A Song of Sun and Stars [Man of Steel x ASOIAF]

Chapter 10 –

The cheers still pounded in Lyanna's ears, a hollow echo against the roar of panic in her blood. 

How had this happened? 

One moment, she was basking in the thrill of victory, feeling strong and defiant beneath the ill-fitting armor. 

The next, the King's words had cut through the crowd's noise like an icy wind. "That man laughs at me?!," Aerys had rasped, his voice madness-tinged, "The Knight of the Laughing Tree is my enemy. Unmask him!"

Now, hunched in the dimness of her tent, the euphoria had turned to ash. 

Luke fumbled with the buckles of her borrowed breastplate, his hands shaking.

"Faster," she hissed, the word catching in her throat. "If they find me…." She couldn't finish the thought. 

The consequences of being unmasked were too terrible to contemplate.

"It'll be alright, my lady," Luke said fiercely. "We'll find a way to hide you…"

Caelum burst in, his eyes wide. "They're coming!" he blurted. "Two riders – the Dragon Prince and another Kingsguard. Ser Arthur, I think."

Lyanna's heart hammered against her ribs. 

Every clank of metal, every rustle of fabric felt deafening. "Not enough time…" she choked out.

Luke's face was pale as he shoved the breastplate aside. "The surcoat, at least. Maybe hide the shield… here, under the bedroll…" His movements were frantic, desperate.

"No point. They'll know. There's nowhere to hide a shield like this one" She admitted, her tent wasn't as large as her father's and brothers'.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel outside, drawing closer with every heartbeat. 

Lyanna whipped around, searching for a weapon, something, anything to defend herself with. But her hands found only the rough canvas of the tent apart from a muddied tourney sword. 

The Prince would escort her to the King, and she would be killed.

Despair washed over her, and then, a flicker of defiance sparked. 

She was Lyanna Stark, a wolf of the North. She wouldn't cower, not even before royalty. Let Rhaegar come. She'd face him down, armor or no.

The tent flap was thrust aside, and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen stood framed in the fading light.

"Announcing His Grace, Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone!" Ser Arthur Dayne's voice cut through the charged silence of the tent.

Lyanna dipped into a hasty bow, her movements stiff beneath the weight of the prince's gaze. 

Luke dropped to his knees instantly, tugging Caelum down beside him. The little boy, eyes wide, fumbled but managed a clumsy curtsey.

Rhaegar stepped into the tent, and the fading light caught on the polished rubies of his breastplate. Ser Arthur remained outside, a silent sentinel. The prince's eyes swept over the scene: the half-discarded armor, her muddied sword still clutched in her hand, and finally settling on Lyanna herself.

She met his gaze squarely, chin lifted. 

No matter how frightened she was, no one would ever call her meek.

A long moment stretched between them. Then, something flickered in Rhaegar's violet eyes – surprise, perhaps even a hint of amusement.

"My lady," his voice was low, soft, "It seems we caught you at a… rather inconvenient moment."

Heat flooded her cheeks. She'd been focused on the danger, not the impropriety of her half-undressed state. 

"My prince," Lyanna managed, cursing the tremor in her voice, "I… I was cleaning my armor. Your arrival was… unexpected."

His lips twitched, a hint of a smile breaking through the regal composure. "As was your appearance on the lists today. The Knight of the Laughing Tree has taken the tourney by storm."

"Only by luck, my prince," she deflected, her mind racing. 

Was he playing a game with her? He knew she was the Knight of The Laughing Tree, her armor had seen to that.

"Luck rarely lasts this long" Rhaegar countered, stepping closer. "Ser Arthur speaks highly of your skill."

Lyanna's fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword, a useless gesture she knew. "Ser Arthur is too kind."

"I find myself in agreement with Ser Arthur," the Prince said, his voice a soft rumble, "Your skill on the lists was no mere accident."

Lyanna felt a flicker of pride she couldn't entirely suppress. Then, reality crashed back down. Today's victory might as well be a death sentence.

Rhaegar's gaze shifted towards the two boys still kneeling before him. "And who might these young gentlemen be?" he asked, his tone curious.

"My friends, your Grace," Lyanna answered, her voice steadier now. "This is Luke, and young Caelum."

"Rise, both of you," he said gently. "I would make the acquaintance of the Lady Lyanna's companions."

Scrambling to obey, Luke and Caelum stood. 

Luke kept his eyes respectfully downcast but Caelum couldn't hold back his open curiosity, studying the prince with undisguised awe.

Lyanna's voice, when she found it, was surprisingly steady. "Do you mean to take me to the king, your Grace?" 

Part of her longed to fling herself at his mercy, to beg for understanding. 

