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Celeborn had always been happy with going in the background. Never the most fair, never the cleverest, never the most powerful.
In the shadows a lot could be done. He liked melting into the background. Galadriel made this even easier, monopolizing the attention with her splendid presence, demanding people looked at her, and not at him, so he could plot and sneak and find out things from the background.
He loved her more than the stars, more than his first kingdom, more than he probably should. But how not to love a ray of sun and moon embodied?
Celeborn had assumed, always, not even consciously, that any of their children would look like her. What truly had he to offer there? A gentler slope of the ears, maybe. The shape of his eyes, perhaps, for it was a thing Galadriel would croon over. His smaller stature, more adept to sneaking.
Celebrian was perfect. His baby, little girl, his jewel, bright like the stars.
She looked just like him, if for the hair. Galadriel only smiled smugly at him the day he realized. His daughter looked like him, the side piece, but she was as much of a presence as her mother.
And she was perfect.