𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊 ╱ 𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆 , ˚◞♡︎
beauty is terror, whatever we call
beautiful we quiver in front of it
WE CANNOT SIMPLY WAKE UP AND BECOME A BUTTERFLY. Celeste Alarie knew this, but her wings itched to be spread, to show themselves in their full glory, to prove their magnificence had never been dulled. Yet, would they be able to stand the test of time? A childhood prodigy slowly fading away with time, they said. She didn't want to fade, to be forgotten, to let her talents waste away.
Star student at Beauxbatons, the pride of the school, wearing the pretty pale blue colour as she soared higher above all of them—that was where she belonged. Six years at Beauxbatons had past; she was expected to leave a legacy on her last next year before graduation. She had it all, just the way it should've been.
Flying too close to the sun, however, will always have its undesirable consequences. What was she to do, when her family was insistent on clipping her wings until they never grew again?
"I didn't do it, I swear!"
"We can't prove you did it, but neither can we prove you didn't. The decision looks clear."
"You believed me yesterday. I know you did. Why did you change your mind suddenly?"
"You are a bright girl, Celeste, with a bright future—just not at Beauxbatons."
Just like Icarus, she fell towards the earth, her wings melting. The carriage ride home was painfully silent; she could feel her mother's eyes fixed on hers, looking for tears threatening to spill out—but all Celeste felt was anger. Anger that made her lips tremble and her eyes sting painfully, but she was determined not to cry.
Not over them.
Home is where the heart is, yet the people inside were the heartless ones. Her father's last wish was for his wife and daughter to live under the protection of his family, yet Celeste never once felt protected by those people she had to call her family.
They thought of her as beneath them, unworthy of their family name, but she had never wanted to be acknowledged as an Alarie. They'd framed her—she knew—and she wouldn't admit a mistake she never made.
It started with the many letters Amelie begun to receive from the family that aroused suspicion, and the very moment Celeste had found her cousin lying at the foot of the stairs a professor had popped out, both seemingly waiting for her, pointing an accusatory finger.
Only when the Alaries' had been all too enthusiastic to suggest expulsion to "discipline her properly for her disobedience" that the dots finally connected, forming a clear constellation.
She wasn't going to go down like this.
If they thought she'd stay quiet and obedient her whole life—just like her mother—they were sorely mistaken. The taunts and mocking paled in comparison to this; they'd gone too far this time. But what could she do?
The skies had darkened, now akin to a dark veil concealing the glistening stars under them. It was a moonless night, and the occupants of Alarie manor were deep in slumber—except one. Surprise attacks were regarded as one of the most successful war tactics.
A lone figure walked cautiously through the halls, careful not to alarm another. She'd been too afraid to cast the lumos charm on her wand, and resorted to simply squinting to make out the outlines of the corridor. Celeste knew these halls notoriously well, but under the cover of darkness anyone would be disoriented.
"Alohomora." She whispered.
The door unlocked on command, and she hurried to close it behind her as she entered. Charms were always her strong suit. She was looking for something here—she didn't know what, but anything to prove her innocence. Perhaps breaking into your aunt's study room in the dead of night was hardly ethical, but so was wrongfully framing your niece, right?
She'd never been inside; never allowed in, she shouldn't have been able to find anything, yet her aunt was careless enough to leave things strewn around and she would come to regret it. "Lumos." The room's surfaces illuminated by her wand, seemed to glisten all of a sudden.
She must've spent hours, flipping through piles of parchment on her aunt's desk, pausing occasionally to listen for unwelcome footsteps. A sudden noise startled her and Celeste leapt under the desk, quivering. It was only the wind hitting the windows, but it was then did she notice a pile of letters neatly tied with string thrown carelessly under the desk.
They all bore the Beauxbatons stamps, and were addressed directly to Rowena Alarie. A satisfying end to the night—if she did say so herself. Reading the contents, Celeste unmistakably smiled. Perhaps all was not lost.
"I left them right here!"
"We've looked everywhere in this room. You must've left them somewhere else!"
Celeste let herself admire the chaos she had created for a brief moment, before tapping on the door, startling her aunts.
"What?" They snapped in unison.
"Lost something? Shall I help you find it?" Her lips quirked up into a smile. Oh, how the tables have turned.
"It's none of your business." Rowena glared fiercely at her. "Get lost."
"Aren't you curious to find out where the letters are?" Their mouths dropped open.
"Le prophète quotidien could write a spectacular story with them," Celeste's newfound boldness had throughly shocked her aunts, vicious as they were themselves. "Rowena and Odette Alarie scheme to frame niece for freak accident."
"What do you want?"
♡︎
"So I told them to seek permission for me to be transferred to another school in Scotland next year." All in a day's work.
"You threatened your aunts?" Juniper Alarie was in disbelief that her daughter had the nerve to pull off such a stunt—provoking her sisters-in-law never ended well. When had Celeste learnt to do such a thing?
"They tried to frame me for Amelie's accident—My future was about to be destroyed." Celeste protested, indignant that her mother seemed to side with her aunts.
"Two wrongs don't make a right. You stole from them." Juniper felt her heart sink
"This is why they always walk all over us.
Why are you always like this?" Celeste groaned, exasperated at her mother's behaviour.
"I just earned my future back!"
For a split second, Juniper felt a flash of guilt. She'd resolved to keep her head down, stay low for as long as she could remember—but had this brought about more harm than good? Murmuring something about needing a drink, she slowly disappeared down the hallway.
Celeste drew in her breath sharply, wondering if she'd said things too harshly. It didn't matter—once she'd graduated with the highest honours she'd get both of them far, far away from this place. Six years ago, she'd made the same promise the night before she set off for Beauxbatons, but now her heart ignited with determination far surpassing that of the teary eleven year old then.
Outside, the first snow of the season begun to fall.
♡
"I must say, Rowena, I'm surprised you're so eager to send her off to study in Scotland." The Alarie matriarch eyed her daughter momentarily, before turning back to her book, puzzled at the request. "I had the impression you despised her."
"She's an eyesore here. I can't stand living with her." Rowena kept a tight-lipped smile on her face as she stood before her mother, exchanging a nervous glance with Odette. Celeste was unpredictably impulsive, and there was no saying what she'd be willing to do next. After all, what can really stop someone who has nothing at all to lose?
"Besides, what if she wrecks havoc at home and causes more trouble for us?" Her brother's wife chimed in, growing desperation evident on her face. Those letters were still in her possession, after all.
"Very well. Scotland it is for her, then."