Threads of Connection
Celeste got back to work as she filled Lyra in on what had happened outside of Aegon’s chambers.
She’d been badgered by the woman to spill what had been bothering her, and Celeste had given in. Truthfully, the woman was more persistent than Pansy when she pestered Celeste all through second-year on helping her secure a date with Draco/
Celeste kept her voice low as she spoke. “She overheard me shouting at Aegon.”
Lyra let out a low whistle. “And yet, here you are, still breathing. A miracle.”
“She wasn’t angry,” Celeste said, though her tone was uncertain. “At least, not with me. She warned me to be careful.”
“Wise advice.” Lyra agreed. “This keep is a nest of vipers. You tread carefully, or you’ll get bitten.”
Celeste nodded, but before she could respond, a sharp voice cut through the air. “Celeste! A word.”
Celeste turned to see one of the higher-ranking stewards standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and his expression stern. She set down her knife and wiped her hands on her apron before hurrying over.
“Yes, sir?” she asked, keeping her tone neutral.
“You’re being reassigned for the afternoon,” he said brusquely. “The princess requires assistance in her chambers.”
“Helaena?” Celeste asked before she could stop herself.
The steward gave her a withering look. “You will address her as Princess Helaena,” he snapped. “And yes. She’s requested additional help with her embroidery preparations. Go now.”
Celeste nodded quickly and hurried out of the kitchens, her mind racing. She hadn’t expected to see Helaena again so soon, but the prospect of being in her company was strangely comforting. There was something about the princess’s dreamy demeanor that felt almost safe, a stark contrast to the volatile personalities of her brothers.
When Celeste arrived at Helaena’s chambers, the door was slightly ajar. She knocked softly before entering, stepping into the sunlit room. Helaena was seated by the window, a basket of brightly coloured threads at her feet and an unfinished embroidery hoop in her lap. She looked up as Celeste entered, her expression brightening.
“Oh, it’s you,” Helaena said with a soft smile. “I was hoping they’d send someone familiar.”
Celeste dipped into a curtsy. “How can I assist you, my lady?”
Helaena gestured to the table beside her, where several spools of thread were tangled together in a colorful mess. “I need help sorting these. They’ve become quite unruly.”
Celeste moved to the table and began untangling the threads, her fingers deftly working through the knots. Helaena watched her for a moment before speaking again, her tone thoughtful.
“You’re different,” she said softly.
Celeste glanced up, startled. “My lady?”
“You’re not like the others here,” Helaena said, her eyes meeting Celeste’s. “You don’t belong in the kitchens.”
Celeste hesitated, unsure how to respond. “I… I’m just a servant, my lady,” she said carefully.
Helaena tilted her head, studying her. “No, you’re more than that. I see it in your eyes. There’s a story behind them.”
Celeste forced a small smile. “Everyone has a story, my lady.”
Helaena returned the smile, but there was a knowing look in her eyes that made Celeste feel exposed. “Yes,” she said, her voice dreamy again. “But yours is still unfolding. Like a tapestry with its edges unfinished.”
The words sent a shiver down Celeste’s spine. Helaena had a way of speaking that felt both comforting and disconcerting, as though she were peeling back layers of reality that Celeste herself didn’t fully understand.
They worked in companionable silence for a time, Celeste untangling threads while Helaena added delicate stitches to her embroidery. The princess’s focus on her work was almost hypnotic, her fingers moving with a grace and precision that Celeste couldn’t help but admire.
As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Helaena set her embroidery aside and looked at Celeste with a sudden intensity. “You’re looking for something, aren’t you?” she asked.
Celeste’s hands paused mid-motion, her heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean, my lady?”
Helaena’s gaze was faraway, her voice soft. “You’re searching for someone. Someone important. Someone who feels… lost.”
Celeste swallowed hard, her throat tightening. “How do you—”
“I see things,” Helaena said, cutting her off. “In dreams. In moments. I can’t always explain them, but they’re there, like shadows at the edge of a flame.”
Celeste’s breath hitched. The urge to confide in Helaena was overwhelming, but the rational part of her mind screamed against it. This world wasn’t her own, and trust was a dangerous gamble.
Instead, she forced a polite smile and said, “You’re very perceptive, my lady.”
Helaena tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “Perception is a gift and a burden,” she said. “I hope yours serves you well.”
Celeste continued working silently, her fingers deftly untangling the mess of threads on the table. Helaena’s needle moved gracefully over the fabric, the faint glint of light catching on the intricate dragon she was embroidering, the same one as she was working on when they first met, though it had come along drastically since Celeste had last seen it. The soft scratching of the thread against the hoop filled the room, blending with the warm sunset which started to dim the room.
