𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 | Little Lion

{ Joffrey }

✧✦✧

𝕵offrey had gotten used to Small Council meetings with Lyra by his side. He was used to her comforting hold on his hand, her calm tone of voice and her good ideas. But now that she was on bed rest, he was feeling the loss of her presence much more greatly. Especially with the Small Council arguing like three year olds who had not gotten the last biscuit. 

He rubbed his forehead, looking at Lyra's empty chair, before turning back to the elders.

"That's enough," They paused, turning to look at him. "You're giving me a headache with your petty squabbling."

"Your Grace..."

"I know that this situation needs to be dealt with, so please draw up proposals and present them to me and then I shall make a decision without having to hear you squabble," Joffrey sighed again, before standing up. "That will be all. I'll summon another meeting when I've made a decision." 

They nodded, gathering their papers as they left the room. Joffrey watched them go, before grabbing his pile of papers and flicking through them, crossing off the things that had been completed and circling what he would need to bring up before the next meeting. It seemed, however, that they had barely accomplished anything with this meeting.

"Your Grace!" Joffrey looked up, his eyebrow rising as he saw Arah come running towards him. He furrowed his eyebrows at her heavy breathing and flushed cheeks, before a realisation came to mind.

"Lyra?" Arah nodded and Joffrey took a shaky breath. "What happened? Is she alright? Is she injured?"

"Your Grace, she's alright," Arah regained her breath, trying to soothe the young king. "She's gone into labour."

"What?"

"She's giving birth to your child, Your Grace," Joffrey felt his heart stop momentarily, before he followed Arah out of the room. He handed his papers to Rolan, who was coming to collect him for his next meeting.

"Tell them that the meeting is cancelled and I will see them another day," Joffrey commanded, his hands trembling though his voice was steady. "Lyra's gone into labour and I am going to stay by my wife."

"Of course, Your Grace," Rolan bowed, as Joffrey turned back to Arah.

"Has the Grand Maester been informed?"

"Yes, I intercepted him as he left the meeting, Your Grace," Arah told him. "You were the last person I had to talk to."

"Why was I the last?"

"You were in a Small Council meeting and the guards wouldn't let me pass,"

"What?"

"They said that Lyra giving birth was not as important as the meeting and that they had been commanded not to let messages like that disturb you," Joffrey rubbed his forehead, not in the mood to deal with his mother's shenanigans now. He would see to her later.

As they reached the royal chambers, Joffrey saw an army of midwives rushing in and out of the rooms but he stopped just inside of the doorway, watching it all with wide eyes. He could remember, vaguely, this happening when Tommen was born but he had forgotten the fear that came along with.

He had prepared for this, but now every thought went out of the window as he heard his wife cry out in pain. He didn't know what to do or how to help. He wasn't prepared for this in the slightest and he doubted that he would be able to do this.

"Your Grace? Your Grace!" Arah gave him a light push, snapping Joffrey out of his thoughts. He turned to look at her, an affronted expression on his face. "She's been asking for you so please, go to her side."

Joffrey nodded, taking a deep breath before heading into the bedroom, a lone male in a sea of women far more competent than him. 

"Joff," He turned, catching eyes with his wife, who held her hand out for him, her face red and sweaty.

"I'm here," He muttered, kneeling by her side and clutching onto her hand. "I'm here, My Love."

"I don't know if I can do this," Lyra whimpered, her eyes wide with fear. "I can't..."

"You can do this," Joffrey pressed a kiss to her forehead, brushing her hair from her face. "You're a Stark and a Baratheon. You have the strength of the North and the South. You can do this."

He may be fearful but he'd put on a strong front for Lyra, who needed him by her side.

✧✦✧

{ Lyra }

After what felt like days, of pushing and screaming and crying, Lyra fell back onto the pillow, taking deep breaths as the sound of a baby's wail filled the room. The sky had grown dark, and Lyra could see stars through the curtains, that fluttered at every gust of cool, sea wind.

"You did it," Lyra turned her head, looking at Joffrey, as he sent her a soft smile, hidden from the others in the room. "I'm so proud of you."

"Where is the babe?" Joffrey nodded over to the Grand Maester and one of the midwives, who were washing the child. "I want to hold my child."

"I know, My Love, I know. But soon,"

Lyra nodded, closing her eyes as she took deep breaths and tried to recover some of her energy. Joffrey's hand was running through her hair, his forehead resting against her own as he whispered words of praise into her ears.

