❝ 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 room was glowing in the midday sun, as Lyra swept through the atrium, smoothing her dress out. Mikael cooed, from where he sat by Elia, holding his arms out for his mother to pick him up. One look at his face and Lyra obliged, peppering kisses to her sons rosy cheeks as he giggled and tried to squirm from her grip.
Joffrey heard the sound, looking up from his paperwork to smile at his wife and son. Unlike Lyra, who was dressed in formal attire, he was merely in a loose shirt and trousers, as he was not going out.
"You're looking beautiful." Joffrey murmured, holding an arm out for Lyra to lean into his touch. "But I still think that this is a bad idea."
"I don't like it anymore than you do but Margaery needs support." Lyra smiled, running a hand through his hair before she deposited their son into his lap. "Plus, I do wish to see the look on Cersei's face when she is finally found guilty of all of her crimes. It would be a form of comfort after everything she put my family through."
"I understand." Joffrey did understand why Lyra was saying that. His mother had inadvertently killed her father, helped to get her mother killed, helped paralyse her brother and had pushed her two other siblings from the capital. If anyone had a reason to despise Cersei as much as Joffrey did, it was Lyra. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."
"I'll describe her face towards you and we can laugh together." Lyra chuckled, smiling as she escaped Joffrey's grip and picked her crown up from the dresser. "Could you-?"
"Of course." He took the crown from her hands, settling it in Lyra's curls, as Mikael clapped his hands causing his parents to smile. "Right you are, Mikael. Your mother does look beautiful."
Lyra blushed, before pressing another kiss to his head and escaping his grip once more.
"Joff, stop it." She chuckled. "I am going to support my closest friend, and as you refuse to go, I have to because we're the monarchs."
Joffrey scowled, before the door to the atrium opened and Arah appeared.
"Your Grace, a letter." She smiled, handing the note to Lyra, who opened it, before furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.
"What? A letter from your family?"
"No. Margaery, I suppose. It's just a Tyrell rose." She furrowed her eyebrows. Why would Margaery send her an intricately designed Tyrell rose? "That's bizarre."
"Can I see?" She handed it to Joffrey, her leaving delayed as she waited to see what he said. "I wonder why she sent that to you?"
"Aye." Lyra huffed, a nagging feeling in the bottom of her stomach that the rose did mean something. She chewed on her lips, flipping the note over to try and see if there was anything on the back, but still nothing. "This is weird."