But the Stark blood in her veins demanded she stand tall, even in the face of potential execution.

Rhaegar laughed, a low, rich sound that was startlingly at odds with the tension in the air. "The king, my lady? And lose a warrior as beautiful and skilled as yourself?" He paused, his gaze meeting hers again. "I cannot say you are my enemy, not with such a display on the lists today." Then, with a quirk of his lips, he added, "Though I will take your shield, if only to show my father that his Knight of the Laughing Tree has been found."

Warmth flooded Lyanna's cheeks, making her forget the chilling fear. "You flatter me, Prince Rhaegar," she managed, her words tinged with a defiance that was more bravado than truth.

"Flattery? Perhaps a touch," he conceded with a smile that took years off his face. "Your horsemanship, however… that was no act. Tell me, my lady, did you ride often in these…," he gestured at the Stark colors she still wore, "...wild Northern lands of yours?"

Lyanna couldn't help but smile back. "Ride? I practically lived on horseback," she declared. 

Perhaps this prince wasn't what she had expected.

Rhaegar's gaze shifted to Luke, who still stood rooted to the spot. "And what of your companion? Did he share in these adventures, Lady Lyanna?"

Luke stammered a bit, caught off guard. "N-no, your Grace," he began. "We… I came from the Reach, with the Tyrell men. My brother and I, we… we wanted to see the tourney."

The prince tilted his head, his silvery hair catching the last rays of the setting sun. "The Reach? A far journey to watch men fight. Was it worth the risks?"

"I hope for a knighthood someday, your Grace," Luke replied, his voice stronger now. "My brother too."

Rhaegar considered him for a long moment. 

Then, his smile returned. "Perhaps a chance to practice those skills will come sooner than you think,"

He turned back to Lyanna, a glint in his eye that made her heart skip a beat. "I find myself… intrigued, Lady Lyanna. Would you honor me with your company? A ride, perhaps? Or if you prefer, mayhaps a friendly spar to settle this debate on your skill with a lance."

Overwhelmed with a mix of relief and a completely different kind of nervousness, Lyanna felt her cheeks flush again. "It… it would be an honor, your Grace."

Rhaegar inclined his head, then gestured towards her shield. "I shall keep this as proof that the Knight of the Laughing Tree has been found. Now, my lady, I suggest you finish what you were so rudely interrupted from."

He turned towards Luke and Caelum, his princely bearing back in place. "Give your lady privacy, Luke, Caelum. Rest assured; no other will come searching for her tonight. I shall see to it that this pursuit ends here, with this shield."

Luke bowed respectfully, first to the prince, then to Lyanna. "As you say, your Grace. My lady," he added, a touch of formality creeping back into his voice, "Good night, your Grace, my lady."

With a gentle nudge towards Caelum, he turned towards the tent flap, clearly eager to be gone.

Lyanna's heart ached a little at their departure. "Wait!" She called her voice softer now. "Thank you, both of you. For today… for everything" She hesitated, then added with a playful touch, "Come find me tomorrow. I'm sure my brother Ned would love to meet the both of you."

Rhaegar narrowed his eyes at the offer, but quickly schooled his features.

Caelum finally finding his voice, shyness at meeting the prince still lingering said "We would love to, Lady Lyanna!"

With another hasty bow, the boys were on their way toward their beds at the inn in Harrentown.

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

Night had fully descended, casting long shadows that danced with the flickering light of their lantern. 

The path back toward Harrentown was familiar by now, but the air crackled with a different sort of energy. 

Caelum couldn't stop chattering, his voice a near breathless rush.

"...did you see his armor, Luke? And the rubies, they were like fire! And his hair, it was like… like the sun coming out... silver "

Luke chuckled, the sound warm in the cool evening. "Easy there! You didn't even manage a single word in his presence, and now you can't stop talking about him."

Caelum's cheeks burned a deep red. "I… I didn't know what to say! He's the prince, Luke. The prince!"

As they neared the outskirts of Harrentown, the forest by the tourney grounds started to thin, Caelum's exuberance faded a little. "Do you think… do you think the prince really meant it? That no one else will search for Lady Lyanna?"

Luke placed a reassuring hand on the younger boy's shoulder. "The Dragon Prince gave his word, Caelum. If he says the search is over, it is."

Despite Luke's confident words, a flicker of doubt remained in Caelum's eyes. 

He kicked at a stray pebble, sending it skittering into the darkness. "But what if… what if there are some who don't listen? Lady Lyanna is still in danger... the king could …"

They had reached a clearing, a brief stretch of open ground between the tourney encampments and Harrentown proper. 

Luke stopped, a thoughtful frown on his face. Then, he crouched, placing a hand on Caelum's shoulder.

