2 A Lie writ in Stone

The soft downpour of the rain quietened their movement through the muddy field as Harlon and Serra made their way through the softened earth, a strong bull pulling a wooden cart behind them slowly. The night was dark, with the stars blocked by darker clouds above yet they knew dawn was not far from the horizon. The smell of burnt soot and ember-covered crops was slowly being washed away by the scent of drizzling rain.

As they arrived at the edge of the crater, its vastness stretched before them, a gaping maw in the edge of the farmland, like the fist of an angry god punched into the very earth, the remnants of the storm seemed to linger around its depths.

Serra, her gaze fixed on the darkened pit and the silver-like shard that lay within, broke the silence with a voice filled with wonder and a hint of disbelief.

"I thought you were touched by madness, Harlon, bringin' a babe from the storm," Serra whispered, her gaze locked on the star shard. "Figured you'd found a forsaken child, not...not something heavenly like this."

Harlon, standing beside her, shared the awe, his eyes reflecting the soft silver light that the star seemed to radiate an otherworldly glow. "I had thought myself mad when I first heard his cries too," he responded, his voice carrying a mixture of reverence and humility. "Thought that the Gods taunted me with that which I cannot have. Yet, I don't pretend to know what it all means, Serra, only that... mayhap the Gods are finally showing my family a speck of mercy. And I'll not squander such a blessing."

They descended into the deep slightly water-logged crater, approaching the glowing star that rested midst the cool pond formed by the collecting rain water.

"Truly, the heavens have heeded your prayers," Serra said as they neared the divine object. She stared at the faint intricate marks on the outer shell of the star, light being the brightest silver therein. She stretched her hand and caressed the markings on the ethereal object almost reverently "To think, I'd hold a piece of the Maiden's light in my hands, her very star and flesh, it's a grace I never dreamed to behold."

"It's cool to the touch," Harlon said, surprised as he gazed at the opening in the object where his son was borne. Taking his spade, he made his way through the shallow pool of water and finally shattered the reverie they'd mesmerized themselves in by wedging the spade beneath the silver belly of the large starry vessel.

"And very heavy." He observed as the object groaned under the support of the makeshift lever.

The serene spell that had been cast on Serra also finally broke, as she nodded and said "I… I'll get the cart ready."

Harlon groaned under the effort, clearly straining himself as he finally gave a mighty push on the lever, and the star was finally tipped out of the wedge it was buried beneath and tipped on its side.

Finally, Harlon began the task of rolling the divine object up the slopes of the crater and onto the waiting cart. The wooden structure of the cart groaned under the enormous weight but held firm. Once the shard was securely in place, he paused, taking a moment to catch his breath and share a look of accomplishment with Serra.

"Quickly, the rain has stopped, and the cover of the dark will be gone in time." He said as he helped Serra up into the back of the cart, and began walking back to his barn, cart in tow.

As she settled into her seat beside the cool glowing piece of a star, Serra glanced a final time into the giant crater. She noticed silvery pieces of glowing rock still wedged and littered around the blackened and burnt hole.

"There's still shards of the star littered around everywhere." She pointed out to Harlon, sounding troubled.

The man paused, his gaze worried as he pondered the problem, and then sighed "There's nothing to it now. We must trust in the Gods to watch our backs. Even in this lie." He paused "Besides, no one looking for answers would stake a wager at the shard carrying a babe. At best they'd think the rock burnt midst the brilliant fire. The shattered pieces that lay about will give that theory substance. It's not the flash of lightning that reveals truth, but the shadow it casts.' Let them chase shadows while we protect the light."

"Y-you mean to mislead Lord Tyrell when his party arrives?" Serra stammered, a little shaken by the implication of his words.

