The moon hung heavy in the sky, casting long shadows across the chambers of the Velaryon quarters. Days had passed since the clandestine counsel with Alicent, yet sleep eluded Lyanna. Her mind, a tempest of dragon dreams and courtly machinations, yearned for the sanctuary of the Dragonpit. But the hour was late, and she dared not disturb her lord father and lady mother with such trifles.

In her bedchamber, Lyanna tossed and turned, her lithe form writhing beneath silken sheets as if gripped by some fell vision. Lady Shiera, restless herself and drawn to the balcony by some ineffable instinct, noticed her daughter's distress as she glided across the floor, her nightgown whispering against the stone.

With the grace of a Lysene dancer, Lady Shiera gathered her robes and hastened to Lyanna's side. "Hush, my sweet," she murmured, her voice as soothing as the waters of the Blackwater on a calm day. She perched upon the edge of the bed, her cool hand coming to rest on Lyanna's brow.

Lyanna's eyes fluttered open, violet orbs wide with lingering fear. "Mother?" she whispered, her voice small and vulnerable in a way rarely heard in the light of day.

"What troubles you, my darling?" Lady Shiera asked, her own eyes, deep and knowing, searching her daughter's face for answers. In this moment, the weight of their shared blood – Valyrian and something older, more mysterious – seemed to pulse between them.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Lyanna exhales, her breath a tremulous whisper in the stillness of the night. "I know not, Mother," she confesses, her voice laden with unspoken dread. "These visions plague me... as if some terrible fate looms over us all."

She rubs her temples, trying to banish the lingering shadows of her nightmares. Lady Shiera regards her daughter with eyes that seem to hold the wisdom of ages, a gentle smile playing upon her lips.

"My sweet child," she murmurs, her voice as soft as Myrish silk, "I see the truth of it. Your heart yearns for Syrax, does it not?"

Lyanna's eyes widen, a flicker of hope igniting within their violet depths. "Is it... is it too much to ask?" she inquires, her voice barely above a whisper, as if fearing that speaking the desire aloud might cause it to vanish like morning mist.

Lady Shiera's smile deepens, a knowing look passing across her ethereal features. In this moment, the bond between mother and daughter transcends mere blood, touching upon something more ancient, more profound – the shared legacy of dragon riders and seers.

"Come," Lady Shiera says, rising with fluid grace. "Let us seek the comfort of scaled wings and fiery breath. Perhaps in Syrax's presence, the tapestry of your dreams will unravel its mysteries."

As they prepare to venture into the night, the air thrums with possibility, the fates of kingdoms hanging in the balance of a young girl's visions and a mother's intuition.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

~~~~

Under the cloak of night, mother and daughter traverse the shadowed halls of the Red Keep. Their footfalls echo softly as they descend towards the Dragonpit, the air growing thick with the scent of brimstone and scaled flesh.

As they approach, the low rumbles of slumbering dragons reverberate through the stone, a primal lullaby that sets Lyanna's heart racing. Lady Shiera begins to hum an ancient Valyrian melody, her voice barely above a whisper. Lyanna joins her, their harmonized tones weaving through the cavernous space.

One by one, great heads rise from their rest, eyes glowing like embers in the darkness. Among them, Blackfyre – Dreamfyre's sister – stirs. The massive black dragon lowers her head, purple eyes locking onto Lyanna with an intensity that seems to pierce the very fabric of reality.

Lyanna stands transfixed, her breath catching in her throat. In this moment, suspended between heartbeats, she feels the weight of centuries pressing upon her. The legacy of Old Valyria, the secrets of her mother's Asshai'i blood, and the uncertain future of the realm all converge in the depths of Blackfyre's gaze.

Lady Shiera places a steadying hand on her daughter's shoulder, her touch a reminder of the present. Yet even as Lyanna draws comfort from her mother's presence, she cannot shake the feeling that this night marks a turning point – not just for her, but for the fate of the Seven Kingdoms.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

I see you, Lyanna Velaryon, a voice resonates within Lyanna's mind, causing her to gasp audibly. Her mother's smile deepens, knowing and enigmatic.

"You can hear her voice, can you not?" Lady Shiera asks, her eyes glimmering with an otherworldly light.

Lyanna turns to her mother, wonder and confusion warring on her face. "You know of this?" she whispers, her voice trembling with the weight of revelation.

Lady Shiera nods, her silver-gold hair catching the faint moonlight filtering through the Dragonpit's dome. "Indeed, my sweet. Every true scion of our bloodline has heard the dragons' voices in their minds. The Velaryons and Targaryens... they cannot. They are not of the pure line."

With gentle hands, she guides Lyanna's palm to Blackfyre's snout. The obsidian dragon rumbles, a sound that reverberates through Lyanna's very being. Nearby, Dreamfyre stirs, her own melodious croon joining her sister's.

"Wow," Lyanna breathes, the word barely more than an exhalation of pure awe.

In this moment, surrounded by the living embodiments of Valyrian might and magic, Lyanna feels the threads of destiny weaving tighter around her. The secret knowledge passed from mother to daughter, the ancient bond between dragon and rider - all of it converges, hinting at a future both glorious and perilous.

Lady Shiera watches her daughter with pride and a touch of trepidation, knowing that this night marks the beginning of a journey that will shape the fate of realms.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

You should not be afraid, Blackfyre's voice resonates in Lyanna's mind, a sound like thunder rolling across distant mountains. The young Velaryon's face softens, fear giving way to wonder.

Dreamfyre, not to be outdone by her sister, stretches her long neck to nudge Lyanna gently. Her voice, when it comes, is like the whisper of wind through ancient ruins. Your daughter is beautiful, my lady, she intones, addressing Lady Shiera directly.

Lady Shiera's laughter rings out, a sound as clear and mysterious as Asshai'i crystal. "I thank you, Dreamfyre," she responds, her words carried on the night air, comprehensible to dragons and humans alike.

The Dragonpit seems to hold its breath, the other dragons watching this exchange with gleaming eyes. In this moment, the ancient pact between the blood of Old Valyria and the great beasts of legend is renewed, with Lyanna at its center.

The young girl stands tall, one hand on Blackfyre's scales, the other reaching out to touch Dreamfyre. She is the bridge between two worlds - the court of King's Landing with its intrigues and power plays, and this primal realm of fire and blood.

Lady Shiera observes her daughter with a mixture of pride and apprehension, knowing that this night marks a turning point. The dragons have spoken, and in doing so, have set Lyanna on a path that will shape the destiny of Westeros itself.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​