THE SOUL'S EXCHANGE

Dreams Creeping About

Daemon Targaryen was having a completely normal day. Well, as normal as a Targaryen’s day could possibly be. The morning began with lingering thoughts of his excursion with Alicent Hightower to Freebottom the night before. It had been quite an interesting time, filled with unexpected turns. He couldn't shake the memory of how she had transformed a simple mouse into a dragon, her magic weaving through the air like a spellbinding dance. The ease with which she had commanded such power had left him both intrigued and confused; it was as if she were a sorceress in her own right, challenging the very norms of their world.

As the sun climbed higher, Daemon found himself seated at the small council meeting, surrounded by the familiar faces of his fellow lords and advisors. Their voices droned on about a myriad of topics, each more tedious than the last. Daemon struggled to pay attention as he listened to Corlys Velaryon lecture about the growing unease in the Triarchy of the Stepstones. He couldn't help but reflect on the dire situation of the small folk, their plight worsening by the day. Images of Alicent flashed in his mind again—her determination to aid the orphanages, her compassion shining through the chaos around them. She had suddenly developed a soft spot for the underprivileged, a trait he tried to admire despite his often jaded view of the world.

The council meeting dragged on, the discussions becoming a dull hum in his ears. Daemon’s thoughts turned once more to his elder brother, Viserys Targaryen. After the meeting, he would have to endure yet another lecture about returning to the Vale, about returning to his lady wife, Rhea Royce, soon after the upcoming tourney for the heirs. It was a conversation he had attempted to navigate countless times, yet it always ended in frustration.

How was he to explain to Viserys that he wanted nothing to do with Rhea? The very thought of her made him feel nauseous, more repulsive than the sheep roaming the Vale. He could hardly fathom how his brother remained blissfully ignorant of the fact that Rhea had a proclivity for women, rendering their marriage not only fruitless but utterly worthless in his eyes. Each attempt he made to communicate this truth had been met with a stubborn refusal to understand. Daemon sighed, the weight of his predicament settling heavily on his shoulders.

After the council meeting, he skipped lunch, preferring solitude over the dreary company of the court. Instead, he sought solace in the vibrant chaos of Silk Street. Daemon reveled in the thrill of flying, soaring above the rooftops on his dragon, Caraxes. The exhilaration of the wind whipping through his hair was a fleeting escape from the burdens of his reality.

Eventually, he made his way to the Clearing to feed Caraxes. As he approached, he was greeted with a shocking scene.

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Alicent was fast asleep in her chambers, the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. Her twin boys slept in their cribs beside her bed, their tiny forms rising and falling with each gentle breath. But the stillness of the night belied the turmoil brewing within her. Viserys, her husband was nowhere to be found; she imagined him lost in thought somewhere in the vast halls of the Red Keep. Meanwhile, Alicent tossed and turned, sweat beading on her forehead as her body twitched, caught in the throes of a restless dream.

In her dream world, she wandered back to the dark and twisted times of the First Wizarding World, to the confines of Malfoy Manor. The oppressive atmosphere weighed heavily upon her, and she could hear the piercing screams of her friend Hermione echoing in her ears. It was a haunting sound that tugged at her heart, reminding her of the atrocities they had endured. She could see Bellatrix Lestrange, her maniacal laughter filling the air as she tortured Hermione, the Cruciatus Curse lashing out like a whip against her friend’s will.

“Liar!” Bellatrix’s voice cut through the darkness, sharp and cruel. Alicent could see Hermione writhing in agony, fighting against the pain with fierce determination. The sight made Alicent’s heart ache; Hermione was strong, but even the strongest of them could break under such torment.