A cough sounded, and the couple looked up, staring at the Grand Maester, who held a bundle in his arms. Lyra struggled upright, wincing in the process as her muscles ached. The Grand Maester hadn't been in attendance for the birth, not being allowed to see Lyra in a time like that, but he was let in after Lyra was covered up again and the baby born, so that he could check the child for illness. Lyra wouldn't have liked him in there at all, but there were some traditions that even she could not get round.

Their child was wailing, causing Lyra joy as she thanked the Old Gods and the New for her child being alive and healthy.

"It is a boy, Your Grace," The Grand Maester presented the child to Joffrey, as the midwives all clapped quietly and Lyra sighed in relief. She had a son. "You have been blessed by the gods with an heir, who is strong like his father."

Joffrey let go of his wife's hand, carefully taking the child from the Grand Maester's arms and staring down. He froze, his shoulders tensing up, before quickly passing the child to Lyra, who's face lit up as she cooed down at the babe. The little baby had his eyes closed, curling into the warmth of Lyra's skin as she smiled.

"What will you name him, Your Grace?" Joffrey hesitated, watching his wife and son, before turning back to the older man.

"Mikael," Joffrey muttered. Lyra smiled, bouncing the little boy in her arms. "Mikael Baratheon, first of his name. Announce it to the Small Council and then the court."

"Of course, Your Grace," The Grand Maester bowed, before leaving with the army of midwives. The last in the rooms, apart from the family, was Arah and another handmaiden, who held her hands out for the babe. 

"Oh, no, it's alright. We're fine," Lyra nodded, as Joffrey turned to watch the interaction, one eyebrow cocked in confusion.

"She's taking Mikael away to be fed," Arah told her quickly, as Lyra shot Arah a confused look.

"I'm more than capable of feeding my own son," Joffrey caught on quicker than Arah did, crouching down by his wife once more.

"Lyra, maybe in the North that would have happened, but it the South it is common to have a wet nurse and someone else looks after the child so that the queen can get back on her feet as quickly as possible," Lyra furrowed her eyebrows. 

"But, it is custom in the North that the mother feeds their child so that the child can gain the strength of their mother," There was a pause, before Joffrey waved the woman off. He knew that Lyra had sacrificed a lot of her customs and traditions to marry him, so it was only fair that she was allowed to keep some of them as well.

"Leave us for now," She nodded, before Arah bowed her head and followed the woman out of the room.

"He is here, Joff," Lyra muttered, leaning her head back until it hit Joffrey's chest. The man carefully reached up, brushing her hair back and pressing small kisses to the top of her head. "Will you hold him?"

"I can not. Not at this moment, Lyra," Joffrey's voice was soft and Lyra smiled up at him, before nodding and accepting his answer. "Give me some time."

"Of course," She tilted her head, pressing a kiss to his jaw, before looking back down at her son. "I think he will look like you."

"You think that?"

"Yes, but hopefully with my Northern temper," Lyra chuckled, stifling a yawn. The door cracked open again, as Rolan bowed his head.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Your Grace, but what should we do with the queen's wolf? She's pacing and whining,"

"Oh, send her in," Lyra called, her eyes widening.

"Is that a good idea?" Joffrey turned to her. 

"Elia will be good. I'll keep an eye on her," Lyra promised, before the sound of scrabbling claws on the stone floor were heard, and Elia sprinted around the corner, leaping onto the bed to sniff Lyra over, whimpering and whining. Her fur was on edge, standing up in fear, but she quietened as she licked Lyra's face and found her unharmed. "I'm alright, Elia. I am okay."

Elia rubbed her head under Lyra's chin, before glancing over at the baby.

"Elia, this is my pup. This is Mikael and you have to be very gentle with him," Elia whined, her ears flattening to her head as she bumped her nose against the baby's head gently. "Good girl."

Elia's tail thumped against the comforter, before trying to crawl over Lyra's legs.

"You'll crush her," Joffrey reluctantly stood up, picking the large wolf up and pulling her off of Lyra. "Come and sit with me or you'll hurt her."

Elia huffed, before accepting Joffrey's proposition and lying down across his legs, her head in Lyra's lap. The queen chuckled, before lying back down, content with her family by her side. She only wished that her siblings and parents were here to see her.

"What happens now, then?" Lyra asked, rocking her child slowly.

"Well, the Grand Maester will announce the birth to the Small Council and then the court, but Mikael won't be presented to them until he is six moons old," Joffrey listed off, running his hands through Elia's fur as the wolf chuffed quietly. "But the family will give you a day to recover before descending on you to meet him."