"You're still worried, aren't you?" he asked softly.

Caelum nodded, a single tear escaping to track down his cheek. Luke gently brushed it away.

"Alright then," Luke said with a determined gleam in his eye. "There's one way to ease your mind. Why don't you focus on the camp, try and find her voice. See if she is alright?"

A spark of excitement replaced the worry in Caelum's eyes. "Really?" he whispered. "You think I should?"

Luke nodded, his own eyes gleaming with a determined sort of mischief. "You've been practicing. And you're going to worry about her otherwise. No harm in it."

Caelum closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He enjoyed using his magic, it let him hear the sounds of the world, with Luke's help he had a connection with the world that he couldn't describe.

The sounds of the night swirled around him - the chirp of crickets, the distant rumble of wagons on the road, even the soft rustle of Luke's tunic as he shifted his stance. 

Then, he reached out with his senses, focusing on the tourney encampments, imagining the clusters of tents aglow with lantern light.

A cacophony of voices washed over him. Boisterous laughter clinked against cups in a nearby inn. Two stablehands bickered over a missing curry comb. He heard snatches of conversations, snippets of songs... and then:

"...arrangements have been made?" That smooth, melodic voice again. Rhaegar.

Caelum pressed harder, focusing like a hawk on a distant field mouse.

"As you commanded, Your Grace," Ser Arthur's familiar, respectful timbre. "The men have been compensated generously. These boys will not see another dawn."

A pause hung in the air, heavy and foreboding. Then, Rhaegar spoke again, his voice tinged with...uncertainty? "I can sense your hesitation, old friend. Something troubles you."

"With your permission to speak freely, my King?" Ser Arthur asked softly.

"We are not merely King and knight, Arthur. We are friends. Your counsel is always valued."

Ser Arthur's next words were laced with a strange kind of pleading. "They are children, Your Grace. Men to scare them away, hide with their retinue, and not mingle in the nobility any further would have sufficed. This...is it truly necessary?"

Rhaegar's response was slow, and measured. "Lady Lyanna is no meek maiden, she will not leave well enough alone. This prophecy... it demands actions, she will be lost to the Baratheon soon, and I cannot allow that to happen. And for it to work as foretold, she must come willingly. These boys, Arthur... they are a distraction, a hindrance. I do not have the luxury to be kind to them, she will leave soon. She is the Knight I saw in my dreams, and she will soon be gone, the dragon must have three heads, and she will be the key to Visenya. The children must die for that to happen, if I have to gain her affection in such short a time, I cannot have her heart to a Reacher farm boy instead."

"….. As you say, my King." Ser Arthur Dayne sighed as their conversation petered out of Caelum's hearing.

The coldness in the prince's voice sent a shiver down Caelum's spine. 

He gasped, his eyes flying open. He grabbed Luke's arm, his small fingers digging in with the strength of terror. "Luke, we have to..."

But his warning was lost. From the shadows behind them, two figures lunged. 

It was desperation and luck that helped Luke push Caelum behind him, taking a cutting blow to his shoulder.

The attackers' weaponry gleamed dully in the lantern light they carried at their hip. Long knives, wickedly curved, spoke of experience that Luke lacked. He felt the icy grip of fear in his gut, but there was no time for hesitation.

"Behind me!" he barked at Caelum, shoving the smaller boy back. 

His shoulder screamed in protest as one of the men slashed out, the long blade barely missing its mark.

"We've been paid good coin, boys," the attacker rasped, a leer twisting his features. "Young as you are, maybe if you give up now, we'll keep it quick and painless, eh?"

They were knights, their armor dull, better armed than Luke himself.

Luke spat on the ground, then raised his tourney sword, far too blunt an instrument for this deadly fight. 

"Who sent you?" he demanded despite the fear in his voice. "Why?!"

The men merely laughed, circling their prey. 

Then, Caelum's voice rang out, high and clear above the din.

"Prince Rhaegar! He paid them! He wants us dead!"

Luke's blood ran cold. He staggered as the other attacker lunged, the dull blade grazing his side. 

He swung wildly, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his vision blurring. He had to hold them off, give Caelum time to run.

"Go!" he shouted, parrying another blow. "Run, Caelum!"

But instead of the sound of retreating footsteps, he heard a gasp. 

He risked a glance. Caelum stood rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed on Luke, the small hunting knife Luke had gifted him earlier clutched in a trembling hand.

"They were right about kids," one of the attackers sneered. "Don't know when to lower your head and die. Shoulda just given up. Easier for everyone. That one knows more than he should, he dies first!"

Luke roared, desperation lending him a momentary advantage. 

