Beyond the Veil

The soft hum of the early morning filled Helaena’s chambers. The faint warmth of the sun trickled through the high windows, casting golden light across the polished stone floors. Celeste sat in a cushioned chair by the fire, her hands folded neatly in her lap, waiting.

Helaena had invited her here that morning, and Celeste hadn’t hesitated, desperate to spend time with someone she considered a friend. After the events of the coronation, Sirius and the tension that followed, any time spent in the princess’s calming presence felt like a balm to her nerves. Helaena’s quiet, ethereal nature had become a comfort, even in the midst of chaos.

The door creaked softly behind her.

Celeste turned her head just as Helaena entered, her pale silver hair cascading over her shoulders. She carried an embroidery hoop in one hand and a small box of threads in the other, her usual hobby to escape from the world. Her eyes were distant but serene, her lips curved into    the faintest hint of a smile.

“Good morning, Celeste,” Helaena said softly, her voice light and lilting, like the hum of a lullaby.

“Good morning, Princess,” Celeste replied, standing briefly before settling back into her chair as Helaena waved her down.

“You can call me Helaena,” the princess said as she moved to her seat across from Celeste. She set her embroidery and threads on the table between them, her fingers brushing over the fabric. “You’re my friend now. We shouldn’t be so formal, should we?”

Celeste smiled faintly, inclining her head. “If that’s what you wish… Helaena.”

Helaena’s smile grew, her gaze dropping to the delicate design on her embroidery. Her fingers worked the needle through the fabric with practiced ease, the thread gliding smoothly through her hands.

For a while, the two sat in companionable silence, the only sounds the crackle of the fire and the faint rustle of thread and fabric. It was easy, being in Helaena’s presence. Quiet, but not lonely.

“Celeste,” Helaena said suddenly, her voice soft but clear. She didn’t look up from her embroidery, her eyes focused on her work. “Are you all right? After… everything?”

Celeste’s breath hitched slightly. The question hung in the air, heavy but not unwelcome.

“I’m fine,” Celeste replied after a moment, her voice measured. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. “It was a long day, that’s all.”

Helaena’s fingers paused for just a moment, her needle hovering above the fabric. Her gaze lifted to meet Celeste’s, and her violet eyes were soft, understanding.

“You don’t have to be fine,” Helaena said gently. “Not with me.”

Celeste’s chest tightened, the kindness in Helaena’s voice catching her off guard. It reminded her of Narcissa, in the rare moments when the woman’s care had shone through the cold façade of a Malfoy.

“I appreciate that,” Celeste said softly, her eyes meeting Helaena’s. “Truly.”

Helaena nodded, her lips curling into a small, serene smile before she returned her attention to her embroidery.

The door creaked again.

Both women turned their heads as Aemond entered the room, his tall, commanding figure immediately filling the space with a quiet intensity. His silver hair was neatly tied back, his dark attire sharp and pristine. His single eye flicked between them, settling on Celeste for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Brother,” Helaena greeted him softly, her voice warm but calm.

“Helaena,” Aemond replied, inclining his head slightly before his gaze returned to Celeste. His expression was unreadable, but his presence was unmistakable.

“Lady Celeste,” he said, his voice smooth and even, with just a hint of curiosity. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

Celeste raised a brow, her lips twitching into a faint smile. “Where else would I be, Prince Aemond? I am Helaena’s lady-in-waiting, after all.”

His lips curled into the faintest smirk, his eye narrowing slightly as if appraising her. “Of course.”

“Have you come to see me, brother?” Helaena asked, her tone light as her fingers resumed their work on the embroidery.

Aemond nodded, his gaze flicking briefly to his sister before returning to Celeste. “I wanted to ensure you were well after… recent events.”

Helaena smiled softly, her focus remaining on her embroidery. “I’m quite well, thank you. Celeste has been keeping me company.”

“I see that,” Aemond said, his voice quieter now as his gaze lingered on Celeste. There was something in his eye—something she couldn’t quite place.

For a moment, the room was silent, the crackle of the fire filling the space between them. Celeste felt the weight of his gaze, steady and unyielding.

“Have you come to join us, Aemond?” Helaena asked, her tone playful but soft. Her words broke the tension.

Aemond’s lips twitched, his gaze shifting briefly to his sister. “Perhaps another time,” he said smoothly, though his eye flicked back to Celeste as he spoke. “I’ve been tasked with securing allies and will be flying out shortly. I will be gone for the foreseeable future.”

Celeste tilted her head slightly, her eyes meeting his without hesitation. “I hope you return safely,” she voiced, her tone calm, though inside she worried for his safety..

