THE SOUL'S EXCHANGE

In The Sight of Schemes and Deceptions

Queen Alicent dabbed at the corners of her eyes as she looked around the Sept of Baelor, her heart swelling with pride and bittersweet joy. Every inch of the grand hall shimmered with perfection, each detail of the décor personally selected and ordered by Alicent herself. Sunlight streamed through the towering stained-glass windows, casting colors onto the pristine white flowers and flickering candles that lined the aisle. She’d made certain not a single rose or candle was out of place.

Alicent took a deep, steadying breath, adjusting the delicate lace sleeves of her own gown. Today, she wore a red silk dress, simple yet regal, adorned with a high collar embroidered in delicate gold vines and beads that gleamed in the light. Her dark hair was elegantly swept back, a braided crown wrapped around her head and studded with small pearls, giving her the air of a queen but the humility of a mother. This was not her day, after all—it was Hermione’s.

She glanced over to the grand staircase, where Sirius Stark stood, tall and dignified in his dark gray robes, his arm looped with Hermione’s. Alicent’s breath caught as she watched her dear friend, Lady Hermione Royce, descend the marble steps. She looked breathtaking—an image of beauty Alicent had dreamed of since Hermione had first confided her heart to her about Draco. Her gown was a soft white, its modest design a testament to Hermione’s gentle nature, with floral patterns embroidered along the bodice and down the flowing skirt. The white veil, embroidered with tiny roses at its edges, cascaded gracefully down her back.

Alicent exchanged a quick glance with Emily, her sister-in-law and partner in the morning's bridal preparations. She stifled a chuckle, recalling the hour they’d spent wrestling with Hermione’s Lion's mane. In the end, the two had managed to coax them into a half-up, half-down style, soft waves cascading down her shoulders. The struggle had been worth it; Hermione looked perfect.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” whispered Emily beside her, breaking Alicent’s reverie.

Alicent nodded, biting her lip to keep her emotions in check. “She is… more beautiful than even I could have imagined.”

As Hermione approached the altar, Alicent caught her eye for a brief moment, and her heart clenched as she saw her friend’s faint smile, a mix of nerves and joy. She responded with a reassuring nod, mouthing, “You’re perfect.” Hermione’s smile grew, her gaze softened with gratitude, and Alicent felt the tears threatening again.

The High Septon stepped forward, his voice resonating through the Sept. “Who comes to present the bride?”

Sirius straightened, his tone resolute as he announced, “I, Sirius of House Stark, come to present the bride.”

The words held weight, especially for Alicent, who knew the secret bond they shared. Sirius was more than her godfather; he was the father she’d been given by blood adoption, a truth known only to a trusted few. And here he was, fulfilling his duty with pride and poise. Alicent’s heart swelled with love for this man, whose sacrifices for family went deeper than most would ever know.

The ceremony progressed, and when the High Septon asked, “And who comes to take the bride?” Draco stepped forward, his deep voice carrying across the silent hall.

“I, Draconis of House Qoherys, come to take the bride.”

Alicent studied Draco as he stood beside Hermione. His dark robes, a shade of charcoal with silver accents and a broad leather belt, exuded an understated elegance that suited him perfectly. His mantle, draped in dark blue, bore the sigil of his house, and the dragon clasp at his shoulder glinted as he moved, a subtle nod to his proud Qoherys heritage. His posture was confident, but Alicent noticed the faintest tremor in his hand as he took Hermione’s, a glimmer of the vulnerability he worked so hard to keep hidden. Alicent couldn’t help but smile—Draco, usually so composed, was clearly struggling to keep his emotions in check.