A Mouse in a Lion’s Den Pt.1
Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister
Warnings: childhood trauma, emotional/psychological abuse
Words: 3816
Summary: A little mouse surrounded by ferocious lions? It didn't look to be a good situation, even if those lions happened to be your family.
Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18
Book One of Heir of Ash and Fire
Book Two of Heir of Ash and Fire
This was one of my first really big fanfics that I posted on my original tumblr.
Posting it here again for shits and tickles
You could never compare to your older sister Cersei. She was like the sun, bright and beautiful with her mass of gold curls and seemed to possess the world in her hands. She was outgoing and fearless, what every Lannister should be; while you were shy and quiet. The very opposite which was why your father Lord Tywin Lannister didn’t invest too much in you, preferring his enigmatic eldest daughter. Cersei teased you about how meek you were and that you weren’t a lion at all, that you were instead a mouse. There was no fighting against her, she was bigger and louder than you were. Your mother and Jaime were the only ones to stop her cruelty when they saw you were near tears. Cersei would leave in a huff while your mother was left to take care of the damage. Joanna would clean your face with her sleeve and smile sweetly at you. She would say how much she loved her sweet cub and would go on to tell you that you should never change the way you were. You were kind with a gentle heart; Joanna said that was all that was important. She loved each one of her children equally but always had a soft spot for you. You weren’t made of the tough material that seemed to be the Lannister trait. She loved that most about you. Cersei may be like the sun but you were like a candle flame; beautiful in its own way as it illuminates the dark.
Even with your mother’s love you felt lonely though. Jaime more often than not preferred the company of his twin. They would always have that unbreakable bond that only twins could have. You would ask your mom why you hadn’t been born a twin. She would laugh and tell you it wasn’t in the gods’ plans. You wondered what the gods had in store for you.
You may not have been very talkative but you did listen and observe others. Especially your family. You heard your mother and father talking about how she wanted to separate Jaime and Cersei. That they were too close. The very next day Jaime’s chambers were moved to the other side of the castle. You asked your mom but she merely shook her head and changed the subject.
You soon forgot about it as children often did and went on about your young life. Your mother became pregnant again and you were overjoyed to know that you would have a little sibling. Since your mother was great with child she had been confined to her room to rest.
Cersei, uncharacteristically, asked you to play with her and Jaime. That should have been enough of a warning for you that something was up. She never asked you to play with them. She was possessive of her twin brother, even when it involved her own sister.
How could you have known at that age what was to come?
In your childlike innocence you followed them into the bowels of Casterly Rock. You were so desperate for companionship that you would follow them anywhere. They held your hand, possibly to prevent you from running away, when you saw cages filled with lions.
Growing apprehensive at the sight of the caged beasts Cersei explained to you the game her and Jaime always played. Each would see how close they could get to the lions, like a dare. As the twins climbed on to the cages you stayed rooted where you were, scared of even taking a step forward.
Cersei laughed at you, calling you a coward and a mouse. Jaime on the other hand gave you words of encouragement. Somehow you managed to clamber up on top of the cage. You thought the worst was over until Cersei dared you to touch one of them. She tried to comfort you saying that they were chained to the bars and wouldn’t be able to get you.
You learned the hard way not to trust Cersei.
She had opened the cage and pushed you inside; hastily shutting the gate as you cried.
*
You jolt awake, panting and looking around your dark room.
That had been three years ago yet it was branded deeply into your fragile mind. You had been six at the time, only a year younger than your siblings. It was enough to permanently traumatize you. If it hadn’t been for Jaime’s change of heart you didn’t know what would’ve happened to you.
You wiggle out of your bed, far too big for a nine year old and open the door of your room.
“Little lady, what’re you doing up?” A guard passing by kneels down to look at you.
“I had a nightmare. I wanted to go see my brother.”
The guard smiles gently. “Then I shall escort you, my lady.” Once he made sure you were safely at your brother’s door the guard bids you goodnight.
Quietly you walk inside to peer over the crib. You smile softly at your baby brother Tyrion. He was so tiny with such a large head, you were always surprised that his neck didn’t snap from the weight.