Aemond’s smirk widened, just barely.

“I’ll leave you to your work,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. He inclined his head toward Helaena before turning to leave, his boots echoing softly against the stone floor.

“Be safe, brother.” Helaena called after him, her eyes barely leaving her embroidery.

Celeste watched him go, her chest feeling oddly tight. There was something about him that unsettled her, but not in the way she expected.

Helaena’s soft voice broke her thoughts.

“He likes you,” she said simply, her gaze still on her embroidery, as if she hadn’t just dropped a stone into still water.

Celeste blinked, her cheeks warming slightly. “I doubt that, Helaena.”

Helaena hummed softly, her faint smile hidden behind her work. “You’re clever, Celeste. But even clever people can miss what’s right in front of them.”

Celeste didn’t respond, her gaze drifting to the door Aemond had just walked through. Her heart beat just a little faster than it should.

“Celeste.”

Her name was soft but firm. It wasn’t a question. It was a call.

Celeste’s heart stilled for a moment. She glanced toward Helaena, forcing a faint smile onto her lips. “Yes, Helaena?”

Helaena set her embroidery down slowly, folding it neatly in her lap. Her pale eyes lifted, locking onto Celeste with the kind of clarity that made it feel like she could see right through her.

Her head tilted slightly, her fingers still resting on the edge of the fabric. “Show me.”

Her heart stopped.

“Show you…?” Celeste’s voice came out carefully, controlled. Her eyes narrowed slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line. She knew. She knew exactly what Helaena meant, but she had to be sure. She’d had a suspicion Helaena had seen everything that day in the Sept, there was no way she hadn’t, but Celeste had hoped she’d gotten away with it. 

Helaena’s eyes didn’t shift away. They stayed on her. Unmoving. Steady.

“Your magic,” Helaena said plainly, her voice as soft as silk but firm as stone. “Show me.”

Her breath caught. Her heart pounded against her ribs.

Celeste glanced around the room, her eyes darting to the door as if expecting someone to appear at any moment.

She shook her head lightly, her gaze flicking back to Helaena with a soft, almost playful grin. "I'm afraid you've mistaken me for a mummer, Helaena. No tricks up my sleeves, just thread and cloth like you."

Helaena tilted her head further, her gaze sharp but still distant in that peculiar way she always was. Her lips twitched into a knowing smile.

“I saw you,” she said softly, her voice light as if she were talking about a dream. “At the Sept. I saw you lift the stones. I saw the golden light. The air shimmered.The rocks bounced off you.”

Celeste’s heart sank. Her throat felt dry, tight. She knew.

Her fingers twitched against her knee, curling into a fist slowly.

“Magic doesn’t exist here,” Celeste said carefully, her voice steadier than she felt. “Not the kind you’re thinking of.”

Helaena hummed, her gaze distant for a moment, her fingers idly playing with the edge of her embroidery thread. “Not here,” she agreed softly. “Not in this world.”

Her head tilted back up, her bright eyes locking onto Celeste with startling clarity. “But you’re not from this world, are you?”

Her breath hitched. Her chest ached with how fast her heart was beating.

Silence. Heavy. Crushing. No way out.

Helaena’s eyes didn’t blink. Her fingers stopped playing with the thread. She was waiting.

There was no point in lying anymore. Not to her. She’d seen too much, and her strange, seer-like abilities allowed her a glance beyond what the Muggle eyes could see.

Celeste let out a slow breath through her nose, her eyes dropping to the embroidery on Helaena's lap. Her fingers pressed into her knees as she sat back.

"No," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her throat ached from the weight of it. "No, I'm not."

Her eyes flickered up to Helaena, searching for any sign of fear, of judgment, of anything but calm acceptance. She found none.

Helaena nodded once, like she’d known it all along. Like she’d seen it in one of her visions.

Her gaze shifted back to the embroidery in her lap, her fingers gently smoothing the fabric. Her movements were slow, deliberate, like she was piecing something together in her mind.

“Tell me,” Helaena said softly, her voice quiet but filled with that eerie certainty. “Tell me everything.”

Celeste stared at her for a long moment, her breath slow, measured, deliberate. Her hands felt heavy in her lap. Her heart felt heavier.

But she’d come too far to stop now.

Her gaze flickered toward the fire, her eyes catching the flicker of light that danced along the edges of the stone hearth. Her voice was quieter than it had ever been.

“My father and I,” she began, her eyes still on the flames. “We’re from another world. Another… realm, I suppose you’d call it.” Her voice shook just slightly, but she didn’t stop. She refused to stop. “Back there, people like me—people like him—we have magic.”

