❝ 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 }
✧✦✧
𝕷yra sighed, taking the crown off of her head as she began to massage her forehead, feeling particularly fed up with the day's meetings that had taken place.
"Are you alright?" Joffrey brushed against her side, reaching up to unplait her hair and run his hand through the curly locks. "I know that the meetings are tiring when your first go, but they do become slightly more bearable."
"I just can not believe that your grandfather is so set on killing Tyrion. His own son?" Lyra murmured, leaning into Joffrey's side as her eyes fluttered close. He tensed momentarily, before relaxing once more. "There has to be another way that does not involve death."
"It's my grandfather. There's no surprise there," Lyra hummed, as Joffrey stopped running his hand through her hair so that he could place their crowns onto one of the tables, and put all of the notes from the day's meetings away. "There's not much that we can do about that."
"What do you mean?" Lyra raised an eyebrow, turning back to look at the man. "Joff, it's our fault that he's being tried for attempted regicide in the first place, it should be our duty to get him out."
"And how will we explain that to Grandfather? 'We know he's not guilty because we were the ones who put the poison in the wine glass so that Sansa could escape'," Joffrey scoffed, leaning against a chair on the opposite side of the table as Lyra watched him with narrowed eyes.
"No, but we can manipulate this so that the trial goes in his favor," Lyra pointed out. "What use is having power if we can not use it to help others?"
"We can not do that, not with my grandfather," Joffrey replied, running a hand through his blond hair. "He'd be onto us instantaneously and then everything that we had worked for would be swept from underneath our feet."
"I think you give him too much credit,"
"I think you don't give him enough," Joffrey hissed in return, his grip on the chair tightening as Lyra shook her head. "He's a dangerous man; he's powerful and rich and..."
"...and he's not the king," Lyra replied, leaning forward to continue to argue with her husband. "He has no control over you or what goes on. If we can just..."
"Gods above, Lyra!" Joffrey snapped, slamming the chair into the table, his eyes wild with annoyance.
It seemed that everything stood still in that moment, as Lyra looked up at the man in front of her, who was running a hand through his hair as he tried to calm down. The pause continued, before Joffrey came to the realization of what he had just done and froze, looking at his hands and then back at Lyra.
