A Lady of the Court
Celeste’s new chambers were filled with the morning sun, highlighting the flurry of activity within.
Celeste sat on a cushioned stool near the window, her fancier emerald gown shimmering in the sunlight. The tailor had delivered on his promise and the gowns that had been commissioned were now hung carefully in the oak wardrobe which stood in the corner of the room.
Two handmaidens bustled around her, carefully styling her hair and applying delicate touches of makeup to accentuate her features. A small table nearby was strewn with brushes, powders, and vials of perfume, the air thick with the faint scent of lavender and rosewater.
Sirius stood a few steps away, arms crossed and watching the process with a mixture of pride and concern. His usually relaxed demeanor was taut with nervous energy, and he paced occasionally, glancing at Celeste as though ensuring she didn’t vanish before his eyes.
“You look stunning,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “But don’t let them see that you know it. Confidence, not vanity. There’s a difference.”
Celeste smirked, tilting her head slightly as one of the maids braided a small section of her hair. “So no twirling in the gown, then?”
“Not unless you want them to write songs about you by tomorrow,” Sirius quipped, though his tone carried a faint edge of seriousness. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Celeste, this is more than just an introduction. These people aren’t your friends—they’re vultures, circling for weakness. You have to give them nothing.”
She raised an eyebrow, holding his gaze in the mirror. “You think I don’t know how to navigate a court? I was raised by the Malfoys, remember?”
Sirius flinched slightly at the mention of her upbringing but recovered quickly. “Yes, and they taught you how to play the game well enough. But this isn’t like back home. The politics here are sharper, the alliances more fragile. One wrong word, one ill-timed glance, and they’ll tear you apart.”
Celeste tilted her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. “You sound like you’re afraid I’ll embarrass you.”
Sirius chuckled, shaking his head. “Not embarrassed. Just… protective. This world isn’t kind, Celeste. It’s not forgiving.”
She reached out, placing a hand over his. “I can handle it, dad. I’ve handled worse.”
He held her gaze for a moment before nodding, his expression softening. “I know you can.”
The handmaidens stepped back, their work finished. Celeste rose from the stool, her gown falling perfectly into place as she turned to face Sirius. Her hair was swept up in an elegant style, with a few loose curls framing her face. Her makeup was subtle but flawless, enhancing her sharp features and the striking silver of her eyes.
Sirius let out a low whistle, his grin returning. “Merlin’s beard, you could make the queen jealous.”
Celeste rolled her eyes, though a faint blush crept up her cheeks. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“Not flattery,” Sirius said, his tone turning serious again. “Truth. You look every inch the lady you were born to be. Now, you just have to act like it.”
“And how exactly am I supposed to do that?” she asked, smoothing the fabric of her gown nervously.
Sirius stepped closer, his voice lowering as he gave her his pointers. “Hold your head high. Always. Don’t let them see you hesitate, even if you feel like you’re drowning.”
Celeste nodded, her expression focused.
“Speak clearly and carefully,” he continued. “Say little, but make every word count. They’ll test you, try to bait you into saying more than you should. Don’t rise to it.”
“Got it,” she said, her tone steady.
“And when I introduce you as my daughter,” Sirius added, his voice softening, “look them in the eye. Let them see that you belong. Because you do, Celeste.”
Her chest tightened at his words, and she gave him a small, grateful smile. “I’ll make you proud.”
“You already have,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He straightened, clearing his throat as he gestured toward the door. “Now, let’s go show them who you are.”
As they walked through the halls of the Red Keep, Sirius’s confidence seemed to radiate from him like a shield. Celeste matched his stride, her heart pounding but her head held high. Servants and courtiers alike stopped to stare, their whispers trailing behind her like a second cloak.
By the time they reached the Throne Room, Celeste felt as though she had donned not just a gown, but an armour of poise and purpose. Sirius gave her one last nod, his expression both reassuring and proud.
“Ready?” he asked.
She took a deep breath, her fingers brushing against the cool silver embroidery of her gown. “Ready.”
Together, they stepped into the hall, their entrance commanding the attention of everyone within. The murmurs grew louder, and Celeste felt the weight of countless eyes on her. But she didn’t falter. She was a Black, and she would make them see it.
The hall was a study in power and tradition. Stone pillars loomed high above, their shadows cutting jagged patterns across the polished floor. The throne, a monstrosity of iron and swords, commanded the room, its presence as oppressive as the air that hung thick with the whispers of the gathered court. Sitting rather comfortably in the throne was Otto Hightower, hand of King Viserys.With Viserys’s health rapidly declining, Otto had now taken over the day-to-day roles and decisions, something he seemed to revel in.
