𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐍 | Checkmate

{ Lyra }

✧✦✧

𝕬rah remained quiet as she helped Lyra get ready for the day. It did not take a genius to figure out that something bad was going to happen at this hearing today, in fact that was written all over Lyra's face. 

"My Lady?" Lyra looked up, her face sunken and pale. Arah sighed, before placing the hairbrush down, as she patted some rouge onto the teenager's cheek. "It will all work out in the end, you'll see."

Lyra attempted a smile, before standing up and smoothing her dress out. Tylar opened the door for her, gnawing his lip in worry as he watched the girl. Lyra just swept past him, waiting for Sansa to emerge.

The auburn girl appeared moments later, sliding an arm through Lyra's, as Tylar led them down to the main courtyard of the Red Keep, and then down into the centre of the city. The great Sept of Baelor loomed above them, as they ascended the dais to stand next to Cersei and Joffrey. 

Joffrey also looked like he hadn't slept a wink, but he was hiding it infinitely better than Lyra was. Glancing up, the eldest Stark girl caught the man's eyes, but Joffrey's face did not falter from the cold stare he was maintaining. 

Lyra turned at that, looking back out across the sea of people, trying to focus on something other than the mob beneath them. Glancing at the statue of Baelor the Blessed, Lyra did a double take at the sight of a young girl crouching at the bottom of it. She could recognize that face anywhere. 

Arya Stark was holding onto Baelor the Blessed's legs, watching what was going on with wide eyes. The girl didn't look too badly bruised, or bloody, but she seemed terrified. Lyra locked her gaze with the girl, shaking her head slowly. Arya didn't want, or need, to see this. The girl's eyes widened, before Lyra watched as she disappeared from view.

The crowd had gotten louder, as Lyra watched her father be dragged onto the dais. Sansa reached down, threading her hand through Lyra's, as the pair tried to bring some comfort to one and other. Their father looked horrible, with dried up blood on his head, and his cheeks sunken in. This was not the father that Lyra knew and love. This was a mere ghost of that man.

"I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King," Lyra watched her father confess, her heart slowly sinking. She had thought that she was prepared for this to happen, but now she didn't think she could watch this. "I come before you to confess my treason, in the sight of gods and men. I betrayed the faith of my king and the trust of my friend Robert. I swore to protect and defend his children but before his blood was cold, I plotted to murder his son and seize the throne for myself."

Jeers began to rise up from the crowd, and Lyra flinched when a rock hit her father in the head. Her father continued though, not letting the rock deter him. Tylar had appeared behind the two Stark girls, his face tense as he watched what was going on. Lyra took strength from his steady presence, needing something to help keep her standing.

"Let the High Septon and Baelor the Blessed bare witness to what I say. Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne by the grace of all the gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

The Grand Maester looked over at the king momentarily, who motioned for the man to continue, his jaw clenched.

"As we sin, so do we suffer. This man has confessed his crimes in sight of gods and men. The gods are just, but beloved Baelor taught us they can also be merciful. What is to be done with this traitor, your grace?" Grand Maester Pycelle prattled on, before turning to face Joffrey.

"My Lady wishes for me to let Lord Eddard join the Night's Watch, stripped of all titles and powers, he would serve the realm in permanent exile." Joffrey's voice was monotonous, as the crowd immediately quietened at the power the man exuded. "But, treason should never go unpunished."

Lyra's grip on Sansa tightened, as Tylar stiffened up behind them. Lyra felt his eyes burning into them, but she looked out across the crowd to make sure that Arya still wasn't there.

"Ser Illyn. Bring me his head," Joffrey stated. Lyra's gut twisted, as the crowd began to cheer at his words, happy that this would be the outcome for the traitor. 

Sansa's scream broke Lyra's heart, as she turned the younger girl away from facing their father. Wrapping her arms around the girl, Lyra let her own tears fall once more as she stared at her father. The man shook his head, as Lyra buried her face into Sansa's hair, her shoulders shaking as she tried to withhold sobs.

She heard the sound of a sword swing, and then something thumped on to the floor as the crowd cheered even louder than before. A hand touched her arm, as the light was blocked from in front of her. Opening her eyes, the blurry outline of Tylar appeared in front of her. He smiled, before leading the two Stark girls away and back to the Red Keep. They didn't need to see that.

✧✦✧

There was little peace after their father's execution. In fact, Lyra and Sansa were only given an hour to mourn, before they were expected to be present in court by the Queen Mother.

To spite the woman, Lyra dressed in her deepest blue dressed, Joffrey's necklace settled between her collar bones. She knew it would cause an uproar if she dressed in black to show she was grieving, so blue would have to do.

