1 A Storm brings a Star

The night was dark and stormy. Thunder crackled and lightning illuminated the vast reaches of the farmland outside of the walls of the beautiful castle walls of Highgarden. The village streets were empty, and the market had a shallow stream flowing through its muddy streets. No soul had dared tread out in the violence of the storm that was threatening to besiege the generally quiet unseeming village streets.

Amidst the powerful storm, within a modest farmhouse nestled in the heart of the Reach, a distance away from the rest of the village, a young woman of honey blonde hair labored under the dim glow of a single lantern. Her husband, dark of hair, and of storm lander eyes, paced just outside the birthing room, his footsteps a rhythmic echo of his mounting worry. Within, the air was charged with tension, as two midwives, attended to the pained woman with practiced hands and soothing words.

"Stay strong, Elyna. You're doing well," The elder midwife encouraged, her voice a steady presence in the fraught room.

"I can't... I don't know if I can do this," Elyna gasped, the pain etching lines of worry and exhaustion across her face. "It's … too much."

"You have the strength within you, Elyna. For your child, for Harlon, you can do this," The other midwife soothed, offering a cloth dampened with cool water to Elyna's forehead.

"Is the child visible Serra?" Elyna dimly heard, as the edges of blackness threatened her vision and her consciousness. Pain wracking her entire body.

"Just the beginnings of the head." Serra replied, as she prepared for the baby. "Push! Elyna! Just a little more!"

Outside, the weary farmer stopped pacing and leaned against the wall, trying to will the pain away from his wife with desperate prayer, his forehead pressed close to the door, clinging to every sound. "Elyna, my love, I'm here. You're not alone," he whispered, as if his words could bridge the gap between them.

Elyna, showing ungodly will summoned her remaining strength for another push, Marna holding her hand, running soothing circles into her back along with a gentle firm push.

"Yes! We're nearly there!" Serra cheered, as she seemed to ready herself for the arrival of a new life. "One last push! Elyna. You're so strong!"

Harlon heard a heart-wrenching wail, as he closed his eyes unable to hear his wife suffer through such pain yet again. "Oh, Seven help her. Please!" He prayed to the gods above for strength, for his wife and child.

The screams of his wife tore at his heart, a sound he'd heard twice before, yet it stabbed his heart like shards of demonic ice.

But the foreboding silence that followed chilled his very soul.

"Why... why isn't my baby crying?" Elyna's voice broke through the silence, as she tried and failed to heave herself to sit at the birthing table.

She gazed at the woman who now held the still form of her babe in her arms, tears forming in her dark eyes. The midwife attempted to flip the babe over, slapping at his back with gentle strength.

It was to no avail.

The midwives shared a sorrowful look before Marna took a deep breath, preparing to deliver the news. "Elyna, my dear," she began, her voice soft but firm, "your son... he didn't make it. I'm so, so sorry."

A heart-wrenching cry escaped Elyna, a sound of pure anguish that finally shattered what remained of Harlon's heart from outside the room. The door swung open as he entered, his face pale, eyes searching for the child he'd dreamed of holding.

"What... What happened? Why is Elyna crying?" Harlon stammered, his voice cracking under the strain of sudden fear.

Marna gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Your son was stillborn, Harlon. Despite Elyna's strength, he didn't survive the birth."

Harlon's knees weakened, and he sank beside the bed, taking Elyna's hand in his sobs wracking them both. "This can't be happening. Not again," he murmured, tears streaming down his face as he turned to Elyna. "I'm so sorry, my love. I'm so sorry."

Elyna sobbed hoarsely, clinging to her husband's hands as though it was the only thing keeping her sane.

"We can… try again." She sobbed, grasping at whatever hope she could.

Serra, her eyes filled with empathy, interjected softly, "Elyna, it's not safe. Another birth... you might not survive. This last one took too much from you."

"No, we can't give up. There has to be a way," Elyna protested, his voice a mixture of despair and defiance, despite the slur forming in her voice.

"She's lost too much blood." Marna's voice was firm, as she firmly picked Harlon off on to his feet and pushed him away. "We need to contain it, do you have the tincture of poppy seeds ready?"