Celeste stood beside Sirius near the far edge of the hall, close enough to the throne to feel the weight of its authority but far enough to remain unnoticed—for now. She kept her hands clasped before her, her posture impeccable as she surveyed the room with calm detachment.
Sirius stood beside her, his hands folded behind his back, his presence a steadying force. His confidence was palpable, a quiet assurance that radiated from him and anchored Celeste in place. They were here for his petition, but the court was already in session, and so they waited, biding their time as the petitions of others unfolded before the gathered nobles.
On the opposite side of the hall, standing near the Iron Throne, were the Targaryens. Alicent Hightower stood composed and regal, her sharp eyes scanning the room with practiced calculation. Aegon slouched against a pillar, an almost dismissive smirk on his lips as he half-listened to the proceedings. Helaena, dreamy as ever, stood quietly beside him, her hands folded in front of her, her gaze distant.
And then there was Aemond.
He stood just behind his mother, his hands clasped behind his back in a posture of military precision. His blue eye roved the room with sharp focus, lingering on each petitioner with an intensity that made even the boldest lords falter. When his gaze finally landed on Celeste, it didn’t waver.
Celeste felt the weight of his stare before she saw him, the intensity of it pulling her attention like a magnet. When she turned her head, her eyes met his, and the air between them seemed to crackle. His gaze was piercing, calculating, as though he were trying to peel back the layers of her secrets with a single look.
She raised an eyebrow, a faint smile curving her lips. Her smirk was subtle but deliberate, a quiet acknowledgment that she saw his scrutiny and welcomed it.
Aemond’s jaw tightened slightly, his expression remaining neutral, though there was a flicker of something behind his eye—curiosity, perhaps, or annoyance. Gone was the meek serving girl who had refused to meet his eye that day in the hallway. He was now seeing Celeste in all her glory, her confidence shining. Celeste’s smirk widened almost imperceptibly, and she tilted her chin ever so slightly, as if daring him to keep looking.
And he did.
The exchange lasted only a few moments, but it felt far longer, the hum of the court’s activity fading into the background. Aemond’s sharp gaze never left hers, and Celeste refused to look away, the challenge between them silent but undeniable.
Sirius leaned closer, his voice low enough that only she could hear, a hint of warning in his tone. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” she replied lightly, still holding Aemond’s gaze. “Just making friends.”
Sirius sighed, eyeing Aemond inconspicuously. “Try not to make enemies before you’re even introduced.”
“Too late for that.” She murmured, finally breaking the stare, turning her attention back to the hall. “Besides, he started it.”
Sirius simply rolled his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation as he turned his focus back to Otto, a man he never could find himself to like.
The petitions droned on, one after another: disputes over land, requests for royal favors, minor grievances that seemed to carry more weight than they warranted. Celeste kept her expression neutral, though she could feel the undercurrents of tension in the room. Every word spoken carried layers of meaning, alliances and rivalries playing out in veiled threats and polite smiles.
But even as she listened, she could feel Aemond’s gaze flick back to her intermittently, as if he couldn’t quite help himself. It wasn’t the lingering look of curiosity she had grown accustomed to from others. His stare was sharper, more deliberate, and it sent a thrill of both unease and exhilaration through her.
Helaena leaned toward Aemond, her voice soft but audible enough for Celeste to catch. “The green thread twines with silver,” she murmured. “Twisting. Binding. Fire and shadow.”
Aemond’s expression didn’t change, but his lips pressed into a faint line, his gaze darting briefly to his sister before returning to Celeste. Alicent’s sharp eyes flicked toward them, but she said nothing, her attention returning quickly to the petitioner before her.
Celeste’s smirk returned, this time tinged with genuine amusement. The court was a game, and she was learning the rules. If Aemond wanted to study her, she would give him something to study. If he wanted to play, she would play.
Finally, the herald’s voice rang out, announcing Sirius’s turn to present his petition. The hall fell quiet as Sirius stepped forward, his movements measured and deliberate. Celeste followed a step behind, her heart pounding but her expression calm. This was the moment they had prepared for—the moment she would step into the light and claim her place.
As they approached the throne, the whispers began. She could feel the eyes of the court on her, their curiosity and speculation hanging heavy in the air. Aemond’s gaze, steady and unrelenting, burned the brightest of them all.
When they reached the centre of the hall, Sirius bowed deeply, his voice carrying clear and strong as he addressed the king. “Your Grace, lords and ladies of the court, I come before you today not only to serve but to present someone of great importance.”
Celeste held her breath, her smirk fading into a calm, composed expression. The moment she had been waiting for was here.
“This is my daughter,” Sirius said, his voice filled with quiet pride. “Celeste Lyra Black.”
