Chapter Text
A Dragon In The Lion's Den
Caera Targaryen retreated to the stone sedilia set in the far wall where Maester Creylen liked to sit and pontificate with his most favored acolytes, gathering her crimson silken skirts with one hand as she moved. The movement made the fabric pool like blood by her feet. Her gown was cast in Lannister colors but the king would call it shades of treason. Red and gold. Blood and coin. Red and black. Fire and blood. Yet what was the difference between lion and dragon? They would both devour the innocent in the end. But her grandfather was not interested in such discourse, only taking care to ensure her wardrobe bore only his influence and no other. Her mother said it was to keep her safe but Caera knew better. It was to show the world she was his chattel, a pawn to play in the game of thrones.
She watched as her grandfather’s councillors and clerks bustled up and down the long gallery, sometimes stopping to confer, heads bent close together. The guards that shadowed her every step were nearby, their gazes sweeping across the familiar, searching as always for the strange. Two of her ladies-in-waiting stood underneath the faded portrait in oils of Lady Jeyne Marbrand, faces bored. There was a sudden flurry as Ser Kevan Lannister swept into view, followed by petitioners anxious to secure his favor. But he ignored their raised voices, too distracted to heed their words. His cragged face bore a consternated expression, his large hand clenching a scroll to the point of crushing it. In his haste to reach the sanctuary of his chambers, he did not see Caera, much to her relief.
No doubt another raven had come from King’s Landing, where the Hand of the King lay at death’s door. It would only be a matter of time before the Stranger came for Lord Jon Arryn. And what then? She knew her great uncle was worried he would be sent away to the stink of King’s Landing to serve as Hand when the time came. Yet he would follow her grandfather’s edict as always regardless. But Caera also knew her grandfather would prefer to appoint her uncle Jaime instead if he were not already in the Kingsguard. Yet rumors were rising the king had already made his choice, disrupting her grandfather’s careful plans of accruing further power.
Robert’s Rebellion had nearly ruined what Lord Tywin Lannister had achieved, but his ambition had dragged it back from the brink. With the Mad King deeply in debt to House Lannister and the Iron Bank of Braavos, Tywin had seen an opportunity to establish his bloodline upon the Iron Throne. He had bought Rhaegar Targaryen like a broodmare, binding the young dragon prince to his daughter, Cersei, who was as beautiful as any princess of the blood, with a wall of great wealth behind her. Tywin knew Rhaegar did not have enough gold in his coffer at times to buy even a set of new harp strings.
But then Rhaegar had laid eyes upon Lyanna Stark, Robert Baratheon’s intended, and abandoned his pregnant wife and young daughter to abduct her. And so began the terrible war. The Mad King had held Cersei and Caera hostage, forcing Jaime to stay by his side and stay his swordhand. Amidst the chaos, Cersei had miscarried Rhaegar’s son, almost dying in the process. Tywin’s shining dreams of seeing his grandson on the throne had been shattered to smithereens. But even he with his far seeing eye could not have foreseen this folly. Rhaegar had always been sombre and studious, almost comically so. It had been jested his mother, Queen Rhaella, had swallowed some books and a candle while he was in her womb. So Tywin could only attribute Rhaegar’s actions to the infamous Targaryen insanity. Rhaegar was not a man to be led by the balls as Jaime had so crudely put it before being told to hold his tongue. What else would compel a man to risk his crown and kingdom except madness?
Caera glanced out of the window, watching as a ribbon of rainbow rippled out from below the clouds before finally fading out of existence, its beauty brief. Not for the first time, she mused upon her father’s supposed lunacy over Lyanna Stark. But were madness and love not forged from the same metal? Or so the ballads sang. They also sang her father had absconded with Lyanna against her will and violated her. Yet there were whispers that had even reached Casterly Rock that Prince Rhaegar had loved Lyanna Stark to the point of his own ruination. Caera exhaled sharply, before turning her thoughts away from the matter for it was to no avail. She was all that remained of Rhaegar Targaryen, with her pale hair and indigo eyes, a constant affront to the king who had killed him.
Tywin had remained on the edge of the battlefield until the last moment, timing his entrance to serve to his best advantage. After Robert Baratheon slew Rhaegar at the Trident and the Mad King dead by Jaime's hand, Tywin had to turn with the tides of change. He had set Cersei forward as Robert’s bride, gilding the offer with gold. Robert had reluctantly accepted, his heart lying with Lyanna but he had to scorn sentimentality for a crown hung in the balance. Such a union would settle the seething populace, creating a precarious sense of stability. Seeing Cersei still rule as queen would aid the illusion. Yet Caera threatened the crux of the matter. Robert wanted to wipe out every trace of Targaryen in the world, especially Rhaegar’s seed. Tywin was in accord excepting when it came to Caera, his own blood. Let Robert slay dragons but not this one, Tywin had warned. She would be kept from Robert’s sight at Casterly Rock and learn the ways of lions, not lizards. Her claim to the throne would be superceded by the sons Cersei would bear Robert in the passage of time.
Thus Robert had reluctantly agreed, and as Tywin had promised, Cersei had borne Robert three golden haired children, including two sons, a spare and heir. Their presence had eased Caera’s existence to a certain extent. She had little use for a cursed crown. If it had not been for Jaime killing the Mad King and her grandfather’s later intercession, no doubt she would have been brutally slain as a babe. If not by fire and blood, then by the blade instead. Sometimes she dreamed of standing before the Iron Throne, watching Tywin present her small body to Robert Baratheon as a show of fealty, her remains wrapped in red cloth to hide the blood. Such dreams disturbed and confused Caera for in her waking hours Tywin was almost suffocating in ensuring her safety.
Caera knew Tywin cared for her in a fashion, but she was no fool. He was merely protecting his property when he had her food tasted and set guards on every door. Tywin was a man who ever sought to expand his empire and Robert was unpredictable in his rages. The loss of Lyanna still cut deep. Who was to say Robert might not snap and secretly send hired knives to Casterly Rock and blame the bloodshed on another? Such thoughts had long troubled Tywin, Caera knew. But he merely shrugged when asked why he had such stringent security. When pressed, he would clear his throat and say coldly he was merely exercising caution as any man of great wealth was wont to.
Even as Cersei was queen once more, and Joffrey would one day be king, with Tommen and Myrcella strong in the succession, Tywin still harboured doubts. There were those who sewed dragon banners in secret and raised rebellious toasts against Robert Baratheon. Would they risk rising up in rebellion with a Targaryen as their figurehead? Yet which dragon they would choose, Caera was not sure. Her paternal uncle and aunt, Viserys and Daenerys, were still alive; abroad and in hiding from Robert’s wrath. Although Viserys was the male successor and held precedence, he was Rhaegar’s brother and not his son, and she was Rhaegar’s only heir. No doubt in the old days, to settle the conundrum, Viserys would have wed her, the thought making Caera recoil.
But Tywin had every position covered as far as Caera could conceive, with both Baratheon and Targaryen heirs to play on the table. For all Tywin stressed her Lannister heritage, pointing out the gold in her hair and the cleft in her chin, he could not change the color of her eyes or the blood in her veins. He was merely hiding her in plain sight in case his gamble didn’t pay off. For if Robert was removed and Cersei’s three golden-haired cubs disinherited, there was Caera to be brought forth to bear the crown instead. Even as she didn’t want to, Tywin would no doubt force her to ascend the Iron Throne, another investment bearing interest.