"Yes, I do." Serra replied, as she readied the wooden spoon and attempted to feed it to the crying bleeding woman.

Elyna proved too stubborn, even in her slurred semi-conscious state, and violently shook her head. "No! We will try again! ... We have to, we always wanted a family!" She slurred defiantly.

Harlon gulped. His beautiful, strong, willful wife was doing everything she could. He couldn't lose her, and yet he had to break her heart.

"Elyna, my love, I can't lose you. Not for anything," Harlon whispered, as he stepped back to hold her hand, his voice breaking like his shattered heart. He took the wooden spoon from Serra and attempted to feed it to her.

Elyna, tears streaming down her cheeks, looked into Harlon's eyes. "But our dreams, Harlon... our family..."

"Our family is you and me, Elyna. We are enough," Harlon whispered, finally succeeding in feeding her the tincture that finally lulled her asleep.

All he could do was sob, as the body of his son was placed gently in his arms, his beautiful peaceful face all he could have asked for.

Yet another child lost to him. Another babe they would have loved, but the Gods were cruel to him.

As the storm outside raged, mirroring the tumult in their hearts, Harlon clung to the body of his son, as the two women in the room cleaned up the sleeping form of his wife.

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It was a couple hours later that the midwives finished their task, and joined Harlon and the wrapped form of the stillborn babe.

"Rowan." He said, as they approached. "That's what we had settled upon for the name of a boy. Strong with his roots in the Earth, yet reaching for the very stars he'd have been."

"It is a beautiful name" Marna replied, as she watched the man. His sadness was so palpable.

"Three times we have tried to bring new life to the world." He said, as though he hadn't heard her at all. "Three times the Gods have taken the life away from us before it could even breathe. Why are the Gods so cruel to us? What have I done that has wronged them so?" He sobbed as he finally looked at the two women standing by him.

They had no reply to give.

"Are you certain that we can't try again?" He finally asked, breaking the silence.

They didn't know how to say this kindly. Their faces must have shown, as his body slumped. The clothed form of the baby cradled in his arms shaking due to his sobs.

"Stay the night." He whispered quietly, pain raw in his voice. "The storm outside ... is too dangerous. You won't be able to make it to the village safe."

"Thank you, Harlon." Serra replied, "You should go to your wife, she will wake in the night. She'll want you there."

He took a deep breath, willing strength into his body that he didn't have. "The cots are prepared for you by the fire." He said and finally took heavy steps back to the birthing room where his wife lay asleep.

It was an hour into the stormy night, that felt like all eternity to Harlon as he cradled his silent boy in his arms, that Elyna stirred from a fitful sleep, her eyes blinking open to the dimly lit room, where shadows danced with each flicker of the lantern. The storm's fury outside mirrored the tumult in her heart, a prelude to the awakening of her deepest fears. Harlon, ever attentive, was immediately by her side, his presence a steady comfort in the midst of chaos.

"Elyna, you're awake. Here, you need to drink," Harlon said softly, helping her sit up with one arm while offering a cup of water with the other. His voice was lulling her out of her blackening slumber.

Elyna's gaze, clouded with confusion and pain, slowly focused on Harlon as she sipped the water. The reality of their situation, the reason for her exhaustion and the underlying sorrow, came crashing back. "Our son... where is he? Is he..." she couldn't finish, her voice trailing off into a whisper, fear and hope warring within her.

Harlon's eyes, filled with a sorrow too deep for words, met hers. "He's here, with us," he said, his voice breaking as he gently placed their stillborn son in her arms. The little bundle, so still and quiet, lay wrapped in a soft blanket, a stark contrast to the storm's violence outside.

Elyna took their son into her arms, cradling him gently, her fingers trembling as she touched the delicate fabric. "Oh, my sweet boy," she murmured, tears spilling over, tracing paths down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry we couldn't keep you safe."

Harlon wrapped his arms around both Elyna and their son, his own tears mingling with hers. "This isn't your fault, Elyna. You fought with every ounce of your strength. He knew love, even if only for a brief time. He knew our love," Harlon reassured her, his voice thick with emotion.

