Written in the Stars

Chapter Twenty Seven

"You have murderer's hands." The words were final and deliberate. They were Alaric getting his redemption and saving her all at once. Celeste had known her end for a while now, she just had not been sure when it would arrive. It was clear to her now that this is what her life had been leading up to. Alaric was her end.

The car ride to her old home was a quiet one, with only her and the driver in the vehicle. When she had arrived at the town house she had been met with all of her own guards lining the pavement, to make sure she did not run off, she presumed. She had not and had never intended to.

Astrid was stood behind him, with Jean to her side, holding her hand and resolutely not looking at Celeste. She knew that she had betrayed him beyond words and this was her repayment for it. Even though this was justice, it was still painful.

"Celeste, there are not many options for what we can do with you. Yes, you killed Izabela, but in the process you handed her almost all of the syndicate, betrayed Astrid and almost had Jean killed . These are not easily repayable. You are clearly unhinged." He said this to Celeste, who was in kneeling in front of the trio, head hung and not putting up a fight. He knew that in this moment she had to feeling nothing but remorse and pain but he could not have Astrid feeling for her. He could not have her being viewed as saveable or able to redeem herself.

She was lead down to their basement. She had been down there on rare occasions as it was mostly used for storage and they tried to avoid bringing their work home with them. She was forced onto her knees in the center of the room and shackles were placed onto her wrists, holding them behind her back. They were enchanted so she could not easily free herself. Not that she was going to make any attempt to escape. That was the last thing on her mind. It soothed her to know that she was not the first that these manacles had been used on, that she wasn't truly special or more important that others.

She was left down there, with no one to watch over her as if they could sense that she had resigned herself to her fate and this was not a show to later try and escape. Even if it was, she knew that they would not give her the time to make her attempts.

Upon hearing the basement door close behind Alaric as he walked behind the other two, she looked around the room. She had never seen it from this perspective. As someone on their knees. It was an unfamiliar angle and sensation. She was not keen. Where possible she would try to avoid it in the future. She let out a low laugh to herself and thought, I guess what they say about gallows humour is true. She could hear a small amount of what was being said above her and it was mostly Astrid arguing to try and save her. Jean was uncharacteristically silent, but that did not surprise her. She did not expect him to fight for her now. Not after everything.

She could see the racks of wine she had spent the last few hundred years collecting, the paintings she had put in storage because she was sure they would be worth something in the next few years or decades and she could see the small boxes that were tucked behind the other things. Those small boxes, that were barely holding together, were some of the things she had collected over her long life and yet held no value to anyone but herself.

In the oldest box, which was right at the back and hidden from view, were the clothing and jewellery she had managed to hold onto after her escape from the castle. She had kept a few jewels, unwilling to sell those most sentimental to pay her way, and the clothing was worthless to all but those who could not pay her for it. She had not looked in the box in a decade but she was sure that the clothing would be dust now. It had been almost there when she had last dared to lift the lid. The jewellery was still in one piece, that she knew with certainty. It was her mothers necklaces and bracelets that she had kept. Or gifts from Astrid and her brothers. Things that were meaningless to others, but hopefully not to Astrid. All she could hope was that Astrid saw the items for what they were and treasured them, not because of her, but because of the history and memory they held. Celeste wished she had spent more time doing so.

She heard her sisters voice get louder and she knew they were coming back down stairs. The debate was over and she knew in her bones that Alaric had won. They were coming to seal her fate.