Yet, his injured shoulder throbbed, his movements grew sluggish. A well-placed kick sent him sprawling, his sword flying from his grasp.

Caelum screamed, lunging forward with wild abandon. His knife found its mark – the attacker's leg. But the man merely grunted, backhanding him with enough force to send Caelum flying.

"Sorry, kid," the attacker with the injured leg growled, raising his blade above a gasping Luke.

Then the world erupted in crimson.

Twin beams of searing hot fire shot from Caelum's eyes, igniting the man's sword arm in a crackling blaze of fire. 

He screamed, dropping the weapon as his clothes caught alight. His partner staggered back, eyes wide with horror.

Ignoring the pain in his own eyes, and the fear etched in his heart, Luke snatched up the discarded weapon and lunged. His heart was a frenzied drumbeat in his ears as the first man collapsed, writhing in agony.

The other attacker shrieked, "D-Demon child! Seven help me! Demon!" and turned to run.

Luke surged to his feet, a wounded animal driven by the primal need to protect. 

He didn't think, he merely acted. The sword pierced flesh, and the second scream was cut short.

Luke staggered forward, his legs wobbling beneath him. Caelum lay in a crumpled heap, his small body wracked by tremors. His shoulder throbbing, and bleeding.

He whimpered, his hands still clamped tightly over his eyes. A faint crimson glow pulsed from beneath his eyelids, sending a fresh wave of terror through Luke.

"Caelum!" His voice cracked with a mix of fear and urgency. "Caelum, look at me!"

He knelt beside the smaller boy, trying to pry his hands away. 

But Caelum didn't open his eyes. Instead, he let out a scream, a raw, animalistic sound that tore at Luke's heart.

"I can't… make it stop!" Caelum sobbed, his voice choked. "It hurts, Luke! Make it stop!"

Luke's heart hammered against his ribs. His shoulder screamed at him, blood trickled down his arm onto Caelum's forehead.

He had no answers, no soothing words. Only a desperate need to protect, to do something. He scooped Caelum up, uncaring of his own injuries, and stumbled away from the attacker's body that still twitched in its death throes.

The world spun around him – the clearing, the lingering stench of burning flesh. 

It was all too much. 

Caelum whimpered, the crimson glow behind his eyelids intensifying. Then, as abruptly as it had started, his body went limp. 

He slumped in Luke's arms, unconscious.

Fear warred with desperation inside Luke. What had just happened? What was wrong with Caelum? And the attackers… Caelum had screamed that Prince Rhaegar had sent them… 

He shuddered, the image of the men he'd slain flashing before his eyes.

Tears welled up, hot and bitter. He sank to his knees, Caelum's weight a terrible burden in his arms.

The inn, the tourney grounds, even Harrentown itself – none were safe. Not anymore. The very prince who'd promised protection had become their hunter.

A sob escaped his throat. Then, as the full weight of their situation crashed down on him, a new resolve took root. He couldn't give up, not for his own sake, and certainly not for Caelum's.

The gods had given Caelum another terrible curse it seemed, just when they needed it. 

He prayed silently, a desperate plea to understand their designs. 

Why grant such terrible magic to a boy so young?

Carefully, he laid Caelum down before returning to the gruesome scene of their fight. 

With trembling hands, he doused the corpses with oil from the Knight' lanterns, then set them ablaze. 

The smell of burning hair mingled sickeningly with the woodsmoke.

He didn't linger. Picking up one of their swords –, he hoisted Caelum onto his back. 

The forest stretching before them offered no guarantee of safety, but it was better than waiting for dawn and the inevitable questions.

With a last, haunted look back at the clearing, Luke plunged into the darkness, a frightened boy bearing an even more frightening burden.

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

Dawn painted the old-growth forest in hues of soft gold and silver. A dappled light filtered through the ancient canopy, casting long shadows upon the moss-covered ground. Birdsong filled the air, a joyous chorus that did little to ease the tension in Luke's heart.

Before him lay the God's Eye, a vast inland sea ringed by ancient trees. 

Its surface shimmered like molten glass, the first rays of the morning sun reflecting off its still waters. A whisper of mist rose from the water, adding an ethereal quality to the scene.

Luke himself was a mess. Strips of his tunic, torn and bloodstained, were wrapped haphazardly around his shoulder and hip, crude bandages against the gashes he'd taken during their desperate fight. 

His face was drawn, exhaustion etched beneath his eyes. He sat hunched on a fallen log, the sword he'd taken from the dead knight gripped tightly in his good hand.

His gaze, however, wasn't on the water, but on the small figure lying still in the shade of a great oak. Caelum.

Fear, a cold knot in his gut, battled with a fierce protectiveness. 