"But why? Why did this happen? All we wanted was family, and the Gods stole from us a third time" Elyna sobbed, her heart aching with a loss so profound it threatened to engulf her.

"We may never understand why, my love. But in this moment, we have each other, and we have him. He'll always be a part of us," Harlon said, holding them closer, as if his embrace could shield them from further pain, his wife sobs and tears drowning beneath the thunder of the storm outside.

"Why us?" Harlon whispered into the silence that followed Elyna's tears. "What have we done to deserve the Gods' ire? To be tested so, again and again?" His voice carried a mix of anger and despair, a challenge to the heavens for the injustices they endured.

Elyna, clutched their son a little tighter, raised her tear-streaked face. "I …. I am so sorry" she sobbed.

"Are we so unworthy of happiness? Of the joy of holding our child, watching him grow?" His voice rose, a crescendo of grief and accusation. "What sin have we committed to be punished thus?"

The room seemed to close in on them, the walls bearing witness to their anguish. "Three times. Three times we've been given hope, only to have it ripped away before it could even take its first breath," He raged at the Gods, as though trying to will them into existence, his wife's grief fueling his anger further.

His face etched with lines of sorrow and resolve, took Elyna's hand in his, squeezing it as if to impart some of his strength to her. He gazed at the cold form of their son. He seemed as though he was just asleep.

"So beautiful" He murmured.

"It feels as though the Gods mock us with their silence. But we mustn't lose faith. Perhaps... perhaps there's a reason, a purpose we're yet to understand." Elyna prayed and hoped.

"But what purpose justifies this pain?" Harlon countered; his eyes pained gazing out the wooden window of the room into the heart of the stormy sky "How do we justify this to our hearts? To hold our son, knowing we'll never hear his laugh, never see his smile?"

The storm outside was their only answer.

But then, a moment later, a sudden, blinding light tore through the darkness, a harbinger of change. It was as if the very sun had descended upon their farmland, illuminating the night with an intensity that bordered on the divine. Elyna, still confined to the birthing bed by her own body's betrayal, turned her face away from the window, squinting against the unexpected brightness that filled the room.

"Harlon..." she whispered, her voice laced with awe and a tremor of fear, "what is that light?" Her pale, exhausted face was washed in the unnatural glow, casting long shadows that danced across the walls, as the man moved to the open wooden window fighting against the blinding glare.

Before Harlon could respond, the serene moment shattered. A sound, deep and resonant, followed the light—a noise so powerful it seemed to vibrate through the very foundations of their home. Elyna flinched, the sudden cacophony wracking her already aching body with a new wave of pain. She grimaced, clutching the lifeless form of Rowan closer to her chest as if to shield him from the unseen force that invaded their moment of mourning

"It's... I don't know. Something from the skies," Harlon said, his voice filled with a mixture of wonder and concern. He stood frozen, staring out into the night, trying to discern the source of the disturbance amidst the continuing storm.

Then, as quickly as it had arrived, the light receded, leaving them in the soft, comforting gloom of their lantern-lit sanctuary. But the peace was short-lived; another loud noise, this one sharper, more immediate, pierced the night. They felt rather than saw the impact as something massive struck their field, the sound accompanied by a distant glow that spoke of fire catching on the rain-soaked crops.

"FIRE! By the Gods!" Harlon whispered, as his eyes took in the scene outside his apprehension and despair quickly turning to terror.

Elyna's breath hitched in her throat, her heart pounding against her ribs. "Harlon, the fields..." she gasped, terror lending her voice a strength it hadn't possessed moments before. She clutched the dead form her son even tighter into her heaving pained bossom

Harlon rushed back to the bedside, his expression torn between the need to protect his family and the urgency the situation demanded. "I have to see what it is, Elyna. If the crops are ablaze, I need to put it out before it spreads," he said, determination steeling his voice despite the evident risk.

