𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎 | Panic

{ 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."

"Your Grace, we should head off." Tylar appeared, standing in the doorway. "We're already late."

"Can't be anymore late than we already are." Lyra muttered, before picking her son back up. "Come, Mikael. Say goodbye to your father."

"Bye." Mikael waved over Lyra's shoulder as both of his parents smiled at their little boy's voice. He could only say little words, but both of them were incredibly proud of their little boy.

"Goodbye Mikael. Stay safe, My Love."

"I'll keep her out of trouble, Your Grace, don't you worry." Tylar beamed, before holding an arm out for Lyra so that he could escort her down to the Sept. Lyra rolled her eyes, wrapping her arm back through Tylar's as they started the long walk to the Sept. 

Both the Northerners were trying their best to procrastinate going to the trial, despite knowing that they had to be there. The bells had tolled a few minutes earlier, meaning that the trial had already started, leaving the pair to pick up their pace to get closer to the Sept.

Still, Lyra couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in her gut. Something about Margaery's note did not sit right with her, dread growing inside of her. She slowed, forcing Tylar and the other guards around them to a stop.

"Your Grace?" Tylar cocked an eyebrow, seeing the uneasy look on Lyra's face. "What's the matter?"

"Go back to the keep." Lyra turned to a nearby guard. "Go to the royal chambers, find my husband, ask him to hold the note over a flame. He'll know what to do but hurry!" 

The guard ran back off to the Red Keep as Lyra backed away from the Sept and towards the main street of King's Landing as Tylar grew closer to her.

"What are you thinking?"

"I have a terrible feeling about this." Lyra muttered, soothing her son who was beginning to get antsy at not being able to run around. "My instincts are not normally off."

"We're going to be late."

"I don't care about that. We wait for the guard to get back." She nodded her head as her guard's set up post around her, with Lyra and Mikael in the centre.

✧✦✧

{ Joffrey }

Joffrey raised an eyebrow at the guard at his door, before turning back to the letter and following his wife's instructions. Holding it over a candle, he moved the letter back and forth, his face going slack as he saw the writing that appeared on the letter.

It was Margaery's handwriting, detailing that under no circumstances should Joffrey or Lyra go to the Sept. Joffrey froze, before turning to the guard.

"Take Elia, get to my wife and son and bring them back here immediately."

"Of course, Your Grace," He ran off, Elia running along behind him as Joffrey turned back to the letter and began to read through it once more.

"Your Grace, what do you think is going on?" Arah questioned, looking at the king with worry. Her husband was with Lyra, and neither of them wanted something to happen to their loved ones. "Has something gone-"

Her words stopped short as the Sept erupted in green flames. 

They both froze, jaws dropping at the sight of the green flames rising up hundreds of feet in the air. Joffrey's ears began to ring, his memories going back to the Battle of Blackwater. But that had only been a ship's worth of wildfire, this was much worse.

Screams began, echoing up from the city as Joffrey struggled to snap himself out of the horror. He wanted nothing more than to have his wife and son back with him, both of whom were somewhere in the city.

"No..." Arah stumbled, causing Joffrey to catch her, both of them watching. "Tylar."

"They're going to be alright. They have to be." Joffrey muttered, helping Arah to her feet. 

"My family live near the Sept."

"Go." Joffrey nodded, throwing the door open to chaos as guards and servants rushed along the corridor, panic setting in. "Someone fetch me Rolan!"

He turned, looking back at Arah, before pulling her out of the room.

"Arah, go to your family. I'll send Tylar to you when he gets back."

"You don't know that he's even alive." Arah cried, tears forming in her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. "Oh gods, what happens if he's not alive?"

"We can't think like that Arah." Joffrey shouted, shocking the woman from her thoughts as she looked at the young king. His face was pale, horror and sadness clear in his eyes. "They'll find them. They'll find them, I know it."

"Margaery was in that Sept. All of the Small Council too." Arah muttered, trying desperately to wipe her tears away. "You have to find Lyra and Tylar."

"I can't." Joffrey shook his head. "I've got to stay here and deal with this."

