*This is probably the most violent chapter of this so far and depicts a scene of abuse. If you feel you may be affected please skip*

Cersei was holding Brandon, a smug look on her face whilst Joffrey sat on the iron throne carelessly, glaring at her slightly. Lyanna wondered if her grandfather - the mad king - sat on the throne that cockily. She was stood before them both, her hands nervously playing with themselves, squeezed into a tight black dress Alize had forced her into.

"The nicer you look, the quicker Joffrey might forget about the situation," Alize suggested as she plaited Lyanna's hair. She twirled it into a tight bun on top of her head, making Lyanna flinsh when she pulled a little too tight.

"Where's Sansa? Where's Brandon?" Lyanna asked worriedly, not even bothered about what Alize had previously said. She had already seen Cayn die, and the Hound had told her all the other Stark guards were dead too. The loss made her insides ache so she tried to push them away, but the fear for her son and sister made the pain worse.

"The Queen has them," Alize sighed, looking her up and down. "You look alright,"

"Oh good," she spat bitterly, rolling her eyes. "Because that's all that really matters,"

"Fine, be sarcastic, but you best go and find Joffrey now, before he gets angry at you," Alize looked exhausted, but Lyanna had no time to thank her or tell her that she was glad to have her as two Lannister guards came and escorted her to the throne room.

"Give me my son," Lyanna said, almost forcefully. She tried to take a step forward but one guard put his hand on her shoulder and held her back.

"Do you have nothing to say for your father's crimes?" Cersei shot at her. She was enjoying every second of this and Lyanna was reminded of when she had fought Joffrey back in Winterfell and she got on her knees to beg for her life. Oh, how she wished she could have a fight with Joffrey now. He had ordered the death of her friends, people she had grown up around, and yet she was being treated like the criminal?

"My father is the warden of the North. He was a good friend to king Robert, a loyal friend. He loved him like he loved his brothers. King Robert trusted him, as I too trust him, and Lord Eddard Stark wouldn't betray that trust so easily. I know my father, he loves me as he does to all his children, and he wouldn't dare commit treason as it would put me and my siblings in danger! He is a man of honour, not plotting and deceit! Now give Brandon to me," she said firmly, pulling out of the guard's grip. She walked as confidently as she could to where Cersei was stood and took the baby out of her arms.

"You're wrong, your father is a traitor, he wanted me off this throne!" Joffrey shouted as Lyanna sighed with relief at having Brandon back in her arms.

"He wanted you off the throne, yes. Do you have any idea why?" Lyanna glared at him.

"Because he's a traitor!" Joffrey stood up angrily and Lyanna took a step back, shifting Brandon in her arms so she could protect him easier if Joffrey lashed out at her.

"No, because he believed it was disrespectful for you to be sat there, so soon after your father's death!" Lyanna lied smoothly. For a second, it looked as though he had believed her.

"Liar!" he snapped finally. He made as if he was going to hit her but stopped himself at the last second, especially when his mother stopped him.

"Not here, Joff," she muttered to him.

"Yes, here! I'm the King and I need to show my people what happens to traitors and liars!" he glared at his mother. For once, Cersei looked at Lyanna with sympathy, before forcing Brandon out of her arms.

"Give him back, what are you doing?" she asked hotly, not fully understanding what was going to happen. Cersei didn't answer as she turned and left, her grandson in her arms. "Joffrey, please, tell your mother to bring him back, I've done nothing-"

He cut her off with a wave of his hand, which caused a king's guard to grab her shoulders, pulling her down from the throne and into the centre of the room. It was only then that Lyanna noticed how many people were in the throne room. So many high lords and ladies and knights, all here to see whatever Joffrey was going to do to her. Lyanna suddenly felt sick and she began to struggle in the guard's tight grip.

"Joffrey, please! I have done nothing wrong!" she shouted as he sat back down on the throne.

"You've lied to me, and you've betrayed me," he said simply.

"I've never-"

"Your father loves you, does he? Well, maybe we'll show him what happens to those who traitors love," he scowled at her. "Guards, I think my wife is over-dressed," he added, an evil smirk playing across his face as Lyanna's eyes went wide at his words.

"No, no, Joff, please!" she began to beg, hating herself. She remembered the dream of her mother and how she hated herself for begging too.

"Do what you want to her, just don't touch her face, I like her pretty," he sniggered out and every fiber of her being wanted to set him on fire (Gods, she sounded like the Mad King).

At his words, the guard spun her around so he was facing her back. He grabbed the back of her dress and in one swift movement, she heard a crack and felt the fabric fall away. She thanked the old gods for the long white under dress she had on, although she knew it wouldn't be in one piece for much longer.

