𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | Death

{ Joffrey }

✧✦✧

𝕵offrey sat on the side of his father's bed, leaning his forearm on his legs as he hung his head. This was still all catching up to him and he could hardly believe that his father had been gored by a boar whilst on the hunting trip.

"I should have spent more time with you," Turning his head, Joffrey raised an eyebrow at his father, who was getting paler by the minute. Joffrey just watched. "Shown you how to be a great king."

Joffrey turned back to face the stone of the floor, trying to process and categorize his emotions in his head. But, he was struggling. He didn't know what to do. Was he supposed to cry, or look sad, or smile that the man was going? Instead, he settled on staying blank.

"I was never meant to be a father," Joffrey ground his teeth together at those words. It wasn't the first time that he had heard them, but for his father to say it on his death bed hurt even more than the other times. The door opened, and Joffrey tilted his head to watch Lyra's father and his uncle walk into the room. "Go on, you don't want to see this."

Joffrey didn't need to be told twice, standing up to brush past the two other men in the room without so much as a second glance at the dying man. He didn't want to see him in his final moments.

Turning left, out of the royal household chambers, Joffrey hurried down the stairs and across the main atrium until he reached the walled garden, where he hoped he could breathe properly. The pavilion came into view, and Joffrey stormed in, before leaning against the wall, undoing the top fastening on his shirt as he struggled to breathe.

"Your Grace?" He couldn't look up, still taking heaving breaths, as he felt a hand on his shoulder. Lyra's brown eyes came into view, full of worry at the sight of him. "What's the matter?"

"I...I can't...I can't breathe," He managed to huff out, before Lyra nodded.

"Just follow my breathing pattern," Lyra started to take exaggerated breaths in and out, as Joffrey tried to follow along. His hands were shaking in Lyra's, but she seemed to pretend not to notice as she kept breathing with him. "You're alright. You're safe here."

Taking another deep breath, Joffrey leant his head back until it reached the cold stone wall behind him, and he felt his heart rate dropping back to a steady pattern.

Lyra's overly exaggerated breathing pattern stopped as she waited for him to say something, her hands still in his.

"My father's dying," Lyra hummed, as Joffrey looked back down at her, grinding his teeth again as he looked out at sea. "What...What am I supposed to do? I have no clue how to rule Seven kingdoms and..."

A soft hand on his jaw caused the teenager to stiffen up, as Lyra tilted his head back towards her. She held the same kind smile on her face, that he had seen many times before and it had a similar effect to the other times. His worry was subsiding, slowly.

"You're going to be a great king, I know it," Joffrey sighed again. "And that's what the Small Council is for. They're going to be able to help you, and I'll be by your side. I may not know much about running the Seven Kingdoms, but I can learn. It will work out, I promise you."

He tried to smile at her, but couldn't bring himself to, only allowing his lips to curl up into a half-smile.

"Thank you, my Lady," Lyra smiled again, as Elia appeared beside the pair, curling in between the two of them in some form of comfort. "You'll be a brilliant queen."

"Thank you," Lyra grinned, before leaning down to ruffle Elia's fur. Footsteps sounded from the gravel outside of the pavilion's walls, as Lyra's guard appeared, bowing to the prince.

"Your Grace, my Lady," Lyra's grip on his hands didn't abate, as the guard began to talk. "The king is dead, they're calling you to the main hall for your coronation. My Lady, Septa Mordane need to speak with you and your sisters in the Stark atrium."

"Thank you, Tylar," Lyra smiled, as the guard nodded and walked off again. She turned back to look at him, as Joffrey sighed and began to refasten the collar of his jacket. His hands seemed to be shaking too much, and he cursed at the fact, growing annoyed with himself and his apparent uselessness. "Let me."

Lyra's smaller hands pushed his aside, doing the fastening of the collar up with ease, as Joffrey sighed again, his head still reeling.

"You're going to do great things, I know it," He looked down at Lyra, who was smiling up at him once more. "I'll see you afterwards, my King."

"Thank you, my Lady," He wrapped a hand around her wrist, as Lyra turned to walk out with Elia by her side. "For everything and for helping."

"You're welcome," She smiled, before squeezing his hand again and walking out.

✧✦✧

{ Lyra }

Lyra followed Septa Mordane to the courtyard where Arya undertook her dancing lessons. Sansa's arm was hooked through hers, both of them sharing a knowing glance as Septa Mordane continued to rant about Arya and her tardiness.

