Lyanna bursts into her parents' solar, her silver hair disheveled from her hasty flight through the castle's winding corridors. Lady Shiera of Asshai, her eyes shimmering with an otherworldly knowledge, opens her arms to her daughter.

"Oh, my sweet child," Lady Shiera murmurs, her voice as soft as Myrish silk. She gathers Lyanna into her embrace, lifting her as though she were still a babe, and settles her upon the stone balustrade overlooking the sprawling city below. "I grieve that you bore witness to the Old King's passing. Such burdens should not fall upon ones so young."

Lyanna shakes her head, her violet eyes dry but haunted. "He was bound for the Stranger's embrace, Mother. His years weighed heavily upon him."

Lord Lucerys Velaryon sighs, his weathered hand coming to rest upon his daughter's shoulder. "Aye, child, that he was. But let us not forget - Jaehaerys was a king without equal. His reign brought peace and prosperity to lands long torn by strife."

The family stands in silence, gazing out over the realm that now stands at the precipice of change. The shadow of dragons long past seems to loom over them, a portent of the tumultuous days to come.

A thunderous roar shatters the somber moment, drawing the three Velaryons' gaze skyward. There, silhouetted against the azure expanse, Syrax gleams like a living flame, her scales a resplendent yellow-gold in the sunlight. Upon her back, a rider sits astride, their form dwarfed by the dragon's massive bulk.

Syrax pirouettes through the air, her sinuous body twisting and turning with a grace that belies her enormous size. She rises on a thermal, then plummets in a breathtaking dive, only to wheel about once more, reveling in the sheer joy of flight.

Suddenly, the great beast's eyes lock onto the balcony, meeting Lyanna's gaze. A smile breaks across the young Velaryon's face, and she raises a hand in greeting. Syrax answers with another earth-shaking roar before banking away, her wings cutting through the air like Valyrian steel.

Lord Lucerys and Lady Shiera exchange a knowing glance before drawing their daughter close, enveloping her in a protective embrace. "Come, sweetling," Lord Lucerys says, a hint of indulgence in his voice. "Shall we descend to greet Syrax? I wager you're eager to meet her up close."

Lyanna's eyes light up with unbridled excitement. "Oh, yes!" she exclaims, her earlier melancholy forgotten in the face of such wonder. "Yes, please, Father!"

As they make their way down from the balcony, the shadow of Syrax passes overhead once more, a reminder of the power and majesty that still resides within the blood of Old Valyria.

The Velaryon party soon arrives at one of the colossal vault tunnels encircling the Dragonpit. As they approach, Syrax descends in a tempest of dust and wingbeats, her adolescent form still impressive despite her youth. The dragon's head swivels towards the three highborn visitors, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

An wizened dragonkeeper, his face etched with the lines of countless encounters with these fire-breathing beasts, calls out in alarm. "My lord, my lady, I beg you stay back! We must guide this dragon to her chambers posthaste!"

Lord Lucerys, however, raises a hand to stay the old man's concerns. "Peace, good ser. My daughter has long awaited this moment. Let her approach." With these words, he gently ushers the sixteen-year-old Lyanna forward.

The girl advances with a composure that belies her years, each step measured and deliberate. Syrax, sensing no threat, lowers her great head, a rumbling purr emanating from deep within her chest. Lyanna's laughter rings out, clear and joyous, as she presses her palm against the dragon's warm snout.

The rider, having dismounted, offers a respectful nod before retreating, leaving Lyanna alone with the golden dragoness. In this moment, as girl and dragon regard each other with mutual fascination, the ancient bond between Valyrian blood and these majestic creatures seems to echo through the ages.

Lady Shiera and Lord Lucerys watch from a distance, their faces a mixture of pride and trepidation. For in this union of dragon and dragonrider, they see not just their daughter's joy, but the weight of destiny that now rests upon her slender shoulders.

Lady Shiera steps forward, her voice soft yet charged with possibility. "If it pleases you, my dear, one of these magnificent beasts could be yours. We have several yet unbonded."

Lyanna's eyes widen, darting between her mother and the dragonkeepers. "Truly?" she breathes, wonder evident in her voice.