Her gaze flicked back to Helaena, her eyes sharp now, her breath slow but steady. “Real magic.”

Helaena’s gaze didn’t falter. Not for a second.

“We call it witchcraft,” Celeste continued, her voice growing steadier now. Her eyes stayed on Helaena, watching for any sign of fear. “My father is a wizard. I’m a witch. It’s as normal as breathing for us.” Her lips quirked into something like a smile. “Normal until it’s not.”

Helaena tilted her head, her pale hair slipping over her shoulder. “Did you fall into this world by accident?”

Celeste hesitated, her fingers curling into fists again. Her eyes lowered.

“Not exactly,” she admitted softly, her voice quieter now, raw with something she didn’t want to name. “I was looking for someone.”

“Your father?” Helaena asked gently.

Celeste blinked slowly, her lips pressing together as her breath came out in a slow exhale. “Yes.”

Her fingers brushed over her bandaged arm, her eyes still locked on the fire. Her heart ached, sharp and deep.

“I thought he was gone,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I’d never see him again.” Her breath caught just slightly, but she pushed on. “So I followed him.”

Her gaze lifted to Helaena, her silver-grey eyes sharp with quiet determination. “I walked through something called the Veil. It’s supposed to be a barrier between life and death.” Her voice was colder now, her gaze distant as she remembered it. “But it wasn’t.”

Helaena’s eyes were fixed on her, wide and clear. Not a hint of fear. Just understanding.

“You came through it,” Helaena said softly, like she’d known all along. “Through the barrier. You have seen the stars from the other side.” Helaena repeated the words she had spoken to Celeste so long ago, the phrase now making sense to the princess.

Celeste nodded, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress. “And I ended up here.” Her breath came sharp, her eyes flicking to Helaena with quiet intensity. “I don’t know why. I don’t know how. But I did.”

Silence filled the room, heavy but not uncomfortable. Just quiet understanding.

For a moment, Helaena didn’t speak. Her gaze lowered to her embroidery, her fingers brushing over the threads like she was reading them. Her voice, when it came, was soft.

“Two threads in a tapestry,” she murmured, her voice distant but clear. “Two threads that were never meant to meet but did anyway.”

Celeste blinked slowly, her breath sharp as she gazed at Helaena. “Is that one of your dreams?” she asked softly.

Helaena tilted her head, her eyes lifting to meet Celeste’s with sharp, startling clarity.

“Not a dream,” she said quietly, her lips curling into a faint smile. “A truth.”

The words settled into Celeste’s chest like stones at the bottom of a river. Heavy but certain.

Her throat ached, her breath slow and steady as she glanced down at her lap. Her fingers flexed. Her heart thudded.

“Are you afraid of me, Helaena?” she asked, her voice quieter than it had ever been.

Helaena’s gaze softened, her fingers brushing over the edge of her embroidery. “No,” she said simply, her tone gentle, her lips curling into a small, serene smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Her heart twisted. Her breath stilled.

Celeste didn’t speak for a moment. She couldn’t.

But slowly, quietly, her lips curled into the faintest smile.

"Me too." Celeste smiled, and for the first time in a while, she felt a weight lifted off her. “I can show you some magic, if you’d like.”

Helaena’s gaze lifted slowly, her lips parting just slightly as she blinked, her expression filled with quiet awe. Her eyes were clearer than they’d ever been.

Her fingers stopped moving over the fabric. She tilted her head slowly, her pale hair falling like a curtain of silver silk over her shoulder. Her lips curled into a soft smile.

“Yes,” Helaena said simply, her voice light but certain. “I’d like that very much.”

Celeste’s heart thudded in her chest, slow but strong. Her fingers tingled with anticipation, her magic stirring beneath her skin. It always felt like this — like a quiet warmth just under the surface, ready to be called forth.

Her eyes flicked to the door again for just a second. Locked. Safe. Quiet. No one watching. Whilst she was sure the statute of secrecy was no longer applicable here, Celeste didn’t want to risk her secret getting out to more than those she was willing to allow know. Helaena was enough, though she had a feeling Aemond knew more than he let on.

Her fingers flexed slowly, her gaze shifting back to Helaena. “You can’t tell anyone, Helaena.” Her voice was firm but kind, her eyes locking onto Helaena’s with quiet intensity. “No one. Not even your brothers.”

Helaena tilted her head, blinking slowly as if considering the weight of those words. Her gaze grew distant for a moment, as if searching through a vision only she could see. When she blinked again, her gaze was clear, sharp.

“I won’t,” Helaena said quietly, her voice gentle but certain. “No one will know but me.”

