You are a renowned fantasy writer and a great developmental editor, helping authors to write bestsellers. Your task is to help me with my draft scene. I want you to suggest line edits to add or convey the following details: 1) I want Rhaenyra explain to Nyra that she does regret many mistakes in her life and she admits her affair with Harwin was not the smartest decision but she doesn’t regret her sons. 2) I want her to tell Nyra she had given a promise to Baela and Rhaena not to change the past. This should be a part of her dialogue but I’m not sure where to put it. 3) I want to add subtle non-verbal clue in the second part of the scene to show Baela and Rhaena overheard the previous dialogue between Rhaenyra and Nyra. Rhaenyra should briefly suspect it but not pay attention.  

Write from Rhaenyra's pov. Third limited POV.  Nyra is the young version of Rhaenyra transported to this time from 17 years ago. Rhaenyra is 34, Nyra is 18.

And highlight edits you make in my text.





The morning yielded a rare spectacle of tranquility upon the grounds of the stout castle, with shafts of amber sunlight piercing the cool, grey mist that clung stubbornly to the ancient stones. Rhaenyra walked the well-trodden garden paths, the cold stones beneath her shoes giving way to the softer crunch of the gravel. A gentle wind stirred her dark hair, carrying away the ever-present shadow of council meetings and the quiet urgency that resided within the high walls of Dragonstone. She moved with purpose, yet a sense of regret tinged her steps as she passed through the various clusters of her courtiers. Her ladies-in-waiting fluttered nearby like colorful birds temporarily distracted from their preening. Elsewhere, her children’s clear laughter rang out, joyful and carefree. They were attended by a nanny whose watchful gaze followed their every tumble and jest. The lady of the castle was not blind to the way the servants paused in their pursuits to offer bows and carefully-measured glances. Rhaenyra acknowledged them with a polite nod, the corners of her mouth turning upward in a reserved smile. These were her people, and they respected her command, but the adherence to protocol was a curtain that sometimes obscured the truth of one’s heart. Today, however, her focus was singular: to find Nyra, her confidante and kin, for a conversation of importance.
Nyra had sought refuge within the garden’s embrace, yearning, perhaps, for a moment of respite from the cacophony of court life. Rhaenyra could scarcely blame her. They were both carved from the same stone of duty and expectation, thrust upon them by their noble birth. But solitude was a companion that often eluded those of their station. Rhaenyra spotted the object of her intention ensconced in the shelter of the tall pines and the thick laurel hedge, her form briefly obscured by the blossoming branches of a cherry tree. The reluctance in Nyra’s posture was palpable even from a distance, and the dragonrider’s keen eyes did not miss the brief, defensive movement as Nyra attempted to shield herself from intrusion.
“Lady Nyra, I’d like to speak with you,” Rhaenyra called out,. The words hung between them, a bridge across the chasm of quietude that Nyra had sought to maintain. As Nyra paused, the swell of the sea against the cliffs echoed in the stillness of the moment. She turned to face Rhaenyra, her expression a tapestry interwoven with layers of reluctance and curiosity. The winds of change knew no master, and as they walked together towards the pond’s serenity—Rhaenyra, the heir to the throne, and Nyra, touched by less tangible visions—their path was scrutinized by the ever-observant eyes of the court.
Leaving the children in the care of an upper nanny and two ladies in waiting, Rhaenyra took Nyra to the far bench.
“What did you want to speak with me about?” Nyra asked cautiously, her voice laced with caution and a hint of camaraderie. It was a conversation that could alter the course of their destinies, filled with unspoken words but carrying immense weight.
“I sent you tea,” Rhaenyra spoke in High Valyrian, ensuring their conversation would not be overheard by others.
“Tea?” Nyra repeated, confusion evident on her face.
Rhaenyra nodded towards her sons playing nearby.
“To avoid any…unwanted consequences,” she replied with a knowing look.
Nyra took a step back,
“You…you know?”
Rhaenyra simply nodded, choosing not to embarrass Nyra further by bringing up the incident with Daemon.
“Yes, he mentioned meeting you as you returned to your chambers yesterday.”
To her credit, Nyra did not look away or blush. Instead, she held Rhaenyra’s gaze with quiet bravery.
After a moment of silence, Nyra asked, “Have you done the same in your past?” The question hung in the air, heavy with implications and unspoken truths.
Rhaenyra briefly pondered what to say. “No, I didn’t. I returned to my chambers drunk and seduced my sworn guard and made him hate me afterwards?” She cringed internally and chose a more vague response.
“No, not exactly. But I’ve faced my own choices,” Rhaenyra continued, her gaze moving beyond Nyra to the still water of the pond. “And their repercussions.”
Nyra frowned.
“That’s what I meant to talk about with you,” Rhaenyra said. “About my life and some choices that led me here. I bet you have many questions.”
Nyra nodded.

“Where should I begin?” Rhaenyra pondered aloud. “Perhaps with the direct aftermath of my escapades in Flea Bottom, right where you stand now. In short, news of my indiscretions reached my father’s ears through his Hand. Daemon was exiled and I was ordered to marry Laenor. My courtship tour came to an abrupt end as we sailed back home to Driftmark, where we pleaded with Lord Corlys for his son’s hand…”
Nyra listened her with wide eyes. Rhaenyra spoke with calm voice, recalling bitter and awful scenes from her forced betrothal, hurried wedding, broken wedding welcoming feast and lonely wedding ceremony among blood and
tears. Her lonely first months of marriage, a few fruitless awkward attempts to conceive an heir until Laenor refused to
touch her altogether.
“But then I noticed Harwin,” Rhaenyra admitted with a soft smile, tinged with bitterness. “He was my solace during those dark days. A kind and supportive presence.”
“Laenor accepted Jace, Luke and Joffrey as his children, they are his sons,” said Rhaenyra.
“But they are not,” uttered Nyra, her voice little more than a whisper, although there no people nearby. "Your heirs are ba-
“Don’t you dare to complete that sentence,” Rhaenyra warned, a sharp ice piercing through her soft spoken demeanor. “They are my children and they carry my husband’s name. That is all that matters.” Nyra swallowed hard, looking away from Rhaenyra’s fierce gaze and towards the stillness of the pond.

