Chapter Text
“This is the story of how I died….
Don't worry, it's actually a rather fun story!
And it all starts with a drop of sun.
It fell from the heavens, some say sent by Meletelie herself. When this magic drop of sun touched the soil of the sphere, there grew a magic golden flower.
It stayed hidden for hundreds of years, until a would be spy master discovered it and with the help of a mage continued to keep it hidden. They wanted to keep the flower hidden, for you see, it had magical healing properties. All with a single poem.
Now you may want to remember those two, they're rather important.
More centuries passed and a hop, skip, and a boat ride away many kingdoms were established on the continent, one of them being the kingdom of Redania.
Even more time passed and the current king and queen were getting ready to welcome their second child. But the queen was in grave danger.
The legend of the magic golden flower was the only thing that could save the queen. But thanks to a certain spy master, they were almost convinced it was just that, a legend.
Notice I said almost.
An older witcher, in desperate need of coin after his keep had been sacked and he had been left in sole care of four young witchers had found the flower.
He took it to the king and queen, claimed his coin and had left.
And good thing he had found it. For the queen and her babe were on death's door. And the magic from the flower had healed the queen.
A healthy baby boy was born. Another prince. One with beautiful golden ringlets atop his head.
The king and queen felt like he deserved a strong name, just like him.
So they named him Radovid.
To celebrate the prince's birth they released a glowing lantern into the sky.
And in that moment everything was right.
And then that moment ended.
Now, you remember that spy master and mage that I told you about? This is where they come in.
See, the spy master, Sigismund Dijkstra, was the one that had been trying to keep himself young for centuries. In my opinion it didn't work as well as he'd hoped, but I digress.
He found out that the magic from the flower had been passed onto the newborn prince. He recited the poem, and the flower's magic began to work. The prince's golden hair started to glow.
Thinking himself smarter than the rest, Dijkstra cut a strand of the prince's hair. Only for it to go dull in his hand and lose its power.
Philippa Eilhart, the mage that had helped hide the flower the first time around devised a plan and together they stole the young prince in the dead of night.
They hid him away in a tower in the forest, where no one would ever be able to find them. For this time they were determined their magic flower stayed hidden forever.
The king and queen never lost hope. Every year on the prince's birthday they released thousands of lanterns into the sky, up until their dying breath. And now King Vizimir continues to do so.
In the hopes that the lost prince would one day return.”