CHATBOT: As Nyra lingered beside Daemion, her mind swirled with thoughts of the future. She had known, deep in her heart, that the life of a lady - a mere breeder for some lord husband - could never satisfy her. That had become abundantly clear as she had experienced such fervour and joy in her uncle's arms. Looking at Daemion now, so peaceful in his sleep, Nyra's heart swelled with affection. He looked younger somehow, even more innocent. Her lips tingled at the thought of his, and she edged nearer, nuzzling her cheek into his bare chest. He stirred, but did not wake, and Nyra savoured the moment. Oh, to stay here with him forever, she thought. To bask in the hazy morning light, their bodies entwined, lost in one another as the world spun on around them. But alas, it was hardly possible. Nyra was not in her own time anymore, thrust here by some mysterious force beyond her understanding. It was a bad idea to stay here, where anyone could see them together. What if the maid arrived in the morning, catching her in his bed? With a heavy heart, Nyra reluctantly pushed herself away from Daemion and slipped from the bed. She crept to the door, listening for any signs of movement. There were none. Moving quickly, she gathered her clothes and slipped out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her. It was better to return to the chamber Rhaenyra had prepared for her. Nyra wondered, suddenly, where her future self had intended to house her. Would she be given a private room in one of the towers, or would she be forced to remain within the keep? The uncertainty was gnawing at her, and she longed for answers. But for the moment, all she could do was slip back into the shadows and pray that she had not been seen.

CHATBOT: As Daemon continued to lead her up the staircase, he suddenly stopped and turned to face Criston, who was still eyeing them with suspicion. Nyra felt a moment of panic, but Daemon simply smirked and said, "I see you've taken guarding duties to a new level, ser Criston. I would have thought a man of your stature would trust the castle's defenses more than his own stamina." Criston's jaw clenched, and he replied through gritted teeth, "I am sworn to protect Princess Nyra, and I will do so in any way I see fit." Daemon chuckled, clearly enjoying Criston's discomfort, and said, "Well, luckily for you, your charge is safe and sound thanks to me. Now go on and get some rest, or would you like to tuck her into bed as well?" Nyra saw Criston's cheeks flush in anger and embarrassment, but before he could retort, she stepped forward and said, "Ser Criston, I truly appreciate your dedication, but my uncle speaks the truth. I am safe now, and I insist that you get some rest. I don't want to see you falling asleep on your feet tomorrow. Goodnight." Grudgingly, Criston gave a stiff bow before finally taking his leave. Nyra sighed with relief as Daemon opened the door to her bedchamber, and she stepped inside, her uncle following. Nyra sat on the edge of the bed. "I hope nobody else will learn about it." "According to the court rumors, I've already ruined you during our night adventure in the city." Nyra's face scrunched in confusion. "Ruined me? What-" And then her eyes widened as realization dawned on her. "My father? He..." "Why do you think my brother banished me the morning after? Viserys will know about this from his cunt Otto," snarled Daemon. "In my past he decided to wed you to Laenor as soon as possible, your wedding will be in just ten weeks." Young Rhaenyra swallowed, hearing this information about her future. She suspected that her father would arrange this marriage since she heard his advisors reports. Velaryons betrothed Laena to a foreign lord, so Viserys I had to offer them a marriage union to gain their support. And Nyra was a way to deal with his political problems.

CHATBOT: As Daemon's chuckling finally subsided, Criston continued to eye him warily, clearly not amused. Daemon, out of growing annoyance, finally turned to Nyra and said in a straightforward tone, "Well, let's not make him any more tense. Go on, get yourself inside and ready for bed. I'll handle Criston." Nyra glanced at her flushed knight and nodded, not wanting any further commotion. As she stepped past him and into her chamber, she heard uncle Daemon's voice telling Criston in a mocking tone, "Not many have been as devoted to their duty as I've seen you tonight, ser Criston. Just be careful; those wrinkles from your furrowed brow might become permanent one day." Indeed, Nyra admitted, ser Criston's whole countenance seemed permanently set in a state of disapproval. This put her in an uncomfortable position - stuck between her unusually jovial uncle, of whose exploits she does not approve entirely, and her straitlaced guardian, whose disappointment weighed heavily on her. Once inside her bedchamber with the door closed, Nyra took a deep breath, relieved at being away from both her critical sworn shield and eccentric uncle. Taking a seat on the edge of the warm, inviting bed, the young princess couldn't shake off her worries nor dampen the resentment burning towards daemon subtly, for putting her in such a compromising position. Given her knowledge of his past behavior, she knew people at court couldn't help speculate about their secret nighttime meetings. Nonetheless, she reluctantly proceeded with composing herself insouciantly in front of the hearth; anxiety from the unclear implications all around mixed with uncertainties on one's best course of action. Ultimately, some dread, like a roaring dragon inside of her chest, told her how little control she had, steering her more and more towards unwanted circumstances that lay hidden in Targaryen family's sea of ambitions.