Harlon finally gazed back at her, and stared hard into her dark eyes "For my son? Yes, yes I will do all that I must. And more if the Gods ask it of me. After years of toil and tears, with naught but sorrow and my dear Elyna's health worsening to show for it, this mercy from the heavens is a gift I will not squander"

Serra gulped her worry down and turned away seeing the strength of the man's conviction written plain in his eyes. It was admirable in truth, the lengths a man would go to for the family he loved. She hoped she could do right by the God-borne child if the Gods demanded a trial from her too.

"The gods watch over fools and children, they say. But which are we, Harlon?" She wondered finally.

"A bit of both, I reckon. But it's for my son, for Caelum. For him, I'd walk through the Stranger's gate and back."

It was clear to her that little Caelum was meant for greatness. No heaven-blessed, fruit of the Gods would live a life unremarkable. And she had a part to play in his tale. She and her husband were devout followers of the Seven, and clearly, the Seven had greatness writ behind the blessing that Caelum brought to the family of little means in the humble heart of the reach.

She gazed at the opening in the star, the womb that birthed the child from the heavens. It looked pure, soft. Bathed in rays of silver hues.

As Harlon guided the bull and cart back through the muddy field to the barn, she reached forth and traced her hand through the soft material that layered the inside of the star.

"I never imagined a star to be so ... soft." She whispered. "The maiden's womb this is. Your son birthed by a piece of the Maiden herself. Pure and gentle, he will be. Just like her."

"I am truly blessed," Harlon smiled softly, "Though the price the Gods demand for such a blessing is a cruel, ugly thing."

Serra hummed her agreement, as she continued to trace her hand through the insides of a star, when she something cool and brittle grazed her fingers.

Holding back a gasp, she fished the small object out to find a crystal of unknown make, that shone light of its own. No larger than the palm of her hand. The edge of the crystalline object was marked by a faint symbol, a faint letter. One she did not recognize, unlearnt in her letters that she was.

"Harlon, see here," Serra beckoned, her hand trembling as she held out the crystal. "Found it within. It's unlike any thing I have laid eyes on, even in the wealth of Highgarden and the castle, marked with signs unknown."

Harlon slowed the cart and leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as he examined the crystal and the symbol. "I don't recognize the lettering, not that I would know much in truth." He admitted, "It's beautiful, though, isn't it? A smaller star unto itself."

"Do you think it's important?" Serra asked, her gaze shifting between the crystal and Harlon.

"Hard to say," he pondered, a furrow in his brow. "But it lay with my son, with Caelum. Mayhap a sign, or gods' own gift, akin to the boy himself."

Serra nodded, the weight of their secret and the potential significance of the crystal settling over her. "You should keep it safe then, with little Caelum … as a remembrance of the blessing that the seven have granted you."

Harlon considered this for a moment, the cart moving once more as he guided the bull forward, as he gazed at his beautiful wife, his two sons, living and dead, cradled in her arms standing beside the elder greying Marna. "No, not just yet. It's not the time for the boy to know his true beginning... The Gods entrusted him to me, and as his father, I'll decide when he's ready to bear such a burden."

Serra thought over his words and worried that Harlon may be trying to hide Caelum behind his duties of fatherhood. But she did not comment. He was right, Caelum was young. Greatness would follow him regardless of his father's insistence on delaying it.

"As you say, Harlon." She replied, as the cart finally stopped in front of the barn.

Under the gray light of the slowly setting moon, filtering through the remnants of the dispersing cloud, Harlon approached Elyna as she stood with Marna's help, cradling both Rowan and Caelum in her arms.

"Gods, Elyna, you shouldn't be out here, not so soon," Harlon fretted, his gaze lingering on the lifeless form of Rowan before meeting the peaceful face of Caelum, asleep in her embrace. And then wandering over the beautiful form of his wife, taking her honey-blonde hair that looked almost silver like the star under the slowly creeping moonlight.

Her face a portrait of mixed emotions—grief, wonder, and a fierce resolve—looked up at him. "I needed to see for myself, Harlon. To lay eyes upon the star... our blessing," she said, her voice steady despite the visible effort it took to stand there.