Gingerly you caress his round cheek with your index finger. Your mother had died giving birth to him. This spurred hatred from your father and sister. Of course it had devastated you too but you still loved your baby brother with all your heart. It wasn’t his fault. He was just a baby. People treated him like he was the plague. His wet nurses had always cringed when feeding him and would sooner be done with it than to hold him a minute longer. Tyrion was left sequestered in his room most of the time. You alone kept him company. Everyone was so focused on your older siblings that they forgot about you too. That was alright. You had Tyrion now. And every once in a while Jaime would pay a visit. He didn’t act like everyone else. Jaime loved Tyrion too and treated him like a human being unlike many. Those times you would grow closer to Jaime and he would tell you how Cersei had dressed up like him, fooling everyone. You listened to his stories eagerly even if many did involve Cersei. At least the two of you were bonding. In that room Jaime was your’s. Cersei never bothered to step foot into Tyrion’s nursery unless she was going to torment the helpless three year old.
Grabbing a spare blanket and a cushioned chair you curl up next to your brother’s crib and fall asleep.
“What’re you doing in here young lady?” Your septa glowers down at you with her hand on her hips.
“I had a nightmare last night. I wanted to be with Tyrion.”
She tsks and grabs your arm. “We must get you ready for the day.”
You follow her like the obedient girl you had been raised to e. There was a big event that everyone in Casterly Rock and Lannisport had been preparing for. People were bustling and trying to get things ready for the great tourney in honor of the birth of Prince Viserys Targaryen. You and your family (excluding little Tyrion) would travel to Lannisport just for the occasion as it had been your father’s idea. The best seamstresses in Westeros made you and your sister’s gowns so that you would be at your finest in front of the royal family. While Cersei was ecstatic you were quite nervous. Your father didn’t often parade you around especially not after your mother had died but people asked about the youngest daughter of Tywin Lannister. You would have to force yourself to be like Cersei, although that in itself was a great feat. You didn’t want to disappoint your father though. You would try your best to be like your big sister yet the voice of your mother always came back to you.
“Why would you want to be different (y/n)? You should never change the way you are.”
She was dead though. No one was there to tell you you were fine just the way you were.
Before leaving for the short journey to Lannisport, you give Tyrion a big hug and a kiss as you depart. You prayed that he would be taken care of. You were more of a mother to him than a sister.
You knew you should’ve been happy to go to the tourney with your family, but you couldn’t help constantly worrying about Tyrion. Your attitude got on Cersei’s nerves.
“We would all be better off if something did befall on that little creature.” Cersei mutters as she glances out the window of your litter. She had wanted to ride horseback beside Jaime but she had to ride in the litter as per order of Tywin. Like usual she took her bitter resentment out on you. “Why has he lived this long?”
Gnawing on your lip you bite down so hard you could taste the metallic zing of blood. You wanted to say something, to stand up to her for once in your life. Then you remembered her trapping you in a lion’s cage. Anxiety seized you and render you speechless. You stayed quiet for the duration of the trip until you reached the gates of Lannisport. Leaping out of your litter, happy to finally get away from Cersei, you await for everyone else before bounding to look at all the colorful tents that were being erected in the field. Excitement actually bubbled in your tummy at the prospect of watching the tourney.
You hear Jaime chuckle behind you. “Excited?” At ten years old you knew in a few more years Jaime would be a heartbreaker. His hair shared the same hue as the gold that made up the Lannister’s wealth. Jaime was growing into a handsome young man that looked every inch a knight like in the stories your mom used to tell you. Yet he couldn’t be a knight. He was Tywin’s heir, expected to carry on the Lannister name.
“I actually am! Are you gonna participate Jaime?”
He smiles down at you. “No they probably wouldn’t let me. I’m still too young.” YOU catch his clear green eyes gaze out at the field. You knew he probably wanted to join the older boys to show off his own skill. Even at such a young age Jaime wielded a sword like it was one with his arm. He beat all the other cousins that were around his age and even some of the older ones. One day he would make a great Lord of Casterly Rock.
A gentle hand on your shoulder, he steers you back to the group where your father was already giving orders. Trunks and luggages were being taken down to the field so that your family’s tents could be set up alongside the other noble families. Normally you would’ve taken residence in the castle of Lannisport but your father insisted that the royal family have the castle to himself. You figured that it had something to do with Tywin’s growing dislike for Aerys. From the servant’s gossiping you heard about what King Aerys had said about your poor mother’s passing. It wasn’t something you liked to think about. You didn’t blame your father for wanting to be as far away from the king as possible.
“Come along.” Tywin tells you and your siblings. You took your place between Jaime and Cersei as you had been taught to do. Although your sister didn’t very well like you separating her and Jaime. Either way she didn’t seem too bothered this time. She actually seemed to smile at you. It definitely set off alarm bells. You had learned quickly to mistrust Cersei’s smiles. They held your hands as Tywin had instructed the three of you to do in front of the other lords so that everyone could see how perfect his children were. It was your own little fantasy too. You wished your sister was genuinely sweet and loved you. You wished that you had a big brother who would take your side every so often and protect you.