"That's your wife and son."

"Don't you think I know that?" Joffrey shook his head, before putting on a brave front. "I can't go and find them. I'm the king. I have to stay here and deal with this. Go to your family. Now!"

Arah didn't move for a moment, before stumbling away from the man. Joffrey took a deep breath, fear gripping his heart, before he turned back around to face Rolan. 

"Find my mother, arrest her. Send guards into the city as well as masons," Joffrey began to list off, having known who the culprit was as soon as the Sept blew up. Only his mother would think of doing something like this. "Put out the fire in the Sept, start moving debris, try and find bodies. We need to know who's dead as soon as we can."

"Your Grace, wild fire is known to incinerate bodies."

"We have to try, Rolan," Joffrey protested, taking a deep breath. "Set up areas for the common folk to be treated for injuries and make sure the city guard is on watch for a spike in crimes following this. Explain to the courtiers that there will be no court today and tell them to keep to the gardens and their rooms. Find Lady Olenna as well, and any others on the Small Council not in the blast. We need to have a meeting."

"What about your wife, Your Grace?"

"A guard was sent to fetch her but I don't know yet." He took a deep breath, trying to regain control of his breathing. "Go. Go now."

"Of course, Your Grace." Rolan rushed off, yelling orders at the guards as Joffrey sank down, burying his head into his hands as he prayed to every god out there that his wife and son were spared. He needed them to be alright. He needed them to live, otherwise he didn't know what he was going to do.

"Joffrey!" Looking up, Joffrey turned to see Drew running towards him, face pale. "The Sept...the Sept exploded."

"I know, Drew, I know."

"Mrs Waters and my friends from the orphanage live close. Do you think...?"

"I don't know, Drew." Joffrey looked up at the boy, who was trembling. "I don't know the extent of the damage."

"They're going to be alive, right?"

"I can't say yes, Drew." Drew's bottom lip started to tremble, tears welling in his eyes, as Joffrey pulled the boy into his arms, relaxing his muscles. "It's alright. It's going to be alright."

"They can't be dead." Drew choked. "They can't be. They were good people and kind and the gods keep those type of people alive, right? They praise the good."

Joffrey didn't have the heart to tell him that the world didn't work that way. The evil got more praise than the good ever would. The boy clutched him tighter as Joffrey tried to keep his composure. 

"Your Grace." Rolan was back, and Joffrey looked up at the man, who's eyes were sad. 

"What is it?"

"It's your brother, Your Grace."

"Tommen?" Joffrey's eyebrows furrowed, letting go of Drew so that he could stand up. "What's happened with Tommen? He was here, not at the Sept."

"He fell from his window, Your Grace. He's dead." All the oxygen left Joffrey's lungs, as he struggled to breathe. This had to be some sort of cruel joke. His little brother couldn't be dead.

"You're lying."

"The guards found him." Rolan said, as Joffrey shook his head. He'd protected his brother for so many years, kept him safe from their parents as much as possible, so how was Tommen dead? Tommen couldn't be dead. "Your Grace, what would you like us to do with his body?"

"What?"

"We need to move his body. Where would you like us to move it?" Drew looked between them, seeing Joffrey's pale face and the way his hands clenched into fists. 

"Can't you ask him later? His brother just died!" Drew asked, looking between the two older men.

"We have to move him before the courtiers see." Rolan pushed on, as Joffrey leant back against the wall, running a hand along his face as he took a deep breath. At this point, Joffrey wanted nothing more than not to be king. He didn't want to deal with this burden.

His brother had just died and instead of being allowed to grieve, he had to say where to move his brother's body. His wife and son were both still in King's Landing, and Joffrey couldn't go and find them because he had to deal with the mess from the Red Keep. His entire Small Council, bar two, had gone to the Sept and were most likely dead, as were Margaery and Loras Tyrell, the heirs to one of the largest houses in Westeros. To top it all off, the only reasonable culprit behind all of this was his mother.

"Your Grace? Your Grace?" The sound of Rolan's voice brought him back to the present, as he turned to look up at the man. "What should we do?"

