❝ 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 }
✧✦✧
"𝕾he truly did that?" Lyra watched Joffrey incredulously, as the tall teenager slumped into the chair opposite her, a dark expression on his face. He could feel a headache coming on.
"She tore it up and wouldn't even hear a word about sending your father's bones back as a token of good faith," Joffrey replied, rubbing his temples. But the more he thought about it, the more annoyed he became. His mother was starting to get on his nerves. "She's not even trying to broker for peace."
Cold hands touched his forehead, and Joffrey snapped his head back, looking at Lyra who was now standing in front of him.
"You look like you're in pain," Joffrey faltered for a moment, before reminding himself that it was Lyra in front of him, not someone else. He leant forward once more, as Lyra took his crown off and placed her cold hands against his forehead, gently running her fingers across the area that the crown sat on.
Despite everything, Joffrey found himself relaxing into the younger girl's touch, as she started to run her fingers through his hair. No one had done that for him since he was a much younger child, and it made a sense of peace fall over him.
"Well, our next question to ask should be what Cersei is going to get from this?" Lyra said, pulling away from the king. Joffrey paused, before wrapping his hand around her wrist and pulling her back towards him. He just wanted to feel at peace again.
"Please..." Lyra paused, and Joffrey feared that he had overstepped some form of boundary between them. But the Stark girl did nothing of the sort, continuing to card her fingers through his hair as she thought.
"There is something suspicious about her rejecting the terms to quickly," Lyra provided, not making a large fuss about the physical contact that the young king was craving. Joffrey hummed in agreement, still focusing on the soothing feeling of cold hands massaging his head. "It would be the quickest way to prevent this war from ever truly taking off and considering that Robb has yet to lose a battle and is holding your uncle captive..."
Joffrey nodded, sighing again, as Lyra continued to brush her hands through his hair. Slowly, Joffrey found himself becoming more and more sleepy, his eyes falling close.
"When did you last sleep properly?" Joffrey opened his eyes, coming face to face with Lyra, who was watching him with a worried expression.
"It doesn't matter," Lyra's eyebrows furrowed at that statement, but Joffrey just shook his head once more. "It doesn't. We have more important things to worry about."