"Your sister knew perfectly well we were to leave today. How she could forget..." Septa Mordane hissed.

"She didn't forget." Lyra stated, though her mind was on other matters. She was wondering how Joffrey's coronation was going, and if everything was all right. When she had found him in the pavilion, struggling to breathe, Lyra had been worried for him. That worry wasn't alleviated, even when Joffrey had placed his mask back on. In fact, it increased tenfold.

"She's with her dancing master. She's with him every morning, she always come back with scrapes and bruises. She's so clumsy," Lyra tuned back into the conversation at Sansa's snippy tone.

"Hush!" Septa Mordane came to a stop in front of them, her entire body tensing up. "Go back to your room. Bar the doors, and do not open them for anyone you do not know." 

Lyra's eyebrows furrowed, as she watched Elia's hackles raise. Something was terribly wrong.

"What's happening?" Sansa asked, turning to face Lyra, who shook her head in confusion.

"Do as I told you," Elia's hackles rose even further, the hair on the scruff of her neck standing up.

"Sansa, come on. We should go!" Lyra called, before grabbing Elia and urging the three of them to run back to the safety of the Stark apartment.

Continuing on, Lyra pushed Sansa ahead of them, as they skidded around the corner, into the corridor that their chambers were located on. Slowing to a stop, Lyra grabbed Sansa's arm once more as she spotted Cersei waiting outside the doors.

"There you are girls," She smiled, but it was not a kind one. Lyra raised her head higher, as Tylar appeared to stand beside them. He had a bloody nose, and a cut running down the side of his arm, but was otherwise unharmed. "I need you to come with us."

"Of course, Your Grace," Lyra smiled, as she shared a look with Sansa and then Tylar. The warrior shook his head, keeping one eye on the Lannister guards the entire time.

✧✦✧

The remainder of the Small Council had assembled in Cersei's chambers, staring the Stark girls down with cold eyes. Tylar stood behind them still, his hand resting on his sword as Elia lay by his feet.

"Your father has proved to be an awful traitor, my dears," Lord Varys was sending them sympathetic looks as he spoke. Lyra's heart dropped in her chest, as Sansa grabbed her hand.

"King Robert's body was still warm when Lord Eddard began plotting to steal Joffrey's rightful throne," Grand Maester Pycelle did not show them the same sympathy, his glare cold. Lyra's eyebrows furrowed further. This didn't sound like her father in the slightest.

"He wouldn't do that. My father is an honorable, a good man, he would not try to plot against anyone," Lyra said, her hands starting to tremble as he spoke.

"Please, Your Grace, there's been a mistake. Send for our father, he'll tell you. The King was his friend," Sansa added in, sharing a look with Lyra. This was still unbelievable.

"Sansa, sweetling, you're innocent of any wrong, we know that," Lyra's eyes narrowed when Cersei forgot to mention her name in that statement. "Yet you are the daughter of a traitor, both of you. How can I allow you to marry my son?"

Lyra fought back a dark glare. She couldn't get angry with this woman, as it would not end well for her, her sisters or her father.

"A child, born of a traitors seed, is no fit consort for our king. She's a sweet thing now, your grace, but in ten years, who knows what treason she may hatch," Pycelle tried to council Cersei whilst Lyra glared at the old man, who dared insult her father, her siblings and herself. She was not of traitor's seed. Her father was not a traitor!

"Lyra will be a good wife to the king. We won't hatch anything," Sansa tried to defend the two of them, not liking how Pycelle was being rude to their family.

"The girls are innocent, Your Grace," Lord Baelish stated and, whilst Lyra was thankful for his assistance, there was something about the man that was putting her on edge. "They should be given a chance to prove her loyalty."

"Lyra, you must write to Lady Catelyn and your brother, the eldest. What's his name?" Cersei said, turning to talk directly to Lyra.

"Robb," Lyra replied curtly. This conversation was taking a turn in a direction that Lyra didn't like. 

"Word of your father's arrest will reach him soon no doubt. Best it comes from you. If you would help your father, urge your brother to keep the King's peace. Tell him to come to King's Landing and swear his fealty to Joffrey."

"If we could see our father, talk to him about what happened..." Sansa trailed off as Cersei turned her dark glare onto the auburn haired Stark woman.

"You disappoint me, child. We've told you of your father's treason, why would you want to speak to a traitor?"

