❝ 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 }
✧✦✧
𝕾tanding on the docks, Lyra felt her heart sink as she watched the boat sail out to sea. If she focused hard enough, Lyra was sure that she would be able to see Myrcella looking back at them and crying still.
When the girl had been told she was to be betrothed, Myrcella had cried and screamed at the injustice of it all. Joffrey had been the one to break it to her, as her elder brother and the king, and he had faced the brunt of her ire.
Tightening her grip on her betrothed's arm, Lyra looked up at the older teenager, whose face was blank. His eyes were guarded, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
"Joffrey..." He did not make a move to acknowledge her voice, but Lyra knew that he had heard her. She trailed off. Nothing she could say would make the king feel any better about sending his little sister away to Dorne even if that was what being a princess demanded. "She will be a lot safer there than here."
"I should be able to protect her," Joffrey muttered, as the High Septon continued to prattle on behind them, though neither of them noticed. "I am the king. That is my job."
"You are the king, which means that you are the subject of scorn," Lyra reminded him gently, squeezing his hand as much as she dared in public. "She will be fine. Dorne will be good for her."
"You say that to reassure me." The king ground out, before he dropped her hand and spun away. The guards followed him, marching back towards the Red Keep. Lyra watched him go, her eyebrows furrowed, as Sansa reached for her.
"How is he?" Sansa's voice was soft.
Both of them had to wait for the Queen Mother before retreating back to the castle, but she turned back soon after the boat disappeared.
"It is hard to tell." Lyra squeezed her sister's hand, smiling reassuringly. They hurried back to the keep, their eyes fixed on the towering structure. Lyra could see the king's outline further ahead, walking in front of his younger brother and uncle.
"Hail Joffrey! Hail to the King. Seven blessings on you, Your Grace," The crowd's shouts grew louder. Lyra smiled, watching him interact with his people. Despite his nods of acknowledgement, Joffrey maintained a level of detachment that he was known for.
"Murderer! Freak!"
Behind him though, the crowd was writhing and angry. Lyra found her lady in waiting, reaching for Arah.
