❝ 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 }
✧✦✧
𝕿he confines of the royal chambers were once again being used for plotting, since Lyra was on bed rest until she felt better, and Grand Maester Pycelle had worked out what was wrong with her.
"I still do not understand how Ramsay is able to do this?" Lyra murmured, running her hand over Elia's fur as she watched her husband carefully. Joffrey hummed, flicking through the documents before sighing and throwing one of the papers onto their bed. "You made him Roose Bolton's legitimate heir?"
"Yes, when I first became king at least," Joffrey replied, running his hand through his hair. "It was one of the first documents I sighed and I thought that it would be the least problematic document to sign as I worked out whether or not we would be investigating my family. I can see now that it was the wrong idea."
"How were you to know? That was three years ago," Lyra sighed, taking a drink of water. "But, now we need to deal with this."
"Your brother says that Ramsay now holds Dreadfort," Joffrey continued on. "and has attempted to take over the North. Any house that is near him is somehow dying under suspicious."
"They were flayed, that's not a suspicious circumstance. Flaying is the Bolton's way of doing things," Lyra replied, cutting her husband off as she drummed her fingers across Elia's head. "I have a feeling that somehow your grandfather is behind this."
"I wouldn't be surprised," Joffrey sighed, before grabbing the letter and placing it away once more. "I'll bring it up to the Small Council when we meet this afternoon."
"When we meet the Small Council you mean,"
"You need rest, Lyra," Joffrey countered.
"No, I'm fine," Lyra tried to stand up, but Joffrey was by her side in an instance, gently pushing her back into the bed and pulling the covers up to her shoulders once more. "Joff. I'm feeling better now."
"My Love," Joffrey knelt by her bedside, brushing her hair from her face. "Please, do it for me. I do not wish for you to be ill or even the possibility that you could be."
"Fine," The king shot her a small smile, pressing a kiss to her head as Lyra groaned. "Arya and Sansa are still not found, despite the entirety of the North looking for the pair and Robb and Eliza are struggling to find more places to search."
"We should bring that up at the next meeting," Joffrey replied, before handing over another letter. "Daenerys Targaryen replied to the letter you sent. She wishes for us to lay out our terms for peace. I will also bring up to the Small Council the issue of the food stores that we need to have checked before winter."