"I only meant that...what will happen to him?" Sansa and Cersei continued to talk to one and other as Lyra tried to think of a plan. She needed a plan. Robb had to know not to come down here.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On your brother and on you." With that Cersei dismissed the two siblings, who immediately made their way back to their rooms. Tylar was walking beside them, his eyes still sweeping around to search for threats.

"What happened?" Lyra asked, as soon as they had left the ear shot of the Small Council.

"It was just after I told you, I was still in the walled garden and then I heard shouts," Tylar said, as Elia joined them, sticking close to Lyra's side. "Then I saw the Lannister guards killing off Stark stewards and I ran back to find you. But, ran into a squad of guards and had to deal with that."

They reached the Stark atrium, to see the main area torn apart, as if the guards were searching for something. Both of the Stark girls shared a look, before Lyra grabbed two scrolls of parchment and got about to writing.

"You're doing what she says?" Sansa asked incredulously, as Arah ran into the room with water and medical supplies. She forced Tylar into sitting, as she began to tend to his wounds, watching the eldest Stark girl. "Who's that for?"

"Jon."

"Why are you writing to Jon?" Sansa asked, before reading over Lyra's shoulder and trying to mask a gasp. "Lyra, this is treason. You could get killed for this."

"Robb needs to be warned and this is the best way of letting him know without alerting the queen," Lyra reminded her, as Tylar wandered over to read the message. Handing the scroll for Jon to Tylar. "This needs to go into the same letter compartment as the one for Robb, without the queen or any of her spies seeing it. Once it reaches the Citadel, they'll send one to Robb and one to Jon. Got it?"

"Got it," Tylar hurried out of the room, as Arah began to clean up. Lyra grabbed her arm gently.

"Arah, I'm trusting you," The older handmaiden nodded. "This can't go out of the room or all of our heads will be on spikes. This remains between the four of us. Swear it, by the old gods and the new."

"I swear it," Arah nodded, her eyes full of fierce determination. "I'm not going to let you down."

"Thank you," Lyra smiled, as Elia appeared once more. "Now, the last thing to do is to talk to the king. I'm going to need to plead for our father's life."

✧✦✧

Walking into the Throne Room without her father by her side was even more intimidating than Lyra first thought, but she kept a calm expression on her face. Everyone took a step away from them, their faces filled with disgust and hatred and Lyra was sure that they would have spat at her if she still wasn't betrothed to the king.

Lyra came to a stop at the top of the stairs, overlooking the main dais, as Sansa threaded an arm through her own in support. Gulping, Lyra raised her eyes to look at her betrothed. His entire body was tensed up, as he watched the court with cold eyes. Everything about his presence demanded respect, and that was without noticing the golden crown perched on his head.

Lyra's breath caught in her throat at the sight of him, but she was quickly reminded that she had bigger things to worry about when a steward started speaking.

"In the place of the traitor, Eddard Stark, it is the wish of his grace that Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, be appointed Hand of the King. Lastly, in these times of treason and turmoil, it is the view of council that the life and safety of King Joffrey be of paramount importance." Lyra turned away from the steward to watch Joffrey's reaction to the statement. He barely flinched, though she noticed that his eyes were darting to the ground instead of looking out across the hall.

"Ser Barristan Selmy," Cersei's sharp voice echoed around the hall, as Sansa's grip on Lyra's arm tightened.

"Your Grace. I am yours to command," The old knight stated, falling to one knee at the feet of the dais.

"Rise, Ser Barristan. You may remove your helm," Ser Barristan did and Lyra was very confused as to where this was going. Cersei had something planned. "You have served the realm long and faithfully. Every man and woman in the Seven Kingdoms owes you thanks. But it is time to put aside your armor and sword, it is time to rest and look back with pride on your many years of service."

Lyra turned back to the dais, trying to catch Joffrey's eyes, but he was too focused on the scene in front of him.

"Your Grace, the Kings Guard is a sworn brotherhood. Our vows are taken for life, only death relieves us of our sacred task."

"Who's death Ser Barristan? Yours or your Kings?" Ser Barristan took a step back, his entire body tense. "You let my husband die. You're too old to protect anybody."

"Your Grace..." Ser Barristan tried to get a word in and plead with the King, but Cersei interrupted him again.

"The council has determined that Jaime Lannister shall take your place as Lord Commander of the King's Guard," Lyra's eyes narrowed when she realized that Cersei had put all of the Lannister family into positions of power, bar Tyrion. Looking at Sansa, she furrowed her eyebrows as the auburn haired woman shook her head.