Harlon watched as she and Marna approached the cart, gaze locked on the load it carried.

"Please, Elyna. Don't strain yourself further. Sit, Caelum is still a babe and needs his sleep." He pleaded.

She relented under his pleading gaze, taking her seat on the soft ground beneath the shadow of the barn.

Marna, after having helped the poor woman settle down said, "I…. had doubts, had thought you were fooled, and some forsaken child was saved from a fiery death by you and the Gods' plans. But seeing this... it's…. I have no words, Harlon. The Gods have indeed marked your family for something grand."

Harlon sighed, the weight of their situation pressing down on him. "Let's get the star buried then, beneath the trees there. It's best hidden away," he said, glancing towards a spot by the barn that seemed suitable for their task.

"I'll help dig," Serra offered immediately, rolling up her sleeves, her earlier awe replaced by a practical determination.

"You don't need-

"More hands will get the work done quicker. Dawn is almost upon us. No doubt the entire village will come asking questions soon after." Marna said, grasping a shovel.

"I… I don't want" Harlon tried to protest.

"You think I am too old?" Marna teased, as she raked her shovel marking a spot a few feet into the shade of the tree, and began digging "I've hauled more pails of water, sloshed more floors, and cleared heavier pigsties at the inn than you've seen stars fall, Harlon."

Harlon's worry found a voice again, "But you've both been up all night, and—"

"And nothing," Marna cut him off with mock severity. "A little dirt won't kill us. Now get digging"

Quickly, under the efforts of the three, a pit deep enough to hold the celestial object was made, just as the moon's first lights of the sun started to brighten the far horizon behind the distant castle of Highgarden.

Finally, with significant effort, he rolled the celestial star into the pit with the help of Marna and Serra.

It was then Elyna spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried a profound strength. "Harlon, I wish for Rowan to be buried with the star. In the heavens' embrace, ensuring his place among the Gods. Let's send Rowan to the arms of the Mother, cradled by the light of this star. May the Father judge him kindly, and may the Crone guide him wisely on his journey to the stars."

The simple request struck Harlon deeply, tears welling up in his eyes as he nodded silently, overcome by a rush of love and sorrow. He gathered the still form of his trueborn son from her, still wrapped in the soft blankets that Elyna had sewn for his birth.

"So beautiful you would have been," he said, placing a kiss on the babe's brow "Know that you were loved, my dear Rowan."

He gently placed the babe in the cradle midst of the star, and Serra placed the beautiful crystal back where it belonged, in the arms of the tiny still babe.

As though the star knew it was time for it to return to eternal slumber, the opening brightened, a soft breeze came forth and the star closed in on itself covering the babe in its protective embrace.

"Father Above, grant him passage by the star to the seven heavens above." Marna prayed for the boy. "Let the star be his vessel unto peace and the Mother's embrace. O' , Warrior, watch over his family, and the brother he leaves behind, lend Caelum your strength. O' Smith, forge his path with courage. And to the Stranger, we offer Rowan, not with fear, but with trust in your mercy. O' merciful Stranger, grant him mercy now that he has accepted your gift, let him pass to the seven heavens without judgment for he is pure, true, and good."

Tears fell from Harlon's eyes, as he gazed at the shining star beneath the earth. In his heart, he thanked the Seven for the blessing they had granted him, and begged forgiveness for whatever sin he had committed that they demanded the life of true born son in return for one of their flesh.

He slowly began shoveling the earth close, prayer still on his lips.

As the first shovelful of earth was returned to the hole, Elyna prayed tearfully, saying goodbye to her beautiful son. Pleading forgiveness for failing him so thoroughly, and pledging in her heart that she would love the fruit of the sacrifice he had given with all her heart.

With the grave filled and their prayers offered, the group stood in silent vigil, the air around them filled with the potent sense of an ending and a beginning intertwined.

"Thank you," Harlon whispered to them all, his voice thick with emotion. "For everything."

