the lady of dragonstone

chapter three

a few changes have been made in the previous chapter:
- Valaena is now Vysera
- the interaction with Aemond has also been edited

Cyra groaned softly as she sat up, her back aching as she sat up.

"Don't sit up, Miss," a woman dressed in a simple red dress. A maid, Cyra realised. She glanced around, assessing her surroundings. The walls were of black stone, the bedding soft yet hard, the few candles barely letting her see.

"W-where...?" her voice came out hoarse, as if she hadn't spoken in days. She was in a daze, her surroundings didn't make sense. She couldn't remember how she got here.

"You're in Dragonstone Castle, Miss," the maid says, wiping a wet cloth from her face and offering her cup of water. "His Grace has told me to bring you to her once you have awoken, can you get up now?"

Cyra nods, rubbing her eyes as she stood up shakily from the soft bed. She was dressed in a simple cotton nightgown, her hands and legs bandaged and balmed. She could hear soft cries nearby, pleading and praying."My eyes..." Cyra touched her face, the ache in her eyes gone but the room seemed dimmer than it should.

"The maester said you might need this when you awaken," Cyra saw some cloth in the maid's hand, "He's busy at the moment but this will help your eyes, he says they will take time to heal." The maid helped her lace an overdress before typing the cloth over her eyes. The cotton was soft and breathable, letting her see with less struggle as the light wasn't beating into her pupils anymore. The maid led her out the room and through a gallery.

"You're awake child."

Cyra glanced around, "Oh yeah," she muttered under her breath as reality began to sink in again. Died, dragon, Westeros, crown,"Great."

"Did you say something, Miss?" The maid turned around at the sound of her voice.

"Uh, no," she replied hurriedly with an awkward smile. "What's your name, though?"

The maid noticed Cyra's unusual way of talking,"Roslin Strong, Miss," she replied, taking Cyra down a set of corridors before they'd walk into an open space, the gloomy dawn illuminating the silhouettes looking at her sternly.

Roslin curtsied, leaving Cyra alone with...Daemon and Rhaenys, both who are clearly tired and pissed. "Sit," Daemon eyed her suspiciously.

Cyra tentatively walked towards the table, pulling the cold iron chair and sitting down. She didn't know what to say or what they would ask-

"How did you find Lucerys?" Daemon asked, his gaze piercing. Of fucking course they would ask that.

Rhaenys shook her with a sigh, putting a hand on his shoulder, "Give the girl a moment, she got herself injured to save him."

"Of course she did," Daemon scoffed.

With the few seconds Rhaenys had spared for her, Cyra quickly tried to devise a story - all possible routes were implausible. "What is your name, girl?" Rhaenys approached the table to take a seat opposite her, her eyes sunken with tiredness.

'Soul, I'd like some help now!' Cyra glanced around, waiting for the voice to ring in her head but there was no voice.

"Your name," Daemon repeated sternly.

'Great, there's no signal up here.' She glanced up rubbing the back of her neck, praying whatever comes out of her mouth makes sense. "Cyra Sand," she bowed her head out of respect. That's what you do when you see royalty, right?

He responds with a curt nod, "So you're a dornish bastard? Of what house?"

"House...Uller..., Your Grace," she replies cautiously, wanting to keep her head on her neck. Cyra's aware that Daemon is nice to some extent under different circumstances with other people but with that sword in his hand, she feels less than confident in her own knowledge.

"How did you end up at Storm's End, with Lucerys?"

She knew she needed to be careful with her words. "It wasn't planned, Your Grace," she began cautiously. "I was passing through the Stormlands, intending to go to King's Landing. I saw the boy falling-"

"Falling? My son was falling from his dragon?" Daemon interrupted her sharply. Cyra scolded herself mentally for her slip up, how was she going to explain how she caught him before he fell to his death?

Cyra glanced between Rhaenys and Daemon, if the cotton wasn't covering her eyes, they would've seen the cogs turning in her mind as she tried to explain herself. "As the clouds came in, I found a boat so I could go out into the water to fish so I would have food for the night, that is when I saw the boy falling and the dragon struggling to stay airborne."

"The maester had said your eyes are a result of sharp light," Daemon narrowed his eyes, taking a step forward.

She gulped "Correct, it was the beginning of a storm. There was a sudden lightening that had prevented the larger dragon from attacking any fur-"

Daemon scoffed, his grip on his sword so tight his knuckles were white. He stormed out of the Storm Drum, leaving Cyra to sit at the Painted Table alone with Princess Rhaenys. She tried her luck with Rhaenys, hoping her sincerity was enough. "I did what I could to help him. I only wanted to protect him."

Rhaenys nodded, observing the girl intently. "I'm sure you have your reasons for hiding whatever you hid," she began, "You will be rewarded once you swear your loyalty to Queen Rhaenyra."

Cyra relaxed slightly in the stiff chair, thinking about how everything would play out from here. She prevent Lucerys's death and Arrax is in more or less one piece so Blood and Cheese shouldn't occur meaning the greens shouldn't lash out anytime soon. If all is relatively calm in the Keep, she could steal a maids uniform and sneak in, getting her a step closer to the rubies and preventing the end of dragons. She opens her mouth to speak yet her voice comes out strangled. Cyra feels a rising anger, looking at Rhaenys. It was Vysrra. Her deep rooted hatred for the Targaryens made her blood boil. "No," she says firmly ,"My loyalty belongs to no one but myself and my blood."

Rhaenys looked taken aback. The girl presented to her, no longer nervous and cautious, spoke with such defiance and adamance. "We are not obliged to house you in comfort if we suspect that you intend to harm us."

The anger begins to fade, Vysera now calmer. Cyra stands up from her seat with an understanding nod, "I saved your boy. Even if I do not swear my devotion, I will promise not to harm the people in this castle, within the walls of this castle." The sound of the doors opening interrupted them. Cyra turned around to see Rhaenyra walking in with Daemon and Roslin following behind her with the same look of suspicion he had left the room with.

Rhaenyra's eyes were rung red, her voice hoarse as she spoke to her, "It was you who brought Lucerys?" she asked. Cyra remembered that Visenya had been born after days of labour, Rhaenyra's face was a picture of despair and the knowledge she nearly lost another child of hers.

"Is he alright now?" Cyra asked with a slight bow of her head out of respect.

Rhaenyra swallowed, nodding as she walked towards the hearth, "He is asleep. The maester said...it will be long until he wakes again." She stared into the fire, a hand on her stomach, "Thank you." It was barely audible but the weight of her gratitude was heavy on Cyra, almost making her feel bad of what Vysera had said earlier. Almost.

Daemon stood by Rhaenyra, looking less likely to feed Cyra to his dragon, "You are welcome to stay until your eyes have healed, then you will be sent off."

Cyra nods, "Thank you, Your Grace." Warm bed, warm food, clean water and clean clothes beats living in a cave any day.

Daemon nodded at Roslin, signalling her to take Cyra. She followed Roslin down the same path they took before, before finally seeing the bed and laying down with a heavy sigh. Roslin, understanding Cyra's fatigue, left the room with a simple nod. She closed her eyes, ready for a comfortable sleep after a long day's work.

Maybe she might wake up in a hospital room and this would all be a dream-

"Child, are you there?"