THE SOUL'S EXCHANGE

shattered peices, united anew

Severus Snape couldn't decide what was more infuriating: being yanked out of his peaceful, albeit miserable, existence as a portrait in Hogwarts or the absolute absurdity of the situation he'd found himself in. He had died once in the name of love, protecting Lily's Daughter—his final act of redemption, or so he had hoped. At least in death, he thought, there would be peace. No more politics, no more scheming, no more pretending to be someone he wasn't.

But no, it seemed that peace was a luxury beyond his reach. Instead, Death itself had dragged him into this strange world, this "Westeros," where politics were as suffocating as ever, and magic was both feared and long-forgotten. He had been thrust into the role of Maester Severus, a supposed scholar, a man of religion and knowledge—none of which he had ever been in his former life. He was a spy. A master of poisons, deception, and shadows. Not a pious, bookish fool. Yet here he was, with the title Maester slapped on him like an ironic joke.

To make matters worse, he had been summoned by Sir Gwynne Hightower, the second son of the prestigious Hightower family from Old Town. Of course, this man, with all his self-importance, had the audacity to offer him bribes to keep an eye on the other maesters—another task that Severus neither wanted nor cared about. It was all for the Queen, Alicent Hightower, who had apparently made herself a name in this world as the daughter of House Hightower and the mother of several children. The way people spoke of her—hell, just the name itself—reminded him of someone, someone he had sworn to protect.

He gritted his teeth at the thought.

The worst part was that Sir Gwynne hadn't asked Severus to just keep watch; he had made it clear that the current maester was suspected of treason. It seemed this man, this so-called healer, was poisoning the royal family, killing women and their children—an offense so vile that even Severus, in all his cynicism, couldn’t overlook it. It was beyond treason; it was the kind of betrayal that called for swift action, and Severus, despite his own personal grievances with the state of affairs, was expected to get involved.

He could feel the weight of the task bearing down on him as he made his way to the Red Keep. It was not his world, not his fight. But here he was, once again tangled in someone else's web of lies and deceit.

And so, there he was, on the brink of what was sure to be another long, tedious day of trying to find the truth amid a sea of lies.

"Why couldn't I have just stayed dead in peace? Just a little peace..."

Severus trudged through the Red Keep’s halls, irritation curling in his chest with each step. He had never been one to enjoy being summoned under such covert circumstances, especially when it came to the likes of people who treated others as mere chess pieces in their political games. Alicent Hightower, apparently, had a knack for keeping things veiled in secrecy, but Severus had seen enough of the game of power and manipulation to know when he was being played. And tonight, he was once again being dragged into one of her plots—no doubt another piece of the puzzle he didn't want to be a part of.

He had barely stepped through the gates when he was greeted by the woman in a servant's attire. At first glance, Severus had recognized her for what she truly was: a trained killer, a spy. Her every movement, every glance, screamed of someone who had lived a life of deception, her presence here more than likely tied to some dark task for the Queen.

"Well met, Maester," the woman greeted, her tone far too cordial for someone of her apparent profession.

"Well met," he responded curtly, his voice dripping with irritation. He had learned long ago not to indulge in pleasantries when it was clear that no one was being completely honest.

The woman didn't seem offended by his tone—probably because she was accustomed to it. She simply gave a small, knowing smile. "I understand, Maester, that you are not willing, you are quite exhausted to be dragged here in the middle of the night, but what can we do? Secrecy is required in a game of deception."