❝ You and I against the world, my love. Let us bring it to it's knees. ❞
Even the gods were not able to defeat Lyra Stark and Joffrey Baratheon, for once they put their minds to a cause, the gods were forced to step aside and let them past.
QUEENS...
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{ Lyra }
✧✦✧
𝕿he pavilion was quiet, as the Lyra watched her betrothed carefully. Joffrey was not giving that much away, but his entire body was tense. He was drumming his fingers across the hilt of his sword, as if trying to work out how to phrase what he would next say, and it was putting Lyra on edge.
"Your Grace?" Lyra raised an eyebrow, as the king looked over at her. "What is it? You look like you have something that you wish to say to me."
"I gave you the opportunity to go home, and you did not take it," Joffrey began, as Lyra agreed slowly. She thought he would comment on her father's treason, on her begging in front of the courtiers, but instead, they were speaking of their betrothal? "You had every opportunity that I could give you to rescind out betrothal, yet you did not."
"No, I did not," Lyra was not entirely sure where this conversation was leading, but she did not like how tense Joffrey's posture was.
"If you did not like it here, you should have told me instead of sending a letter to your brother begging him to come and save you," Lyra took a moment to register what her betrothed had said, her face furrowing in confusion.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You sent a letter to your brother practically inciting war and then had the audacity to beg to me to spare your father," Joffrey placed his crown down, watching her with eyes like ice as Lyra began to process his words. Sending a letter that incited war? She had done nothing of the sort, confusion growing on her face.
"Hold a moment." Lyra's head was pounding. After everything that had happened today, and now this. "What are you accusing me of? What have I done?"
Joffrey also froze, his eyes melting slightly as he caught onto her confusion and distress.
"You sent a letter to your brother, asking him to get you and saying that I was holding you against your will," Joffrey pulled a piece of parchment from the pocket of his jacket, handing it over to Lyra. She unfurled it, her eyebrows raising as she read through it.
"I did not write this." Joffrey's face was the picture of confusion, watching her as Lyra shook her head. "This is not my handwriting nor my words. I did send a letter to Robb today but only at your mother's request. Tylar, our guard, sent the raven off no less than, well, must be about half an hour ago. Maybe a little longer. It was before I came to court."
