Celeste is now alone with the young child-thing as he sleeps in his bedroom. Normally when she finds herself in this situation she would call for the Queen to come and take care of him, but for the very first time she finds herself without that option. She sits down in a chair on the opposite wall to the Prince’s bed, the Queen has mentioned in the past that she enjoys reading to him, so she assumes this chair must be here for that purpose, considering it’s located next to the bookshelf.

Celeste normally has little issue standing guard for long periods, but the unusual nature of tonight’s mission, and having to watch over the child-thing, has her uneasy, so she finds herself wishing she had some way to pass the time. Her usual go-to when she finds herself with free time is training, but there’s no way she’d be able to exercise here without waking the Prince, especially with her armour on.

If she had known she’d be in this situation she would have brought a book on military strategy, so that she could study while waiting for the Queen to return. Perhaps there’s something here she could read? She investigates the bookshelf, which much like the rest of the room is covered in Christmas decorations, but has no luck finding anything worth reading. All the books are very short, and full of colourful pictures portraying fictional events using mind-numbingly simple language. Celeste does not understand the point of these strange books, or what benefit they could possibly have to a child-thing, so she puts them back, not seeing any value in continuing to peruse them. The sounds of her looking through the books cause the Prince to turn in his sleep a bit, but he does not wake.

She briefly considers the possibility of there being more relevant books in other rooms of the royal chambers, but she wouldn’t dare leave this room when she’s been tasked with watching over the Prince, nor does she wish to rummage through her Queen’s belongings. This leaves her with only one choice, one that she would never choose voluntarily. Celeste, the captain of the guard and strongest of all knights, must sit down in her chair and be alone with her uneasy thoughts.

This is not something the knight is used to doing, but she thinks about her current situation in an attempt to try and pass the time. She would never refuse any request from her Queen, but this is a rare example of an occasion where she wishes she didn’t have to be here. She doesn’t quite understand the point of the whole thing, could the Prince not handle an hour or so on his own at night? Is there any particular reason a child would need someone with them? Her mind goes back to what the Queen said earlier, “No child should have to be alone on christmas night”. She’s not sure why, but thinking about those words causes her to feel a dull pain in her chest that she can’t explain.

Celeste is unable to get to the bottom of the pain, or why she’s here, but she does recognise that the young one in front of her is an unusual case. She can’t claim to know much about these child-things at all, but even she is aware that he is well past the age where he should have started talking, and yet she’s never heard him properly speak. Sometimes he will mumble something too softly for anyone but the Queen to hear, or blurt out a single word response to a question, but even those have only been witnessed on rare occasions.

She can only assume that his lack of communication is quite a burden on those around him, but she’s never seen his mother treat him with anything less than the utmost compassion, is his defect something that doesn’t bother her? If it’s a physical issue, would she not try to heal it with her magic? She doesn’t understand the benefit of overlooking an issue like that, and yet the Queen does so much for her son’s benefit. She looks over to him, and he’s tossing and turning a bit in his sleep, almost as if he’s subconsciously aware that his mother is not in the room, or perhaps it’s the fact that she is in here that’s causing the issue?

She thinks about how the Queen held his hand to calm him back to sleep before she left earlier, and how that’s only one of so many examples of the way she treats her child, and once again that dull pain returns to her.

Celeste doesn’t understand what’s happened to her. She has not sustained any injuries, so why is she hurting? She isn’t supposed to be feeling like this. Feeling like this makes it harder to focus. If she can’t focus then her ability to carry out her duties will be impacted. If she can’t carry out her duties then she may be stripped of her title, and if that happens then she may never be able to make them-

Her spiralling thoughts, that have been going on for who knows how long, are interrupted by a soft noise on the other side of the room, and Celeste is presented with a situation that once again makes her wish she wasn’t here. It would seem that the Prince let go of his soft toy while he was tossing and turning, and it somehow managed to get between the gaps of the handrail and fall onto the floor. This is not something that would normally bother her, but the toy’s sleeping owner seems to have noticed something is off, and is making some whining and moaning noises.

Her worst fears have come true. The young Prince Ahleah is starting to wake up.

Her mind is racing trying to come up with a solution for this situation. If she does nothing he will wake up, and then all is lost. She would have to interact with the child-thing, which is not something she’s even remotely prepared for, but how could she possibly make sure he remains asleep? Perhaps the first step is to figure out why he started crying in the first place. She knows nothing about these creatures, but her sharp mind from decades of studying to be a knight should be able to manage.

Did the sound of the toy falling set him off? No, that can’t be right… She made more noise than that while going through the books and it wasn’t a problem. Does he have an upset stomach? That’s unlikely, her understanding is that his dinner time lines up with the Queen’s, which was several hours ago, so any symptoms of food poisoning would have shown up much sooner than this. She briefly considers whether the lighting or temperature in the room could be an issue, but neither has changed since she arrived, and the Queen would have said something if there was an issue in that regard. While she’s thinking about all of this, the child-thing’s moans have gotten louder, indicating she’s running out of time.

As a last resort, she tries to go through the few things she does know about the Prince, in the hopes that something relevant will come to mind. He doesn’t talk much, and is easily excited about things but doesn’t stray far from his Mother most of the time… Seems to be shy around other people, but often sneaks off to the training grounds and causes problems for whoever is there, which is why… the Queen… gave him that toy…

Could that really be it? The soft toy is the key to all of this? She has to admit that she sees him carrying it around a lot, but is he really that attached to it? What’s the benefit in that? She’s not really sure, but returning the toy seems like it’s at least worth a shot, although that presents its own issue. Going to pick up the toy requires her to get much closer to the bed, and to the child-thing, than she would like, and handing it back once again poses the risk of waking him, meaning that interacting with him may be required either way.

A small part of her really wants to leave, but that’s not an option. She needs to be the perfect knight, and that means completing every task to its fullest, no matter what is asked of her. She can not, must not, do anything to disappoint her Queen. She needs to see this through and make sure he remains asleep, and if she’s not willing to get close to him, she’ll need to find another way to get the toy to him.

She very slowly, and very carefully, sneaks across to the middle of the room while keeping a close eye on the Prince, worried that even a small noise would risk fully waking him in his current state. Once she thinks she’s as close as she needs to be, she slowly gets down on her knees, and tries reaching for the toy. A version of Celeste that better understood humour might look back on this event and laugh, but the Celeste we have with us can only feel mild shame at the fact that she’s been reduced to this. The bed is a decent distance from the middle of the room, but her long limbs are just barely enough to be able to get a grasp on the soft toy.

With the object she needs in hand, she’s able to stand back up, and now comes the tricky part. If she doesn’t want to get close enough to give the toy back, then there’s only one other option to get it to him.