The memory of Caelum's crimson-eyed scream, the terrible power that had saved them… Luke had no name for it. 

Magic? 

A curse? 

Whatever it was, it terrified him. 

Why would the gods grant such power to a child, one so gentle and kind? 

And why had the Prince – the Prince – wanted them dead?

A sharp twinge in his shoulder pulled him back to the present. 

Pain mingled with terror. 

What if they weren't alone? 

He strained his ears, listening beyond the birdsong, searching for any sign of pursuit.

A soft moan escaped Caelum's lips, breaking the stillness of the morning. He stirred, his small brow furrowing beneath sweat-dampened hair. Luke scrambled to his side, his heart pounding with a mixture of relief and dread.

Caelum's eyes fluttered open, and a whimper of fear ripped from his throat. He jerked back from Luke, scrambling away with a terrified cry.

"Luke... " His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. "I can't see… the world, it's all a blur... like... like shadows, and … "

Luke's relief at Caelum's awakening evaporated, replaced by a fresh wave of panic. The crimson glow was gone from Caelum's eyes, his eyes back to his clear blue, but something else was terribly wrong.

"Caelum, it's alright," he tried to soothe, his voice trembling. "Focus on me, on my voice…"

Caelum blinked rapidly, then flinched, his small body trembling. 

He stared at Luke, tears welling up in his wide, terrified blue eyes.

"Your skin..." he choked out, "bones... I can see your bones, Luke! And your heart, it's… it's like a lump..."

Luke's stomach lurched. What new horror was this? Instead of the fiery crimson he feared, Caelum's blue eyes held a far more unsettling clarity. He knelt beside the boy, carefully avoiding eye contact.

"Caelum... c-can you see other things?" his voice faltered. "Is it just me, or…"

"The trees…" Caelum whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears. "They glow inside, and… and the leaves are like shadows. I -I can see the island there. Everything… there's so much."

Luke's mind raced. Visions, curses, monstrous powers… He was a simple farm boy, not some wise sage! 

A dull throb pulsed in his shoulder, a reminder of his own wounds, but Caelum's terror outweighed any pain he felt.

"Can you close your eyes?" he gently suggested. "Maybe… maybe if you rest, things will make more sense later."

Caelum whimpered, shaking his head. "I can't. The shapes are still there, even behind my eyelids. It's like the world is under water, Luke, and it's only in my eyes."

He reached out a trembling hand, blindly fumbling for Luke's arm. 

Luke flinched but didn't pull away. Caelum's fingers, tiny and cold, clutched onto his sleeve with desperate strength.

"Make it stop," he begged, his voice breaking. "Please, Luke, make it stop…"

Luke swallowed hard, his own fear threatening to choke him. But beneath that fear, a newfound resolve took hold. He was all Caelum had.

"Alright," Luke said, his voice steadier than he felt. "We'll figure this out. Together."

Luke took a shaky breath, desperately trying to project calm. "Caelum, can you see… uh…" His gaze fell on a gnarled root protruding from the ground. "Can you see that root, the big one there?"

Caelum whimpered again, his eyes darting as if searching. "Yes… sort of. Like… a burning line against the darkness."

"Okay, good," Luke said, his voice slightly higher than usual. Fear gnawed at his insides. How was he supposed to fix this? What did he even know of eyes and sight? He thought back to a calf born with clouded eyes, the old healer's mutterings…

"Try… try squinting," he ventured, uncertain. "Like when the sun is too bright."

Caelum scrunched his face, and then a frustrated sob escaped his lips. "It hurts! And everything just… glows brighter."

Luke's heart sank. Another idea sprang to mind – a trick to see better at dusk. He hesitated; it felt cruel to experiment on Caelum like this. But desperation clawed at him. "Close your eyes, tight," he said. "Now, open them just a sliver… let just a bit of light in."

A small gasp. "The shapes... they're sharper, but still too bright."

Tears pricked at Luke's own eyes. He was failing. The gods, if they even existed, offered no guidance. He thought of his mother, her gentle hands soothing scraped knees and fevered brows. What would she do?

A memory struck him. Summer nights, lying in the hayloft, staring up at the stars. He'd blink, once, twice, and the faintest stars would appear, then vanish.

"Caelum," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Can you… can you try blinking? But really slow. Just one blink."

Caelum did, his expression one of strained concentration. Seconds passed. Then, his shoulders slumped. "It didn't work. It's still…"

He didn't finish the sentence. Luke's own hope was a dying ember. Yet, it was Caelum's broken voice that sparked one last, desperate idea.

"Wait," Luke said, urgency cutting through his fear. "Blink once, but don't open your eyes. Just… just feel the darkness."