Elyna, holding Caelum now more tightly, added, "Our family owes you more than words can say. This secret, this miracle... we can't thank you enough for what you're doing for us."

"Always, Elyna, Harlon." Serra replied, smiling softly "The Seven's blessings are not to be taken lightly, and we will do our part so that they may grant us succor when greatness comes for little Caelum in time."

"Yes," Harlon whispered, gazing at the steadily rising son "in time…"

As they turned to head back to the warmth of the farmhouse, the first rays of the sun broke through the clouds, a new day dawning, full of promise and mystery, the memory of the night's miracle sealed beneath the earth and in their hearts.

x ------ x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x

Maester Lomys stumbled out of his quarters scrambling to reach the chambers of Lord Tyrell and his Lady Wife. He had been awake all night due to the violent roars of the thunderstorm, reading a tome while waiting for slumber to overtake him.

He had just been on the verge of dozing off when a violent roar, louder than any sound of thunder almost deafened his ears. He had almost called the guards to raise the alarms, believing them under attack before a glance out his window revealed no armies and a distant start falling from the sky.

"Maester Lomys! What news do you bring?" He heard faintly his ears ringing from the reverberating noise that the star had made through the castle upon impact in a distant field. He turned to face the voice, eyes straining to take in the form of his questioner. It took him a moment to recognize Ser Quentyn Tyrell already clad in armor, hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword. "I have called the men at arms to gather Ser Crane to rouse and ready the men, but we need your insight into the matter prior.

"Ser Quentyn, I am afraid you may have to belay the command in truth" he replied as the words finally caught up to him. "There is no army marching on Highgarden, rather a star seems to have fallen in a distant field by the village on the shore of the Mander."

Ser Quentyn slumped in relief, but still held a wary gaze "Are you certain maester? A star?"

"Indeed, Ser. I saw it fall with mine own eyes," he admitted "I was awake you see, in my study. Reading a tome while awaiting slumber. The violent sound caught me unawares, and I scrambled for the window and far in the distance, the brilliant star was descending onto the lands. Tore up a field in the distance by my measure, and lay fire to crops a plenty."

"It is as you say then," Ser Quentyn acquiesced in relief "Mace won't be convinced so readily, however. Lady Olenna was wroth worry and he would want to make certain regardless."

"Yes, I do believe he would," the young Maester mused "Little Willas, and Garlan would have had their sleep disturbed, and I don't think Lady Alerie would be in the best of spirits. I should go and check their health, should the sound have hurt their hearing. If Ser Crane is preparing the men at arms as you say, then Lord Tyrell is aware of the matter already I presume?"

"Indeed, Ser Crane must have readied the men already, and joined Lord Tyrell awaiting his command."

"Then we must make haste, Lord Tyrell would check on his sons before issuing any order." Lomys theorized, "likely the Lord and the Master at Arms await us there. Come, we must make haste.

It took them a while to make their way through the hubbub of rushing men, preparing for battles in various states of readiness before they reached the Lords by

Mace Tyrell looked weary and shook. His brown hair, unkempt, and the slight beginnings of a protruding gut clear signs of unease. He was kneeled down in front of his sons. Willas barely two name days old was sobbing into the crook of his neck, while Garlan an infant in truth lay cradled in his arms.

Lady Alerie Tyrell, her nightgown a whisper of silk, knelt beside her sons. Her whispered comforts, barely audible, fluttered like leaves in the wind, her hair untamed and wild from the night's haste.

It was the Lord of Highgarden that spotted them first.

"Maester! Ser Crane has the men ready, but I would have your insight before making any measure to counter an attack." He said making a remarkable effort to stay focused on the task at hand, while comforting his sons.

The young maester suddenly beset with the steely gaze of the Lord of the Castle, and his Lady mother gulped down his nerves before replying with the slight bow of his head and steadied his voice, mindful of the urgency in Lord Mace's query and the keen intellect of Lady Olenna, whose sharp eyes missed little. "My lord, the disturbance was no attack but a celestial event. A star, it seemed, fell from the heavens, landing near the village Manderbanks Village by the Mander. Its descent was marked by the light that split the night and the roar that followed. I witnessed it myself from the tower."

