𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗 | Check

{ Lyra }

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𝕿he main atrium of the Stark residence was glowing in the mid afternoon sun, as it slowly began to heat up the large chambers. Lyra curled her legs up further beneath her, as she sat on the padded seats on the balcony, basking in the glow. It was so much warmer down South than it was in the North but she had yet to decide whether or not she liked it.

Septa Mordane clucked her tongue, and Lyra sheepishly turned back to her sewing, continuing to stitch the wolf insignia of the Starks into one of her dresses that was designed for the summer heat. Arah appeared moments later, placing a plate of tarts down in front of the trio of girls, before bobbing a curtsy and walking off to stand with the Tylar in the corner of the room.

"You wear your hair like a real Southern lady now," Septa Mordane barely looked up from her stitches as she spoke to Sansa. The auburn haired woman bristled, before nodding. Over the past few weeks, it seemed that Sansa became more and more adapted to the South in both her hairstyles and clothing. Lyra had yet to make that transition, her hair still in the traditional braids of the North.

"Well, why shouldn't I? We're in the South," The indignant tone in Sansa's voice made Lyra come to the realization that her younger sister was aiming for an argument.

"It's important to remember where you come from. I'm not sure your mother would like these new styles," Looking up, Lyra watched Tylar stealthily try to disappear down the corridor, Arah behind him. He looked over his shoulder and caught sight of Lyra, who shook her head. If she had to listen to this argument, then they should as well. It was only fair that an equal amount of suffering was spread between them. 

"My mother isn't from the North," Sansa seemed to be being especially snarky that day, as Tylar scowled and slumped back against the wall. It seemed to have only taken Tylar Cassel three weeks to become completely bored with the arguments that Sansa and Arya like to instigate with one and other. It had taken Arah four.

"I'm aware of that," Septa Mordane had placed her embroidery down to talk to the snarky teen.

"Why do you care? Do you even have hair under there?" Lyra's eyes widened, as she spun around to look at her sister.

"Sansa!" The auburn haired girl sent Lyra a sheepish look. "Mind your tone."

Sansa reluctantly apologized, before starting to talk with Septa Mordane about hair and where the older woman was from.

"I come from a very small village..." Septa Mordane began, smiling as she started to talk about her birth place. 

"Oh wait, I've just realized, I don't care," Lyra's jaw dropped open, as Tylar looked between the three women with wide eyes. Arah raised an eyebrow, as she looked up at Tylar and pulled a face.

"Sansa!" The auburn haired teenager huffed, crossing her arms at Lyra's tone. "Go to your room. Now!"

Sansa stomped off past Tylar, who still seemed shocked at the younger woman's words.

"I'm so incredibly sorry, Septa Mordane," Lyra began, sending another glance at Sansa's disappearing back. "I don't know what's gotten into her. I'll have her apologise when she's calmed down."

"It's okay, child," Septa Mordane patted Lyra's hand, as she picked her embroidery back up. "Your sister is going through an argumentative phase in her life. Just like you did, if my memories serve me correctly."

Lyra blushed, remembering those days all too well. She had believed that she was always right and took to picking fights with her siblings and parents for near to a year. Luckily she had grown out of that phase relatively quickly, but it still haunted her.

A knock sounded on the door, before it was pushed open and the prince appeared. The blond man stepped into the room, as everyone dropped into curtsies and bows, his eyes darting around briefly before Lyra felt them settle on her. Joffrey waved their bowing off, placing a book down onto the table, as Lyra stood to meet him.

"Your Grace," He looked down at her, his face still wiped of any emotions but his eyes gave a little more away. He was upset, about something, and that was all she could decipher as he turned to face the other three in the room.

"Give us the room," He seemed to remember something after he spoke, because he nodded to himself and spoke up again. "Please."

Septa Mordane looked like she was going to protest, but she seemed to think better of arguing with the crown prince, and left with Arah. The dark haired guard raised an eyebrow at the Stark girl, but Lyra shook her head. She doubted that anything untoward was going to happen between them and, Elia was with them just in case.

"What can I do for you, Your Grace?" The prince seemed to check whether the other three had actually gone, before he reached into his pocket and pulled something out. Lyra held her hand out, as the prince placed something into her palm. 

"This is for you," He unfisted what he was holding, as something cold and metal dropped into Lyra's hands. Looking down, Lyra found herself speechless at the sight of a necklace in her palm. The chain was pure gold, but almost as thin as string with a pendant made of, what seemed to be, tiny, tear drops of sapphire arranged to look like a rose. "I know you're missing home."

Lyra looked back up at him, stopping herself from throwing her arms around his neck in gratitude. Holding it back out to him, she turned around and lifted her hair for him to put the necklace on. There was a pause, before Lyra felt Joffrey step forward, hearing his boots scuff against the stone floor. She shivered at the feeling of his cold hands on her neck, as the pendant fell in the middle of her collar bone. He took a moment doing the clasp, before he pulled his hands away and stepped back once more.

Turning around, Lyra beamed up at him, a light blush covering her cheeks at his gesture. She watched as the prince's lips curled up into the half-smile that she had become so accustomed to seeing.