Silence, then a quiet, wondering, "It's… not as awful anymore."

Luke's heart leapt. He ignored the sharp twinge in his shoulder, the throb in his side. "Again," he urged, his voice trembling with a mix of hope and fear. "Close them, tight. Now, one slow blink, then hold... just hold in the darkness."

Caelum obeyed, a tiny tremor running through his body. 

With each passing second, Luke dared to believe they weren't lost in the terrifying expanse of Caelum's strange new sight.

"It's working..." Caelum's voice was barely above a whisper. "It's...fading. The brightness is going away!"

"Good! That's good," Luke's praise was a choked sob of relief. He kept his voice gentle. "Another one. Slow blink, then hold the darkness, Caelum."

Over the next hour, their routine took shape. 

Blink and hold. 

Rest. 

Blink and hold. 

With each repetition, the burning clarity Caelum described would diminish, leaving behind a calmer sight, closer to the world they knew.

Finally, Caelum gasped. "Luke... It's gone. I can see normally."

Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm Luke, but he forced himself to remain vigilant. "Are you sure? Look at a tree... a rock... anything. Are things... normal?"

Caelum blinked several times, his gaze darting around him. "Yes," he said, his voice still shaky, but wonder replacing the terror. "Just… normal. Like before."

"And me?" Luke held his breath. "Can you… Look at me, Caelum. Can you still see… see inside me?"

For a long moment, Caelum didn't answer. He turned his face away, avoiding Luke's eyes. Then, he whispered, "I… I see you, Luke. Not like before. And… you're hurt. Your shoulder, it's all red and swollen."

"I'm fine!" Luke tried to reassure his little brother. Ignoring the stinging pain in his shoulder. 

A sharp gasp pierced the air – Caelum's.

"You're not fine!" His voice rose, a tremor of panic edging into it. "Your sleeve…it's red, there's blood...and the strip of tunic, your shoulder…" His gaze darted back to Luke, and for the briefest flicker, the terrifying clarity returned to his eyes. "It's cut, Luke. Badly. I can see…"

"Caelum, stop," Luke interrupted, his tone gentle but firm. He couldn't let Caelum fall back into that nightmare of sight. "Look around. Is it… is it like before? Can you see me normally?"

Caelum blinked rapidly, then a shaky nod. "Y-yes. Just the cut. And I think… I think there's a gash on your side too."

A jolt of pain shot through Luke as he shifted his weight. He'd forgotten about the other wound. "Please, Caelum, it's not so bad. We…"

"Meredith!" Caelum exclaimed, his small voice ringing with sudden determination. "She can help! She knows herbs and healing, and she's good..." His voice faltered. "She's back at the tourney…"

A chilling wave of memory washed over him. The clearing shrouded in twilight, the lantern's glow, the long glint of blades emerging from the shadows.

"Luke!" Caelum shrieked. His voice cracked with fear and confusion. "The men …the knights! They attacked us, Luke!"

His voice dissolved into a strangled sob. 

He buried his face in Luke's tunic, tiny hands clenching with desperate, bruising force. Luke winced at the pressure on his wound by his side. "Why, Luke? Why would knights do that? We didn't do anything!"

Then, a whispered accusation cut through the air: "I heard them, before... with my ears. That knight... Ser Dayne! He paid them. And the prince…"

"Why?" The question echoed in his own heart. 

It was absurd. 

Caelum was a farm boy, he himself just a page no threat to anyone. 

Maybe… maybe the prince thought they would tell someone about Lady Lyanna?

But why? The prince had promised that no one would pursue Lady Lyanna anymore. He had laughed with them. Called them his friends.

Why were they being hunted like wild animals by the prince and his catspaw knights?

Caelum's sobs quieted, leaving a hollow silence. Then his voice, small and broken, pierced the air. "He said...the prince...it was about a prophecy. About the dragon, needing three heads..."

Luke felt as if the very ground tilted beneath them. The dragon was the sigil of House Targaryen. Prophecies… those were tales for old women and fools. 

Yet the prince, the heir to the Iron Throne...

Caelum's words rushed out in a torrent. "...and Visenya, Luke, his dream... the prince thinks Lady Lyanna… that she's the key..."

It was madness, the ramblings of fevered minds. 

But the look in Caelum's eyes...he had heard this, truly heard it with those strange, terrible ears of his.

Caelum's sobs escalated into full-fledged wails. He pounded his small fists against Luke, as if pummeling away the injustice of it all. "Knights! They're supposed to be…be good. Like in the stories…" He choked on a sob. It was the cry of lost innocence, the death knell for a child's faith in the world.

Luke wrapped his arms around Caelum, pulling him close despite the jolt of pain it sent through his shoulder. 