The room fell into stunned silence, the weight of his words crashing over the assembled court like a wave. Celeste met their gazes evenly, her chin lifted and her silver-grey eyes steady.
The silence in the hall stretched, heavy and charged, as the courtiers absorbed Sirius’s declaration. Celeste stood tall beside him, the faint murmur of whispers rippling through the crowd like the shifting of restless waves. Her hands rested lightly at her sides, her emerald gown shimmering faintly in the torchlight. She could feel their gazes crawling over her—some curious, others sceptical, and a few openly hostile. But she didn’t flinch.
Otto rose from his seat on the Iron Throne, surveying Sirius and Celeste with a calculating gaze, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts.
“Lord Black,” Otto said, his voice calm but edged with authority, “this is a… surprising revelation. You come before this court claiming a daughter who, to my knowledge, has not been mentioned before. This raises many questions.”
Sirius inclined his head, his demeanour respectful but firm. “I understand, Lord Hand. I expected as much. But the truth remains: Celeste is my daughter by blood, and I bring her here today to introduce her to the court as such.”
Otto’s gaze flicked to Celeste, lingering for a moment before he spoke again. “A bold claim. Perhaps you might elaborate on her parentage, Lord Black. Who is her mother, and why has her existence been kept a secret until now?”
Sirius’s jaw tightened, but his tone remained measured. “Her mother died when she was young, and I… was unable to care for her myself during her childhood. She was placed in the care of a noble family, one capable of raising her with the education and grace befitting her station.”
Celeste noted the subtle murmurs spreading through the crowd at his carefully chosen words. Not a lie, but far from the whole truth.
Otto’s gaze flicked back to her, studying her intently. “And which noble family provided for your upbringing, Lady Celeste?”
Celeste took a step forward, her voice steady as she answered. “The Malfoys, of the Westerlands, my lord.” She chose her words carefully, adapting her background to suit the context of this world. “They ensured I received an education befitting a lady, including courtly manners, history, and languages.”
“Impressive,” Otto said, though his tone remained neutral. “And yet, you have remained hidden all these years. Why reveal yourself now?”
Sirius stepped in, his voice firm. “Because the time has come for her to take her rightful place at my side. She is my daughter, my blood, and I will not allow her to remain in obscurity any longer.”
The murmur of the court grew louder at his declaration, but Otto held up a hand, silencing them. His eyes narrowed slightly, his sharp mind clearly turning over the implications. “And what claim does she bring with her, beyond her name? What value does she add to this court?”
Celeste felt the weight of his question, but Sirius gave her a slight nod, a silent cue to speak for herself. She straightened her shoulders, meeting Otto’s gaze directly.
“I bring loyalty, my lord,” she said, her voice calm but resolute. “To my father, to this court, and to the crown. My education has prepared me for the intricacies of politics, diplomacy, and negotiation. But more importantly, I bring my unwavering commitment to the alliances my father has forged and the trust he has earned.”
Her words hung in the air for a moment, the court seemingly caught off guard by her composure and eloquence. Aemond’s gaze burned into her from across the hall, but she refused to glance his way, keeping her focus on Otto.
The Hand regarded her silently for a moment before nodding slightly. “You speak well, Lady Celeste,” he said, his tone carrying a faint edge of approval. “But words alone do not earn a place in this court. Loyalty must be proven.”
Sirius stepped forward again, his voice cutting through the tension. “And prove it she will. But today is not about demands—it is about acknowledgment. She is my daughter, and that is not something to be debated.”
Otto’s expression remained unreadable, but he inclined his head slightly. “Very well, Lord Sirius. Let the court recognize Lady Celeste Lyra Black as your daughter and heir.”
The murmurs in the room rose to a crescendo, the lords and ladies exchanging glances and whispers as they absorbed the announcement. Celeste stood tall, her chin lifted as she met their scrutiny with unwavering poise. She had been raised for moments like this, and she would not falter.
From the opposite side of the hall, Aemond continued to study her, his sharp gaze never leaving her face. Helaena leaned closer to him, her voice soft and sing-song as she murmured, “The green thread and the silver. Fire and shadow. Twisting, binding.”
Aemond’s jaw tightened, his gaze flicking briefly to his sister before returning to Celeste. “She’s hiding something,” he muttered under his breath.
“Everyone hides something,” Helaena replied, her tone distant but knowing. “But not everything stays hidden forever.”
Aemond’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eye narrowing slightly. Who are you, Celeste Black? And what game are you playing?
As the court began to settle once more, Celeste turned her head ever so slightly, catching Aemond’s gaze. Her lips curved into the faintest hint of a smirk, and for the first time, Aemond felt the stirrings of unease.
The game had only just begun.