"The man who profaned his blade with the blood of the King that he swore to defend," Ser Barristan retorted incredulously.

"Careful, Ser," Cersei hissed.

"We have nothing but gratitude for your long service, good Ser. You shall be given a stout keep beside the sea with servants to look after your every need," Varys tried to placate the old knight, as Ser Barristan grew more angry.

"A hole to die in," Ser Barristan began to take off his sword and armor, spitting every word out like it was a knife. "And men to bury me. I am a knight. I shall die a knight."

"A naked knight apparently," Lord Baelish exclaimed prompting laughter out of the crowd. However it all stopped when Ser Barristan drew his sword and every guard drew their own. Lyra noticed that even Joffrey had wrapped a hand around the handle of his.

"Even now, I could cut through the five of you like carving a cake. Here, boy, melt it down and add it to the others," With that Ser Barristan stormed out of the hall, after throwing the sword at the bottom of the dais.

"If any man in this hall has other matters to set before his grace, let him speak now or go forth and hold his silence," The steward called, from the side of the dais. Lyra took that as her cue and stepped forward to curtsy in Joffrey's direction. She tried her best to ignore the harsh whispers that were echoing around the hall behind her, choosing to focus on Joffrey instead.

"Your Grace," Cersei nodded at her, a cruel smirk on her face, as Joffrey motioned for her to stand once more.

"Come forward, My Lady." Joffrey replied, his low voice resonating around the hall, as Lyra stepped into the centre of the floor.

"The Lady Lyra of House Stark." The mutterings around the hall only grew louder at the steward's words, and Lyra fought to keep the annoyance off of her face.

"Do you have some business for the King and the council, Lyra?"

"I do," Lyra took a deep breath, before getting down onto her knees in the court. Her cheeks threatened to blush even more at the pure embarrassment that she was facing. Joffrey's eyes widened ever so slightly. "As it please, Your Grace, I ask mercy for my father, Lord Eddard Stark, who was Hand of the King."

"Treason is a noxious weed. It should be torn out, roots..." Lyra had to hold all her anger in. Joffrey took a glance at her face before cutting the Grand Maester off.

"Let her speak, I want to hear what she has to say." Joffrey growled, glaring towards the old man, who immediately shuffled backwards with muttered apologies.

"Thank you, Your Grace." Lyra breathed out, forcing a smile in Joffrey's direction as she tried not to look at Cersei's cruel smile.

"Do you deny your father's crime?" Lord Baelish asked, hoping to see Lyra squirm in the spotlight. He knew that she was her father's daughter, loyal to the core and he wanted to test that.

"No, my Lords. I know he must be punished. All I ask is mercy, I know my Lord Father must regret what he did," Lyra pleaded, looking Joffrey in the eyes as she spoke. "He was King Robert's friend and he loved him. My father was not in his right mind after King Robert died, and acted upon his sadness instead of properly grieving. Somebody must have lied to him." 

"He said I wasn't the King. Why did he say that?" Joffrey spoke softly, having noticed how embarrassed Lyra looked.

"He was badly hurt. Maester Pycelle was giving him milk of the poppy. He wasn't himself otherwise he never would have said it."

"A child's faith, such sweet innocence and yet they say wisdom oft comes from the mouths of babes," Lord Varys commented, and Lyra wasn't sure if that was a statement in her favor or not.

"Treason is treason!" The Grand Maester called, turning to glare at Lyra who was doing her best to ignore his dulcet tones. Joffrey glared once more, before standing from his throne and stalking down to hold a hand out for Lyra, helping her off of the floor.

"Your father has to confess and then I will grant mercy for him," Lyra let out a breath, before watching as Joffrey turned to face the rest of the court. "Court is dismissed!"

"Thank you," Lyra murmured, as Joffrey held an arm out for her and walked her back over to where Arah, Elia and Sansa stood.

"I need to speak with my betrothed," The trio nodded, as Joffrey continued walking with Lyra, a tense look on his face. "We need to talk."

Hey guys,

Thanks for reading Cleopatra, it's now going to have double updates. So two updates each day it needs to be posted because it's quite a long book. Also, quick side note, Joffrey is about 6ft 3 in the book, so he's a tall boi.

Thanks and let me know what you thought about the chapter and the double update plan.

Li xx