"Thank you, it's truly stunning and I shall wear it as much as I possibly can," He met her eyes, nodding and even though his lips dropped back down, Lyra was sure that she could see a spark in his eye that hadn't been there before. There was a quietness, for a moment, before the prince took a deep breath and he seemed to muster up all of his courage to allow his fingers to encircle Lyra's own. She tried her best not to react overtly, allowing the teenager to grasp her hands in his own time.

"You're to be my lady, my queen from the North," The prince was looking down at their joined hands, running his thumb across the back of hers slowly, as if testing to see her reaction. "One day, we'll be married in the throne room and lords and ladies from all over the Seven Kingdoms will come; from the last hearth in the North, to the salt shore in the South. And you will be queen of all of them..."

The wind swirled around them, bringing the sea breeze with it as Joffrey finally looked up to meet her eyes. His own was filled with an emotion that Lyra couldn't place, and that she had never seen on the man before. The prince squeezed her fingers gently, as if one wrong move could shatter them, before continuing on.

"...But when you are queen, you will never be able to go back North, to Winterfell, to your home. I don't want you to be unhappy here, in the capital or with me," She smiled gently at him, not daring to interrupt. This was the most that she had heard from him at any one time and Lyra felt that if she broke him off, he wouldn't speak so freely again. "So, I wanted to bring home to you, even if it is just a little pendant. You're to be my queen, from this day until my last day, and I'd do anything to see you happy."

He took a deep breath as he stopped speaking, waiting for her to say something. Lyra took a moment to process it, before gently wrapping her arms around Joffrey's shoulders and hugging him. The teenager stiffened beneath her touch and faltered, his hands hovering over her waist as he seemed to think about what he should do. 

"Once again, thank you for bringing home to me, Your Grace," It took a few more moments, but Joffrey seemed to work out what to do, placing his hands gently on her waist, so lightly it felt like Lyra was being tickled with a feather. "and for noticing that I was feeling homesick."

Pulling away, she smiled up at him again, noting the faint glow in his cheeks, before releasing her hold on him so that he could relax once more.

"I was sewing on the balcony, if you wish to join me?" Joffrey paused, before nodding as he picked his book up from the table once more. Lyra slumped back down in her seat, tucking her legs underneath her as she continued to stitch the wolf onto her dress. Every so often, she would catch Joffrey looking at her over the top of his book, his eyes narrowed. He looked at her as if he was trying to solve a puzzle.

As the hours began to drift past, the sun continued to dip lower in the sky, Lyra abandoned her sewing as Joffrey did the same to his book. After a little while of sitting in silence, Lyra drew Joffrey into a conversation, both of them conversing quietly with one and other as the prince finally relaxed next to her.

"I can't quite believe you," She trailed off into quiet giggle, as Joffrey nodded, turning a page in his book with the familiar half-smile, before marking the page and placing his full attention on her. "So, what did Prince Tommen do?"

"Well, now he has an abundance of castle cats," Lyra smiled at the thought, not noticing that Elia's ears pricked up at the words. "They used to follow him around and mewl for food, it drove my parents mad."

"When the pups first arrived, they used to follow the kitchen staff and whine until they were fed," Lyra leant down to ruffle Elia's fur, as the wolf rolled over onto her back. "It took months to break them out of the habit."

The door opened soon after, Tylar and Arah rushing in with worried looks on their faces. Joffrey was immediately on his feet, his hand reaching for the sword on his hip.

"What's going on?" Lyra looked between the pair.

"My Lady, Your Grace," They both dropped into a curtsy and a bow at the sight of the prince, before turning back to face Lyra. "It's your father. He was attacked in the streets."

"What?" Lyra's eyes widened, her hand going up to rest on her heart that she feared would beat out of her chest. Looking up at Tylar, she noted his eyes, that were rimmed with red. 

"Ser Jaime Lannister attacked your father with a host of Lannister guards. Any of the Stark soldiers who aren't here now, were killed," Lyra felt her heart drop further. Tylar's older brother, Jory, had been with her father. "The Kingslayer put a spear through your father's leg and then fled the city."

"Is he...?" She couldn't bring herself to finish that question, her heart slowly sinking as she thought of the possibilities. Tylar shook his head. "What about Jory?"

"Jaime Lannister put a knife through his eye," Joffrey walked over to Lyra and placed a hand on her shoulder, as she took a step back and shook her head. She had known Jory ever since she was a young girl. He was practically like another older brother to her and to hear that he had died in such a brutal way brought tears to her eyes.

"I'll speak with my father about this, you should go and see yours," He talked quietly, still seeming not entirely comfortable with voicing his opinions in front of the others in the room. Turning, he began to walk out, before stopping next to Tylar. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

He left soon after, as Lyra rushed to collect Arya and Sansa before following Tylar down to the Grand Maester's chamber, where their father would be.

Hiya,

So, once more, soft Joffrey and Lyra time and Joffrey is still my favorite character that I've kind of changed. Also, what do you guys think of him so far? I don't know whether he's okay as a character or not.

Thanks,

Love Li xx