The Mad Mage

Chapter 20 –

"I don't understand," Caelum said, as he stared at the stocky man illuminated by moonlight. "What are you talking about? You are mistaken. Clearly, I am just a boy. I am not the sun."

The man stirred, as he indicated to the shiny candle, its wick held tightly in the maester's hand. "The glass candle does not lie, boy!" he intoned.

A cold dread settled in Caelum's stomach.

The whispers were true, Archmaester Marwyn was mad.

"Archmaester," Caelum began, forcing his voice to remain steady, "I believe you're mistaken. Perhaps you've had too much to drink?" He edged towards the door, his hand hovering over the latch.

Marwyn chuckled, "I am not daft, boy!" He rose from his seat, his silhouette growing taller, more imposing in the moonlight. "Ten years ago, a star fell on the Reach, near Highgarden. Everyone in Westeros knows the tale – the Fat Flower made sure of it."

Caelum froze, a chill running down his spine.

He knew the story well. It was the night he'd arrived on this world, a babe carried on a star that blazed across the sky.

"But what they don't know," Marwyn continued, "is that on that very night, glass candles across the world flared to life for but a few moments. Every mage, every sorcerer, every priest from Ib to Asshai by the Shadow who held a candle saw a vision – a vision of the sun."

Caelum's breath hitched in his throat.

Marwyn's eyes seemed to pierce through the darkness, locking onto Caelum's face. "I saw it too, boy. I was in Essos when my candle ignited too. I saw it then. The sun, blazing in all its glory, as it descended upon the earth and snuffed out both fire and ice."

Caelum shook his head, his voice barely a croak. "You're mistaken, Archmaester. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Mistaken?" Marwyn scoffed. "The star fell on your farm, did it not? Caelum Starborne, the moniker given to you by the Fat Flower himself. The man didn't know how right he was. You are that sun, boy. You are the reason magic will return to this world."

Panic surged through Caelum. "Please, Archmaester, you've had too much to drink. You need to leave."

Marwyn tilted his head, after a moment's silence a small, defeated smile played on his lips.

He took a step closer, the glass candle still clutched in his hand. "Very well," he said. "If you insist. I'll go."

For a moment, Caelum thought that the mad man was indeed leaving, as he approached the door.

Caelum stepped away, allowing him to pass by. But, just as he reached the door, the man turned and hurled the glass candle he had been holding onto straight at him.

The young novice reacted on instinct, his hands shooting out to catch the projectile.

He fumbled and jumped around, as his fingers closed around the cool smooth surface.

Suddenly, just as his grip tightened around the candle, it burst into blinding light, filling the room with an eerie unearthly glow.

Before he could react, Marwyn snatched the candle from his grasp. A thick cloth muffled the glow, plunging the room back into relative darkness.

Marwyn's voice, now edged with triumph, cut through the silence. "You cannot hide, child."

Caelum opened his eyes, blinking against the afterimages that danced before him.

He took a step back, his heart pounding in his chest. "It doesn't mean anything," he insisted, his voice shaking slightly. "I don't trust prophetic visions. A star may have fallen on my family's farm... but it's at best a coincidence."

A low chuckle escaped Marwyn's lips. "Wise words, boy. Never trust a prophecy. They are slippery things, as elusive as smoke and twice as dangerous." He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Gorghan of Old Ghis once wrote that a prophecy is like a treacherous woman. She takes your member in her mouth, and you moan with the pleasure of it and think, how sweet, how fine, how good this is... and then her teeth snap shut and your moans turn to screams. That is the nature of prophecy. Prophecy will bite your prick off every time….."

Caelum cringed at the man's crude language.

Marwyn laughed at his response, "Grow up! If you're affronted by some crude language, then there's no hope for you in this world. Coincidence or not," Marwyn's voice was firm, unwavering, "the glass candles do not lie. Magic will soon return. You cannot hide yours forever." His eyes gleamed in the dim light, filled with a hunger that sent chills down Caelum's spine. "What is it you can do? Are you a skin-changer, a warg? Can you see the future, or command the flames?"

Caelum, backed into a corner, both figuratively and literally, knew the charade was over.

He let out a shaky breath and turned his gaze towards the oil lamp in the corner.

His eyes, usually a vibrant blue, flared crimson, and a searing beam of energy shot forth, igniting the lamp's wick with a silent whoosh.

Marwyn gasped, his face a mask of awe, wonder, and fear. "Magnificent," he breathed. "You're like a Dragon that's taken human form!"

Caelum, adrenaline pumping through his veins, pushed past the stunned Archmaester and slammed the window shut, blocking out the moonlight.