Your family made their rounds around the camp, greeting other noble families. Cersei gobbled up all the attention, absolutely loving how the lords called her beautiful.
A few commented how you were adorable but you knew that you dimmed in comparison to your older sister.
Finally King Aerys and his eldest son Prince Rhaegar made their appearance. You didn’t see Queen Rhaella among them or the newborn Viserys. The King’s Guard flanked them as well as dozens of retainers and servants to the Dragons of Westeros.
And there in all his glory was seventeen year old Rhaegar Targaryen. The first born son. Heir to the Iron Throne. Long powdery white hair fell off his shoulders and framed a strong, handsome, face that he had to push strands away every so often. Hyacinth eyes like those of the flower looked over your family and he offered up a small smile.
He had stolen your breath. You had always heard Cersei whispering about how handsome the prince was, but you never thought he would be so much so that you’d forget to breathe.
Whatever your father was saying went in one ear and out the other as you and Cersei stared unabashedly at Rhaegar.
At least she had more tact to smile and curtsy while you gaped with wide eyes.
“It is such a pleasure to meet you, your Grace.” She says to the Targaryen rulers, more so to Rhaegar.
It was King Aerys that snapped you out of your stupor. Where Rhaegar made your heart stop, Aerys made it beat with terror. He had the signature violet eyes and silver hair but lacked the beauty that Rhaegar had. Perhaps he once had been handsome but he wasn’t now. He looked half crazed with his long nails and wild eyes that searched for invisible enemies everywhere.
His smile was even worse than his frown and you unconsciously tighten the hand that held Jaime’s. “Thank you for hosting such a grand event, my friend.” Aerys’ words seemed to hold a double edge to them that your father was sure to take note of.
“But of course. The whole of Westeros should celebrate the birth of Prince Viserys.” Your father replied with that tight lipped smirk of his. There was ice in his voice that you picked up on.
They exchanged ingenuine pleasantries as you continued to look for Queen Rhaella and the infant prince. After Tyrion had been born you realized how much you liked babies. Tyrion had fit perfectly in your arms.
On your tippy toes, you whisper to Jaime “Where’s the baby?”
Before Jaime could whisper back to you Rhaegar seemed to have noticed your inquisitive looks and his once stiff smile softens as he addresses you. “Do you like babies (y/n)?” It makes your father and the king turn to look at you.
Uh-oh. You definitely hadn’t meant to draw attention. Blushing you clam up and nod stiffly. “Y-Yes. . . I have a little brother at home. . .”
That makes Aerys chuckle. “Yes. The dwarf.”
Your cheeks blaze as you shift your eyes down to your shoes, biting down on your lip and your ears ringing. You had said too much.
“We’ll be seeing you tomorrow. We still need to settle down and prepare for the tourney.” Tywin clears his throat.
“Of course. We’ll be seeing you.”
When they were out of earshot Cersei dropped your hand. “Why did you have to mention that little beast?”
“I-I didn’t meant to. . .
“Cersei, she was just answering the prince.” Jaime says, still holding onto your hand.
She turns on Jaime. “A simple yes would’ve sufficed! She’s embarrassed us by even bringing up that shame of our family!”
Tywin decides to step in. “That’s enough. I will not have you bickering. Not while we’re here.”
Cersei presses her pouty lips together, her fingers curling into her palm.
Turning his gaze onto you, Tywin simply sighs. “Try not to slip up again, okay?”
You nod. You feel absolutely sick. You want to go home where you didn’t have to talk to anyone. Where you could be with Tyrion and play games with him and tell him stories.
Having seen you trying not to cry, Jaime lets Tywin and Cersei walk ahead while he stays behind with you. “It’s okay (y/n). It was an accident.”
“I want to go home.” You murmur quietly and swallow back your tears.
Sympathy. Jaime was actually treating you sympathetically. He kneels down in front of you. “We will. Sooner than you think. The tourney will go by quickly if you try and have fun. Just think about tomorrow! You’ll see all the knights in action. It’ll be fun.”
He was probably trying to get you to quit your belly aching and not cause too much trouble for your father. Either way you would take it.
You were forced to share a tent with Cersei and her hand maids. They ignored you, choosing to giggle and gossip on their side of the tent. Her companions, Melara Hetherspoon and Jeyne Farman, squeal at Cersei’s description of Prince Rhaegar. Cersei grinned and continue to fawn over the the fair Targaryen prince.
