THE SOUL'S EXCHANGE

The Return

With Otto Hightower dead, the realm was teetering on the brink of chaos. A week had passed since his death, and yet, Viserys had not named a replacement for the Hand of the King. Critical matters had been delayed, and the kingdom was beginning to feel the strain. Yet, Viserys was torn—not only was Otto his trusted advisor and Hand, but he was also the father of Queen Alicent. His mourning was sincere, but the kingdom could not afford indecision.

Alicent, however, felt none of that grief. Inside, she was elated. Her plan had worked flawlessly, and no one suspected the poisoning. Not a whisper of doubt had crossed anyone's lips. Otto Hightower, the one who had manipulated her for years, was finally out of the way. Now, she needed to place a new piece on the board, someone who would be loyal to her cause.

That particular night, she prepared carefully, knowing exactly what needed to be done. Alicent slipped into a low-cut white gown that clung to her form, showing off her collarbones and enough cleavage to captivate Viserys' wandering eye. She let her long, raven hair flow freely down her back, the soft waves framing her face. Her emerald eyes glimmered as she took a deep breath and made her way to the King’s chambers.

Opening the doors softly, she entered the room, finding Viserys sitting by the candlelight, his focus absorbed in some scrolls spread out before him. Her footsteps were delicate as she approached, each step calculated, her entire demeanor crafted to exude a mix of innocence and allure.

Her true heart, however, lay elsewhere. Viserys, for all his affections, was nothing more than a nuisance to her—a husband in name only. Her real bond was with Daemon, her true lover and the one who owned her soul. But for now, she had to tolerate Viserys, for removing him too early would cause complications, especially when Aegon was so young. The kingdom needed stability before she could make her move.

She placed her hands lightly on his shoulders, massaging them gently, her fingers kneading into his tired muscles. He looked up at her, surprised. “Wife,” he said, his voice groggy with fatigue. “What are you doing here?”

Alicent smiled sweetly, batting her lashes as she leaned in, continuing her tender massage. “I thought you could use some relief, my husband,” she purred. “You’ve been so troubled since my father’s passing. I wanted to help ease your stress.” Her voice was soft, seductive, as she hit the right pressure points on his neck, drawing a groan of relaxation from him.

“Thank you, wife,” he muttered, leaning back into her touch. Her fingertips trailed lower, brushing against his chest as she whispered, “What is it that burdens you, my king?”

Inside, she cringed at her own words, feeling the bile rise in her throat, but she kept her sweet, soothing smile in place. Viserys sighed, his hand reaching up to catch hers, drawing her around so she stood in front of him, her back pressed lightly against the edge of the desk. He held her hands in his, rubbing small circles on the back of her palms, a gesture that made her stomach churn with disgust.

“It’s nothing, my dearest,” he said, though his voice carried the weight of his burdens. “It’s just… without your father, I’ve struggled to find a suitable replacement for the Hand of the King.”

Alicent smiled inwardly. This was exactly the opening she had hoped for. “I don’t usually involve myself in politics,” she began, keeping her tone soft and demure, “but I do have one suggestion.” Her hands still rested on his shoulders, but her gaze was locked on his, watching his every reaction.

He looked at her curiously, his brows furrowing slightly. “Oh? And who might that be?”

“Regulus Stark,” she said, her voice firm but smooth.

Viserys blinked, pulling back slightly. “That boy? He’s barely twenty,” he scoffed.

Alicent pressed on, her fingers trailing down his arms, coaxing him gently as she spoke. “Age doesn’t necessarily equate to experience,” she argued. “Regulus has been the true mind behind the Stark family for years. Neither Sirius nor Cregan have much interest in politics, but Regulus? He’s brilliant, husband. His mind is sharp, perhaps even sharper than my father’s was.”