Beyond the Veil

The grand hall of the Red Keep was a sea of anticipation, its air taut with the unsaid. Lords and ladies thronged the gallery, their hushed murmurs swirling like restless winds as they awaited the spectacle that was about to unfold. At the centre of the room, unwavering and proud, stood Vaemond Velaryon. His sharp features were carved with determination, his presence formidable despite the charged tension that rippled through the space.

Celeste stood with Sirius beside Alicent and her children, their vantage point offering a clear view of the Iron Throne. King Viserys was absent, and Otto Hightower presided in his stead as Hand of the King. His calculating gaze swept over the assembly, his aura of authority steady amidst the brewing storm.

Celeste exchanged a warm smile with Helaena, who returned it with a shy nod. Sirius, standing slightly behind Celeste, leaned in and whispered, his tone sharp with insight. “This isn’t just about Driftmark. Watch closely—alliances, power plays, and perceptions are being forged with every word.”

Celeste nodded, her gaze fixed on the unfolding proceedings. Years of navigating courtly intrigue had taught her that this was no mere succession dispute—it was a battle of loyalty, legacy, and power.

Otto raised his hand, commanding silence. His voice rang out, authoritative and detached. “Lords and Ladies of the Courts. Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velargyon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters. The crown will now hear the petitions.” He seated himself on the Iron Throne, his expression one of practiced indifference. “Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon”

Vaemond approached, his voice resounding with conviction. He glanced at Alicent with measured respect before addressing Otto. “The noble history of our Houses traces back to Old Valyria itself,” he began, launching into a speech that resonated with pride and grievance.

Celeste’s attention drifted. Her gaze fell on Helaena, who was transfixed by a small, fuzzy insect perched on her hand. When Helaena extended it to her, Celeste declined with a gentle smile but leaned closer, indulging the princess in a quiet exchange that muted the surrounding political theatre.

Their moment was interrupted as the heavy doors creaked open, revealing the frail figure of King Viserys. The room fell silent as he hobbled in, his every step laborious. All eyes followed his slow journey toward the throne.

Sirius moved instinctively, stepping forward alongside Daemon as Viserys faltered. When Daemon reached to assist, Sirius stepped back, murmuring an incantation under his breath. Celeste caught his words—an incantation of stamina, cast wandlessly to lend the king strength.

Viserys, bolstered slightly, addressed the court with measured breaths. “I must… admit my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’s wishes… is the Princess Rhaenys.”

All eyes turned to Rhaenys, her presence a study in regal poise which reminded Celeste greatly of Narcissa. She spoke with quiet authority. “It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son, Lucerys Velaryon.” The boy’s startled expression tugged at Celeste’s heart, a pang of empathy stirring within her.

“His mind never changed,” Rhaenyra continued. “nor did my support of him. In fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’s granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.” 

Celeste winced inwardly, the tradition of intermarriage unsettling her as memories of Pure-Blood customs from her homeland surfaced. Yet, she held her tongue, her expression carefully neutral.

Viserys declared, “Well, the matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne and the next Lord of the Tides.”

Vaemond’s defiance shattered the air. “You break law and tradition to install your daughter as heir, yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.”

“Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.” Viserys warned, his voice strained but firm.

Vaemond, emboldened, lashed out. “That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine!”

Celeste’s hand tightened on Helaena’s arm as the princess clutched her hand in return, their silent bond a shield against the storm of tension.

“Lucerys is my true-born grandson,” Viserys interjected, his voice heavy with warning. “And you are no more than the second son of Driftmark.”

Vaemond’s face twisted in defiance, his tone sharp as he retorted, “You may run your House as you see fit, but you will not dictate the future of mine. My House survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And Gods be damned I will not see it ended on the account of this…”

He hesitated, his words hanging in the air. Celeste watched as his internal struggle played out, his indecision palpable. Her breath caught when she saw resolve harden in his expression, spurred on by Daemon’s silent provocation. The Rogue Prince’s smirk was as much a challenge as it was an invitation to chaos.

Vaemond’s voice dropped, his words deliberate and cutting. “Her children… are bastards!”

The accusation thundered through the hall, echoing off stone walls. Celeste let out a groan, bracing for what she knew would follow. Behind her, Sirius tensed, his hand instinctively reaching for his belt. She wasn’t sure if it was for his sword or his wand.