His own dream, the dream of knighthood, of noble deeds, already felt tainted, less bright.

He had brought Caelum this far from the Reach to show him that reality, but he never expected something like this.

After saving Pia he had accepted that Caelum would become a Knight, the Gods favored him. He would be a great knight, mayhaps the Greatest of them all.

He no longer wanted that dream shattered.

"I don't know, Cae," Luke murmured, the words laced with a bitterness unfamiliar even to himself. "Those men... they weren't knights. Not really. They were just...the prince's dogs. Men do terrible things sometimes, for gold, for power..."

His voice trailed off. Apologies bubbled up in his throat, unsaid. He'd brought Caelum here, wanting to show him the harsh reality behind the tales of chivalry. But this darkness...it was too much, too soon for those bright, trusting eyes.

Luke swallowed hard, pushing back the despair that threatened to engulf him. Caelum wouldn't break. Not now, not ever. "But listen," he continued, his voice low and urgent, "that doesn't mean there aren't good knights. And you, Caelum... "

He held Caelum at arm's length, looking him in the eye. "You were so brave yesterday. When those men came at us, you stood in front of me. Used that… that fire of yours. They should fear you, Cae. Because one day, you will be the kind of knight those stories are written about."

It was a promise as much as a plea. 

The world was a cruel place right now, and the gods seemed to have a twisted sense of humor. 

But Caelum... with his strange, terrifying gifts and his stubbornly pure heart... he was the spark of hope Luke clung to.

A memory unfurled in Caelum's mind – the blinding crimson light, the men's screams, the smell of burning hair. He gagged, bile rising in his throat.

"Luke, I ... did I…" He couldn't bring himself to finish the question. The thought of himself capable of such violence... it was monstrous.

"No," Luke said, his voice firm. "Caelum, you didn't kill anyone. One had a bad burn on his arm, but he was alive. I finished him." His tone softened. "I know it's scary, and I don't understand it either... but sometimes, it's... it's okay to fight back. You will be a knight, and taking a life, it will be necessary especially to protect those you love and the innocent. But it's not time yet for you. Lighten your heart."

Tears welled up in Caelum's eyes, but this time they were tears of relief. He clung to Luke with renewed strength, burying his face against his brother's shoulder. 

For a long while, they simply sat there, Luke murmuring quiet reassurances, the sun dappling the forest floor as it crept towards noon.

The sun climbed higher, painting the lake's surface a shimmering gold. Luke shifted, his own wounds throbbing, but the urgency he felt was stronger than the pain.

"Caelum," he said, choosing his words carefully, "do you think you could do that again... the fire, from your eyes? But...but smaller. Just a little bit. It might help us figure out how it works."

Caelum shuddered, hugging himself tightly. "It was scary, Luke. I don't…" His voice trembled.

Luke squeezed his brother's thin shoulder. "I know. I'm scared too." His words hung heavy in the air. The image of those men blistered by Caelum's uncontrolled power was etched in his mind. "But, Cae, what if you hurt someone without meaning to? What if we can make it stop… or make it less dangerous..."

Caelum stared at him, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. It wasn't just about power anymore, but about safety, for them both. "It happened... when I wanted the sword in that man's hand to go away," he whispered. "Because he was going to hurt you..."

Luke swallowed hard. So it was tied to his will, his emotions. "That's why we need to try, Cae," he said gently. "So you can learn to control it."

Caelum nodded, a determined spark returning to his gaze. He turned towards the lake, fixing his stare on its placid surface. Luke watched, heart pounding, as Caelum's eyes began to glow. This time, the crimson light was softer, not the fiery blast of the night before.

He held his breath as a wisp of steam curled from the water. "It's working," he whispered in awe.

"But... I can do more," Caelum said, brow furrowed in concentration. "Like… like I did before." His voice trembled with a mix of determination and fear.

With a gasp, he intensified the focus, and the soft glow became a blazing crimson beam that lanced into the water. The lake roiled, and an instant later, a billowing cloud of steam erupted from the spot.

Caelum cried out, clutching at his eyes. "It stings!" His voice cracked. "Like last night…my eyes, they felt like they were on fire."

Luke was at his side in a heartbeat, a mix of raw awe and chilling fear coursing through him. The sheer power was staggering. But so was the cost to Caelum, to this small boy with a heart too big for the world's cruelty.

And yet, as he held his trembling brother, one thought echoed in Luke's mind. 

If such power existed, perhaps its rightful wielder was Caelum, and Caelum alone. One thing he knew very well, the Gods had chosen their champion well.

Luke winced as a fresh wave of pain shot through his shoulder. Catching himself, he tried to hide it, but Caelum was already looking at him with concern.

