𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 | A fool
{ Lyra }
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𝕷yra sat on Joffrey's right hand side, her face neutral as she watched Sandor Clegane throw a competitor over the top of the wall. There was a resounding clang, as the knight hit the floor, before cheers sounded and the knight walked away.
Glancing over at Sansa, she was relieved to see that the girl was okay, and only a little shaken up. In the first few weeks after their father's execution, neither one of the girls had been able to stomach seeing anyone die lest they started crying. It had gotten better over time, but Lyra still worried for her younger sisters state of mind.
The past few weeks had been a tumultuous time for the Stark girls. Arya was still no where to be found, and Robb had called the banner-men in to march South on Kings Landing. They were calling him the King in the North. Due to Robb's new found royalty, the two remaining Stark children in the Capital were under close watch from the Queen Mother herself, who was finding more interesting ways to hate them.
A slight squeeze on Lyra's hand knocked her out of her thoughts, as she turned to look at the ever stoic king next to her. It was Joffrey's name day, that being the reason the tourney was being held, yet the eighteen year old king seemed anything but happy about it. He had one eyebrow raised, looking at everything with calculative eyes.
Ever since the pair had started trying to uncover the Lannister plans, they had found more and more strings that needed to be pulled. Their only hope was that it would all unravel smoothly, instead of turning into a mess that would take years to clean up.
"Who's next?" Joffrey sounded unamused, as he leant back in his chair and continued to watch what was going on. He had confessed, on the walk to the tourney ground, that the only reason he was even holding any celebrations was to appease his siblings.
"Lothor Brune, freerider in the service of Lord Baelish and Ser Dontos the Red of House Hollard." A knight appeared to the steward's left, but one still did not appear. Lyra's eyes narrowed, as she tried to think back to her lessons back at Winterfell. She wasn't sure that she could remember a House Hollard. Sansa also shook her head, before the pair turned back and continued to wait for the man to make an appearance.
The steward hollered for the knight again, yet he still did not show. Joffrey was slowly tensing up beneath Lyra's touch, and she glanced over at the cold look on his face. There was a kerfuffle from behind the royal dais, and then a clanking sound, before someone called over the laughter.
"Here I am!" Lyra turned around quickly, raising an eyebrow at the clumsy man, who had somehow managed to put his helmet on backwards. "Sorry, Your Grace. My deepest apologies."
Dontos Hollard finally managed to get the helmet on properly, as he stumbled over to bow in front of the king. Lyra glanced over at her betrothed, who's face was still masked, but the tenseness of his shoulders gave away his emotions.
"Are you drunk?" Dontos took off his helmet and Lyra licked her lips. The man's armor was not done up and he wasn't in time for his fight. The answer was very clear.
"No," His answer was not convincing, and one raised eyebrow from Joffrey had the man hurrying to clarify. "Uh, no, Your Grace. I had two cups of wine."
"Two cups?" Joffrey asked, his tone holding a warning to it that even Elia shifted at, but Ser Dontos was too drunk to realise. Lyra stiffened. "That's not much at all. Please, have another cup."
"Are you sure, Your Grace?" Dontos seemed incredulous and Lyra could only hope that he rejected the offer and went to fight. If the man said no, then Joffrey would not do anything and leave him to fight, if the man said yes, then Joffrey was not going to be impressed. In all her time of knowing the prince, she had picked up on his dislike for alcohol and drinking.
"Yes, to celebrate my name day. Have two, have as much as you like."
"I would be honored, Your Grace." That was not the correct thing to say, and Joffrey motioned for one of the Kings Guard, a brutish man known as Ser Meryn, to help.
"Ser Meryn, help Ser Dontos celebrate my name day. See that he drinks his fill," The king turned back away, his face still blank as Ser Meryn, and two other Kings Guard members, forced Ser Dontos onto his knees. A barrel of wine and a funnel was brought over to the group, and Lyra could barely hide the horror on her face as the funnel was forced into Ser Dontos' mouth and wine was forced down it.
Sansa had paled considerably, turning away to look at Lyra as the sound of choking reached their ears. The older Stark girl turned away, facing her betrothed, who was looking straight forward with a cold glint in his eyes.
Normally, Joffrey was cool, calm and collected. In fact, Lyra could not really place a time that she had truly seen him lash out, however, he did have a cruel streak in him that sometimes made an appearance when he saw something that annoyed him. Drunk people were one of them.
The old knight was beginning to gurgle and splutter, wine spilling out of either side of his mouth. Lyra watched as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, before looking over at Sansa, who was tapping her shoulder incessantly.
"Lyra, he can't," Sansa hissed. The girl was paler than normal, though it was tinged slightly green in the light. "Please, I can't see this."
Lyra nodded, before turning back to Joffrey and tapping his hand lightly to get him to look at her.
"Joffrey," Lyra nodded back at Sansa, who was looking pale and shaking. He looked back at her, his body un-tensing. "Please, don't kill him. Not in front of the others at least."