“I enjoy embroidery,” Helaena said suddenly, breaking the quiet. Her voice was soft and melodic, like a stream running over smooth stones. “It’s steady. Predictable. Every stitch has a purpose.”
Celeste glanced up, surprised by the break in silence. “It’s beautiful work. The detail is… extraordinary.”
Helaena’s lips curved into a small smile. “Thank you. My mother says it keeps my mind sharp, but really, I think it helps me escape.” She paused, her gaze faraway again. “The world outside these walls is loud. Messy. People lie, betray, and fight. But here…” She gestured to her embroidery. “Here, everything makes sense.”
Celeste nodded, unsure what to say. There was a vulnerability in Helaena’s words that felt too intimate to disturb. Instead, she turned back to the tangled threads, carefully pulling apart a particularly stubborn knot.
“And you?” Helaena asked after a moment. “Do you have anything that brings you peace?”
The question caught Celeste off guard. She hesitated, her fingers pausing on the threads. “I… suppose I haven’t had much time to think about that, my lady.”
Helaena’s needle stilled, and she looked at Celeste with those piercing violet eyes. “You’ve had a hard life, haven’t you?”
Celeste’s breath hitched. “I—” She hesitated, then forced a small smile. “Everyone has their struggles, my lady.”
Helaena didn’t press further, but the knowing look in her eyes made Celeste’s stomach churn. There was something unsettling about how Helaena seemed to see through her, as though peeling back the layers Celeste had spent years building around herself.
It had been so long since Celeste had truly allowed herself to be vulnerable with anyone, the walls she’d placed around her were thick and she couldn’t be sure how to let them down, as much as she wished to.
For a while, they worked in silence again. Celeste was almost finished sorting the threads when Helaena spoke once more, her voice soft and thoughtful.
“Do you believe in destiny, Celeste?”
The question was unexpected, and Celeste looked up, her brow furrowing. “Destiny?”
Helaena nodded, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her embroidery hoop. “Some people say our fates are written in the stars. Others say we forge our own paths. I’m not sure which I believe.” She tilted her head, her gaze faraway. “Sometimes, it feels like the world is a great tapestry, and we’re all just threads being woven together. Each of us has a place, a purpose, even if we can’t see it.”
Celeste considered her words, the metaphor of the tapestry lingering in her mind. “Perhaps it’s both,” she said after a moment. “Perhaps the stars guide us, but we still have to choose how to follow them.”
Helaena smiled faintly. “A thoughtful answer. I think I like that.”
Celeste felt a flicker of warmth at the princess’s approval, though she didn’t fully understand why. Helaena returned to her embroidery, the rhythmic motion of her needle creating a strange sort of calm in the room.
After a while, Helaena spoke again, her tone quieter this time. “Do you ever feel like you’re being watched?”
Celeste froze, her heart skipping a beat. “Watched?” she echoed, trying to keep her voice steady.
Helaena nodded, her gaze still fixed on her work. “Not by people. By… something else. Something unseen.”
The words sent a shiver down Celeste’s spine. She thought of the Veil, of the whispers she had heard in the moments before stepping through it. “I’m not sure I understand, my lady,” she said carefully.
Helaena glanced at her, her expression serene but curious. “I think you do.”
The statement hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Celeste didn’t know how to respond, so she turned back to the threads, her fingers working faster now as she tried to distract herself from the growing unease in her chest.
Helaena didn’t press further, but her gaze lingered on Celeste for a moment longer before returning to her embroidery. The silence that followed was no longer peaceful; it was charged, as though the room itself was holding its breath.
When Celeste finally finished sorting the threads, she set them neatly on the table and stood. “Is there anything else I can assist you with, my lady?”
Helaena looked up, her smile soft and kind. “No, you’ve done more than enough. Thank you, Celeste.”
Celeste curtsied, her movements stiff. “It’s been an honour.”
As she turned to leave, Helaena’s voice stopped her. “Celeste?”
She glanced back, her pulse quickening. “Yes, my lady?”
Helaena tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “You have the eyes of someone who’s seen the stars from the other side.”
The cryptic statement sent a chill down Celeste’s spine. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. Instead, she gave a slight nod and hurried out of the room, her mind racing.
Celeste closed the door gently behind her as she stepped out into the corridor, which was quiet, the sounds of the bustling Red Keep muffled behind thick stone walls. Celeste walked briskly, her thoughts swirling with the princess’s strange words.
