As the mother and son from Runestone made their way to the capital...
The skies above King's Landing opened with the sound of thunder that was not thunder at all.
A shadow crossed the fields of cloud... vast, winged, with the golden dull of yellow.
It was Syrax, young yet full of strength, her scales almost glimmering like molten gold under the sun.
She cut through the air with a dancer's grace, rising and dipping, circling as if she delighted in the freedom of it.
Those below, small as ants, could only look up in awe and fear or perhaps already used to it... as the shadow of dragonwings passed over their city.
Upon her back rode Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, daughter of King Viserys, first of her name, and the only child of his own blood that the realm could consider for succession. For now...
Consequently, she leaned forward in her saddle, feeling the pull of the wind against her face.
To fly was to live... and few things made her feel more alive than the rush of air and the strength of her dragon beneath her.
The Red Keep stood ahead, red and proud upon Aegon's Hill, and behind it the Dragonpit, that great and terrible house of fire and wings.
Under Rhaenyra's control... Syrax descended there, her form rippling through the air before landing in a storm of dust outside one of the enormous vault tunnels.
The ground shook with the weight of her.
The smell of belonging to that of a beast of fire appeared not long after as her wings were folding.
From the dark mouths of the tunnels came the Dragonkeepers, robed in the same layered cotton they had worn since the days of Old Valyria.
Their faces had hints of ash and their voices rose in the language of dragons... High Valyrian.
A young Dragonkeeper said. "Dohaerās, Syrax! (Serve, Syrax!)"
Alas, the dragon simply twitched her long neck, huffing a cloud of smoke.
She was restless, her tail swaying, claws digging at the earth.
So an elder Dragonkeeper took over to say. "Lykirī... Lykirī... (Calm... calm...)*
Slowly, Syrax quieted, though her eyes stayed sharp and wild.
Taking that as signal, Rhaenyra began her descent by unfastening her saddle straps and climbed down with practiced ease.
With a leap to the ground, the dust curling around her boots.
She was but a girl that just passed fourteen, her hair pale as beaten silver and her expression calm... surveying and noting of the entourage that awaited.
For a short distance away waited Ser Harrold Westerling, white cloak draped over his shoulders, his armor gleaming in the sun.
The commander of the Kingsguard sat his horse, ever patient but always wary.
Around him stood a squire, two pages, and a wheelhouse bearing the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen. Her ride.
Rhaenyra noted how Ser Harrold shifted in his saddle as the keepers worked.
Though it was clear that man had seen dragons most of his life, the princess knew that he never could watch one without his hand straying to the pommel of his sword.
Rhaenyra also saw her friend by the doorway of the wheelhouse, the Lady Alicent Hightower, no older than herself, though different in every other way.
She was softer, quieter, and with her watching eyes that the princess was all too familiar with.
And as she trusted the keepers to lead her dragon back into the pit... Rhaenyra wiped a strand of loosened hair from her face and then walked toward Ser Harrold and Alicent.
Accordingly, the knight inclined his head as she neared, greeting with a. "Welcome back, princess. I trust your ride was pleasant?"
"Try not to look too relieved, ser." Rhaenyra said back in musement as she saw the man's eased smile.
While the Kingsguard just reasoned that. "I am relieved, princess. Every time that golden beast returns you unspoiled, it saves my head from a spike."
That made Rhaenyra chuckle a bit but then she turned toward Alicent, who was now stepping out of the wheelhouse. Probably to greet her.
"Syrax is growing quickly." Alicent commented, adding that. "She'll soon be as large as Caraxes."
To which, Rhaenyra teased her. "That's large enough to saddle two... so you can fly with me."
But her Alicent was not amused as always, reassuring that. "I believe I am quite content as a spectator or just flying the kites, thank you."
Rhaenyra could only smile. Content and happy with the usual interactions like these.
Then she climbed into the wheelhouse, following Alicent who went in ahead of her.
And inside... the two girls continued to no doubt converse and giggle like usual... like the friends they are. With gossip about the ladies and the possibility that the Young Bronze is to arrive in King's Landing.
They do so almost without worry or care for everything else around them.
Even when a certain someone was expecting one of them to not be late in filling the cups of an already nearing council meeting...