❝ 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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
{ Lyra }
✧✦✧
𝕷yra sat to the left of her betrothed, her face as neutral as she could manage whilst witnessing the violence ahead of her. Sandor Clegane threw a competitor over the top of the parapet, his screams ringing before coming to an abrupt stop as he clanged on the stone floor below. Cheers rang, and the Hound walked away, his face still set in a scowl.
Sansa tensed next to her, and Lyra glanced over, trying to determine whether her sister was alright or if they should leave. Sansa was pale, staring at the floor but at the feeling of Lyra's gaze on her, she squeezed her older sister's hand. In the first few weeks after their father's execution, tears had run freely and neither girls were able to stomach much. The sight of blood no longer turned her stomach, but Lyra still fretted over how her sister was handling the situation.
The past few weeks had been a tumultuous time for the Stark girls. Arya was still no where to be found, and Robb had called the banner-men in to march South on Kings Landing. They were calling him the King in the North, if the rumours were to be believed. This new found title meant that the sisters were under even greater scrutiny from the Queen Mother and the Small Council, who were trying to find anyway to pin these issues to their backs.
There was a tentative squeeze on Lyra's hand, dragging her from her thoughts as she turned to face the stoic king next to her. He was the guest of honour for the tourney, as he had turned ten and eight mere days before and was now deemed fit to rule alone. But the man looked far from happy about the situation. He was watching it all with a level stare, mouth turned slightly down.
It was most likely that his thoughts were far from the tourney ground and instead focused on the various scrolls and orders that he had piling over his desk. In between ruling the country, that was now in active rebellion, Lyra and the king had been trying to uncover the plots and had found more and more strings that needed to be pulled. It was a fool's hope to think it would unravel smoothly and not turn into a mess that would take years to clean up.
"Who's next?" Joffrey sounded unamused, as he leant back in his chair and continued to watch what was going on. He had confessed, on the walk to the tourney ground, that the only reason he was even holding any celebrations was to appease his siblings.
"Lothor Brune, freerider in the service of Lord Baelish and Ser Dontos the Red of House Hollard." A knight appeared to the steward's left, but one still did not appear. Lyra's eyes narrowed, as she tried to think back to her lessons back at Winterfell. She was not sure that she could remember a House Hollard. Sansa also looked confused, before the pair turned back and continued to wait for the man to make an appearance.