Lord Mace Tyrell, showed his skepticism, exchanged a glance with his mother. Lady Olenna, ever nodded slightly, her grey hair ruffled and unkempt due to the sudden disturbance. "A star, you say? And here we were, fearing an attack. This will be a tale for the bards, no doubt. But, Maester, are you certain of what you saw? A star falling from the sky is no common matter."

"Indeed, my lady, I am certain," Lomys replied, his confidence bolstered by the knowledge that such events, though rare, were not unheard of in the annals of history. "The phenomenon was unmistakable. A star has fallen in the fields not far from the castle, My Lady."

Mace Tyrell pondered this, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Then we must see this for ourselves. We shall ride out at first light to inspect the site. It could be an omen, or simply a curiosity, but it must be investigated."

Lady Olenna, who had been silent, spoke again, her voice carrying the weight of her years and experience. "Indeed, Mace. You may need to send a rider down early to allay the panic in the village that would spread by the noise alone, same for the keeps within the walls of the castle."

Turning to Ser Quentyn, Lord Mace issued his command. "Inform Ser Crane the men at arms will not be needed for defense but ready a small party for our journey at dawn. And ensure the villagers are not unduly alarmed. We will need their cooperation. And ready a rider for the village, he is to take a few men from the city watch to the village to maintain order."

"As you command, my lord," Ser Quentyn replied, bowing before departing to carry out his orders.

"Mace, let me put the boys back to bed." Lady Alerie interjected softly, "Their sleep has been disturbed and they need not be troubled further."

"You're right my love." Mace looked a little abashed, having forgotten his sons that were still in his arms.

"There is no fighting, Papa?" The little lord, Willas asked, rubbing the tears straining down his cheeks.

"Not today, my brave boy." The Lord replied surprisingly gentle, "Go with your mother, and get back to bed. There will be no bad men tonight."

The boy sniffled, and nodded "Be safe, Papa."

It was clear, that the man loved his boys as his eyes practically melted as he handed Garlan over to his mother, and watched them walk away to their chambers.

"Dawn is almost upon us." He said, as soon as they were out of ear shot "I want the men readied, and fed by first light. I will join them personally. Your insight will be appreciated too Maester."

Understanding the polite order for what it was, Lomys bowed "Of course, my Lord." And he quickly returned to his study to prepare for the journey down.

x ------ x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x

As the first light of dawn stretched its fingers across the land, Lord Mace Tyrell, flanked by Ser Quentyn and Ser Crane, led a party of twenty men toward the village. News of the celestial event had stirred the community into a restless fervor, and riders dispatched earlier had managed to bring a semblance of order, but the air still thrummed with anxious speculation.

They were joined by a wheelhouse, that carried Olenna and Alerie Tyrell, alongside the lord's two sons. Maester Lomys rode just behind his Lord, on a horse no less sturdy than that of the men at arms.

Upon their arrival, they found the villagers clustered in the central square, their faces etched with a mix of fear, curiosity, and awe. Questions were flowing like arrows in a skirmish, voices overlapping in a cacophony of concern and incredulity.

"What does it mean?"

"Will we be safe?"

"The sound… o' Gods the sound."

"Gods have mercy on us, the storm…"

The villagers pleaded for reassurance, their eyes searching the faces of the riders who tried to maintain order in the village.

Ser Vortimer Crane's loud voiced boomed over the gathered crowd "Silence! I command silence in the name of the King Aerys Targaryen, the second of his name! King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and the Protector of the Realm. You are in the presence of Lord Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, Lord Paramount of the Mander, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach, Warden of the South, and head of House Tyrell and he commands you maintain the King's peace!"

