Beyond the Veil

The weeks drifted by in much the same way as before, and Celeste found herself sinking back into a familiar boredom. Whispers had begun to spread that Sirius had been seen returning to the Red Keep, but her attempts to uncover the truth yielded nothing, leaving her frustrated and doubtful that fortune was on her side. More than ever, she longed for the ingredients to brew Felix Felicis, remembering how it had brought Harry such remarkable luck during their sixth year.

The kitchens were quieter than usual that afternoon, the midday rush of preparing meals for the lords and ladies had given way to a brief lull, and she’d finished scrubbing the last of the morning pots which gave Celeste the opportunity to sit, and pout over her dumb luck.
Celeste’s eyes flickered to the door as Lyra appeared, her expression pinched.

“You’ve been summoned.” Lyra said, her tone wary.

Celeste frowned, wondering what she’d done. Every pot had been cleaned by hand, no magic involved, as much as it pained her. “Summoned? By who?”

Lyra hesitated, pursing her lips. She wiped her hands on her apron and cleared her throat. “Prince Aegon.” She muttered. “He’s requesting wine, and he wants you to deliver it.”

Celeste felt her jaw clench as a chill ran down her spine. She had heard the rumours - everyone in the keep had. Aegon Targaryen, eldest son of King Viserys, was notorious for his excesses. He was charming, when he wanted to be, but his reputation as a drunken, entitled lecher preceded him. Many maids had left due to his nature, others forced to visit the maester, or do what the modern Muggles described as the walk of shame. Lyra’s tone said it all: this was not an honour.

“Why me?” Celeste asked, her voice low as she absentmindedly fiddled with a piece of thread on her sleeve, a nervous habit she’d picked up the last few weeks.

Lyra shrugged, already turning away. “You’d best not keep him waiting. Just keep your head down and your mouth shut. In and out, quickly.”

Celeste rolled her eyes, biting back a retort and threw her rag down, which landed in the sink with a wet slapping sound. Whilst her encounter with Helaena had been pleasant, her run-in with Aemond soured her views and she had no desire to be anywhere near another Targaryen prince, but refusal wasn’t an option. Whilst it was slow progress to find Sirius, it was progress nonetheless.
Straightening her dress, she took the tray of wine and goblets and made her way to the prince’s chambers.

The door to Aegon’s chambers was slightly ajar, and the sound of muffled laughter and clinking glass spilled into the corridor. 
Celeste squared her shoulders and held her head high, knocking confidently, even as her stomach twisted.

“Enter!” came a slurred voice from within. A far cry from the melodic voice of his sister and wife.

She pushed the door open, stepping inside with the tray balanced carefully. She’d mastered the skill of tray carrying since her meeting with Helaena.
Celeste’s nose wrinkled as she was overcome with the smell of spilled wine and stale perfume. 
Aegon lounged on a chaise near the window, his blonde hair dishevelled and his tunic half-unlaced. He looked up as she entered, his pale eyes narrowing in interest as he smirked.

“Well, well,” he drawled, sitting up slightly. “What have we here?”

Celeste approached cautiously, setting the table on a nearby table trying to keep her distance.” Your wine, my prince.” she said, keeping her voice neutral and her gaze fixed on the goblets.

Aegon chuckled, a lazy, self-satisfied sound. “What’s your name, little mouse?”

Celeste felt her upper lip curl at the insult. She was not a mouse…

“Celeste, my prince.”

“Celeste.” He rolled her name over his tongue, as though tasting is and Celeste felt disgust creep up her spine. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Celeste breathed deeply, calming herself, carefully schooling her expression into a blank canvas. She reached for the jug of wine, pouring the goblet quickly. She straightened and took quick steps, placing the goblet next to Aegon, spinning and moving away as fast as she could get away with.
Before she could move fully out of reach, Aegon’s hand shot out, closing around her wrist. His grip was firm, but not painful, and his grin widened as he pulled her closer.

“No need to rush,” he said, his breath smelling of alcohol. “You’ve got lovely hands. Delicate.”

Celeste’s pulse quickened, a mix of anger and discomfort bubbling beneath her calm exterior. “Thank you, my prince.” She spoke through gritted teeth, her voice clipped. “But I have other duties to attend to.”

“Surely they can wait,” Aegon said, his free hand brushing against her waist, moving into dangerous territories. “Stay, pour us all a drink. Sit with me. Or better yet…” His grin turned wolfish. “Why don’t you let me get a closer look at you?”

Celeste’s eyes blazed as Aegon’s hand cupped her bottom, squeezing lightly. She wrenched her arm free and stepped out of his reach, hand instinctively reaching towards her wand. “I’m just a servant, my prince.” She spat. “I’m not here to entertain, and certainly not to be your whore.”

Aegon laughed, a loud, boisterous sound that had her confused. “Oh, I like you.” he said, leaning back. “Fiesty, and that mouth! But don’t be shy, little mouse. I don’t bite.” His hand darted out again, this time aiming for her breast, and she recoiled instinctively.

“Don’t!” She snapped, her voice sharper and louder than intended. Narcissa Malfoy had taught her well, she thought, as Aegon froze, his hand hovering mid-air, and for a moment, he seemed genuinely surprised.
The room went deathly quiet, the prince’s companions watching the scene awkwardly. Celeste straightened, her stance radiating confidence she certainly didn’t have as her cheeks flushed in fury.

“Let me make myself clear, my prince,” she said sarcastically, her words cutting through the silence like a blade. “I am not some tavern girl for you to paw at. I don’t care if you’re a prince, I don’t care if you’re the Goddamn king. Keep your hands to yourself.”