She shot one glare to Joffrey before muttering, "I won't scream, I won't give you that pleasure,"

As soon as she spoke, she felt something hit her back sharply and the impact made her fall forward onto her knees. Gasping slightly, she knew her back was bleeding, but didn't have time to think about it as another blow hit her. She turned her head slightly to see she was being hit with the flat of a sharp sword, each blow cutting into her soft, pale flesh, making it red and bloody. Again and again, she was struck with the sword, each time hurting more than the last, until she was laid on the cold marble floor, burying her face into her arms. The pain was excruciating (not as bad as giving birth, but pretty close), but she bit down on her tongue and kept true to her word; she didn't even murmur.

"You aren't hurting her enough!" Joffrey howled at the guard who dropped the sword. Lyanna lifted her head and gave Joffrey another grin.

"I'm a Stark, not some common whore, you think you can hurt me that easily?" she sneered, choking out a laugh.

"Ser Meryn, I want you to make my wife scream, I don't care how you do it," Joffrey demanded.

Another guard walked over, replacing the other one. This guard, Ser Meryn Trant, looked down at her, before kicking her sharply in the side. Keeling over slightly, he kicked her again and again, but failed to make her scream. Finally, he lent over and grabbed a lump of her hair, pulling her off the floor. Gasping slightly, Lyanna was lifted up, before he threw her back down onto the floor onto her back. Her wounds stung and she couldn't help but let out a small grunt.

"Is that all you've got?" she narrowed her eyes at the guard, who, at her words, stamped on her stomach. She let out another small moan of pain but bit onto her lip to stop herself from crying again.

It wasn't all he had, evidently. Lyanna tried to make sure she didn't scream or cry, but it was hard considering how much pain he was inflicting on her. She kept trying to distract herself, but the only place her mind would go to was her family and her friends, and that wasn't much better. She wasn't sure how long she'd been put though the pain and torture, but she was so close to passing out she barely noticed when it stopped, eventually realising that Joffrey had clapped his hands and Trant had withdrawn from her side and had moved back to the other guards. 

"Do you see what happens to traitors and liars now, bitch?" Joffrey spat down to her. "I've been generous to you. I could have watched him beat you bloody with a sword but I didn't. Get up,"

Lyanna pulled herself weakly to her feet, managing a small curtsy to him. "If that's all, dear husband," she swallowed all the insults she wanted to hurl at him, turning and walking out as confidently as possible, the crowd all staring at her bruised, barely clothed body.

"Lady Stark," someone said gently to her as she reached the door. Glancing to the side, she saw Ser Barristan of the King's guard, holding out his white cloak to her. Feebly, she took it and wrapped it around herself. Nodding a thank you to him, she continued walking, until the old knight stopped her again. "Please, let me take you back to your chambers, it would be dangerous for you to walk back in your... condition,"

Not wanting to argue, Lyanna nodded. She let Barristan lead her out and it wasn't until she heard the heavy oak doors shut did she start to cry again. Falling onto her knees, she cured up over herself as she sobbed. The old knight lent by her, his cloak still draped over her back, already stained in blood. Shaking, Lyanna felt herself heave and began to throw up.

"I should have stopped it," Barristan said gently to her, though it seemed more to himself.

"A-and what, k-killed yourself by speaking up?" she managed to mutter out, still crying.

"What knight beats a defenceless woman? What knight stands and watches?" he shook his head at himself. "Your mother would have killed me for letting that happen,"

At his words she froze, he neck snapping up to look at him. "You know?"

"Of course I know, I noticed Ayrella in you back in Winterfell," he offered her a kind smile. "I was one of the few she told about her pregnancy, after Brandon Stark, of course. She was brave and fierce, like you, but yet she knew when not to fight back,"

"Did she lay there and let people beat her like I just did?" Lyanna shot at him before she could stop herself.

"No, but neither did you,"

"I'm not sure if you just saw what happened in there, but I don't think I put up much of a fight," Lyanna sighed, trying to stand again. Barristan, though old, was strong, and helped her to her feet, but after watching her wobble weakly, lifted her into his arms and began to carry her.

"Do not blame yourself for it, Lyanna," he said gently to her. "Please don't. King Joffrey won't hurt you again,"

"So you're going to stand against my husband the next time he decides I'm a traitor?" she asked, managing to roll her eyes.

"King's guards are sworn to protect the Queen as well as the king," he pointed out.

"Ah yes, Queen Lyanna, legitimised bastard, adopted by the traitor Ned Stark, daughter of a known enemy of the crown. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

________________________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________________________

I'm so so sorry for writing this!!!

I just thought I'd open with that, because it actually hurt to put Lyanna through that but it was necessary to the plot. I'm still very sorry for writing it and if you felt like you had to skip this chapter, I fully understand, but if you did read this, thank you and please don't hate me for writing this.

~Olivia