“He’s even more magnificent in person!” Cersei brushes a golden lock of her hair off her shoulder.
“I wish I could’ve met him! But we had to stay behind.” Melara pouts.
Uncomfortable being in the same room as them you leave without either of the girls paying attention to you.
The night sky was clear without any clouds or moon but was littered with thousands of bright, tiny, stars. Laugher was heard all through the camp as everyone drank to the newborn prince and celebrated with merriment.
You weaved between the many tents, not having a particular destination until you heard the most beautiful sound. The rhythmic plucking of strings. It lead away from the camp however. Timidly you look around. No one had noticed you yet. Then again everyone must’ve been drunk. A wandering child was hardly their concern. You nervously followed the music until it grew louder and louder. The pale fingers of Rhaegar Targaryen was the source.
“It seems I have an audience.” That gentle and warm smile he had when he talked to you graced his face.
You would’ve rushed away had he not pat the spot next to him.
“It’s okay. Come and listen.”
If you messed up, if you accidentally said something you weren’t supposed to in front of the future king, your father would skin you alive.
The Silver Prince was inviting you to listen to him play though. It would be rude to decline such an offer.
With trembling legs you sit near him although careful to keep enough distance between the two of you. Rhaegar goes on to play that beautifully crafted silver stringed harp of his. It was a lovely melody that made your chest ache. It was the sound of your loneliness.
You hadn’t been aware that you had been crying until the end of his song when he handed you a handkerchief. You didn’t dare ruin any article that belonged to him and used your sleeve instead. “That’s beautiful. The most beautiful song I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m happy you enjoyed it. You looked so nervous earlier and I apologize if I may have inadvertently caused any trouble for you with your family.”
Rhaegar had noticed. You flush out of horror. If he had noticed how uncomfortable you had been who knows who else had seen. You tried and failed to act like a Lannister.
Quietly you simper in your spot beside him. “It’s alright. . . If it wasn’t this it would have been another thing. . .”
“Would you like to hear another?”
You nod.
He was definitely much more than handsome. Rhaegar was kind and gentle, treating you far better than your family has since your mother died. You found comfort in his company. Comfort you had only found in Joanna and Tyrion. You felt safe in his music.
After a while, Rhaegar sets his harp carefully beside him and looks up at the stars. “Sometimes I wish I could play the harp without any interruptions. No duties. Just be able to play music for eternity.” There was sadness in his tone. A sadness you knew well yourself. It portrayed loneliness. He may be next in line for the Iron Throne but it must’ve been a lonely road ahead for someone like him. You had heard that Rhaegar preferred literature over battle maps and music over the clanging of swords.
“Are you lonely your Grace?” When it slipped out of your mouth you could’ve ripped your tongue out for such insolence. “I’m sorry! I was out of line! Please don’t tell my father!”
“Ssh.” Rhaegar holds his hands up indicating for you to calm down. “It’s alright. You did nothing wrong (y/n).” The brush of his slim fingers on the back of your tiny hand made you jolt. “It’s okay.”
You definitely weren’t a Lannister. Lannisters never apologized. They never lost their composure especially in front of the crowned prince.
Rhaegar’s features are calm with a small smile. “Lonely huh? I suppose I am. Just a little. How did you know? Are you lonely too?”
“You won’t tell my father?”
The corners of his lips turn up. “I promise.”
You take a deep breath. “I’m. . . always by myself at Casterly Rock. Even before my mother died. My older siblings prefer the company of each other and leave me out of a lot of things. Cersei says I’m no Lannister lion. That I’m a mouse. Even my father prefers Jaime and Cersei. I only have Tyrion but he’s only three years old. . .”
“You know, I’ve always preferred mice over lions. They’re much cuter.” Rhaegar delicately smoothes the hair on top of your head in a caressing manner. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“My family thinks differently.” You rub at your irritated eyes that threatened to spill over with tears. “I try to be like Cersei, but I just can’t do it.”
“It’s their loss then.” Rhaegar simply sighs. “They’re missing out on a lovely young lady. You shouldn’t try to be anyone else except yourself. I think that’s what your mother would want.” He gets up with ease and holds out a hand to you. “It’s getting late and there are certain little girls who should be in bed.”
Meekly smiling you take his hand and notice how warm it was.
Once outside of your tent, Rhaegar kneels down to look you in the eyes. “Now don’t forget what I told you, okay?”
You nod and thank him, watching him walk away with his harp in hand.