"No, please," Elyna begged, her eyes brimming with fresh tears. "Don't leave us, Harlon. It's too dangerous. The storm hasn't passed, and now this... whatever it is. The Gods can't take you too!" Her grip on Rowan tightened, as she stretched an arm to grasp Rowan, a physical manifestation of her fear of being left alone, of losing another piece of her heart.

Harlon knelt beside the bed, his hand gently covering hers and their son's. "I must, Elyna. For our farm, for our future. I'll be cautious, I promise you." His gaze held hers, conveying a silent vow to return to her side.

With a final, lingering kiss atop the brow of his wife and dead son, Harlon stood, squared his shoulders against the weight of his task, and stepped out into the room rushing toward the field, leaving Elyna in the lantern's dim light. The room seemed to close in around her, the shadows now menacing in their dance.

In the renewed tumult of the storm and the chaos unfurling outside, Harlon, propelled by a mix of determination and urgency, nearly forgot about the presence of Marna and Serra in his home. As he seized a coat from the wall, ready to confront whatever had landed in his fields, the midwives emerged from the shadows of the hallway, their faces etched with concern and fear, roused by the unnatural light and the earth-shaking noise.

"Marna, Serra," Harlon acknowledged, his tone commanding and worried, his gaze fixed on the door whipped by wind and rain. "Stay here. Go back to Elyna; she shouldn't be alone right now."

"But Harlon, what was that light? That sound?" Marna asked, her voice trembling, a reflection of the fear that gripped them all. The normalcy of their earlier duties had been shattered, leaving them adrift in the night's madness.

"It's something in the field... a fire, I think," Harlon said, his words rushed, his mind already racing ahead to the flames threatening his land. "I have to go—see what it is, try to contain it before it spreads."

Serra stepped forward, her brow furrowed with worry. "You can't go alone, not into this storm. It's too dangerous," she protested, her instinct to protect clashing with the knowledge of Harlon's resolve.

Harlon met her gaze, his own set with a fierce determination. "I must. The Gods have already taken my children from me. I can't let them take away my farm. The harvest is soon, and I can't face Lord Tyrell with a burnt farm." he said firmly, as he finally grabbed the tarp off the cot they had been using, the decision made, irrevocable. "Keep Elyna safe. Comfort her. That's all I ask."

Without waiting for further objections, Harlon turned on his heel, the coat now a scant protection against the elements. As he opened the door, the howl of the wind and the fury of the rain greeted him, a herald of the battle to come.

"Stay inside!" he called over his shoulder, his voice barely carrying over the storm's roar. "I'll return as soon as I can."

With that, Harlon plunged into the night, leaving Marna and Serra staring after him, their worry for both Harlon and Elyna mingling with a deep, unsettling dread for what the dawn might reveal. The midwives exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them. They turned back towards Elyna's room, their steps quick and purposeful, ready to offer whatever comfort they could in the long, dark hours ahead.

The fire had spread in small patches at the far edges of the farm. The deer hide tarp that he'd torn off the cots he'd shared with the midwives was a great tool for putting them out. The returning rain was starting to take care of the rest.

"At least the Seven haven't cursed me so thoroughly to rob me of all the farm yet." He thought bitingly.

As he slowly took measured steps toward the edge where the star, for what else could it be, had struck, the rain lashed against him with a ferocity that seemed personal, as if the heavens themselves bore a grudge against him. He trudged forward, each step a battle against the mud that sucked at his boots, putting out small patches of still blazing fire, and with every gust of wind that buffeted him, a storm raged within him as well.

"Why?!" Harlon railed internally, his heart a cauldron of tumultuous emotions. "Why us, why my family?" The question was a blade, slicing anew through the grief that had settled in his soul. "We've toiled, we've prayed, we've done nothing but live humbly under your skies. And yet, you take from us, mercilessly." His anger at the gods was a torrent, unchecked and raw. "If this is a test, then damn your tests!" he declared into the howling wind, the words torn away as soon as they left his lips.

The farm, his year's work was now cut by a third. His liege lord would have his hide, should they find him at fault for this.

