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    Summary

    “She would have you fed to Vhagar.” He hissed. “However, only after you watch as your family burn.”

    Visenya smirked and unfazed by his threats traced a finger lightly around his one good eye, watching as fear and something else flared in its violet depths. She was enjoying this game and with a provocative grin, she brought her mouth to his neck. Her lips parted and she ran her tongue along the line of red, replacing the dagger's sting with bites of her own. She moved to his ear and allowed her breath to tickle the sensitive skin.

    “We are Targaryens Aemond. We do not fear fire.” She purred.

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