Ire And Desire - Aemond Targaryen

Introduction

Princess Yelaena Targaryen, daughter of Prince Vhaenar Targaryen and Lady Naerys Dortigar, granddaughter of Prince Aegon Targaryen as well as his sister-wife, Princess Daenerys Targaryen; and great-granddaughter of King Jaehaerys Targaryen. Rider of Aegarax and wielder of God Slayer.

An exquisite woman, an honourable princess, a fierce warrior, a loving daughter but most importantly...

A powerful mage of the purest Valyrian descent.

The blood of the dragon, courtesy of her father's dragonlords' ancestry, was not the only one running through her veins. It was merged with that of house Dortigar's, the only family of mages that fled old Valyria's doom before its occurrence.

Yelaena made good use of both and took great pride in it as well as in her remarkable features, for she was the living proof of the love her parents carried for each other. She had their signature silver white hair, her father's ivory skin and blue irises in addition to her mother's slightly bumpy nose and doe eyes.

Lady Dortigar's daughter possessed a unique kind of beauty, one beyond compare. She had always managed to effortlessly bend the energy she exuded to her own will, to shape it however she pleased. Whether it was harsh masculine or delicate feminine, she was able to comfortably fit into both categories and to singly embody those two aspects according to her liking.

She was tall; curvaceous, yet muscular, like a sculpture carved by a generous hand with meticulous care and attention to detail. Wide hips, generous cleavage, and a firm rear combined with broad shoulders, strong arms, and long, toned legs, a divine vision sent to test humans and their depravity.

Her smile brought warmth to the hearts like the first rays of sun cast upon a cold room at dawn; her laugh was a melody bards wished they could bottle and have their lutes replicate; men were ready to make absolute fools of themselves if that was the price to pay for a glance the Princess cast their way. She carried herself with grace and elegance, spoke with poise and eloquence, walked with purpose and confidence. Her kindness knew no boundaries, it gained her both love and respect from others. "Yelaena Tender Heart", they styled her. An accomplished lady who would've set an unreachable example for the other young maidens of the king's court and put the best of them to shame, had she been given the opportunity.

Nonetheless, like the seven, that was solely one of her multiple faces.

She remained a dragon at heart; a brazier containing a thousand and one ardent flames, waiting for the lid to be removed so that it could burn everything and everyone around it.

Though she may appear to be even more delicate than porcelain, the Princess was not one to underestimate, a lesson some were able to assimilate only too late. She was unpredictable, which made her even more menacing than she already was.

Rare were her words, she preferred acts, but the very few ones she spoke were promises engraved on the stone of time. Her tongue was as sharp as the blade of her sword, her responses as swift as its attacks, and, just like God Slayer, always kept within easy reach. She delivered her chilling warnings with the sweetness of a lullaby, like honey masking the taste of poison.

If a Lannister always repaid his debts, Yelaena Targaryen always executed her threats.

She was an excellent swordswoman, the best in Essos according to most. She was interested in the arts of combat for as far as she could remember and her father had indulged her desire to learn. He took it upon himself to train her, alongside some of the finest knights, the Rogue Prince himself being one of them.

Being the perfectionist that she was, she became fixated on every task she undertook till mastering it to perfection, Prince Vhaenar was so impressed by her fighting skills at some point that he gifted her his Valyrian steel brand.

She never admitted it out loud, but the Princess favoured seeking her own justice and delivering her personal retribution. She had managed to tame that side of hers for years now, but she knew that even though the Dortigars were known for being calm, cunning, and calculating; relying on wisdom, wit, and wiles so much that their patience became unwavering and their temper seldom lost, Targaryens, on the other hand, were known for being proud and impulsive like the beasts they mounted, relying mostly on violence to achieve their goals, succumbing under the weight of wrath and suffering till the very loss of sanity, hence their famous words "fire and blood". No matter how good some of them may be, they all had internal madness, brooding in the depth of their very being, waiting patiently for a moment of vulnerability to grasp and drag them down the abyss from which, to this day, none of the ones who fell in were able to escape.

The young woman was well aware of her dark side, she thought that there was no use denying its existence, however, it was imperative for her to keep it at bay, to not let cruelty supplant her kindliness simply because the world was a hostile place.

A task that proved to be rather hard when wronged, and even harder under the heat of battle. She may not have participated in any of the grand wars Westeros had to witness, but she had her fair share of combat in Essos alongside her sellsword friends.

Ever since she was a child, her leisure activities consisted of enduring heavy training sessions, quenching her thirst for knowledge, making colourful needlework, and riding on both dragon and horse backs; but her favourite one out of all was learning magic.

The Princess traveled a lot, she has seen all of Essos's wonders and mysteries, discovered most of its well-kept secrets, but she has always wanted to visit Westeros, to find out what it had to offer and meet the rest of her family members. Little did she know that she would have regretted her wish the instant her foot was set on the continent's soil.