And there, at the far edge of the farm, was a sight that stole the breath from his lungs—a giant crater, carved into the earth as if by the fist of some vengeful deity. It was vast, easily a dozen paces wide, and so deep that the bottom was swallowed by shadows even the storm's frequent lightning couldn't illuminate fully. Around its edges, the earth was scorched, blackened as though dragon fire had danced there, but the relentless rain had quenched the flames, leaving behind only the smell of wet ash and a smoldering ruin.

Harlon approached the crater's edge cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest, not from the exertion but from the sheer incomprehensibility of the scene before him. Peering into the abyss, he spied an object unlike anything he had ever seen—a stony object, silver-like in its make. Ethereal with a light of its own, he had no words for it.

It was large, larger than a cow but smaller than a wagon, with a surface that gleamed dully in the intermittent lightning, made of a material that was neither wood nor metal, something foreign and smooth. And slivery chunks of it littered the blackened ground around the crater.

"A Star?" Harlon muttered to himself, bafflement overtaking his initial apprehension. "A fallen star?" The idea was fanciful, something out of the stories told around the hearth on winter nights, yet how else could he explain this anomaly?

Compelled by a mix of curiosity and apprehension, Harlon descended into the crater, his steps cautious on the slippery slope. As he neared the strange object, its surface was cool and oddly comforting to the touch, unlike the biting cold of the rain that drenched him. It was seamless, with no apparent door or opening, yet it pulsed with a soft light that seemed to beckon him closer.

Suddenly, as if responding to his presence, a portion of the star shifted, retracting silently to reveal an interior bathed in a soft, otherworldly glow. Harlon gasped, the deer skin tarp falling from his hands, stepping back instinctively, his mind struggling to grasp the unfolding miracle.

From within the light, the cry of an infant pierced the storm's din—a sound so achingly familiar and yet so utterly alien in this context. Harlon's heart, so recently heavy with loss, surged with an inexplicable mixture of hope and fear.

"By the Seven..." he whispered, his earlier rage forgotten in the face of this bewildering wonder. "A babe? Here?" His mind reeled at the impossibility, at the divine irony of finding a child amidst the wreckage of his dreams.

Tentatively, driven by a force he couldn't name, Harlon approached the open star again. Inside, swaddled amidst the soft stone, as foreign as the vessel that contained it, lay an infant, its eyes wide and tearful, but unharmed by its celestial journey.

Harlon reached out, his rough farmer's hands trembling as they cradled the child. Lifting the babe from its cradle of stars, he marveled at the warmth of its skin, the vitality of its cries—so vibrant against the night's despair.

"The Seven sent you to me?" he murmured, not expecting an answer, his voice a mix of awe and gentle reassurance. "Are you the answer to our prayers little one?"

The babe sniffled in his arms, the wail of storm weakening around them, as though the heavens themselves protected the babe. He scrambled back for the tarp he'd dropped earlier in his astonishment, and gently wrapped the babe in the wet and soot laden cloth.

Clutching the child close, Harlon looked up at the stormy heavens, no longer with anger, but with a dawning sense of wonder and purpose. Perhaps this was the sign he had pleaded for, a gift from the gods, or maybe a chance to mend the gaping wound in his and Elyna's hearts.

"The Storm is no place for a babe like you." He finally said, silently marveling at the child from the Gods themselves.

As he trudged up the crater, the storm finally lessened to gentle calming rain. The fires started by the babe's arrival long dwindled. With a final look into the crater his heart set in stone.

"The Gods have personally answered our prayers." He whispered. "You shall be our son, our star."

With a determined heart, he begun trudging back through the muddy field. Light of heart, joy brimming in his heart anew.

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Elyna lay in the dimly lit room, the storm's fury a distant echo compared to the tempest in her heart. Atop her breast, the still form of her son, Rowan, wrapped in a soft blanket, served as a cruel reminder of what she had lost. Marna and Serra, the midwives who had been with her through the ordeal, sat quietly nearby, their faces etched with compassion and sorrow.

As another clap of thunder shook the farmhouse, Elyna's gaze drifted toward the window, the flashes of lightning illuminating the relentless downpour that obscured the fields beyond. Despite the pain that wracked her body and the heaviness in her soul, a restless energy spurred her to action. With a determined, albeit shaky, effort, she pushed herself upright, ignoring Marna's gentle protest.