The elder dragonkeeper sighs, the weight of tradition heavy on his brow. But his young acolyte beams with enthusiasm. "Indeed, my lady. If you'd like, I could show you our unridden dragons," he offers, extending his hand in invitation.

As Lyanna reaches out, Syrax suddenly snarls, snapping her fearsome jaws near the young man. He yelps, stumbling backwards, his earlier confidence shaken.

Syrax's growl softens to a rumbling purr as she turns her attention back to Lyanna, showering the girl with affectionate licks. Lady Shiera's laughter rings out, while Lord Lucerys smiles knowingly. "It seems Syrax is determined to keep our daughter's company a while longer," he observes.

The old dragonkeeper, ever mindful of protocol, interjects hesitantly. "Begging your pardons, my lord and lady, but Syrax must return to her chambers." He wrings his hands anxiously before another keeper passes him a pair of dragon-hide gloves.

"Her rider will ensure she's properly settled before the new king's coronation," he adds, his tone a mixture of deference and determination.

Lyanna looks up at the golden dragoness, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Fear not, I shall return. Now go, great one," she says, stepping aside. Syrax whimpers at the loss of contact, but acquiesces, trudging after the old dragonkeeper with a reluctant sigh.

Lady Shiera's eyes glimmer with pride. "Go on then, dear. We shall remain nearby should you have need of us." Lyanna nods, taking the proffered hand of the now-steadier acolyte, who leads her past Syrax's chambers towards the great round Dragonpit where more of the beasts reside.

As they approach, a familiar figure emerges from the shadows. Lyanna's face brightens upon recognizing Princess Rhaenyra. "Rhaenyra! There you are," she calls, extending her hands in greeting. The younger girl clasps them warmly.

"I wondered if you'd gone riding Syrax," Lyanna continues, to which Rhaenyra nods. "I did. Forgive me for not joining you in play earlier."

The sixteen-year-old Lyanna shakes her head, dismissing the apology. "Think nothing of it. I came to behold the dragons myself." Rhaenyra nods in understanding, then turns to the acolyte with a regal air beyond her years. "I can guide her from here," she declares.

The two girls venture forth, passing each dragon's chamber. Some beasts sniff curiously, others snap irritably at their presence. They pause before a smaller dragon with gray scales and red sails.

"This is Arrax," Rhaenyra explains. "He's gentle, but as yet unbonded."

Lyanna hums thoughtfully, extending her hand. Arrax sniffs, cocking his head before gurgling softly. Lyanna chuckles, "Well, hello there." She dips her head, and the dragon mirrors her gesture.

Moving on, Lyanna gasps at the sight of an imposing black and red dragon. Rhaenyra's eyes light up, "Ah, that's Caraxes, my uncle's mount. If he's here, Uncle Daemon must be too. Would you like to meet him?"

The long-necked dragon lowers his head, sniffing Lyanna curiously before crooning. "Oh, I'm Lyanna," she says, as if in response. Caraxes purrs, nuzzling her hand. "I don't have any treats, dear," she adds apologetically.

Rhaenyra's eyes widen. "You can understand him?"

Lyanna shrugs, "Somehow, yes."

"Well, come along then," Rhaenyra says, excitement building in her voice. "There's still Vhagar and others like Dreamfyre that remain unclaimed. Oh, and Shadowfyre too!"

Lyanna blinks, "Shadowfyre? Have I heard of her?"

Rhaenyra shakes her head. "They don't tell her stories in our lessons, though she's here. Unbonded, keeping Dreamfyre company. They're sisters, I believe."

As they continue their tour, they come upon Vhagar's stall. The massive green dragon, almost too large for the Dragonpit, rests within. Lyanna marvels at the recent renovations, undertaken after Jaehaerys' passing to accommodate Vhagar and other colossal dragons like Balerion.

The girls stand in awe, surrounded by living legends, each dragon a testament to the power and majesty of their Valyrian heritage. The air thrums with potential, hinting at the pivotal roles these majestic beasts - and the girls themselves - may yet play in the turbulent days to come.