Beyond the Veil

Celeste had slipped out of Helaena’s chambers, leaving the mother and her two children some time to mourn together. She walked through the corridors noticing that the air in the Red Keep felt heavier than usual. Thicker. Harder to breathe, as she made her way to Sirius.

As she passed over a balcony, she looked below, her brow furrowing as she saw all the servants being escorted through the halls. She caught sight of Lyra, the cook who had taken her in who looked scared which concerned Celeste greatly. 

“You should get to your room, my Lady.” A voice says behind her. She whirls, seeing two guards stationed at her fathers door.

She squares her shoulders. “I need to speak with my father. It’s urgent.” She went to step past the guards, but one of them blocked her. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Order of the Hand. You need to return to your quarters.” He replied gruffly.

“Move,” she said plainly, her voice as sharp as a knife.

The guards glanced at one another before looking back at her. Their hands didn’t go to their weapons, but they shifted their weight, standing straighter. Bracing.

“No one enters,” said the one on the left, his eyes steady but his gaze avoiding hers just slightly. Nervous. He knew something she didn’t.

“I’m not ‘no one,’” Celeste shot back, stepping forward until she was just a foot away from them. Her eyes flicked between them, calculating, assessing. “Move aside.”

“We have our orders. You need to go back to your room.” said the second guard, his voice gruffer, but his gaze more sure.

Her jaw tightened, and she tilted her head slightly. Her hands stayed at her sides, but her fingers twitched.

“Lord Hand can issue all the orders he likes,” she said coldly, stepping forward until she was close enough to look up at him properly. Her gaze locked with his, her eyes narrowing like a wolf cornering prey. “But unless you’d like me to tell Princess Helaena that you are using unnecessary force against her lady-in-waiting, I suggest you reconsider.”

The man blinked, his lips pressing into a hard line. Hesitation. She saw it. She knew it.

“Lady Black,” the first guard said firmly, shifting slightly in place. “We have orders. No one in or out.”

Her eyes didn’t waver from the second guard. He was the weaker of the two. She’d seen it the moment she walked up.

“Did the Lord Hand tell you why?” she asked, her voice quieter now, colder. “Did he tell you the reason, or did he just tell you to stand here like good little pawns?”

The second guard’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. His gaze flicked to his companion, and that was all Celeste needed to see. Doubt.

“I didn’t think so,” she said, stepping even closer, her voice now a low, venomous hiss. “Do you know who’s in that room? Do you?” Her eyes bore into his, unwavering, sharp as a blade.

“L-Lord Black,” he muttered, his gaze flicking away.

“Lord Black,” she repeated, her eyes narrowing further. “A man who’s fought battles you wouldn’t survive. A man who can end you faster than you can draw your sword.” Her gaze flicked between them. Her voice dropped to a whisper, sharp and dangerous.

"And you're going to tell him you kept me out? You?" She tilted her head, her voice turning to ice. "Do you think he’ll be as kind as I am?”

The guard hesitated. His fingers twitched at his side.

Move, move, move.

He stepped aside.

“Smart,” Celeste muttered, casting one last glance at the first guard. He hadn’t moved, but his eyes flicked downward. Not stupid. But not brave either.

Her fingers gripped the iron handle of the door. She pushed it open with more force than was necessary, the wood creaking loudly as it swung inward.

Sirius was seated by the fire.

He hadn’t noticed her right away. His back was to her, his head tilted forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His hands hung loosely in front of him, his fingers barely moving. The firelight flickered against his dark hair, casting long, jagged shadows on the stone walls.

He looked like a man lost in his own mind. His posture was too still. Too still.

“Sirius,” Celeste called softly, her voice gentler now. She stepped inside, letting the door close behind her.

He didn’t answer.

Her chest tightened, her eyes flicking over him like she was scanning for wounds. He wasn’t hurt. Not physically. But something had broken.

She approached slowly, her steps quieter now. Each step calculated. Careful. Steady. She moved until she was close enough to crouch in front of him, her eyes lifting to meet his face.

“Sirius,” she said again, her voice softer now. “Look at me.”

He did.

His eyes lifted slowly, his gaze finding hers. There was something hollow in his eyes. Something gone.

Her breath hitched in her chest. She’d seen that look before.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she leaned in, her voice quieter, more deliberate now. No softness. Just truth.

“He’s gone,” she said softly, her silver-grey eyes locked on his. “The king is dead.”

Her words hung in the air like smoke from a dying fire. Not loud. Not sharp. Just heavy.

Sirius didn’t move for a moment. Not at first. His eyes stayed on hers, as if searching for a lie. Searching for something he could fight against. But she wasn’t lying.

He blinked once. Then he leaned forward, his elbows pressing into his knees as he lowered his head. His hands went to his face, his fingers dragging down slowly, his breath sharp as it left his lungs.

“Damn it,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, muffled behind his hands. His fingers curled into fists, his knuckles turning white. “Damn it, Viserys.”

Her chest ached. Not for the king. For Sirius.

She reached forward, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. His breath hitched again, and she felt the weight of it in his bones. He stayed like that for a while, his shoulders rising and falling with quiet, uneven breaths.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. Because what else could she say?

“He didn’t deserve this,” Sirius muttered into his hands. His voice was tighter now, raw. “Not like this.” He shook his head, his fingers running through his hair before he sat back against the chair, his gaze distant, eyes locked on the fire.

“He deserved peace.”

Her hand stayed on his shoulder. She didn’t let go.

Silence filled the room, broken only by the faint crackle of the fire. It didn’t feel warm anymore.

Sirius's gaze didn’t move from the flames, his eyes flickering with the same light as the fire. His hands hung loosely over the arms of the chair. Not fists anymore. Not claws. Just hands.

