❝ 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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{ Joffrey }
✧✦✧
𝕿he shade of the pavilion provided a comforting reprieve from the heat of the summer sun. Joffrey took a deep breath, leaning back and continuing to bask in the sun, listening to the sounds of the harbour below him.
"We should visit the city," Joffrey opened an eye lazily, turning to watch Lyra carefully, who was staring at the city beneath the keep. "We should. I have yet to go, despite having lived here for a year."
"That is because the city is dangerous," Joffrey pointed out. He knew that Lyra was used to being able to visit any village around Winterfell that she could with her father or brothers.
"We could take Elia," He huffed at the thought, sitting back up once more, as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt back down. Due to the abnormal heat of the day, he had long since abandoned his dark jacket and left himself in the white shirt that he normally wore underneath. It was too hot to be wearing multiple layers.
"Lyra..." The Stark woman turned to look at him, also wearing a lighter dress designed to combat the heat. It was far floatier than anything she had ever had to wear in the north, the fabric less constricting and allowed her to breath more freely.
"Flea Bottom may be a good place to start," Joffrey shook his head, looking at her. He was convinced that the heat was starting to get to her, for no noble born went to Flea Bottom and expected to leave alive.
"Flea Bottom is where the poorest people in the city live," Joffrey attempted to say diplomatically, but Lyra shook her head, shrugging her shoulders as if it meant little to her.
"Just because they are not born with the same fortunes that we are, does not make their lives any less valuable than our own." Lyra repeated it as if from memory, looking down at her fingers as she played with her nails and Joffrey wondered whether this was something her father had taught her. Relenting, Joffrey stood, and held a hand out for her.
"Clegane and your guard are coming with us, and the Kingsguard." Joffrey stated, as Lyra's face lit up. She beamed, whistling for Elia as she hooked her arm through his.
"I can abide by that." Lyra smiled, allowing him to lead her towards the exit, where the Hound and Lyra's personal guard, Tylar Cassel, stood conversing quietly.
"Clegane, saddle the horses and prepare some guards," The Hound raised an eyebrow, as Tylar looked at Lyra with a knowing glint in his eyes. "My Lady would like to go into the city, so we are."
