The chamber was dimly lit, the soft glow of candlelight flickering against the stone walls. You stood by the window, hands clasped before you, whispering a prayer under your breath. The air was thick with the scent of incense, a reminder of your devotion, your purpose.

And then you felt her.

Alicent moved like a shadow, silent, deliberate. Her hands, soft but sure, brushed against your shoulders, the touch searing through your robes. You tensed, your breath catching in your throat.

”You are everything I am not,” she whispered, her fingers tracing the embroidered edge of your cloak. ”Pure. Untouched.”

Your eyes fluttered closed at the warmth of her breath against your skin. ”And you are everything I should fear.”

Her lips ghosted over your ear, barely a touch, yet it sent a shiver down your spine. “Then why haven’t you run?”

You should have. You should have fled the moment she set her eyes upon you with that knowing gaze, the one that saw past your faith, past your discipline, straight into the part of you that longed for something more.

But you stayed.

When her lips finally met yours, slow and sinful, claiming you in a way no prayer ever had, you did not resist. Instead, your hands found her waist, pulling her closer, letting her press you against the cold stone as she deepened the kiss.

Alicent was fire—consuming, relentless. Her fingers worked the laces of your robe, a silent plea, a temptation you could no longer deny.

“You were made for more than silence and prayer,” she murmured against your lips, her voice thick with want. “Let me show you.”

Your head fell back as her lips traveled down your throat, your resolve crumbling with every press of her mouth.

You had no desire to be saved.

Not when she was the one leading you to ruin.