You have the eyes of someone who’s seen the stars from the other side.
Celeste had noticed fairly quickly how different the constellations here were. No longer could she point out Orion, Cassiopeia or the Big dipper. Instead, the stars were foreign, and part of her yearned to learn about these stars, but life had gotten in the way.
She was so lost in thought, that she nearly missed him.
Rounding a corner, she caught sight of a figure at the far end of the corridor. Her heart stopped, her breath catching in her throat as she froze in place. It can’t be.
But it was. There, not far from her, stood the reason she was here. Someone she had thought she would never see again. The man who had haunted her every waking moment since he fell through the Veil.
Sirius Black. Her father.
He stood with a small group of courtiers, his head tilted back as he laughed at something one of them had said. The sound didn’t carry to her, but she could imagine it - rich and carefree, the way it had been when he would tease her in her teenage years, or tell stories of his mischief at Hogwarts.
Celeste’s feet felt rooted to the ground as her eyes roamed over him, taking in every detail. His hair was longer now, falling just past his shoulders in dark waves, streaked with more silver than before. He looked older, the years since she had seen him etched faintly into the lines around his eyes and mouth. But his eyes - they were the same. Bright, sharp and alive in a way that made her chest ache.
The Sirius she remembered had always been a storm, wild and unpredictable, but there was something different about him now. He stood taller, his posture more measured, as though the weight of the world had finally settled on his shoulders. His clothes were finer than anything she’d ever seen him wear - dark tailored tunics trimmed with gold, and a cloak fastened with an ornate clasp which reminded her of the Gryffindor crest.
Yet, despite the trappings of his new life, there was an ease to his movements that reminded her of the man she had known. He still exuded that magnetic charm, the kind that drew people to him without effort. The courtiers around him hung on his every word, their laughter echoing softly down the corridor.
Celeste wanted to run to him, to call his name, to close the distance that had stretched between them for so long. Her fingers twitched at her sides, itching to reach out, but her feet refused to move. Not here. Not now.
Her mind raced with questions. Did he know she was here? Had he felt her presence, the way she had always felt his? The ache in her chest deepened as she realized how close he was, and yet how far away. This wasn’t the reunion she had imagined.
As if sensing her gaze, Sirius glanced down the corridor in her direction. Celeste’s breath caught, and for a fleeting moment, she thought their eyes might meet. But one of the courtiers said something, drawing his attention back to the group, and the moment passed.
Her fingers twitched at her sides, the urge to call out to him nearly overwhelming. Dad, it’s me. I’m here. The words burned in her throat, but they wouldn’t come. She stood frozen, her body locked in place by an invisible force—fear, shock, or perhaps something she couldn’t name.
Celeste clenched her fists, desperate to run to him, yet her feet stayed rooted where they were. Her throat felt tight, her voice caught somewhere deep inside her
Would he even recognize me? Would he still care?
Minutes passed like hours as she watched him. She didn’t know how long she stood there, her eyes fixed on him as though he might disappear if she looked away. The courtiers around him shifted, their voices mingling with faint echoes in the corridor, but Sirius remained a fixed point in her vision, an anchor to a world that felt both familiar and impossibly distant.
When he finally turned to leave, his cloak swaying behind him, the ache in her chest became unbearable. He was walking away, and still, she couldn’t move. Her feet felt nailed to the ground, her body heavy with the weight of all the years and miles that had separated them.
As he disappeared around a corner, the spell seemed to break. Her knees wobbled, and she reached out to steady herself against the wall. The cold stone beneath her hand was a sharp reminder that she was still here, still in this world that wasn’t her own, and Sirius… Sirius was somewhere she couldn’t yet reach.
Tears stung her eyes, but she forced them back, swallowing the lump in her throat. The moment had passed, and she had let it slip through her fingers. She hated herself for her hesitation, for the fear that had kept her rooted in place. But more than that, she hated the distance that still stretched between them, even when he was so close.
With a shaky breath, she straightened, her resolve hardening. She would see him again. She had crossed the Veil for him, risked everything to find him, and she wasn’t going to let fear stop her now.
But as she made her way back to the kitchens, her steps slow and unsteady, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered a question she couldn’t ignore: Would he still be the Sirius she had known? Or had this world changed him in ways she couldn’t yet understand?
The thought sent a fresh wave of uncertainty through her, but she pushed it aside. It doesn’t matter, she told herself. I came here to find him. I’ll figure out the rest when the time comes.
For now, all she could do was wait. And hope.