Viserys leaned forward on his throne, his frail body vibrating with suppressed fury. Across the hall, Alicent’s carefully composed mask slipped for a moment, a flicker of worry crossing her face. Aegon muffled a laugh behind his hand, while Aemond made no effort to hide his amusement. His one good eye gleamed with dark satisfaction, a smirk playing on his lips as he tilted his head slightly, as though savouring the spectacle.

“And she,” Vaemond continued, his voice now a venomous hiss, “is a whore.”

The words sent a collective gasp rippling through the audience, the scandalous accusation shocking even the most jaded lords and ladies. At Celeste’s side, Helaena whimpered softly, her fingers tightening around Celeste’s hand in a vice grip, her nails digging painfully into her skin. Celeste said nothing, focusing instead on steadying the princess as the hall erupted into stunned silence.

Viserys rose from his throne, his presence still commanding despite his frailty. “I will have your tongue for that,” he rasped, pulling a blade from its scabbard.

Before the king could act, Daemon moved with deadly precision. Dark Sister sliced through the air, silencing Vaemond forever. Gasps echoed as Vaemond’s head rolled, halting mere feet from Celeste. She stepped protectively in front of Helaena, shielding her from the grotesque sight.

Daemon’s voice broke the stunned silence. “He can keep his tongue.”

The hall was frozen, its occupants caught between horror and awe. Celeste’s gaze lingered on the lifeless body, her expression a mask of control. She’d seen worse—but the haunted flicker in her eyes betrayed the memories that rose unbidden.

Aemond, standing nearby, watched her with quiet intrigue. The soldier’s stoicism in her eyes, the protectiveness in her stance—it fascinated him. Yet, for now, he remained silent, a sentinel shielding his family from the aftershock of Daemon’s brutal justice.

Celeste acted quickly, keeping Helaena tucked into her side as she guided her towards the entrance of the hall. Alicent, noticing the movement, followed quickly, her sharp eyes scanning the room for further threats as she moved to her daughter’s side.

“Lady Celeste,” Alicent said, her tone brisk but grateful, “take her to her chambers. I’ll join you shortly.”

Celeste nodded, her grip on Helaena firm but gently as she led the princess out of the hall. She could feel Helaena trembling slightly under her touch, and she quickened her pace, eager to put as much distance as possible between them and the scene of the execution.

As they finally found themselves out of the halls, Celeste’s eyes met Sirius’s who was following a few paces behind. His expression was grim, but his eyes were shadowed with understanding. He nodded at Celeste as she led the Princess towards her chambers, knowing she required comfort. 

Helaena’s chambers were quiet and serene, a stark contrast to the horror they had just left behind. The soft glow of the late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting warm light over the delicate tapestries and polished furniture. Celeste guided Helaena to a cushioned chair near the hearth and knelt in front of her, her expression calm but concerned.

“Breathe,” Celeste said softly, taking Helaena’s hands in hers. “You’re safe now.”

Helaena nodded, her breaths coming shallow and fast as she struggled to process what she had seen. “It was so… sudden,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “So much blood.”

Celeste frowned, realising she had seen more than first thought. Celeste squeezed her hands gently, her voice soothing. “I know. But you don’t need to think about that now. Just focus on the present.”

The door opened, and Alicent entered, her expression a mixture of relief and frustration. She crossed the room in a few quick steps, kneeling beside her daughter and placing a hand on her cheek. “Helaena, are you all right?”

Helaena nodded again, though her eyes were still glassy. “I didn’t—I didn’t know what to do.”

“There was nothing to do,” Alicent said firmly, brushing a strand of silver hair away from her daughter’s face. “Daemon Targaryen is a monster, and he took it upon himself to settle the matter in his own way.”

Celeste stood, stepping back to give them space. “She shouldn’t have had to see that,” she said quietly, her tone laced with a hint of anger.

Alicent glanced up at her, her sharp gaze softening. “No, she shouldn’t have. Thank you for bringing her here.”

Celeste inclined her head, her expression neutral. “It was the least I could do.”

Helaena shifted in her chair, her voice still faint but more composed. “Mother, why does it always have to be like this? Blood and violence… is it always the way?”

