Dragon of the Vale

"If I could I would be betrothed to you." Aemond uttered, the raven haired girl before him stop in her tracks and stared at the prince in shock. The torches in the streets, illuminating her every feature. From her plum red lips, charcoal black hair. Aemond stalked up to the warrior and looked down at her. "You have a princess, a fine looking Targaryen with a dragon who is rumored to be as large as Seasmoke, and you'd rather marry me? A commoner with no title, no dragon, from the Vale?" She questioned, dark brown orbs with sparks with gold glistening in her orbs. Aemond grabbed the back of her head and held it up gently so she was looking up at him. "Tiltes can be conquered, dragons killed, but the spirit of a fighter, you must be born with." Aemond answered. The girl looked up at me and smirk. "Who knew the cold prince had such a warm heart." She said with a grin in her orbs, before walking beneath the prince's arm leaving him in the streets alone. Aemond twisted to look at the girl as she walked away. Long purple shirt trailing behind her as she walked, the aqua teal corset outlining her waist, with a long sleeve shirt that fell off her shoulders. Aemond closes his hand as he watches her leave when she feels something on it. There upon his hand, black powder, ash like, as dark as coal. Aemond turns back to look at the vale warrior leaving and smirks. "That cleaver minx."

Princess Ryella Targaryen the Revengeful, hardened over the years of her life Ryella has a strong sense of justice and vengeance. Being the only daughter and heir of Rhea Royce and eldest daughter of Deamon Targaryen, her life was always destined to cause destruction. However when she is born she takes her mother's life and her father wants nothing to do with her. Leaving the girl to face the wrath of Westeros from alone by herself. That is until she receives two letters, one from Kingslanding, the other from Dragon Stone, each asking for one thing, her hand.