Celeste searched her face for a long moment, watching for any hint of doubt or uncertainty. There was none. Only calm. Only trust.

Her fingers twitched. Magic hummed beneath her skin, ready to be called.

“Alright,” Celeste murmured, her lips curling into a small smile. “Watch closely,.”

She pulled out her wand, her hands lifted slowly. They moved with practiced precision, each flick of her wrist as natural as breathing. No words. Just will. Her heart thudded softly in her chest, her breath steady and controlled. Her focus was sharp, unyielding.

Her eyes flicked to the small embroidery needle resting on the table between them.

Her fingers twitched once.

“Wingardium Leviosa.”

The needle lifted. Soft. Slow. Weightless.

It hovered in the air between them, tilting slightly as it rose higher, slowly turning on an invisible thread. The golden glow of the firelight shimmered off the silver needle.

Helaena’s breath hitched. Her eyes went wide.

Her gaze darted from the needle to Celeste, then back again, her lips parting as a soft, breathless laugh escaped her. Her hands covered her mouth as her eyes filled with something akin to wonder. Pure, childlike wonder.

“It floats,” Helaena breathed, her voice filled with quiet awe. “It floats like a dragon.”

Celeste smiled, her fingers moving slowly, twisting her wrist just slightly. The needle followed. It floated in a slow, careful circle, spinning lazily like a leaf caught on a gentle breeze.

“Dragons aren’t the only ones who can fly,” Celeste said softly, her voice warm with quiet pride. Her eyes flicked back to Helaena.

The princess’s eyes were shining now, her lips curling into a genuine smile. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her voice filled with that quiet wonder Celeste had come to admire. “Does it hurt to do it?”

Celeste tilted her head, her brow furrowing just slightly. “No,” she said slowly, her wand still moving carefully as she guided the needle through the air. “It feels like… like stretching your arms after waking up.”

Helaena’s eyes softened, her gaze flicking to Celeste’s hands. Her eyes stayed there for a long time, watching every flick, every twist, every movement.

Her lips parted slowly. “Does it feel like freedom?”

The question made Celeste pause, her fingers stilling just slightly. The needle hovered midair, still and weightless.

Her breath was slow, her eyes distant as she considered it. “It used to.” Her voice was quieter now, softer but sharp with honesty. Her gaze flicked to the mark on her arm beneath the bandages. “Not always anymore.”

“Your mark.” Helaena says in understanding. “Tell me about him,” Helaena said softly, her voice like a ripple on still water. “The one you feared. The one you fought.”

Celeste's heart stilled.

Her fingers pressed into her knees, her breath slow but uneven. Her gaze flicked toward Helaena, searching her face, looking for a reason to avoid the truth. She found none.

Helaena knew too much.

Her gaze dropped to her hands, her fingers curling slightly as if holding on to something unseen. Her breath left her slowly.

“His name was Voldemort,” Celeste said softly, her voice quiet but firm. Her words felt heavy, like stones settling into place. She glanced up at Helaena, her silver-grey eyes sharp but distant, as if she were seeing something far away. “But no one says it.”

“Why?” Helaena asked gently, tilting her head, her eyes locked on Celeste like she was studying her every movement. “Is it a curse?”

Celeste let out a short, bitter laugh, her eyes flicking to the fire. “No. Not a curse. Not in the way you’d think.” Her gaze grew distant, her fingers tracing the seam of her dress absently. “He made people fear it. Said that if they spoke his name, he’d hear them.”

Her eyes flicked back to Helaena, her lips pulling into a grim line. “And sometimes, he did.”

Helaena blinked slowly, her gaze dropping to Celeste’s hands, watching how her fingers moved slowly, methodically, over the fabric of her dress. Her gaze flickered with something like quiet understanding.

“Did you fear him?” Helaena asked, her voice light but piercing. Her eyes didn’t shift from Celeste’s face.

Celeste didn’t answer right away. Her chest felt tight. Her breath slower. Her gaze stayed on her hands, her fingers still now.

“Always,” she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Even when I wasn’t supposed to. Even when he was gone, I feared he’d come back.”

Her breath shook slightly, her hands curling tighter against her lap. Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment.

“Because people like him,” she muttered softly, her voice raw with something she couldn’t name, “they never really die.”

Her breath hitched slightly, and her eyes flickered back open, her gaze meeting Helaena’s.

“What was he like?” Helaena asked softly, her voice calm, her tone even but full of curiosity. “Did he look like a man?”

Celeste’s lips twitched, her brows pulling together as if remembering something unpleasant. Her eyes flicked to the fire.