Aegon blinked at her, stunned into silence. His mouth opened as if to retort, but no words came. Celeste stood still, her eyes blazing with defiance.

When he finally spoke, it was not with anger, which Celeste half expected, but with amusement. “Gods, you’ve got fire,” he said, his grin returning and his compatriots chuckling with him. “I didn’t expect that, and especially not from a servant!”

Celeste resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. She turned on her heels and stormed towards the door, her hands trembling as she clenched them into fists. She could feel his gaze boring holes into her back, but he made no move to stop her. 

As she reached the door, Aegon called after her, his voice tinged with laughter.
“Don’t worry, little mouse. I’ll keep this between us. I wouldn’t want to lose my new favourite servant!”

She didn’t respond, slamming the door behind her as she left. Her heart was pounding, and her anger threatened to spill over as she leaned back against the door.

How dare he? The thought seared through her mind as her fists curled and uncurled, betraying her frustration.

Celeste shut her eyes, hoping for a moment of calm, though it proved to be a mistake. A shadow loomed over her, and she opened them abruptly, her gaze falling on another figure from the royal household.

Queen Alicent Hightower stood tall, her posture regal and composed, though there was a sharpness in her brown eyes that told Celeste she had seen more than most would guess. Her auburn hair was neatly arranged, and the emerald-green gown, a symbol of her Hightower heritage, shimmered faintly in the afternoon sun. 
Alicent’s expression was unreadable, but the tension in her jaw betrayed her displeasure.

Celeste quickly dipped into a low curtsy, averting her gaze from the queen. “Your grace.” she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady.

Alicent didn’t respond immediately. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but laced with steel. “That was quite the display, young lady.”

Celeste winced, punishment possibilities running through her head. “Your Grace, I—”

“Do not insult my intelligence with excuses,” Alicent interrupted, her tone sharp. “I heard everything.”

Celeste’s face burned. “My apologies, Your Grace. I meant no disrespect.”

Alicent’s gaze bore into her, and for a moment, Celeste thought she might be reprimanded—or worse, dismissed from the keep altogether. But then the queen sighed, her expression softening slightly.

“Come with me,” Alicent said, turning on her heel and walking briskly down the corridor. Celeste hesitated for only a moment before following, her mind racing. Was this the end of her time in King’s Landing? Had she ruined everything?

Alicent led Celeste into a small, private sitting room, closing the door behind them. The space was warm and inviting, with soft cushions and a faint scent of lavender in the air. Alicent gestured for Celeste to sit, but Celeste remained standing, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

“You may relax,” Alicent said, her tone softer now. “I am not here to punish you.”

Celeste hesitated, her brow furrowing in confusion, then perched on the edge of a chair, her back straight and her hands still clenched in her lap. Alicent settled into a seat across from her, studying her with an intensity that made Celeste squirm.

“You spoke to my son in a way that few would dare,” Alicent said after a moment. “And you did so without regard for the consequences.”
Celeste opened her mouth to respond, but Alicent held up a hand to stop her. “Do not misunderstand me—I am not here to scold you. In truth, I commend you for defending yourself.”

Celeste blinked, caught off guard. “Your Grace?”

Alicent leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Aegon is… difficult. He is my son, and I love him, but he lacks discipline. Restraint.” She paused, her expression pained. “I have spent years trying to shield this family from the consequences of his actions.”

The queen’s words hung in the air, and Celeste felt a flicker of sympathy for the woman before her. Alicent might be a queen, but she was also a mother, and it was clear that her position brought as much sorrow as it did power.

“You handled him well,” Alicent continued, her gaze softening. “Far better than many would have. Than others in your standing have.”

Celeste swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said finally, her voice quiet. “I only spoke the truth.”

Alicent smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “The truth is often dangerous in this court. You would do well to remember that.”

Celeste nodded, understanding the veiled warning. “I will, Your Grace.”

For a moment, the room was silent. Then Alicent leaned back, regarding Celeste thoughtfully. “You are not like the others who serve in this keep,” she said. “There is a strength in you—a fire. I have seen it before, but rarely.”

Celeste’s breath caught. “I only do what I must,” she said carefully.

Alicent tilted her head, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to peel back the layers of Celeste’s guarded exterior. “Yes,” she said finally. “I imagine you do. What is your name?”

“I am Celeste, your grace.” Celeste was tempted to add her surname. If anyone could help reunite her with Sirius, it was surely the queen, yet she found herself hesitating long enough for the moment to pass.

She stood, smoothing her skirts. “You may go now. But be careful, Celeste. This is a dangerous place for those who do not know how to keep their fire in check.”

Celeste rose and curtsied deeply. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

As she left the sitting room and made her way back to the kitchens, Celeste’s mind swirled with confusion and unease. Alicent’s words had been both a warning and an acknowledgment, and Celeste couldn’t help but wonder what the queen had seen in her to warrant such a reaction.

By the time she returned to the kitchens, Lyra was waiting for her, her arms crossed. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, her voice low. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Celeste replied curtly, grabbing a rag and dunking it into the nearest basin. “Just delivered the wine.”

Lyra’s gaze lingered, but she didn’t press further. Celeste scrubbed the counter furiously, the memory of Aegon’s wandering hands still fresh in her mind. She had come to the Red Keep for one reason—to find Sirius. She couldn’t afford distractions, especially not from a spoiled prince with too much time on his hands.

As the day wore on, she pushed the encounter from her mind. There were bigger battles ahead, and Celeste Black wasn’t about to lose her focus now.