[ 5 YEARS LATER ]

Vaeryna cannot help the suspicion with which she watches the maids that dress and groom her this morning. Having been roused from her slumber earlier than usual and bathed, fussed over and generally... prettied, she feels it fairly obvious that something has happened or changed without her knowledge. The maids assigned to Vaeryna are usually chatty and carefree, as she gives them leave to be (a truly expedient way to stay on top of gossip), but today demonstrate an unusual restraint. Not a word has been spoken out of turn - today they speak only to ask Vaeryna to do something - it's as if they have been given an order from someone with ultimate authority on Dragonstone.

Naturally, this means her mother must be the culprit.

But why? Her mother is not even present on the island on which the castle sits. She's taken Syraxes and flown to King's Landing at the request of Vaeryna's grandsire, King Viserys.

There is a knock on the door, just as the maids are putting the final touches to the braids that adorn Vaeryna's hair. She looks to receive her visitor only to find her father stood in the doorway with a suspiciously neutral expression on his face.

"Come," Daemon says, "we're to fly to King's Landing at the request of the King." His tone gives away even less than his expression does, but even so there's something about the way he delivers the news that has a small pit of apprehension forming in her stomach.

Vaeryna still has no claim to any dragon of her own so she rides on Caraxes with her father, clinging to his back a little more tightly than is perhaps necessary. The journey leaves her exhausted and aching but does little to supercede her pride, for when she dismounts the dragon she maintains the posture and regality that befits her station.

"Well done," Daemon mutters to her when they are out of range of their welcome party.

They are escorted through winding corridors and up numerous flights of stairs until they are headed in a direction that Vaeryna recognises. First, they are set upon by a small gaggle of maids who fuss over Vaeryna's appearance, adjusting and amending whatever had been degraded by dragon flight. Once they are satisfied with the outcome, they disappear once more. The guards fan out to take up position either side of the grand doors to the throne room and as they do so her father takes her aside.

"Should I be afraid?" Vaeryna asks him in a hushed whisper.

Daemon grants her the vestiges of a smile, grip tightening slightly on her shoulder. He glances in the direction of the guards, staring until they avert their eyes before he deigns to speak. "Always be afraid, Vaeryna. That fear will keep you alive better than any guard in the Realm ever could."

"I have something to fear, then?"

"Yes. Your duty."

"Ah," Vaeryna can feel herself deflate with the acknowledgement of it - what awaits her beyond these doors. "I suppose that explains all the preening."

Daemon offers little more than a slight upturn to the corners of his mouth, his eyes wandering over her face with solemn intent. Perhaps, if Vaeryna had known him better, she might be able to pick apart the nuances of whatever it is he might be feeling in this moment. But very few held the honour of truly knowing Prince Daemon Targaryen, and despite being his bastard daughter... Vaeryna knows she is not one of them.

"Prepare yourself," Daemon warns her.

Vaeryna smooths down the pretty red fabric of her dress, successfully disguising the fact that she merely wished to wipe her sweaty palms off on her dress. It was an act she had perfected at the age of two and ten. She takes a second to straighten out her shoulders, raising her chin up to be held at a more elegant angle as she folds her hands over each other at her midriff.

Satisfied with her preparations, her father steps back to stand at her side as the great doors before them creak open to reveal the small group that awaits them. They're gathered around the throne at the far side of the room, with King Viserys taking up precedence as all laws dictate he should. Vaeryna notes the presence of Queen Alicent, Prince Aemond, Otto Hightower and her own mother as she and Daemon proceed towards them. Her grandsire is a sorry sight up on his throne, appearing more corpse than man, let alone a dragon. It becomes clear that the reason he is sat in his throne may be more due to his inability to stand than a desire to preside over his subjects, and the thought makes Vaeryna unbearably sad. If she weren't so distracted by the implications of her uncle's presence in the room, she might even feel a great temptation to weep.

"Vaeryna," her mother greets her warmly, a visible relief sweeping over her as she is joined by her daughter and husband in the pit of vipers that surrounds them.

"Ah, my granddaughter..." King Viserys attempts the same level of warmth but is so lacking in vitality that it comes across as more of a sigh than anything. Vaeryna does not think she has ever seen anybody quite so tired in all her life. "How beautifully you have grown, young Vaeryna."

Vaeryna's smile is genuine as she curtseys, making sure to bow her head as deeply as she can manage to indicate the strength of her admiration for the crown. While he hardly makes an ideal king, her grandsire is undoubtedly a good and honest man... kind and dedicated to his family. Vaeryna hates to see him brought so low and feeble by illness, resents her parents for their decision to leave him at the mercy of this place.

"You honour me, my king..." Vaeryna says, remaining in her curtsey until she is permitted out of it.

"Rise, my child. Come and stand by your mother so we may get on with things." A horrendous cough wracks his frame, the strength of it overwhelming him for a second before he manages to regain control of himself. Both his wife and daughter take a half step forward to assist him before he waves them off.

Vaeryna does as she is bid, reaching out for her mother's hand when it is offered for her to take. She dares a glance at Queen Alicent and Prince Aemond, who stand on the other side of an invisible gulf - while it's customary to leave the line between the doors and the throne free - in private company, such traditions are permitted to laxen. It's emblematic of the rift that has grown between Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra, this physical gap between their parties.

The queen herself looks harried - irritated - while Prince Aemond appears almost... uncaring. Vaeryna is reminded of the way he had looked after losing his eye, as if it was just another burden to bear, and wonders if he has instilled himself with the same mindset now.

"My love, I still-" Queen Alicent attempts to speak but is interrupted by her husband before she can get out whatever objection she may have. Vaeryna's eyes dart in her direction, landing on the queen only briefly before passing over to find her uncle already watching her, stood at his mother's side. The look they share is fleeting, their attentions transferring quickly to the king as he makes his damning announcement.

"Princess Vaeryna Velaryon and Prince Aemond Targaryen will be married, joining our houses and uniting us all, once more, as family. I will tolerate no objections to this fine match," Viserys shoots Alicent a look as he says this, "and expect to see the betrothed married within the year. I decree this as king."

Vaeryna cannot say she feels shocked, but neither can she say she could ever feel... prepared for such news. Marriage to a cruel uncle is hardly a welcome prospect in any circumstance, but marriage to a cruel uncle who happens to be Aemond Targaryen... Vaeryna is sufficiently out of her depth. She can feel the weight of her betrothed's one-eyed stare on her as she bows her head in quiet obedience, clutching tighter to her mother's hand and letting it anchor her as she fights to remain calm. Her mother squeezes her hand in reassurance, putting enough strength into it to communicate an order for good behaviour.

So Vaeryna drowns out everything else - the protestations of the queen, the silent scrutiny from Aemond - and focuses on maintaining her composure.

Dragons do not waver. Dragons thrive.

Thrive, Vaeryna. Thrive.