As Celeste stepped from the carriage, her hand lightly resting in her knight's for balance, her eyes immediately caught sight of her father's carriage parked outside the grand entrance. A chill ran down her spine, surprised as she hadn't expected him to return so soon. Thanking her escort with a quick nod, she walked briskly into the house and made her way down the hallway toward her father's office. As she reached the door, slightly ajar, she froze at the sound of her mother's voice, low but charged with worry.
Curious, she slowed her steps, recognizing her mother's voice, edged with worry. "So If the emperor gave the prince his support, what future will there be for Celeste? She's already been humiliated once." Her father sighed deeply. "I know. That's why we must tread carefully. One wrong move, and we risk isolating ourselves from every noble house. Both hers and the family's reputation… It's fragile now, and we cannot openly show disagreement towards the prince nor the emperor."
Steeling herself, she knocked gently on the door and entered the room. Her father looked up, his expression softening when he saw her, though tension lingered in his eyes. Her mother rose, gesturing for her to sit, but Celeste remained standing, her gaze steady. "I heard," she said, voice steady but laced with unspoken emotion. "I understand the risk, Father, but I will not let fear dictate my life or how others see me." Her father's face fell, torn between paternal love and the rigid expectations of their social rank.
Her mother reached for her hand, but Celeste stepped back, not out of coldness but from a quiet strength. She needed them to see she was no longer the girl they felt they had to protect. Her father's eyes narrowed, searching for a glimpse of the timid daughter he once knew, but she didn't waver. "Celeste, your pride can only go so far. You don't understand the full gravity of what's at stake," he said firmly. She did understand—perhaps more than he realized. Every rumor and disapproving look had carved new resilience into her heart.
"I do understand," she replied, her voice unwavering. "But I am not a puppet, Father. The nobles can whisper and judge, but I will not bend my knee to fear or convenience." Her mother's hand trembled as she clasped it to her mouth, torn between fear for her daughter's future and admiration for her strength. Silence blanketed the room as her father weighed her words, perhaps realizing that his daughter had indeed changed. No longer the obedient noble he could shelter, Celeste had become someone who would face the world, its challenges, and betrayals head-on. Finally, he nodded, a silent acknowledgment that, while he might not agree, he understood. "Then go," he said softly, "but remember, every step you take will carry the weight of this family."
Celeste's heart swelled with a mix of pride and trepidation. Bowing her head slightly, she turned and left, resolute to carve out her own destiny, even if it defied everything she'd ever known. As Celeste left her father's office, the gravity of their exchange settled over her like a thick fog. The family's reputation, the whispers of disapproval that trailed her wherever she went—they all pressed down on her. But instead of yielding to the weight, she straightened her shoulders. The noble world had offered her little kindness, yet here she was, forced to contend with its power dynamics.