He turned to face Marwyn, his heart pounding in his chest. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice a mixture of defiance and fear.

Marwyn's laughter echoed through the small room, a dry, and raspy. "You think a little fire will scare me? You are asking the wrong questions!" he said, a glint of amusement in his eyes, masked his fear. "I want many things, boy. I want a Dragon of my own, to learn all the magics of the world, a harem of Lyseni women to cater to my every need. But first, I want you to leave this place."

Caelum was both affronted and confused. "Leave the Citadel? Why?"

"Why did you come here in the first place?" Marwyn countered, his voice taking on a sharper edge.

"To learn magic," Caelum admitted.

Marwyn scoffed. "And how is that going for you, eh? Did the mummer's farce with the grey sheep teach you anything useful? The Citadel is a graveyard of knowledge, boy. They hoard secrets, twist them to fit their narrow worldview. The lesson that Quillion teaches is designed to turn novices away from their passion for magic. There is no magic to be found here." He leaned forward, his eyes burning into Caelum's. "Leave this place, boy. There is no magic here. Don't ask too many questions about magic, unless you fancy poison in your afternoon meal."

Caelum bristled. "You're mad," he accused.

Marwyn threw back his head and laughed, "All who seek true magic are a little mad, boy. You and I are no different." His laughter faded, replaced by a chilling seriousness. "Who do you think killed all the dragons the last time around? Gallant dragonslayers armed with swords? The world the Citadel is building has no place for sorcery, prophecy, or glass candles. Much less for dragons. And you are a Dragon in human skin."

He paused; his gaze unwavering. "You've read the histories, haven't you? Brynden Rivers, Bloodraven, the sorcerer prince? Aemon Targaryen, the Dragonknight's brother?"

Caelum nodded, "I have read the histories, yes."

"Both Targaryens," Marwyn continued, "both sent to the Wall. A clever maneuver, orchestrated by the grey sheep here at the Citadel. Brynden grew too powerful, they knew he was a sorcerer. His knowledge and power were a threat to their fragile order. And Aemon... well, he couldn't be trusted. No more than I can be."

A sudden realization struck Caelum. "But you're an Archmaester," he blurted out. "How can you be here if they hate magic so much?"

Marwyn smiled, he shuffled over to the bed and sat down, his eyes never leaving Caelum's face. "Now you're asking the right questions, boy," he smiled at Caelum. "The first step to survival is understanding your enemies. And the second..." He paused, letting the silence hang heavy in the air. "The second is finding allies far more powerful than they are, or growing stronger yourself."

Understanding dawned on Caelum's face. "The Hightowers," he said, the pieces falling into place. "You're close to them, aren't you?"

Marwyn's smile widened, revealing a glint of sharp teeth. "Indeed, boy. Lord Leyton shares my passion for magic, for the secrets the Citadel seeks to bury. It is his coin that keeps this place running, his men who guard the sheep while they sleep." He leaned back against the pillows, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "When threatened by those more powerful than yourself, you have two choices: grow your own power, or find friends who are even more powerful in turn. I've been doing both."

Caelum crossed his arms, a skeptical look on his face. "I don't trust you, Archmaester. But if what you say is true, then perhaps I should seek Lord Hightower's protection myself. He wouldn't let the maesters harm me if I were under his wing."

"Perhaps," Marwyn replied, his smile still in place. "But do you truly wish to be Leyton's pet? He'd lock you up in that tower of his, poke and prod you like some rare insect. Is that the life you envision for yourself? I have no reason to lie to you. If I wanted, your secret could be out by the first light of tomorrow's sun."

Caelum's eyes narrowing in anger. "Who am I supposed to trust, then?" he spat out. "You? You sneak into my room, lurk in the shadows like a common cutthroat, and then expect me to believe your wild stories?"

Marwyn's smile only widened. "Trust me? Of course not, boy. That would be foolish." His tone turned serious. "It took me half a moon to ferret out your secret, and that was with the advantage of my glass candle. Others with similar tools, or perhaps a sharper eye, could easily uncover your truth."

"And what if they do?" Caelum retorted.

"Do you intend to take the maester's vows?" Marwyn asked, his gaze piercing. "The moment you step into the chamber with the Citadel's own glass candles, their magic will flare, and your ruse will be over."

"I never intended to take the vows," Caelum retorted. "I'll learn what I can, then leave and become a knight."

A scoff escaped Marwyn's lips. "A knight? That's your ambition? To swing a sword and play at chivalry? You, with the power of a dragon in your veins, have your sights set on such a... limited dream?"

Caelum met Marwyn's gaze defiantly. "I want to be a knight, to protect the weak and innocent. That's what matters."

