It began as a stick.
At least, that’s what the smallfolk thought when they first saw the young bastard of Runestone hurl one into the sea.
The boy had been seen often near the cliffs, whittling away at bits of wood.
The maester said he’d taken an interest in carpentry after asking for books about the craft.
The servants whispered that it was another of his strange fascinations... like the old runes or the dead tongues he read aloud to himself.
Lady Rhea only smiled when asked, saying her son was simply curious.
But one morning, as the mists rolled in from the surroundings, the boy threw his odd and bent stick over the waters... and the stick actually ca back.
It wasn’t just a trick of the wind, though many thought it at first.
He threw again... farther this ti... and once more, the wooden curve circled in the air and spun straight back into his hand.
The smallfolk gathered along the port walls gasped, clasping themselves and muttering prayers.
“Witchcraft.” Soone whispered.
“Magic.” Said another.
“Clever hands.” Said an onlooking wise man, squinting hard to make sense of it.
In any case, word spread fast.
The bastard boy had made a toy that defied reason. A stick that returned to its master.
He called it a "boorang", a na no one had ever heard before.
Before long, half the children of Runestone wanted one.
Ronan Stone perhaps felt generous and showed many how to shape the wood and bend it just right.
So he carved himself for the children he knew... the sons of knights and relatives he knew of House Royce..
Others he left to the wood craftsn of Runestone lands, who began copying his multitude of designs... encouraging them to make changes to its size and color.
So... the wood-chipping smallfolk began to trade them, paint them when they have dye, race them across the wind.
Fishern swore by them for practice throwing nets... and grown n used them for fun in their idle hours.
Even the maester wrote a small scroll describing the toy’s flight... calling it a study in balance and force unseen in any Westerosi design.
He sent his notes to the Citadel, hoping the archmaesters might take notice.
They did... and the 'boorang of Runestone' was recorded in the annals as a new curiosity of the Vale...
A toy born from the hands of a boy too young, by rights, to craft anything so precise and marvelous.
Of course, there were doubters.
rchants from Gulltown claid they’d seen sothing similar across the Narrow Sea.
A sellsword swore the Sumr Islanders had such toys for sport.
Even a maester from the Arbor argued that such a thing must have co from Essos, not the Vale.
A few muttered darker things... that the toy moved by unseen power, that the bastard boy’s cursed blood gave the wood its life.
Lady Rhea heard those whispers and worried.
For a short while, she even wondered if the toy was touched by the sa force that made his runes shimr.
But after hearing her son explain the craft... the shape, the curve, the air... she was at ease.
No spells. No fire. Just thought and diligence.
Still, she made him promise to keep quiet about how easily it ca to him.
“The world fears what it cannot understand.” She reminded the boy. “Let them think it’s skill and ingenuity, and you’ll be safe.”
However, the craze didn’t stop there.
Traders carried the boorangs farther west, then south, until they reached the courts of other lords.
Nobles in the Reach and the Riverlands bought them for their children. The little maiden of the Eyrie herself was said to have one, gifted from Runestone as a curiosity.
Even King’s Landing heard of it.
When the tale reached the Red Keep, King Viserys reportedly chuckled and a seed of doubt lingered in his head.
All the while that his daughter, the young Princess Rhaenyra, was said to have begged for one and spent an afternoon throwing it across the gardens until her septa made her stop.
As for Daemon Targaryen, when he heard it was his wife's bastard’s invention... he actually smirked. None knowing what it truly ant.
On the other hand, Rhea never cared for their thoughts.
She just saw what they could not... that in her son’s hands, even a bit of carved wood could beco sothing wondrous.
And in the quiet evenings of Runestone, she watched him throw that first boorang again and again... catching it clean each ti, smiling faintly as it spun back through the salt air.
Mastering it quick into sothing that was more than his toy. Maybe even a weapon.
For most, it really might just be his toy.
But for her, it was proof.
That her son could make things return.
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