✧✦✧

{ Joffrey }

After a few days of rest, Lyra was slowly getting back on to her feet and Joffrey often came back from meetings to see her walking around the room with their son in her arms, telling him stories that her mother had told her.

"Lyra," She looked over her shoulder, her smile growing as Joffrey pressed a soft kiss to her lips and then, carefully, stroked his son's cheek as the baby gurgled. "I think there are some others here to see you and Mikael."

"Who?"

"Margaery and Tommen. Do you feel up to seeing them or not?"

"Send them in," Lyra beamed as Joffrey nodded. He opened the door again, as Margaery swept past him and straight over to Lyra.

"Congratulations," Tommen stated, before throwing his arms around his brother. Joffrey tensed up, before relaxing and hugging his younger brother back. "I'm really happy for you. How is he?"

"He's good, I suppose," Joffrey shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure what classifies that for a baby, but Lyra will know."

Margaery was already sitting down and holding Mikael, and Joffrey watched her with sharp eyes, despite his brother talking next to him. Any shift in Margaery or Mikael and the man tensed up further.

A hand slipped through his arm, and Joffrey glanced from the corner of his eye to look at Lyra, who was sending him a soft smile.

"It's alright, Joff," He slowly untensed at her murmur. "Margaery knows how to hold a child. Mikael is alright."

"He looks like you, Joffrey." Tommen said, in awe of the tiny being in his wife's arms.

"We're hoping he has my sense then," Lyra joked, eliciting a chuckle from the other adults in the room. Joffrey sent them a small smile, wrapping an arm around Lyra's waist as she rubbed his back carefully.

"He is perfect, Lyra," Margaery cooed, standing up to hand the child back to the Stark woman. "I am most jealous so I will come and babysit whenever I can."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Lyra beamed, accepting her little boy again. A cough sounded behind them, and Joffrey turned, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Cersei and Jaime.

"We will leave you," Margaery pressed a kiss to Lyra's cheek, before her and Tommen slipped out as Joffrey glared down at his parents.

"What are you doing here?" At the sound of Joffrey's voice, Elia was on her feet, curling around their legs as a form of protection.

"I came to see my grandson," Cersei muttered.

"Get out," Joffrey growled, abandoning Lyra's side to tower over Cersei and Jaime. "Get out of here and stay the hell away from my son."

"Joffrey..." Jaime began.

"No," He shook his head. "No, I won't allow this witch near my son not when she told the guards that the news of my wife going into labour wasn't allowed to reach me so that I wouldn't have any distractions. Get out."

Mikael whimpered behind him, but Joffrey stayed strong a dark glare on his face as Cersei opened her mouth and closed it like a mindless fish.

"Did I stutter, Mother?" Joffrey growled. "Get out."

"I just wanted to meet my grandson," Cersei kept her voice even, watching him with cold eyes. "What is so wrong with that?"

"After how horrible you have been to my wife, the mother of my child, why would I ever let you near either of them?"

"Joffrey," Lyra's voice cut through the mix as he turned his head to glance at her. She smiled softly, padding over to rest a hand on his arm. "It is alright. They can meet him, I'm okay with that."

"I'm not," Lyra nodded, squeezing his arm again, before turning back to Cersei.

"This is Mikael," She kept a cold smile on her face, allowing Cersei and Jaime to see the baby. Cersei watched on mesmerized, and Lyra was reminded of an earlier conversation with the woman many years earlier. Cersei might not have liked her husband, but she did love her children, in a twisted way, and her grandchildren.

"Can I hold him?"

"No," Lyra replied, shaking her head. "You have met him and that is all I will allow you to do. Joffrey is right, you haven't been kind to me so why should I let you near my son? Thank you for coming to pay your congratulations, but that shall be all. Goodbye."

She ushered them out of the room, closing the door in their faces before hushing the baby in her arms. Joffrey was still tense, glaring at the spot where his parents had stood, before turning back to Lyra.

"Why did you let them meet him?"

"So that there were no further problems down the line," Lyra replied, rocking the child as Mikael began to whimper. "If we had not let her meet him, she would have kicked up a fuss and complained but she has and Jaime saw that she did, as did Rolan and Margaery and Tommen so she can not use that against us to get her way."

Joffrey reluctantly nodded in agreement, before wrapping his arm back around Lyra's waist and leaning his head against her shoulder. 

"It is done now, Joff," She reminded him. "They do not get to see him again until he is six moons, now."

Hiya,

21k in reads is amazing and Mikael is here!!! I absolutely love Lyra with her son and Joff and Tommen's relationship. Also, both of them putting Cersei in her place brings me life.

Let me know what you think,

Love Li xx