"I need to see," Elyna insisted, her voice barely above a whisper but laden with a desperate need to connect with the outside world, to somehow bridge the distance between her and Harlon.

"You need to rest, Elyna" Marna chided, but Elyna wouldn't waver.

"My Husband is out there, and my heart ….. I need to see. Please" She pleaded, cradling her son closer.

"Let me help you," Serra offered, moving to support Elyna as she swung her legs off the bed. Every movement was agony, yet driven by an inner strength she scarcely knew she possessed, Elyna made her way to the window, leaning heavily on Serra.

"Thank you," Elyna said softly to the dark haired, kind hearted woman.

Outside, the storm raged, a chaotic dance of wind and rain. Fires, small beacons of light in the darkness, flickered in the distance, their glow battling against the onslaught of the rain.

"Harlon is out there," Elyna murmured, her eyes straining to make out any sign of her husband in the tumultuous night. "He went to... Gods, its so dark."

"The fires are dying down, Elyna," Marna said, joining them at the window. "The rain is quenching them. Harlon will be alright. He's strong, and the gods watch over the brave. You need the bed."

"No. ….. I can't!" She pleaded.

Marna sighed, conceding the fruitless battle, "The Gods will watch over him, don't worry 'lyna"

"But why would the gods watch over us?" Elyna's voice cracked with a mixture of grief and bitterness. "They took my son.... They've taken and taken and taken. All my children are with them!"

Serra squeezed Elyna's shoulder reassuringly. "Sometimes, the gods' plans are beyond our understanding, but they also provide us with strength when we least expect it. Harlon will be alright, the fires are all dead."

As they stood together, the storm began to subside, the once fierce winds and torrential rains easing into a gentle drizzle. The fires that had dotted the edge of their vision slowly extinguished, leaving behind only darkness and the promise of dawn.

Time passed, each moment stretching into eternity as Elyna, supported by the midwives, waited for any sign of Harlon. The silence of the aftermath was a stark contrast to the chaos that had preceded it, a quiet that was both comforting and unnerving.

Eventually, the storm started to lessen as a soothing rain replaced its fury.

"In some time, the first lights of the sun should return, and all will be clear Elyna," Serra commented, as they sat by the open window gazing into the drizzling darkness. "You need not worry."

"Thank you, Serra, Marna" Elyna finally said breaking her gaze from the dark drizzling abyss. "For all that you did for me, and my husband tonight."

"Always dear, and should you need a quiet ear, you can always come to my lodge by the Mander hills," Marna replied.

"And mine too, we're always been friends, Elyna. Mine and my husband's home will always be open to you." Serra reassured.

The words finally soothed her soul. The pain of the loss of her child would remain but dulled forever. She would recover, despite the cruel God's never granting her children ever again.

The silent drizzle of the rain was now comforting. The patter was a gentle reminder that Harlon would return any moment soon. She gazed down at the body of her son in her arms.

"You'll stay won't you?" She asked. At their questioning gazes she elaborated, "For the funeral, I mean?"

Sadness and pity filled their eyes, "Of course, dear. As long as you need us."

Elyna smiled into the comforting silence that followed.

The comforting patter of the rain had settled into a soothing rhythm when the sound of the door creaking open shattered the quiet. Elyna, still cradling Rowan, turned toward the sound, her heart leaping into her throat. Harlon stood in the doorway, drenched and shadowed, yet there was an unmistakable aura of wonder and urgency about him. In his arms, wrapped against the chill of the night, was a bundle—a cry, soft yet insistent, emanated from it, piercing the heavy air of the room.

"Harlon!" Elyna gasped, her weariness forgotten in the wake of his unexpected return. The midwives, equally startled, rose to their feet, their eyes wide with surprise and curiosity.

Harlon, his eyes meeting Elyna's, crossed the room in strides, a look of awe mixed with an intense, profound joy illuminating his face. "Elyna, my love," he began, his voice brimming with emotion, "the gods...they've answered us. Not in the way we dared hope, but they have sent us a miracle."

