[A/N: Title are from Kings of Leon's "Sex on Fire", which I don't own.]
Wet snow like featherdown (like Viserys's hair, like mine) is all she knows at first.
Then, Qarth, where is Qarth? Where are my children? Where am I?
I am here, my child, the red door says.
She feels the soft press of velvet behind her and knows no more.
The second time begins as the first did (so cold, so lonely, yet there is hope for warmth)
I have never known a winter, she calls out. What is this?
This is an answer, my dragon, the red door sings.
She feels the soft press of fingers, hot on her breasts, and flies.
Now she knows to expect the cold that will come for her first, so she goes to her bed in all her skins and robes, waiting for her future.
(They say she is mad, mad like her father, but consumed by snow, she cannot hear them.)
Tonight, however, there is only a red streak (blood?) in the snow beside her.
A sharp flash of silver from behind, and she is one, too.
No amount of dreamwine can stop her screaming.