“He was a man once,” she said quietly. Her fingers pressed into her lap, her gaze distant but focused. “But he tore himself apart. Chased immortality until it cost him his soul.” Her breath came out slow, sharp. Her silver eyes flicked to Helaena, sharp and clear. “By the end, he wasn’t a man at all.”

Her voice was hollow, her words cutting through the quiet like knives. “His face was twisted. His eyes red. His skin pale as bone.” She tilted her head back, exhaling slowly. “No nose. Just slits like a snake.”

Helaena’s breath hitched softly, her fingers twitching in her lap. Her gaze flicked to the fire, her lips parting slowly. “Like a serpent shedding its skin.”

Her eyes shifted to Celeste. “Did you kill him?”

Celeste blinked slowly. Her heart ached, her chest tight with the weight of the question. Her hands stilled completely, her fingers still curled into the fabric of her dress.

“No,” she admitted quietly. Her eyes flickered with something raw, something distant. “But I helped.” Her lips pressed into a firm line, her breath sharp and steady now. “I helped them end him.”

Her gaze lifted to Helaena’s, her eyes sharp with quiet determination. “I fought.” Her voice was firmer now, colder. “I fought like hell.”

Helaena watched her for a long moment, her eyes scanning every inch of Celeste’s face as if searching for something unseen. Her gaze was too knowing. Too sharp.

“Did you lose anyone?” Helaena asked softly, tilting her head slowly, her eyes filled with quiet understanding. “People you loved?”

Celeste’s breath stilled in her chest. Her heart twisted, her chest tight with a weight she hadn’t felt in a while. Her fingers dug into the fabric of her dress, her nails biting into her palm.

Her voice cracked when she spoke. “I did.” Her throat felt tight. Her eyes burned.

“Friends,” she said, her breath sharp, uneven. “Good people. People who shouldn’t have died. I was responsible for some of them.” Her eyes blinked slowly, her gaze fixed on the fire, the light catching in her eyes like tears she refused to shed.

“I miss them,” she whispered, her voice raw. Her chest ached, her breath shallow. “I miss them every day.”

Silence filled the room like smoke, thick but fragile. It pressed down on them both.

Her gaze stayed on the fire, her fingers still pressing into her lap. Her heart thudded softly in her chest, the ache still fresh even after all this time.

Then Helaena’s breath hitched. Sharp. Sudden.

Her eyes flew wide, her hands pressing against her lap as her head jerked slightly, her lips parting like she was gasping for air. Her gaze was far away. Distant. Sharp.

Her voice came out in a gasp, broken but clear.

“Blood on stone.” Her breath was sharp, shallow, her eyes locked on something far away. “The boy. He falls. His screams won’t reach them. The eye watches. He burns, and he falls.”

Her eyes snapped back into focus.

Her breath was sharp, uneven, her gaze flicking around the room like she was searching for something unseen. Her lips trembled, her fingers clutching at her skirts.

“Princess?” Celeste’s voice was firm, sharp with concern. She reached forward, her fingers brushing Helaena’s arm. “Helaena, what did you see?”

Helaena blinked slowly, her eyes flicking to Celeste, wide and clear with fear. Her lips parted. Her breath stilled.

“A boy,” Helaena whispered, her voice fragile but steady. “A boy with brown curls. He falls.” Her eyes shifted, her gaze locking onto Celeste’s. “I heard his screams, but no one else did.”

Her eyes darted away, sharp and focused on something unseen. “The eye was watching him.”

Her breathing was sharp now, her fingers clutching Celeste’s hand like a lifeline. Her lips trembled as she spoke the last part, her voice hollow.

“Fire. Water. Stone.” Her eyes flickered back to Celeste, her gaze filled with quiet terror. “He falls.”

The air in the room grew cold. Colder than it should have been.

Celeste knew better than to ignore a seer’s vision.

Her chest tightened, her breath slow but steady as she squeezed Helaena’s hand. Her eyes locked onto Helaena’s violet ones, sharp and certain.

“Who was it?” Celeste asked softly, her voice steady but firm. “Who was the boy?”

Helaena blinked slowly, her breath still shallow. “No,” she whispered, her gaze shifting to the fire. Her voice was hollow now, distant. “I didn’t see his face.”

Her breath left her in a slow, sharp exhale. “But I heard him scream.”

Silence filled the room, cold and sharp. The weight of it pressed against Celeste's chest.

Her eyes flicked to the fire, her breath sharp and steady.

Her fingers curled tighter into Helaena’s hand, the knowledge that she was unable to do anything about Helaena’s prophecy weighing down on her.