Marwyn leaned forward, his voice a low, urgent whisper. "Did you never wonder why the gods, whichever ones you believe in, sent you here? Why they chose this time, this place, to bring you into the world?"

"You said it yourself, prophecies are dangerous, fickle things," Caelum countered. "I don't need destiny. I have magic, and I'll do with it what I believe is right."

Marwyn shook his head, a disappointed sigh escaping his lips. "Do you even know who you are, boy? Why wouldn't you seek the truth of your existence? Prophecies are dangerous only when you obsess over them. Otherwise, they are very much real."

"I don't need to know," Caelum retorted, his voice hardening. "I have the power to make my own choices, to forge my own path."

"And what path is that?" Marwyn pressed. "The path of a knight? A protector of the realm? You could be so much more."

Caelum remained silent, his gaze fixed on the Archmaester's face. He knew Marwyn was trying to manipulate him, to draw him into his web of secrets and schemes.

Marwyn, sensing his hesitation, leaned closer. "Tell me, boy, what do you know of your destiny?"

Caelum met Marwyn's gaze, defiance warring with uncertainty in his eyes. "Why should I tell you anything? I don't trust you."

"Fair enough," Marwyn conceded. "But I am the only one who can help you find that destiny. And you already know what I want in return. Magic is all that I am interested in."

Caelum stared at Marwyn for a long moment, weighing his options.

Then, slowly, he reached for a leather cord hidden beneath his tunic. He pulled out a simple silver bracelet, its centerpiece a shimmering crystal etched with the symbol of a stylized 'S.'

"This is all I have," he said, holding out the bracelet to Marwyn. "It's the only clue the Gods sent with me."

Marwyn's eyes widened as he gazed at the crystal, a flicker of awe in his usually stoic expression. "Fascinating," he murmured, reaching out a trembling hand to touch the shimmering surface. "It radiates with a light of its own, like the star shards from the fallen star…. Its similar, but not the same."

He withdrew his hand, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "I believe... I believe I've seen similar symbols in my travels," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Caelum quickly tucked the bracelet back under his tunic, his heart pounding. "Where?" he asked.

"Many places," Marwyn replied, his eyes distant. "Not exactly the same symbol as this, but similar... at an old temple in the Summer Isles, at the Church of Starry Wisdom in Braavos, at the ruins of the God-King's palace in Ib..." He paused, a shiver running down his spine. "And once, near the edge of Asshai, at the gates of the Great Empire of the Dawn, beneath the Shadow. That's as far as I dared to go. No one goes beneath the Shadow, not without a light of their own."

Caelum's hopes sank. "You've told me nothing," he said, a bitter edge creeping into his voice.

Marwyn leaned forward, his eyes burning with intensity. "Leave the Citadel, boy. Come with me. I've spent eight years in the east, mapping distant lands, searching for lost books, studying with warlocks and shadowbinders. I've learned much, and yet... not enough. To truly understand the mysteries of magic, to bring it back to this world, I must travel beneath the Shadow. And you," he reached out, his hand hovering inches from Caelum's face, "you are the key."

Caelum jerked back, his pulse quickening. "I don't need to travel to Asshai," he retorted. "I have magic here, within me. I can forge my own destiny, right here in Westeros."

Marwyn sighed, "Your vision is limited, boy. You have friends here, yes. But do they truly know you? Do they know the power you hold within youself?"

Caelum's eyes narrowed. "Are you threatening to reveal my secret?"

Marwyn's laughter filled the room once more. "I don't need to, boy. In time, everything will come to light. Your friends will learn the truth of you. And then what? They will fear you, shun you. You will be alone once more, an outcast in a world that doesn't understand you."

"That hasn't happened before," Caelum retorted, his voice gaining a new strength. "I do have friends who know my secret. They don't fear me."

He thought of Luke, his brother in all but blood, and Meredith, the girl who'd become like a sister to him.

They'd seen his magic, his true self, and their bond had only grown stronger.

Marwyn's eyes narrowed. "Friends? Or family, boy? Those are two very different things. Did they rejoice in your magic, embrace it? Or did they beg you to hide it, to keep it locked away like some shameful disease?"

Caelum flinched, a wave of doubt washing over him.

Marwyn's words struck a chord.

Had Luke and Meredith truly accepted his magic, or had they simply learned to tolerate it out of love and loyalty?

"Leave," Caelum whispered, his voice hoarse. "Just... leave."

