fraction of it. You are the key to my freedom, dear girl, an end to my time down here. My test. It's been a dozen years since I last was seen publicly."

"How did you end up down here?"

"I made the same mistake that you did, dear child," said the woman. "I loved Emhyr once… and then I stopped."

"A dozen years in total darkness?" she wondered.

"It's not total darkness down here," the woman said. "We're deep below the city, far from any sunlight, but we have candles and torches. I just left things dark so that you would sleep peacefully."

She coughed again. "Will I be… here forever?"

"Maybe… maybe not. The one thing you have on your side, dear girl, is that Emhyr truly loved you. I was just a means to an end for him." The woman sighed, "He always did visit me down here though- when he wasn't away, that was. When he told me his plans… oh, I detested him for them. I attacked him, shouted at him, tried to escape, tried to reveal the truth to the whole world, but… he kept coming. Eventually, I completely lost my hatred for him… I just… couldn't hold my fury… it ate away at me, made me lose sight of the one thing I truly wanted. I've not forgiven him for what he's done, or for the monster he's been, but when he would come down and talk to me about his plans, about the state of the world, and… the thing I truly wanted, I would listen. To tell the truth, I think he thought he could keep me in line with certain manipulations, and I think there is a good chance I would have allowed it."

I don't know what to say to that.

"Our husband has always been willing to do terrible things for what he thinks are the greater good."

Our? "Pavetta?" she said aloud. "Prince-ss Pavetta?"

The woman was shuffling around now, and it sounded like she was loading wood into the fireplace. "Princess… now there's a title I haven't worn in many years. But yes, I am her, Pavetta of Cintra."

"A-nd the mother of the… g-irl I pre-tend to be."

"I don't bear a grudge against you, if that's what you think," the true Cintrian princess said. "My heart yearns for my daughter, it is true… Emhyr told me that eventually he'd allow me to come forward under the pretense that I would affirm his claims that you were fake, clearing the way for our daughter to marry him. I despised his plan, yes, but I think we both knew that… once he had married her… once he'd gotten her with child, I'd simply want to make sure she was happy… spare her from the awful truth."

Pavetta retreated from the room, momentarily, returning with a blazing torch. After lighting a fire and setting the torch in a holder on the wall, the princess used it to light several candles as well, bringing them over to a nightstand by the bed.

She gasped as she finally got a look at the face of the real princess. It was as if Pavetta were a painting; the woman did not look much older than in her dreams. Her hair was ashen-blond, and her face was very pretty too, even if she looked a little bit thin. She hasn't aged at all. Everything except for her eyes, which look old and tired. And that horrible scar on her forehead. Was that from when the boat sank?

"I have hope for you, dear girl," the woman said, kneeling at her bedside. "Emhyr stopped lying to me- at least while we were down here. He never had reason to keep the truth from me. I could listen to everything he thought, planned, desired, without any fear of me spreading the truth. One of those truths he told me was that he did truly love you. And you broke his heart by telling him that you didn't wish to be his wife anymore."

"Good," she said.

Princess Pavetta smiled. "Very good, indeed. Emhyr has two funerals planned, one for you, and one for our daughter. At your funeral, he means for me to reveal the truth about you… and myself."

"And the one for the real Cirilla?"

The woman's expression became sad, even though she was still smiling. "I don't think my daughter is dead. I doubt Emhyr does either. But we both know she has… taken a new life for herself, somewhere far, far away. I hope I'll find her, but… it would be good for the world to think she's dead, so she doesn't have to keep being bothered by all the political games." Pavetta sighed. "I'll be part of Emhyr's court for now, kept on a leash, and used to maintain the Peace of Cintra. If he even lets me reassume my true identity. But with how much time has passed…" her voice trailed off at the end.

"And I'll be stuck here?"

"No, no… that would be much too risky. Emhyr always lived in fear of someone stumbling into this place, as secure as it was, and discovering me. The only reason why he kept me so close was because he knew nobody would recognize me. They'd think I was just some prisoner, and that would be that- maybe a raving mad woman if I started saying the truth. When you've recovered, you need to think about where it is you want to go, and who you'll be… since he's going to send you somewhere far away."

She frowned. "But… I don't know… I'm nobody, your grace. Nothing."