Elyna, bewildered, could only stare as Harlon gently placed the infant in her arms. The warmth of the child against her own skin, the strength of its cries, brought a rush of emotions she couldn't name. "Harlon, what...where did this child come from?"

Harlon shared then, his voice steady but filled with the wonder of what he had witnessed. He spoke of the blinding light that had torn through the darkness, of the crater it had left at the edge of their farm, and of the miraculous discovery of the child within what seemed to him a chariot from the heavens. "I found him there, alone, untouched by the fire or the fall. It's as if...as if the heavens themselves have given us a second chance," he finished, his gaze locked with Elyna's, seeking understanding, perhaps even acceptance.

Elyna, cradling the infant, felt a surge of wonder, disbelief, and a burgeoning hope that bloomed within her heart. "A child from the stars?" she whispered, her voice tinged with awe. The babe, sensing the warmth of her embrace, quieted, its cries subsiding into soft coos.

Marna and Serra, having listened to Harlon's tale, exchanged looks of disbelief and awe. "A fallen star brought him?" Marna murmured, her skepticism warring with the evidence before her eyes.

Serra, ever the heart of compassion, smiled softly. "Perhaps the gods have more plans than we can fathom. This child...he is meant for you, Elyna, Harlon. A blessing from the storm."

Elyna, meeting Harlon's gaze, saw the truth and conviction in his eyes. "Then he is ours," she said, a decision made not just with her mind but with her heart. "Our son."

Harlon, relief, and joy evident in his expression, nodded. "We must keep his origins a secret, please! We can't lose him" he implored, turning to the midwives. "To the village, to anyone, he's our son, borne from your loins, of my blood. That's all anyone needs to know."

"E-even from …." Serra gulped, the sheer weight of the request bearing on her shoulders "Even from Lord and Lady Tyrell?"

"Please!" Harlon begged, dropping to his knees in front of the two ladies. "I can't lose him."

Elyna too then joined, hope finally blooming in her chest. "I beg this of you. Serra, Marna. Help me keep this star child safe!"

"This is dangerous," Marna paced the room, her gaze locked on the boy in Elyna's arms "People will ask questions. All of Highgarden would have seen that brilliant light and the falling star. There's sure to be a party traveling down here after morn if not after first light."

"We can hide him, he'd be our son." Harlon responded beseechingly, pleading to her senses "The village guards knew Elyna was heavy with child, it would not be difficult."

"The Gods have finally answered our prayers, Marna." Elyna pleaded, tears forming in her eyes. Desperate hope warred in her eyes

"And what if they find this, piece of the star in your field? They will ask questions about what was inside." Marna replied, even though her heart had started to soften.

"Harlon and I can take the cart and bring it back here, bury it beneath the trees outside," Serra interjected.

At the grateful look Elyna sent her way she said "You're almost like a sister to me, Elyna. Your son will grow old with mine. I will help."

"Be quick then," Marna finally said, Marna nodding in agreement. "First light of the day is nearly upon us. Make haste. Let Elyna nurse the babe by her breast till then, she's just birthed, she'd have milk a plenty."

In the quiet that followed, the four of them considered the infant—a boy touched by the heavens, brought to them by a night of tempest and wonder. "Let's name him," Harlon said, breaking the silence. "A name that will remind us of this night, of the miracle he represents."

After a moment, Elyna spoke, her voice clear and strong despite the exhaustion that clung to her. "Let's call him Caelum. After the very stars that birthed him for us."

"Caelum," Harlon repeated the name a perfect echo of their newfound hope. He bent and kissed Caelum's brow and then his wife, and finally Rowan's still pale brow and turned to Serra. "I'll get the bulls and cart ready. It looked like a weighty thing, can you fetch the spade from the barn?"

As the two left, Elyna looked at the babe attached now to her chest. The God's had taken three sons from her, and in return had granted a babe that fell from the heavens themselves. She would love him, cherish him with all her heart for while the Gods were cruel, their mercy was rare yet bountiful indeed. She would not be the one to squander it so lightly.

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