Alicent sighed, her own weariness evident in the lines of her face. “It shouldn’t be,” she said quietly. “But the world is cruel, my love, especially for those in power. You must remain strong, no matter what you see or hear.”

Helaena nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to her lap. “I’ll try.”

Alicent pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead before standing and turning to Celeste. “Thank you again,” she said, her voice steady. “If you’ll excuse us, I’d like to spend some time with Helaena.”

“Of course,” Celeste replied, her tone polite but firm. She hesitated for a moment before adding, “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call on me.”

Alicent nodded, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. “You’ve already done more than enough.”

Celeste bowed her head slightly before turning to leave. As she stepped out into the corridor, the weight of the day’s events settled heavily on her shoulders. 

Celeste was settled in her chambers after the events of the day, the warm glow of lit candles lighting the darkest shadows of the room as she sat at her desk, her quill in hand as she wrote down the events of the day in Barnabas’s diary which she’d now claimed as her own.

A sharp knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. Celeste set the quill down and smoothed her night coat down before crossing the room. When she opened the door, she found herself face-to-face with the Queen.

“Your Grace,” Celeste said, quickly dipping into a graceful curtsy. “To what do I owe this honour? Is the Princess alright?”

Alicent offered a faint smile, her hands clasped in front of her. She was composed as always, though there was a softness to her expression that Celeste hadn’t seen before. “She is fine. May I come in?”

“Of course.” Celeste stepped aside, gesturing for Alicent to enter.

The queen moved into the room with quiet elegance, her gaze briefly scanning the space before settling on Celeste.

“I wanted to speak with you,” Alicent began, her voice steady but carrying a note of warmth. “About Helaena.”

Celeste’s brow furrowed, worry showing on her features. “How is she? She seemed… shaken earlier.”

“She’s resting now,” Alicent said, taking a seat in one of the cushioned chairs near the hearth. “But today was a harsh reminder of the world she’s forced to navigate. Helaena is gentle by nature, and court life often overwhelms her. I try to shield her from the worst of it, but…” She trailed off, a flicker of frustration crossing her face. “There’s only so much I can do.”

Celeste moved to sit across from her, her hands resting lightly in her lap. “She’s kind, Your Grace. That much was clear even when I was serving her. The court could use more of that.”

Alicent smiled faintly, though her gaze was distant. “Kindness can be a burden in a place like this. It makes one vulnerable. Helaena needs someone by her side—someone who understands the games of court and can guide her through them. Someone who can protect her in ways I cannot.”

Celeste’s heart quickened slightly as she began to understand the purpose of the visit. “You want me to help her?”

Alicent’s gaze sharpened, meeting Celeste’s eyes directly. “I want you to be her lady-in-waiting. You’ve shown grace and intelligence since your arrival, and today you proved you care for her wellbeing. Helaena trusts you already, and that is no small thing.”

Celeste hesitated, her thoughts racing. She had been careful since arriving in King’s Landing, wary of aligning herself too closely with any one faction, her only mission to reunite with Sirius, which she had now done. Becoming Helaena’s lady-in-waiting would tie her to Alicent’s camp—a decision that would not go unnoticed.

“You don’t have to answer now,” Alicent said, her tone softening as though sensing Celeste’s hesitation. “But think on it. Helaena needs someone she can rely on, and I believe you are uniquely suited to that role.”

Celeste studied Alicent’s face, the queen’s usual sharpness tempered by genuine concern. “It’s an honour to even be considered,” she said finally. “I’ll think on it, as you suggest.”

Alicent nodded, rising gracefully to her feet. “I won’t keep you any longer. Thank you, Celeste, for what you did today. It meant more to her—and to me—than you know.”

Celeste stood as well, dipping her head respectfully. “You’re welcome, Your Grace.”

As Alicent moved to the door, she paused, glancing back at Celeste with a faint smile. “You have a gift for navigating this court, Lady Black. Use it wisely.”

With that, she departed, leaving Celeste alone in her chambers once more. The door clicked shut behind her, and Celeste sank back into her chair, her mind spinning.

Becoming Helaena’s lady-in-waiting would place her at the heart of the court, closer to the Targaryen-Hightower faction than ever before. It was an opportunity—and a risk.

She reached for her quill again, drawing absent patterns on the parchment as she considered the queen’s words. This decision would shape her place in the game, and in King’s Landing, every move mattered.