Lord Tyrell raised his hand for silence, and the crowd gradually stilled noticing the heavily armed guard that followed their lord into the village. Many in the crowd, bowed their heads in deference, and some even kneeled in the Lord's presence "We have come to ensure your safety," he announced, his voice steady and reassuring. "You need not worry. Who among you can guide us to where the star has struck?"

"A Star, m'lord?" A croaky voice broke the silence, "Tis was the wrath of the gods, it was. My old bones saw it true. Fell in ol' Harlon's field it did. The Gods curse him all the more, took his two sons, and now he is gone in truth too!"

A murmur quickly spread through the village on that proclamation. And the noise began to reach a din.

"Poor Harlon."

"His wife was a sweet thing…"

"The gods cursed him in true…"

"… couldn't birth a babe for true."

"O Stranger have mercy, my Serra was there last night…."

"Silence!" Ser Quentyn roared over the voices. "Do not speak with out your Lord's leave!"

The crowd was quick to quieten down at the threat.

"Do you speak for the village then?" Mace questioned the old man.

"I do. M'lord, names Crofton of the old greensfield." The old man replied, his back straightening somewhat at the attention. "The thunder came from the direction of Harlon's field. Harlon of the farmhouse he is. Lives in the farmhouse he built by the edge of his farm. Or used to at least. Dunno if he survived."

"Then show my men to this farm house, Crofton. We shall see the matter for what it is in truth." Mace finally ordered after some deliberation.

Curiosity proved a powerful lure, and a significant number of villagers, emboldened by the presence of armed guards, decided to follow. In their minds, the protection of the lord's men was enough for curious villagers to venture together to the farm.

"My lord, shall I have them disperse?" Ser Crane asked, noticing the crowd following the party.

Lady Olenna interjected before the Lord of Highgarden could reply "No need, Mace. There is no threat, and it would be a good thing for these men to see their lord for once with their own eyes."

The Lord of Highgarden seeing the curious gaze of his son Willas watching him, smiled akin to a flower in bloom, as he ruffled his chest to appear as magnanimous as he could.

The old Lady just rolled her eyes, as the ever enlargening party was guided by the old village head at the fore.

The procession to Harlon's farm was a sight to behold—a mix of armed nobility and common folk, all united by a common thread of curiosity and concern. The fields, usually quiet at this hour, buzzed with the sound of dozens of feet trudging through the dew-soaked earth, each step taking them gradually changing the atmosphere from that of fear, to increasing wonder and excitement.

And what a wonderous sight it was. Burnt crops of wheat and soot laden barley encircled a gigantic chasm, at least twelve feet and equally deep, like the mark left by the fist of an angry god. The land covered in scorched earth, black as though dragon fire danced around in the night. Water glistened in the center, cool and serene. And in the midst of this fiery cool miasma. Silver ethereal stone painted the blackened land, shining a light purely of its own.

"By the Seven!" Alerie Tyrell breathed, from where she watched sat inside the wheel house. "They look so beautiful."

"Yes, yes. It is very pretty," Olenna Tyrell agreed "Mace be a dear and get a guard to bring me a piece of the rocks."

The Lord of Highgarden nodded, and said "You heard my mother. Ser Crane, gather the largest chunk you can find."

The knight in question spurned his horse into a slow trot and approached the crater, slowly.

"And Quentyn, head to the farmhouse at the far end. Find Harlon? Was it?" At the nod from Old Crofton "Find Harlon if he is still alive. And bring him to me."

"Yes m'lord." He said bowing, and he spurned his horse at a steady pace setting for the wooden house in the distance.

It took a while for Ser Crane to gather a silvery rock the size of his head, and bring it back to the party horse trodding slowly behind him.

"It's cool to the touch, my Lord." The knight observed as he handed the large piece to the plumpening Lord of Highgarden.

Taking the piece in his hands, the Lord traced the intricate markings on its surface with his finger. Marveling at the light that emanated from it.

"A piece of a star. By the Gods" he murmured, his words sending a ripple of excited murmurs through the guards and the crowd that had followed them in their curiosity.