"Put him...Put him below the keep then." Joffrey said the words, but it didn't feel like him saying them. His body began to go through the motions of pulling on a jacket and grabbing his sword and crown, before walking from his room and down the stairs.

People tried to talk to him, but Joffrey couldn't hear them, sadness and anger curling around his stomach and mind as his hands trembled. Drew walked next to him, watching him with wide eyes but Joffrey ignored him, still unbelieving.

"Your Grace. They've moved the body into here." Rolan stood in front of the man, having run ahead to order the guards to move the prince's body. "You do not have to-"

"Leave." Joffrey's voice sounded off, even to him but he was doing the only thing he knew how to do in these sorts of situations, pushing everyone away. He stood in the doorway, looking at the covered body, still trying his best not to believe that it was his little brother under there.

"Your Grace?"

"Leave! Get out, now!" His voice echoed around the room as the guards and Rolan hurried to leave the vicinity. Drew hesitated, watching as the king stepped into the room. He went to follow, but the door was slammed shut, so he stopped and sat opposite of it.

Joffrey took a few deep breaths, before reaching out from the cloth that covered his brother's body. Pulling it away from the head, Joffrey forced himself not to be sick, as he sank to his knees by the table. Even with his head smashed in, blood and stones marring his features, Joffrey knew what his little brother looked like. 

He choked down a cry of pain, letting his head fall to the table.

"No, no, no, no," He shook his head, trying to deny it to himself. Trying to persuade himself that it wasn't his little brother lying there, that Tommen was in the gardens playing with his cats. Reaching up, Joffrey rested a hand on his little brother's head, stoking his blond hair away from his face. "Tommen..."

For one of the few times in his life, Joffrey felt himself begin to cry, warm tears rolling down his face as he tried to get himself back together. He was the king and king's didn't cry.

"Joff..." The door opened behind him, Lyra appearing. She was covered in dust and wanted nothing more than to sleep and grieve for her best friend, but Rolan had intercepted her before she could and told her to what had happened. 

"Leave."

"No." Lyra shook her head, as Joffrey tried to quieten his sobs and rub his tears away. He couldn't afford to look weak in front of anyone, his wife included.

"Leave, please." His voice broke, and Lyra closed the door behind her as she stepped into the room. Reaching past her husband, she pulled the shroud back over Tommen's face, before sinking down to sit with Joffrey.

He tried to shrug her off the first time she hugged him, but Lyra batted his hands away and pulled the man into her arms. He struggled, before giving in and curling into Lyra's touch.

"I'm so sorry." The words only made Joffrey cry harder, no matter how hard he tried to stop crying. Lyra ran her hands through his hair, pressing kisses to his forehead. "I am so, so sorry."

"I-I killed him. I killed him, this is my fault." He clutched onto her dress, as Lyra tried to hide her own tears. "All of this is my fault."

"No, it's not Joff. It's not at all."

"I was the one who yelled at him. I berated him, I caused this to happen." Regret clouded his voice, as Lyra clutched onto him tighter. "I did this."

"No, you didn't." He nodded his head, muttering that he did. "Joff. You didn't."

"I killed him. I killed him." Joffrey repeated the mantra over and over, until Lyra pulled his face away from her neck, holding his cheeks in her hand. It was the first time that Joffrey got a good look at his wife, who was covered in dust, tear tracks on her cheeks.

"Listen to me, Joff. This is not your fault." She brushed his tears away, shaking her head as he watched her. "None of this is your fault. No one is to blame for any of this. For Tommen or Margaery or Loras or Mace or any of the other hundreds of people caught in that blast. Something went wrong and it exploded."

"Someone is to blame." Joffrey muttered, struggling to swallow as he tried to control his breathing. "It was her. She killed him. I know she did."

Lyra's lip trembled, whether with anger or sadness, Joffrey couldn't tell. She took a deep breath, both of them trying to control their tears, before letting their foreheads fall together so that they could try and draw strength from the other.

