.

.

Selyse is all edges — from her overly powdered cheekbones, to her disapprovingly curt, sharp glances.

There's very little warmth to the Queen's demeanor or that exists within the confines of her heart, but it matters not. It's a fire worth breathing to existence, out of Selyse's flesh and soul devoted to R'hllor. Melisandre visualizes the happenstance in her mind's eye.

"The Lord of Light knows you are faithfully in his service," she says calmly, untying and pulling off the other woman's dressing robes, exposing her body to the chamber's reddish flame-light. The only curves to Selyse's narrow and hawkish form being her little, sagging breasts, admittedly.

Melisandre examines her without saying anything at first, circling her, thumbing over a nipple and secretly delighting in how it hardens.

"He can sense your strength and your beauty, my Queen. You are perfect."

Selyse's throat clenches, trying to force down her gulping moan. No-one has touched her this softly or with lustful interest. Not even her own husband.

What a poor, pious fool.

She jerks away from touch-contact, when Melisandre's palms skim over her breasts, those pale, slender fingers gripping on and massaging her. "You must relax yourself, my Queen." Melisandre shushes her a low, alarmed noise, pressing her mouth and jaw against Selyse's temple and whispering aloud, "Allow yourself to be given over to Him, through His servant's hands. It's only duty."

A bitter, severe-hearted woman can be melted, with suitably-placed words and deeds — the tip of Melisandre's nose grazing over Selyse's ear, nuzzling her.

"Do you give yourself, my Queen…?"

"Yes, yes, yes," Selyse cries out, nearly in hysterical ecstasy. Melisandre feels her trembling hard enough to waver, as she reaches for the iron canister upon the table. "For The One True God, I give my life! For the light!"

Oil spills upon her teats, over Selyse's back and her shoulders. Melisandre breathes in the oddly sweet-sour aroma, smiling dully and tipping the rest of the ambered, glistening liquid over the crown of Selyse's head. "And so you shall," she murmurs solemnly. "For the night is dark and full of terrors…"

The other woman roars out triumphantly, lifting her arms high above her. She continues to laugh and roar, even as Melisandre's newly smoking wick tosses in her direction.

A column of dancing, bright flames engulf Selyse's upper half, devouring her voice.

She no longer lacks the warmth needed, Melisandre says to no-one in particular, watching in rapt attention as Stannis's wife burns alive, crumpling lifelessly onto the stone-floor. No more distractions… now Azor Ahai reborn may follow his true path.

Faith and truth demands it.

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Prompt from asoiafkinkmeme: "Melisandre/Selyse, any rating. Give me that good ole femmeslash: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, anything goes!"