The king paused momentarily, before reluctantly nodding and waving his hand at Ser Meryn, who stopped. As soon as he did, the old knight fell forward, throwing up wine and blood, as Joffrey turned back to look at the sea once more.
"Thank you, Your Grace," The knight managed to stand, bowing at Joffrey, who still wasn't watching him. "And you, my Ladies, thank you."
The man was dragged out by the Kings Guard, as Lyra rubbed her thumb along the back of Joffrey's hand. He glanced down at her, as the next pair came out to fight, his lips quirking up into a half-smile.
"Beloved nephew," Any progress that Lyra had made to get Joffrey to relax went straight out of the window. The teenage king's glare turned so dark, that most of the courtiers took a step back and diverted their gaze. Lyra sighed, turning to look at Tyrion Lannister, better known as the Imp, and the hill tribesmen and sellsword that followed him. "We looked for you on the battlefield. You were nowhere to be found."
Tyrion poured a glass of wine, as Joffrey glowered before finally addressing the man.
"Unfortunately, uncle," Tyrion barely flinched at the harsh tone of the teenager's voice. "I was slightly preoccupied down here, ruling the kingdoms."
"What a fine job you've done," Lyra tightened her grip on Joffrey's hand, trying to remind him that murdering his uncle would not be good, especially in front of all of the courtiers. "Look at you! More beautiful than ever. And you! You're going to be bigger than the Hound, but much better looking."
Lyra noticed how he barely seemed to compliment or acknowledge Joffrey, who continued to watch it all with a hard stare, as his siblings giggle.
"This one doesn't like me," The Hound, who had reappeared after his fight, glared at man and, if looks could kill, Tyrion would have been vaporized on the spot. Lyra licked her lips, as Elia shifted beneath her seat, and opened one golden eye to watch.
"Can't imagine why."
"We heard you were dead," Joffrey said, drawing the man's attention away from his siblings and onto him. Tyrion scoffed at the notion, like it was impossible for that to ever happen to him. The Princess Myrcella looked upset at the thought.
"I'm glad you're not dead," Tyrion took a sip of wine, as he nodded at the girl.
"Me, too, dear. Death is so boring, especially now with so much excitement in the world," The man looked around the dais, catching eyes with both Lyra and Sansa, as his face contorted into sorrow. "My Ladies, I am sorry for your loss."
Tyrion bowed at the two Stark girls. Lyra inclined her head in acceptance of the condolence, as Joffrey's grip tightened on her. His eyes had turned stormy gray, as he watched the spectacle and then the crowd surrounding them.
"Well, enjoy your name day, Your Grace. Wish I could stay and celebrate, but there is work to be done." If Joffrey's head had swiveled around any quicker, then Lyra was positive that it would have fallen off.
"What work?" Joffrey asked, his eyes narrowing, but Tyrion simply waved and continued on once more.
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The Stark residence was one of the only places, that Joffrey and Lyra found, was safe enough for them to talk freely. Even the walled garden had ears to listen in. But, the Stark residence had no one's spies in it.
"What business could he have here?" Joffrey asked, shaking his head in annoyance. The young king had been ranting about Tyrion's return ever since the end of the Tourney.
"If you want my opinion, I think he's been named acting hand to the king by your grandfather," Lyra commented, stroking Elia's head as she spoke. It had been a theory that had been running through her head for the whole afternoon. "Your grandfather is still in the Riverlands fighting my brother, and Tyrion's the only one without a position in the capital at the moment."
Joffrey hummed in agreement, before beginning to list off on his fingers the other kings and their positions.
"Robb and his wife Eliza are in the Riverlands fighting my grandfather," Lyra nodded, before waiting for Joffrey to continue. "Daenerys Targaryen married into the Dothraki in Essos, Stannis is at Dragonstone and Renly..."
"Renly married Margaery Tyrell at Storm's End," Lyra finished, causing Joffrey to scoff at the sentiment.
"Stannis has more claim than he would anyway," Joffrey pointed out, as Lyra flicked through their notes and hummed, her eyebrows furrowing. "Renly's the youngest. Tommen could not be king before me, thus Renly can't be king before Stannis. What's the matter?"
"We need more information on the war to do any good," Lyra pointed out, placing the notes down as she turned to look at her betrothed. "And we also need to learn the workings of the Small Council should we have any hope of running the country without them."
"Well, I'll start going to them then," Joffrey replied, sighing, before he glanced outside and stood up. "I need to go. I've got to ear dinner with my family."
He stretched, before grabbing all of their notes and sliding it into a book that he brought with them.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Joffrey," Lyra squeezed his hand and sent a blinding grin his way. "Try not to kill your uncle."
"I can make you no promises," Joffrey's lips quirked up into a half-smile, before he bowed his head to her and walked out of the room, leaving Lyra to her thoughts.
Hi,
So, like Joffrey just doesn't like people, which is a mood, and he's still my favorite blond boy. Also, Lyra and he are plotting and I love them plotting.
Thank to everyone who's voting and reading and we're almost at 3k and I'm super excited about that as well.
See you soon,
Love Li xx