THE SOUL'S EXCHANGE

sea dragon saved

Year 120 AC

The air in the Red Keep felt stiflingly thick, laden with the oppressive weight of tension. The walls seemed to absorb the anguished screams of Laena Velaryon, echoing down the ancient stone corridors like a cry of agony to the gods themselves. Laena's voice, filled with sharp, painful cries, was a symphony of fear and labor, each scream ringing in the ears of those gathered outside the chamber. Regulus Stark stood at the heart of the storm, his strong frame tense as he held his five-year-old twins, Bela and Laena, close. Their tiny fingers clutched at the fabric of his tunic, the innocence of their eyes haunted by a terror they could not yet fully comprehend.

Regulus's breath caught in his throat as the screams grew more frantic. His eyes, dark with concern, flicked from one child to the other, trying to offer them reassurance. His voice was calm, but even he could hear the uncertainty within it. "Your mother is strong," he whispered to them. "She has done this before. The healers are with her." His voice trembled as he spoke, though the words were meant to soothe the children. But inside, his heart raced, the fear growing like a weight on his chest. Not again. I can't lose her again, the thought gnawed at him, dragging his mind into dark places.

Sirius Stark, his older brother, stood just behind him, a silent, steadfast presence. The tall, broad-shouldered figure of Sirius was as steady as a mountain, his face unreadable, yet his deep brown eyes flickered with the same anxiety that gripped Regulus. Sirius's hand, large and firm, rested on Regulus’s shoulder, offering the only comfort he could—silent strength, a steadying force in the storm of his brother’s turmoil. She's strong, Regulus. She will make it, Sirius thought to himself, but even his certainty was shaken by the cries from within the chamber. His own mind drifted, if only briefly, to his own losses and the helplessness that tore at him.

In the room beyond, the air was thick with the scent of sweat, blood, and fear. The stone walls seemed to close in, trapping Laena Velaryon in a suffocating embrace of pain. Her body trembled, drenched in sweat as she labored beneath the expert hands of the maester, a nervous man whose thin, trembling fingers faltered as they hovered over her swollen belly. His face, pale and drawn, seemed to grow even paler as he stepped back from Laena, his mouth working soundlessly as his eyes widened in shock.

Alicent Hightower, known also as Sitara, stood beside him, her gold and white gown, the rich silk flowing with her every movement, shimmering in the flickering candlelight. Her fingers, delicate but firm, gripped the edge of the birthing table as she leaned in, her sharp gaze focusing on Laena’s labor. She had been through this so many times before—healing, mending, protecting—but today, something felt wrong. The very air felt heavier, laden with an unfamiliar weight. She could feel the tension in the room, the way the space itself seemed to breathe with Laena’s pain. The faint hum of magic crackled in the air around Alicent, but she focused all her energy on the task at hand.

Then came the maester’s whisper—soft, almost too quiet to be believed. "Forgive me, my queen," he said, his voice trembling, "but the child… the child is in breach. We can only save the child or the mother." His words fell into the room like stones dropped into a still pond, sending ripples of shock through everyone present. Alicent’s heart froze in her chest, her mind reeling. The maester’s hands pulled back from Laena’s belly, his nervous gaze meeting hers, the trembling of his fingers betraying the unease spreading through his entire body. No. No. I won't let this happen. Not again. Alicent’s mind screamed.

Alicent's blood ran cold, and the world seemed to slow for a moment. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and her hand clenched at her side, fingers curling into a fist. How dare he? Her body trembled with fury, but she swallowed the rising wave of anger, forcing it down, holding it back. A moment of stillness passed before she snapped, her voice icy and sharp. "What is happening to her? What are you talking about?" Her tone was laced with venom, her eyes glinting with something darker than mere anger. How dare he say this to me? The maester flinched beneath her gaze, shrinking as though physically wounded.