"Perhaps you'd like some inspiration," Princess Pavetta said, smiling slightly. "Maybe not for who you'll turn out to be, but at least where you can start…"

Time was very easy to lose track of. Days came and went, where she had very little company, save for the hidden princess. Her body recovered well enough, though it left her feeling a little bit bored when she wasn't sleeping, since she didn't feel stuck in bed all day now.

Everything seemed to follow a certain pattern, which allowed her to start guessing the days. In total, she spent nine days down in the hidden underbelly of the Golden City. On that ninth day, she was brought to a bath.

It seemed ordinary at first. They were washing her for the first time in almost a fortnight, since she had fallen ill and been too weak to even take a bath. Until…

"Leave us," Emhyr var Emreis' voice said, as he stepped into the room.

"Your majesty," she said, as she turned around, seeing that it was indeed him. He looked like he had not shaved in the morning- quite the rarity for him, and he did not wear his usual attire, but otherwise, he seemed to still be the same. All except for the bottle in his hand. "Oh, what is-"

"Dye," the imperator replied, quickly. "For your hair. A flaxen-haired girl with green eyes might draw some suspicion, and there are conspiracies abound that the woman whose funeral we held was not in fact killed at all, but that I merely had her death faked to avoid the embarrassment of a divorce. You'd be wise to change your accent too. At least until you have arrived at your next location."

He handed her the bottle. Unfortunately, she didn't have many bubbles anymore, so her naked body was clear for viewing. And he was looking at her.

"Where will you go?" he asked.

"I can't tell you," she replied. "If you know, you'll want to keep tabs on me somehow, and if you do that, you'll blow my cover and your secret."

"You're keeping secrets from me?"

"Of course, your majesty." She gave him a crooked smile. "It's for your own good."

"Now you are mocking me."

"Well, why shouldn't I?" she asked. "Mockery is hardly scratching the surface of what you deserve."

"I thought your time down here might have changed your mind."

"Not at all," she told him, "on the contrary, I believe I have only become firmer in my convictions."

"I can see that," he said, reverting back to his usually monotone voice. "I take it you'll be going somewhere far away from here."

"Mhm," she said, nodding her head. "Tell me, where did you have the real Cirilla buried?"

"The duchess and I are still exchanging words about that."

"Toussaint?"

"Aye. The last place she was seen in the Nilfgaardian Empire. That was two years ago- followed by several scattered sightings that were not exactly verifiable. The last place she was rumored to have been seen was in Rivia, during a pogrom. After that… she simply vanished."

"Maybe I'll find her," she chuckled. "No, I won't tell her your secrets… or even who I am… but it would be nice to meet her at last. I've been pretending to be her for so long, it seems only fitting."

Her husband, or former husband, seemed to become unconcerned with what she was planning. "You're planning to travel somewhere by sea, I would guess. If not- well you ought to. Traveling over land will be more exhausting, since you're not much of a rider. You'll have a pack of things you'll need, and a deep purse of coin. Enough to get you anywhere in the world, and to help you start a life for yourself- but you'll be unable to live off of that forever." He placed a hand on her bare shoulder. "You'll be at an inn, when you come up to the surface, outside of the city. You'll have a horse in the stables, which you'll be free to sell inside the city for a little more coin."

"I don't want you to touch me anymore," she said, shying away from his hand.

"And I do not plan on seeing you ever again," he reminded her. "As soon as I walk out that door, you'll never see me again."

Which I shall be glad for.

"As I recall, on the day I decided to marry you, I asked who you really are."

She stared at him. "And… are you asking me that now too?"

"What is your real name, girl?" he asked. "Not a lie. Not an answer meant to satisfy me. I want the truth."

I will never use that name again. Never again. Not Cirilla. Not the name I had before that. "Becca," she said, "I'm Becca from Lyria."

Author Notes:

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! Your feedback means the world to me, so please feel free to express yourselves.

This story is currently undergoing rewrites of written material, so if you are just starting this story, I would advise you to bookmark/follow it and wait until I post my next chapters. Currently, four of my first five chapters have been finalized (the exception being Rosamund I), so just stay with me here.

I do not own ASOIAF or the Witcher.