"A star! The Seven bless these lands."

"O, Father Above, please grant us bountiful harvests."

"Blessings of the Seven, in truth"

Many proclamations were made, before the Lord of Highgarden turned to the learned man in their midst.

"Maester Lomys, what do you make of this?" He said, handing the glowing piece of rock to the man in grey.

The Maester stared in awe at the shimmering object, "I… I do not know, my lord. The only other piece of stars having fallen were from Dorne, in Star Fall. House Dayne's ancestral sword Dawn, is said to have been forged with a piece of a fallen star."

Mace was quick to get excited, but before he could comment Ser Quentyn returned atop his horse, bringing a dark-haired man, along with three women and a babe.

"My Lord, this is Harlon of the Farmhouse." He announced.

The man in question bowed his head in deference. "M'Lord, I am Harlon, this is my wife Elyna." He said pointing at the strawberry blonde woman by his side who tried a curtesy, that she'd seen done inside the walls of Highgarden, but failed due to the babe in her arms "And my son, Caelum. The others are midwives from the village, Serra and Marna"

The two women also mimicked a curtesy.

Lord Mace Tyrell, his interest piqued, turned his full attention to Harlon. "Tell me, what transpired here last night."

Harlon gulped, the weight of the task and the curious audience listening to his every word weighed on his shoulders, began to spin his tale, "It was amidst the birth of my son, my lord. The sky tore open with a roar louder than any storm I've ever heard, and fire rained down upon our fields." He paused, the memory vivid in his eyes. "Something from the heavens itself fell into our farm. I did what I could to quench the flames, to save what was left of our livelihood."

Mace nodded thoughtfully, absorbing Harlon's tale. "It is as you say then. We shall see to it that these celestial stones are collected and brought to Highgarden," he declared, turning to address those gathered. "Highgarden has been blessed by the Seven themselves. House Tyrell will have a sword to rival Dawn itself!" He announced.

The men at arms gathered around, cheered for their lord, and spurned by the rapid cheering the villagers shared their joy too. And in the midst of them all, the farmer breathed an unseen sigh of relief.

Maester Lomys seized the moment to make a request. "My lord, might I request a few samples for the Citadel? This is a rare opportunity for study."

After a moment's consideration, Mace relented. "Very well, Maester Lomys. Take what you need for your studies, but ensure the rest is secured for Highgarden."

Mace then proclaimed, "From these remnants of the heavens, we shall forge a blade to rival Dawn itself. Wisteria, it shall be called. For the moon light it reflects, and the stars from which it is made, a symbol of our house's resilience and grace."

Lady Olenna, seizing an opportunity, noticing the gathered crowd "And let us not forget the plight of our dear Harlon here, whose fields have been scorched by this celestial gift. How shall he pay his taxes now, Mace?"

Her words, sharp yet not without kindness, prompted Mace to think. This was an opportunity to show grace "In light of these extraordinary circumstances, I pardon Harlon two seasons of taxes."

The crowd murmured in approval, and awe at their liege lord's generosity. "Furthermore," Mace continued, turning his gaze to the infant in Elyna's arms,

"For your son, Caelum Starborne." To the astonishment of all, he then drew two shining pieces of gold from his purse and tossed them to Harlon. "For the upkeep of your family and the restoration of your farm," he stated, his gesture underscoring the magnanimity of House Tyrell.

The villagers, witnessing their lord's benevolence, erupted into cheers. Harlon, overwhelmed, could only nod his gratitude, clutching the gold as if it were the very stars that had fallen to his field. This was a year's worth in earnings at least. His son was already a blessing from the Seven, granting him a favor after after favor from the Gods themselves.

As the party prepared to depart, the air was alight with whispers of Wisteria, the sword that would be forged from the stars.

Highgarden would buzz with tales of the event for years to come with tales of the sword Wisteria, and in annals of history the legend of Caelum Starborn had begun.