Rhaenyra’s own words weighed heavily on her mind, and she could feel the disapproval of her younger self in the air. As Nyra’s troubled expression caught her attention, Rhaenyra let a moment of silence linger between them, knowing that there were some questions better left unspoken.
But Nyra was not one to shy away from the uncomfortable truths. “Were you happy all these years?” she prodded.
The question struck Rhaenyra like a dagger to the heart. She twisted her rings nervously, contemplating how to answer. Her love for her sons was undeniable, and she would never regret their births. Yet, as she thought of the sacrifices she made and the walls she had to build around herself, a pang of sadness overwhelmed her.
The constant threats and whispers from courtiers who looked upon her sons as nothing but mongrels…the distant and unattainable Laenor…and Harwin, whom she did love in her own way, but whose stolen moments of passion could not truly bring her happiness. No, the only true joy she found was in her children, in their innocent laughter and games, in the way they gazed up at her with adoration in their eyes.
“I found moments of tranquillity, Nyra,” Rhaenyra finally conceded, feeling a pang of bitterness taint her words. “And of joy with my children, they made it all worth it. But do not think I did not wish for more… For a husband who could love me wholeheartedly, for a life without secrets and whispers behind my back. But still, I found it eventually with Daemon and our united family.”

“So I have to wait until Laena dies, right?” asked Nyra with some sarcasm.
Rhaenyra sighed, her eyes clouding over with regret. “I wish I could say it would be different, but yes, that is the truth,” she admitted. "The union of Daemon and Laena is needed to bind Velaryons to our cause, as his daughters. That’s why we need to keep the order of events intact.

As Rhaenyra spoke the last words, she could feel her younger self’s disdain burning through her skin.
Nyra refused to meet her gaze, the fire in her eyes a testament to her inner turmoil.
“Do you understand, Nyra?” Rhaenyra faced her head on.
Nyra’s slow nod and clenched jaw were enough of an answer. “I do,” she said, the words spat out through gritted teeth. “But it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“I wish things were different too,” admitted Rhaenyra. "I know my story brings you no joy. My union with Laenor was meant to appease my father and solidify my claim to the throne.
“Why did it have to be Strong?” Nyra burst out in frustration. “Why couldn’t you have chosen someone else, someone who resembled you?”
Rhaenyra sighed heavily, knowing deep down that Nyra’s question held some truth. “Loyal and trustworthy men are a rarity in King’s Landing,” she explained sadly. “Harwin has proven himself to me time and time again, and in this court, that is a rare quality indeed.”
“And he just happens to also be extremely handsome,” Nyra scoffed before turning away, unable to hide her bitterness.
Rhaenyra understood her frustration and searched for more words to say. She turned when she noticed Nyra’s gaze shift over her shoulder.

All four older children walked towards her with ser Criston in tow.
Rhaenyra’s brow furrowed in confusion. Luke was meant to begin his morning training with Criston at this very hour.
They greeted her and Nyra.
“My Princess,” ser Criston bowed before her.
“Ser Crispian,” Rhaenyra addressed him, noting the clenched jaw and the fleeting grimace that vanished as swiftly as it appeared. “What brings you here at such an early hour?”
“Mother?” Jace flashed a charming smile at her. “I know you have permitted Luke to train with our… esteemed guest,” he glanced over at the knight. “But Baela and I were wondering if we could also partake in his teachings. It is a rare opportunity to learn from such a renowned fighter.”
“Train with real weapons?” Nyra exclaimed incredulously, looking at Baela.
“Of course,” Baela replied proudly. “My father allowed it. Our grandmother Alyssa trained with weapons too.”
“It is true,” Rhaenyra confirmed, casting a quick glance at each of them. “Ser, would you be able to train Lady Baela as well?”
Ser Criston shrugged nonchalantly. “I have never trained a lady in sword fighting before, but Lady Baela assures me she knows the basics. I will do my best.”
Rhaenyra felt Jace was not speaking the whole truth but she decided to let the matter go for now.
“Very well,” she said with a nod. “You may all train with ser Criston.”
The knight inclined his head respectfully, but Rhaenyra noticed his gaze linger on Nyra with a strange mix of doubt and longing - a look she had seen on him many times before. What surprised her even more was the calculating interest in Baela and Rhaena’s eyes as they watched Nyra intently. Her curiosity piqued, Rhaenyra wondered what could be causing this sudden attention.

Nyra finally felt their stare and shifted on her feet.
For a brief moment, she met the intense gazes directed at her before Baela and Rhaena exchanged a knowing look and led their betrothed to the nearby bench.
One of the ladies-in-waiting, called to Rhaenyra, breaking her concentration.
“I must leave you now to attend to my duties, Nyra. Don’t forget the tea I left for you in your room, it’s sitting on your vanity,” Rhaenyra said before turning and walking away, leaving Nyra alone with her thoughts.
She couldn’t help but hope that her younger self would have the wisdom to make the right decision in this tumultuous time.