Marwyn sighed, the fight seeming to drain from him. "Very well, boy. I'll leave you to your illusions." He turned towards the door, his cloak swirling around him like a shroud. But before he left, he paused, he said. "Avoid the Red Temple by the wharf, Caelum Starborne. They've been searching for the 'Bringer of Cataclysm' ever since the Tourney of Harrenhal. Were you involved in that, boy?"

Caelum remained silent, his heart pounding in his chest.

Marwyn shrugged. "Doesn't matter if you tell me. I know you were." He opened the door, a sliver of moonlight illuminating his gaunt features. "Remember, boy, I found your secret in half a moon. If you're not careful, others will too. And the priests of R'hllor may be the first. They have designs for you that you will not like."

With that, he stepped out into the hallway, leaving Caelum alone in the light of the lantern in his room.

Caelum collapsed onto his bed, burying his face in his hands.

The weight of Marwyn's words pressed down on him, a suffocating blanket of doubt and fear.

Was he truly destined for a life of isolation, shunned by those he held dear? He'd had no friends his age at the village, he was too different, too weak, too pitiful then.

Luke and Meredith too had been forced by their Ma's to stay with him in the beginning, and he truly loved them, for they had come to love him regardless. He loved them truly.

Wilas and Garlan didn't know of his magic, and he knew should they have found out, they would have been scared of him, like the Prince's Knights had been that accursed night.

Their family, the Tyrells would try and use him, for their needs, or kill him. He knew that too. Luke had made sure to inform him of that with brutal honesty.

He wondered what Pylos, and Fern would think if they were to find out.

What Yandel and Nerf would think.

He hoped they never did.

He had just made his first friends his age, and he didn't want to lose them because of being different, stronger than they were.

As he lay there, lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts, a soft knock on the door startled him. He quickly sat up.

"Caelum?" A soft voice came from beyond the door.

"Fern?" Caelum questioned.

"Pylos asked me to bring this up for you," Fern said as she opened the door, and walked in holding a plate laden with food.

It was a steaming bowl of stew, a hunk of freshly baked bread, and a small flagon of apple juice.

"Thank you," Caelum murmured.

Fern placed the tray on the bedside table, her eyes scanning his face with concern. "Are you alright?" she asked."You seem troubled."

Caelum forced a smile. "It's nothing," he lied. "Just tired from the day."

Fern didn't seem convinced, but she didn't press the issue. Instead, she sat down on the edge of the bed, her amethyst eyes fixed on the flickering lantern.

Fern tilted her head, her amethyst eyes filled with a gentle concern. "I don't know if I can believe that," she said softly. "I've only known you for a short while, but in that time, you've become more than just a guest at the inn. You've helped us so much, both with your work and your kindness."

She reached out, her hand resting on Caelum's arm. "My father and I, we're here for you, Caelum. If you ever need anything, or just someone to talk to, don't hesitate to ask."

Caelum's heart swelled with a mix of gratitude and guilt. He imagined Fern's reaction if she saw him unleashing the fiery power within him. Would her eyes still hold that same warmth, or would fear and revulsion replace it? The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

"Thank you, Fern," he managed, his voice barely a whisper. "I... I appreciate that."

Fern squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Now, eat up," she said, gesturing towards the food. "You shouldn't skip meals, especially not after a long day at the Citadel. And get some rest. You've got lessons tomorrow."

Caelum nodded, a genuine smile finally gracing his lips.

He hoped she would never find his secret out.

"Caelum," Fern began, her voice hesitant, "would you like to come with me to the Starry Sept on the seventh day? People from all over Oldtown come to pray and seek guidance from the Seven." She paused, her eyes searching his face. "I think... I think it might help you find some peace, whatever's troubling you."

Caelum's smile widened. "I'd like that, Fern. Thank you."

Fern returned his smile, a warmth radiating from her amethyst eyes.

She squeezed his hand once more, then rose to leave. "Get some rest, Caelum," she said softly. "Tomorrow is a new day."

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

(A/N) This is a shorter chapter than usual. I am a little sick.

Marwyn the Mage. He's a conundrum that I've tried to characterize as best I could.

There isn't much in Canon about him, apart from his near obsession with magic itself.

As for Caelum, well he's a 10-year-old boy. And he is insecure about his powers.

Anyway, I've already begun working on chapter 21. I will get it out soon, to make up for the shorter chapter, I plan to make that one very exciting.

Also, I think I should clarify. Because of Caelum's interference, a lot of the timeline of the OG rebellion was pushed back, if that was not clear already.

Should I include dates? I mean, I was planning on writing maester's reports about some of these battles eventually. Some of the major events will obviously be in the main story too, but adding dates to it felt too, idk, weird. I thought it broke the narrative flow for some reason.