❝ 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 }
✧✦✧
𝕬rah remained quiet as she helped Lyra get ready for the day. It did not take a genius to figure out that something bad was going to happen at this hearing today, in fact that was written all over Lyra's face.
"My Lady?" Lyra looked up, her face sunken and pale. Arah sighed, before placing the hairbrush down, as she patted some rouge onto the teenager's cheek. "It will all work out in the end, you'll see."
Lyra attempted a smile, before standing up and smoothing her dress out. Tylar opened the door for her, gnawing his lip in worry as he watched the girl. Lyra just swept past him, waiting for Sansa to emerge.
The auburn girl appeared moments later, sliding an arm through Lyra's, as Tylar led them down to the main courtyard of the Red Keep, and then down into the centre of the city. The great Sept of Baelor loomed above them, as they ascended the dais to stand next to Cersei and Joffrey.
Joffrey also looked like he hadn't slept a wink, but he was hiding it infinitely better than Lyra was. Glancing up, the eldest Stark girl caught the man's eyes, but Joffrey's face did not falter from the cold stare he was maintaining.
Lyra turned at that, looking back out across the sea of people, trying to focus on something other than the mob beneath them. Glancing at the statue of Baelor the Blessed, Lyra did a double take at the sight of a young girl crouching at the bottom of it. She could recognize that face anywhere.
Arya Stark was holding onto Baelor the Blessed's legs, watching what was going on with wide eyes. The girl didn't look too badly bruised, or bloody, but she seemed terrified. Lyra locked her gaze with the girl, shaking her head slowly. Arya didn't want, or need, to see this. The girl's eyes widened, before Lyra watched as she disappeared from view.
The crowd had gotten louder, as Lyra watched her father be dragged onto the dais. Sansa reached down, threading her hand through Lyra's, as the pair tried to bring some comfort to one and other. Their father looked horrible, with dried up blood on his head, and his cheeks sunken in. This was not the father that Lyra knew and love. This was a mere ghost of that man.
"I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King," Lyra watched her father confess, her heart slowly sinking. She had thought that she was prepared for this to happen, but now she didn't think she could watch this. "I come before you to confess my treason, in the sight of gods and men. I betrayed the faith of my king and the trust of my friend Robert. I swore to protect and defend his children but before his blood was cold, I plotted to murder his son and seize the throne for myself."