"We should go back, Luke," Caelum said, his small voice tight with worry. "You need help. Meredith can fix you..."

Luke placed a hand on Caelum's shoulder, his touch gentle. "Wait," he said quietly. A flicker of worry danced in his eyes. They'd escaped into the forest, but if anyone had followed their tracks... "Caelum, can you try... using your ears again? Listen for anyone searching for us."

He knew it was a long shot. If someone was on their trail, they'd have been caught already. But the fear lingered - could they truly return to Harrentown? Would the prince send more killers for them?

Understanding the gravity of the situation, Caelum nodded. 

His eyes closed, and his brow furrowed in concentration. For several long minutes, only the rustling of leaves and the distant cries of birds disturbed the quiet.

Luke felt his own heart pounding in his chest, the dull ache of his wound reminding him of their vulnerability. 

Yet, Caelum's expression slowly shifted, a flicker of surprise replacing the strain.

He opened his eyes, a mix of confusion and relief in their blue depths. "I hear them," he whispered, pointing towards the direction of the tourney grounds. "Sounds from the town... people wondering about those knights, the ones we… the ones you fought. Most think it was thieves and bandits."

He paused, then added hesitantly, "Others… servants, I think, from the big castle… they're whispering, afraid it was the king, some madness, burning people in the night…"

Caelum's voice trailed off, the words hanging in the air. Luke felt a chill run down his spine – King Aerys's reputation for cruelty was well known. 

But why would anyone think… He swallowed hard, pushing the horrifying images from his mind.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Caelum spoke again. His voice trembled slightly. "I found them, Luke. The prince… and the knight, Ser Arthur."

"The prince…" Caelum's words were barely audible. "H-he said… we survived. That you were clever, Luke, using their own lantern fire against them…" His voice grew stronger with a note of reluctant admiration. "He said you'd make a good knight someday."

Luke felt a strange mix of pride and bitterness twist within him. 

Prince Rhaegar, the very man who'd tried to have them killed, now spoke of his bravery.

"My lord," Caelum recounted Ser Arthur's words verbatim, "do you wish for more men to be sent? The boys won't have gotten far…"

The prince's reply was slow, considered. "No. They'll be frightened, wounded perhaps. They won't dare return to the tourney, and they certainly won't seek out the Stark girl again. Besides," a cold edge crept into his voice, "they've no way of knowing it was I who gave the order. They'll run blindly, but they will be fools to return to the camp, the knights would not have died without spilling something of the gold they received."

"And the girl, my lord?" Ser Arthur's voice held a hint of concern.

"Lady Lyanna will be watched more closely now. Her father is no fool, he won't risk her leaving the camp or the castle after this… this attack. Not without a guard" The prince's tone was dismissive. "A pity. But she will wait for me. I will meet her again at the castle, I am to sing tonight."

Caelum relayed the conversation with chilling clarity. As he finished, Luke let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he was holding. They were off the hook, for now. Just… mice, as the prince had said.

Caelum's worry shifted. "But, Luke, what about Lady Ly-"

"She'll be fine," Luke cut him off gently, though his heart wasn't entirely in the reassurance. "Lyanna Stark is a highborn lady. Her family, her brothers, they'll protect her. The prince, even he wouldn't dare to openly harm someone like her." He hoped his voice sounded more convincing than he felt.

"We have to tell her!" Caelum exclaimed.

"Tell her what?" Luke replied calmly "Think Caelum, think. All we have is proof using your magic. And I will die before someone finds about your powers before you are capable of defending yourself. This is the prince of the realm you want to take on. Your powers, they are strong. But we do not need to make the enemy of the realm. Lady Lyanna will be fine, the Gods watch over you, they will watch over her too."

He could see Caelum was not satisfied, but he would not let Caelum run off with some foolish notion of saving Lady Lyanna. 

He hoped her family would be able to save her in truth.

The image of Caelum's blazing eyes, of those men writhing in agony, flickered through his mind. 

Could they even be considered boys anymore, after what they'd endured? 

For now, the best they could do was disappear as the prince wished, fading into the vastness of the realm.

Reassured that they would not be harmed further, Luke grasped the forgotten sword, and with Caelum's help made his way back out the forest to their inn in Harrentown.

No doubt people will ask questions, but he supposed he would let the whispers of bandits and thieves attacking lend him aid in the matter.

He did not intend to tangle with the Prince any further.

Meredith would find them later at the inn, and he will have all the help he would need. 

Caelum was his only concern till then. 

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(A/N) The Prince is mad definitely. I don't know if I wrote a powerful groomer well enough. Ser Arthur Dayne totally drank his kool aid. The other kings guard did too, most of them.