THE SOUL'S EXCHANGE

Twilight tales

After a long and passionate night, Alicent lay nestled in Daemon’s arms, her head on his chest as his fingers absentmindedly played with her hair. The flickering light of the candles cast soft shadows across their chambers, but the peace of the moment was broken when Daemon’s voice, curious yet dark, broke through the stillness.

"How did Otto Hightower die?" he asked, his voice laced with intrigue as he absentmindedly traced patterns on her bare shoulder.

The question startled her, but she raised herself slightly, propping herself up on his chest to look him in the eyes. A small, mischievous smile played on her lips as she answered, "A nifty little poison named nightshade."

Daemon’s brow arched, amusement and curiosity dancing in his gaze. "Nightshade?" he repeated, his voice low. "And how did you manage to poison him without anyone noticing? One of your witchy little tricks, I assume?" He pulled her closer and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

"Witchy tricks, yes," she whispered against his lips, "but not mine. It’s a poison modified by my uncle, Sev."

Daemon’s chest rumbled with laughter as he recalled the stories she’d told him over the years. "You mean the same uncle you used to call a hook-nosed bat all through your years at Hogwarts?" he teased, his smirk widening.

Alicent rolled her eyes playfully but didn’t let the fondness in her tone escape. "Yes, that one." She settled back into his arms, her cheek resting on his chest again. "The potion was actually modified for torture. It makes the victim delusional, and it starts to eat away at their flesh from the inside. It kills slowly, over months, and painfully. Colorless, odorless—completely undetectable, except in milk, which it turns blue."

Daemon raised his head slightly to look at her in shock, as if she were casually discussing the weather instead of a gruesome poison. "And why did he make such a thing?" he asked, still disbelieving.

"Voldemort ordered it," Alicent explained, her tone calm. "Back when Severus was still a Death Eater."

Daemon chuckled darkly. "So he was working for our son’s past self, then?" he quipped.

Alicent immediately sat up and slapped him lightly on the back of his head, her eyes blazing with protectiveness. "Don’t you ever compare my son to that monster!" she hissed. "Sirion is nothing like Voldemort."

Daemon laughed, undeterred, and pulled her back down into his arms, kissing her temple softly. "Calm down, nuhã liría, I’m only teasing," he murmured, his hand stroking her back soothingly. "Now, tell me about our children. What have I missed?"

Alicent’s expression softened as she began to recount the stories she’d been waiting to share with him. "Aegon and Sirion are growing fast, and they’ve both shown signs of magic," she said, pride swelling in her voice. "Once Aegon set his crib on fire—completely by accident, of course, but still impressive. And Sirion... his magic is well handled given his past life but... well, he managed once to levitate one of the servants by mistake. She was terrified, I had to obliviate her."

Daemon laughed heartily, his eyes gleaming with pride. "That’s my boys—already showing their strength."

Alicent smiled, but then her expression turned playful. "But you’ll never guess what their first words were," she said, watching his face closely.

He smirked, assuming the obvious. "Father, of course."

"Mother," she corrected with a laugh, "but in Parseltongue."

Daemon’s grin faltered, and he looked at her in disbelief. "Their first words... in Parseltongue?" he asked, his tone bordering on jealous.

Alicent nodded, barely containing her amusement. "Yes, in Parseltongue. They spoke to me in that hissing language, both of them. You should have seen the look on my face—I thought I was hallucinating for a moment."

Daemon shook his head, a mock scowl on his face. "My sons... and their first words are not to their father? In a snake’s tongue, no less?" He grumbled, though it was clear he was more amused than upset.

"Don’t worry," Alicent teased, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "You’ll have plenty of time to hear them call for you."

Daemon leaned back, sighing dramatically. "I’m still jealous," he muttered, though his arms tightened around her.

Alicent’s expression grew more thoughtful as she shifted the conversation to their youngest daughter. "I’ve been watching Helaena closely," she began. "I think... she might be a seer."

Daemon looked at her, surprised. "A seer? Why do you say that?"

She shifted slightly, her tone becoming more thoughtful. “There’s something else, though. Something about Helaena...”

Daemon’s attention sharpened. “What about her?”

“She’s only nine months old, but...” Alicent hesitated, searching for the right words. “Her eyes. They glaze over sometimes, like she’s somewhere else. It reminds me of my friend Luna, one of my dearest friends. Luna’s eyes were often the same, always glazed over... because she was a seer.”

Daemon frowned, his hand absentmindedly stroking Alicent’s back. “A seer?”

Alicent nodded slowly. “Luna would see things, things that others couldn’t. And when I look at Helaena... it’s like she’s already seeing things, even though she’s so young. She can’t speak yet, but her eyes... they’re always distant, like she’s looking beyond this world.”

Daemon was silent for a moment, absorbing her words. Then he spoke, his tone serious. “Daenys the Dreamer was like that. She was a seer too—she saw the Doom of Valyria before it happened and convinced our ancestors to leave.”

Alicent’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know that.”

Daemon nodded, his expression thoughtful. “If Helaena is truly a dreamer like Daenys... we’ll need to pay close attention to her. Dreamers are rare, and their visions can change the course of history.”

Alicent’s hand rested on his chest as she gazed into his eyes. “We’ll have to be careful. Guide her without overwhelming her.”

Daemon kissed the top of her head softly. “We will. She’s ours.”

Alicent sighed in contentment, but after a moment, she raised herself slightly again. “Oh, and Jaemarys...” Her voice held a mix of fondness and exasperation.

“What did my mischievous little prince do?” Daemon asked, his smile returning.

Alicent laughed softly. “He’s as protective as he is mischievous. The other day, one of the maids was scolding Aegon for knocking over a vase. Before anyone realized what was happening, Jaemarys caused the broom she was holding to fly out of her hand and hit her in the back of the head.”

Daemon burst out laughing, his chest shaking beneath her. “He did that? My boy!”

Alicent nodded, grinning despite herself. “He’s only nine months old, Daemon. And already causing trouble.”

Daemon's eyes gleamed with pride. “He’s his father’s son, that’s for certain. Protecting his brother already.”

Alicent smiled, shaking her head. “He’s going to be a handful, that one. Just like you.”

Daemon grinned and pulled her back into his embrace. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Alicent rested her head against his chest, her heart full as she whispered, “Our little troublemaker... and our little dreamer. We’ll watch over them, all of them.”

Daemon pressed a kiss to her hair. “Always.”