❝ You and I against the world, my love. Let us bring it to it's knees. ❞
Even the gods were not able to defeat Lyra Stark and Joffrey Baratheon, for once they put their minds to a cause, the gods were forced to step aside and let them past.
QUEENS...
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{ Lyra }
✧✦✧
𝕷yra smiled down at her brothers in the courtyard, watching as Bran tried his best to pull the bow string back to his cheek. It was a struggle for the boy, who just hadn't built up enough arm muscle to be able to draw the bow yet. She winced, as the arrow missed the target completely and embedded itself into the wall behind.
Robb and Jon snorted quietly, turning away to hide their laughter as they tried to contain themselves. The youngest of the four boys, Rickon, did not even bother to hide the peals of laughter that he let out which made Bran look even more put out that he already had.
"And which one of you was a marksman at ten?" Lyra almost jumped at the sound of her father's voice, as he placed a hand on her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at the boys. The three laughing ones immediately turned around to avoid their father's sharp gaze. Bran looked up at him in awe. "Keep practicing, Bran."
"Robb, didn't you hit a soldier in the arm when you were ten? I could have sworn that he was behind you," Robb span around to glare back up at her, his cheeks slowly flushing to a shade of red that was similar to his hair. Lyra grinned, ignoring her father's warning squeeze on her shoulder.
"How was husband hunting, sister dearest?" The flushed hue of Robb's cheek died down, as he smirked up at his sister. The remainder of the boys looked between the pair, though Jon raised an eyebrow at their childish bickering.
"Lovely. How's your betrothed?" Lyra replied, her eyes flashing. Robb grew tired, flipping his middle finger at the girl as she made a move to retaliate.
"Lyra!" The girl froze at her mother's voice, turning around to slowly to face the woman's disapproving stare. "You're a lady, act like one. Robb, stop antagonizing your sister!"
Catelyn Stark glared over the parapet at her oldest son as well, who gulped and looked away. Her glare was one that had been perfected over the years. Both Lyra and Robb had seen it on many occasions, normally directed at them whenever the woman found them partaking in mischief or causing mayhem.
"Yes, mother," Robb muttered, as the wooden floor boards beneath Lyra's feet suddenly became incredibly interesting.
"Keep practicing, Bran. Go on," Lyra looked up at her father, who was swiftly changing the subject. Eddard Stark smiled down at her briefly, before turning back to watch the boys with interest.
"Don't think too much, Bran," The young boy was beginning to notch an arrow as Jon spoke. Robb tilted their younger brother's arm upwards a bit further.