“They’ll fight,” he muttered quietly, his eyes still on the flames. His voice was quieter. Steadier. Knowing. “They’ll fight over that throne until it’s soaked in blood.”

He exhaled slowly, tilting his head back against the chair. His eyes finally shifted, glancing down at her hand on his shoulder.

“You should have stayed away, Celeste,” he said softly, his gaze shifting back to the fire. “This isn’t our war.”

“Maybe,” she replied softly, her fingers squeezing his shoulder once. “But I’m here now.”

His lips quirked into the faintest, saddest smile. The kind of smile worn by someone who already knows how the story ends.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice low and quiet. “Yeah, you are.”

The fire burned lower.

They sat like that for a long time.

No words. Just breath. Just loss.

“I need to speak with you. About Helaena.” She spoke softly, breaking the silence. She stood up, pacing in front of the hearth as she figured out what to say.

Sirius straightened. He noticed it now—the tension in her shoulders, the weight of something hanging heavy in her mind.

He leaned his elbows on his knees, his brows drawing together. “What happened?”

Celeste stopped just a few feet away from him, folding her arms across her chest. She glanced toward the fire, her gaze flickering with the glow of the flames. Her lips pressed together tightly before she spoke.

“Helaena,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. Her eyes flicked back to his. “I think she’s a seer.”

Sirius blinked, his brows raising slightly. “A seer?” His tone was flat, unconvinced, as if she had just suggested the sky had turned green.

“Yes, a seer,” Celeste repeated, stepping forward, her eyes sharp on him. “I’ve seen her, dad. She drifts off into these—these trances, and when she comes back, she speaks of things that haven’t happened yet, riddles, hints towards bigger things.” Her jaw tightened, her fingers curling against her arms. “She did it today.”

Sirius let out a short huff, his eyes closing briefly as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Celeste,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar note of exasperation. He leaned back in his chair, his hands falling to his sides. “There’s no magic here. You know that.”

“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped, taking another step forward, her voice low but sharp. Her eyes burned like steel catching the light. “You say there’s no magic, but you’re ignoring what’s right in front of us.”

Sirius’s brows lifted as he sat up straighter, his gaze hardening now. “There’s no magic here, Celeste.” He spoke each word slowly, firmly, as if saying it louder would make it true. “Not like home. No wands. No spells. No charms. Nothing.”

“Then what do you call dragons, Sirius?” she shot back, her voice rising as she stepped closer. Her eyes narrowed, her hands dropping to her sides, her fingers flexing in and out. “They breathe fire. They bond with riders. And somehow, that's not magic?”

He blinked, his jaw tightening as he glanced away for just a moment. But Celeste stepped closer, her gaze locked on him.

“You’ve seen it too,” she pressed, her voice quieter but more forceful. “You’ve seen her. The way she drifts away mid-conversation. The way her eyes go blank, like she’s not really here. And when she speaks after, it’s not nonsense, Sirius. It’s something. It means something.” Her eyes flicked to the fire, her mind briefly flashing back to Helaena’s voice earlier that day.

“There is a beast beneath the boards.”

Her chest tightened as she remembered it. That look in Helaena’s eyes. It wasn’t fear. It was something worse. It was the look of someone who had seen the end of something long before it arrived.

Sirius sighed heavily, rubbing his hands down his face. He wasn’t looking at her anymore.

“Look at me,” she said firmly, stepping forward and crouching in front of him so he couldn’t avoid her gaze. “Look at me, father.”

He lowered his hands, his eyes meeting hers, and for once, he didn’t look tired. He looked wary.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “You think she’s like Trelawney. That she’s making prophecies.” He let out a short, hollow laugh. “We both know how often those were wrong.”

“Not always,” Celeste countered, her voice sharp as a blade. “She was right about Harry, wasn’t she? She was right about seeing you.”

Sirius’s lips pressed into a hard line. That hit deeper than she’d meant it to.

“You know she was,” Celeste said, her voice softer now but no less firm. “And if she was right then, why not now?”

Sirius didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered on her face, searching for something. Doubt. Hesitation. Anything. But he didn’t find it.

“Even if you’re right,” he said slowly, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful, “what do you expect to do about it? There’s no Hogwarts here, Celeste. No Divination lessons. No Dumbledore to explain it all.”

“I don’t need Dumbledore,” she shot back, standing to her full height. Her gaze was steady as stone. “But I’m not going to ignore it either. If she sees things, if she’s like that, then she needs someone to see it too. To believe her. Help her improve her skill.”

Her voice grew quieter, but sharper somehow. More certain.

“You know what it’s like not to be believed,” she added softly, her eyes meeting his with quiet knowing. “Don’t let her feel that too.”

Sirius’s breath came slower now. His gaze didn’t leave hers. His face, so often lined with wit and mischief, was now lined with something deeper. Memory. Regret. Understanding.

He stood slowly, his eyes still on her, his shoulders squaring with that old, familiar defiance he carried with him through every storm. That old Black family pride.

“Fine,” he said at last, his voice low, his gaze steady on hers. “If you’re right, we’ll watch her. Together.”

Celeste raised a brow. “Not just watch. Protect.”

He tilted his head, his grin faint but real. “Of course. What else would we do?”

Her lips quirked into a smile of her own. “Good.”

They stood there for a moment longer, eyes locked, silent understanding passing between them. Not a word needed to be spoken.

But then, he tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “A beast beneath the boards, you said?”

Her smile faded. Her gaze grew sharper, colder.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, her eyes distant but knowing. “That’s what she saw.”

Sirius glanced toward the fire, his brows furrowing in quiet thought.

“Let’s hope it stays there,” he muttered. “For all our sakes.”