Vaeryna Velaryon has always known that she is not her father's daughter.

Never has she voiced it aloud, for unlike her younger brothers, she can guess at the consequences. But still, she's always known. Always doubted her own legitimacy.

Granted, she might have a better chance of passing as a Velaryon than her younger brothers do - with her silver hair and lilac eyes - but there is still the matter of her skin... of it's paleness. Not to mention the Velaryon features she has never been able to identify among her own, accumalative hours spent searching for them in mirrors has never forced them upon her face.

No, Vaeryna is no Velaryon, despite her namesake, but neither is she a Strong. She lacks the traits that her brothers have inherited, is not treated quite the same by Ser Harwin, regardless of how kind he is towards her. Vaeryna mourns him along with her kin when he dies, but instead grieves on behalf of them, not as one who has truly lost. She does not know what she is, beyond her mother's daughter. Her own instinct for survival may have prevented the asking of such questions, but never let it be said that Vaeryna is a fool... suspecting oneself of being a bastard is one thing, to voice it aloud is another. The question of her parentage goes overlooked until the day of her aunt's funeral - the very same day she first catches sight of her great Uncle Daemon - and the way in which he looks at her mother.

The way her mother looks at him in reciprocation.

Great Uncle Daemon, who, between shared glances with Princess Rhaenyra, spares Vaeryna some degree of interest. He looks upon her with an almost examining eye, as if searching for something within her appearance. It seems he finds whatever it may be that he is looking for, because he adopts this expression of barely veiled smugness and invests more into the glances he sends in the direction of her mother.

Again: Vaeryna Velaryon is no fool. A bastard - almost certainly, yes - but never a fool. She keeps her discoveries close to her chest, banking them there until she has a means to verify her suspicions.

Survival above all else, preservation of one's family and legacy and home. These are her goals, and Vaeryna means to achieve them at any cost. Which is why she almost succumbs to the fear that grips her when she is woken to be informed that her brothers and cousins have been wounded and are awaiting punishment.

Prince Aemond has claimed Vhagar, a feat of undeniable determination and cunning.

Unfortunately, this feat has cost him an eye... something he seems to deem an acceptable loss. Vaeryna, being only a year younger and with no dragon of her own, can sympathise with her uncle; though that sympathy ends where the blood seeps from the wounds on her cousins and siblings.

Vaeryna stands as vanguard until her mother hurries into the room, arms secured around her brothers and cousins; emboldened by the way they cling to her and tremble. She may still be tiny - a girl of nine - but as she faces down the wrath of Queen Alicent she feels taller than Vhagar herself. Vaeryna is braced for anything when her mother arrives, an overwhelming sense of relief overtaking the adrenaline the moment she can step back into her role as a child. She spies great Uncle Daemon in the corner, observes the amusement dancing in his violet eyes. For a moment she really does hope he is her father, if only to grant the possibility that she may be like him someday - bold and unbothered - able to find entertainment in matters of life and death. As of now Vaeryna finds herself petrified, shaken to the bone by the threats levied at her kin. Her baby brothers - she clings to them as if she can keep them safe so long as she doesn't let go.

When all is said and done, Vaeryna watches in a state of dissonance as the crimson of her mother's blood pools on the stone before her. A hand comes to rest on her shoulder and she looks up, away from the blood (there is so much of it), and straight into the eyes of great Uncle Daemon. The amusement is gone from the depths of them now, replaced by something more akin to menace. He holds her gaze for just a second before raising his head to level a stare towards their opponents instead. Daemon's stance is protective, his hand on her shoulder affirming of his presence.

It's in this moment that she knows.

Vaeryna follows her father's example, holding her head high and remaining unflinching. Dragons do not back down in the face of danger. They thrive.

Vaeryna Velaryon will thrive.