It did little to stop the stares. They seemed to be fixed on the two Stark sisters, as they watched what was going on from the balcony. Yet, much like it had been at the tourney, no one dared approach them, keeping to whispering to one and other. Elia shifted at Lyra's feet, a golden eye surveying the court with disinterest. Or the wolf may just not like the fool singing the song at the end of the royal dais.

Joffrey began to clap, sarcastically, as the fool came to an end, prompting others to follow. The king was dressed in dark red, his entire form tense as he ground his jaw together. It was easy to see, even from the balcony, how disinterested he was.

"Most amusing," The words were spat out like a poison. "Thank you for your rendition, though I imagine it was even better received at that tavern."

"I'm so sorry, Your Grace," The man stuttered, not looking at the teenager in fear. In fact, Lyra could recall that not many dared to even look at Joffrey when speaking to him. They all avoided eye contact like the plague. "I'll never sing it again, I swear."

"Tell me, which do you favor; your fingers or your tongue?" Joffrey raised an unamused eyebrow, as the hall tittered amongst themselves at his cold words.

"Your Grace?" 

"Fingers or your tongue? If you got to keep one, which would it be?" Joffrey asked again. Lyra watched as Cersei turned to stare at him, but he ignored her.

"I...I..."

"Or I could just cut your throat?" Joffrey offered as a compromise, an eyebrow raised in distaste.

"Every man needs hands, Your Grace," The singer replied warily, his eyes darting around the hall.

"Good. Tongue it is," Joffrey motioned for the guards to grab the bard, who only just seemed to have caught on to what was going on.

"Your Grace, please," The man began to beg, and cry and scream as the crowd of nobles watched on.

"Ser Illyn, please carry out the sentence," Joffrey stood, ignoring the man's pleas as he began to walk off of the dais. "I'm done for the day, I'll leave the rest of the matters to you, Mother."

Joffrey stormed past the Kings Guard, and began to walk up the steps towards them, his eyes on Lyra. She narrowed her own.

"You look beautiful, My Lady," Joffrey said, looking at Sansa briefly to nod. He was waiting for her, Lyra realised, and she sighed, before turning to face Tylar and Arah behind her.

"Do you think you can escort Sansa and Elia back to our rooms. I should be back for dinner," Tylar nodded, his face unreadable as he looked between the pair.

"Of course, My Lady," Tylar ground out, before offering an arm to Sansa and escorting her out of the hall with Septa Mordane. The other courtiers parted for them, avoiding them like they were greyscale victims.

"Walk with me," Joffrey stated, though it sounded more like a demand. Lyra raised an eyebrow. "Please."

Taking his offered arm, Joffrey began to lead her out towards the walled garden, not uttering a word until they reached the quiet safety of the ivy clad pavilion. There was a moment of silence, as the pair watched the ships in the port go by. 

"I'm sorry, for..."

"Don't," Lyra cut him off, shaking her head. "Don't remind me of it, please."

"All right," Joffrey conceded, before speaking again. "I persuaded the Small Council to allow for your father's bone to be laid to rest. I know it's not the same as in the North with the Old Gods, but it's the best I could do."

Lyra hummed, taking a deep breath to prevent herself from crying. The smell of the sea floated around her as there was another lull in their conversation.

"I thought, a lot," Joffrey broke the silence once more, leaning forward to rest his arms on his legs. Lyra raised her eyebrow. "About our last conversation...I want to help."

Lyra's head snapped towards her betrothed, who was still looking out to the harbor with a distant expression.

"Your father's death cannot be in vain and I can't trust the Small Council at the moment," Joffrey continued, as Lyra licked her lips. "I don't want to be that Mad King. I don't want to be my grandfather nor my father and I definitely don't want to be the king that sat back and watched as his country fell into war and ruin."

"Your Grace..."

"Joffrey," The older teenager cut her off, turning to look at her with steely eyes. "You're my betrothed, it's only right that we call one and other by our first names."

"Joffrey," Lyra continued, a small smile growing on her face. "You're not going to be anything like the Mad King. You're a good man and you'll be a brilliant king."

The king stood up, brushing off his trousers, before he pulled Lyra to her feet,

"I know, that there are no Weirwood trees here with which to make a vow that will mean something to you and your gods, but I will say it anyway," Joffrey leant down to cautiously grab her hands, squeezing them gently. "I swear, by the Old Gods and the New, that you and I are going to change the world and sort this whole mess out."

𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐈𝐔𝐌

Hiya, 

So, Book 1 is over and done with. What was your favorite part?  Also, Joffrey and Lyra are still my favorite and it only took the entirety of the first part to get them to call one and other by first names.

Thanks for reading,

Love Li xx