✧✦✧

The Iron Throne dug into his back as Joffrey looked across the hall with a blank stare. Lyra sat next to him, dressed in a black gown, as Mikael leant into her neck. The boy was quiet, his ears most likely still ringing from the explosion, and there was a little cut on his chin from where Lyra had been forced to the ground.

Elia, who normally sat with Lyra and Mikael, leant into Joffrey's legs, trying to provide some comfort. Neither Arah or Tylar were with them, both in King's Landing with Arah's family. Drew, however, stood beside Joffrey with a downturned expression as they waited for the doors to open.

Cersei was dragged in, her hands chained together, and looking slightly dishevelled. Joffrey looked at his mother, feeling only hatred in his heart instead of the fear that had previously been there.

"I demand to know why I was arrested." Cersei brushed herself off, turning to look at her son, who's eyes were ringed with red.

"You know exactly why." His voice was cold and detached, eyes narrowed. "I thought you couldn't hit a new low after resurrecting the Faith Militant, but I stand corrected."

"Joffrey..."

"You address the king as 'Your Grace' not by his name." Joffrey hissed, before taking a deep breath to try and calm himself. "I warned you for years that there would be consequences for your actions, but you didn't listen."

"Joffrey, listen to me." His temper snapped.

"You killed Princess Margaery, Loras Tyrell, most of my Small Council, the Grand Maester along with countless other innocent lives." Cersei took a step back from her son. She had never seen him this way before, and it terrified her to a certain extent. "You almost killed my wife and son and even worse than that, you murdered my younger brother."

Cersei's face went slack at the revelation, having not known that Tommen was dead.

"What?"

"You killed Tommen. That was you." Joffrey spat, before taking a deep breath. "I don't care what excuse you have planned, nothing will ever be able to justify murdering an entire Sept full of people, along with countless others not even in the Sept, killing Tommen and causing harm to my wife and son."

"I-I-" Cersei stammered, but Joffrey continued speaking.

"You did it so that you wouldn't have to face justice, because you're selfish and only look after your own needs, no one else's."

"That's not true. Everything I've done, I've down for my children." Cersei seemed to be holding back tears, still reeling from the news of Tommen's death but Joffrey gave her no mercy.

"If that was true then why am I the only one left alive?" Joffrey stood up, pushing past Elia and down to stand in front of her. "Tommen is dead, because of you. Myrcella is dead, because of you and your inability to be diplomatic. Mikael was almost killed, because of you. All of this is your fault."

"I did not kill them! Why would I kill my son or grandson?"

"Why would you kill your own grandson?" Joffrey stood over her, his glare dark. "You hate my wife more than you hated Robert, and by extension anything to do with her, and who knows, maybe you killed Tommen and Myrcella to hide your incestuous love affair with your brother. I don't know what goes on in your twisted mind, all I know is that I want you no where near my wife or son."

"Joffrey, I'm your mother. You can not do this." She protested. "I gave birth to you."

"You are not and never will be my mother again." Joffrey shook his head. "From this day forth, you are no longer the dowager queen, or Queen Mother, nor will you hold any royal titles. You will be going back to Casterly Rock to stay there until the end of your days, only out of respect for Myrcella and Tommen, who loved you. If you come back to this place however, I will kill you myself for I hold no love for you."

"No, no, please, Joffrey..." Cersei began to cry as she tried not to lose her eldest son. "Please don't do this, please."

"If you keep begging, I will have your tongue removed." Joffrey looked on in disgust. "You are not my priority. My family is. The family that you have hurt for the last time."

Cersei turned to look at Lyra, glaring at the woman with hatred in her eyes, but Lyra matched her gaze head on and did not falter. She would not be intimidated by this woman anymore.

"Get her out of my city."

𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐎

Hiya,

So, Margaery's dead, Tommen's dead, all of Drew's friends are dead, Lyra and Mikael almost died, Cersei's been stripped of her titles and banished and this was a very fun chapter to write. We're going into book 7 now, and this goes slightly off plot (because I have to change stuff around). 

My favourite part of book 6 was probably this chapter actually. Let me know what you think,

Love Li xx