XVIII.

Twelfth day of the seventh moon of 297 AC. Braavos, Essos.

"This was justice. Make a habit of it, Lannister, and one day men might call you Goldenhand after all. Goldenhand the Just." Jaime III, AFFC

"[Come on Acturum.]" the fat Sealord said in his nasal voice in the bastard valyrian talked in Braavos, as the plank of the barge carrying them made contact with the berth in the narrow channel. Through said jetty, access was gained to the intricate street maze by which the retinue would reach the great square of Braavos. The place where the Iron Bank building stands.

Despite the fact that he had been using Aucturum as his pseudonym for almost fifteen years, sometimes he still looked around to see if such an Aucturum appeared from behind. Yet Jaime always ended up falling that he was being addressed by the false name he had given himself in honor of Ser Arthur Dayne.

Aucturum of Tyrosh he called himself to justify his dark green mane, which he used to cover his true identity. Even if Jaime was left for dead after the Sack, he preferred that no one saw his recognizable golden hair.

Adjusting to the surroundings, Jaime nodded to the Sealord and, watching for danger, queued up the retinue of scribes and customs collectors accompanying the leader of the free city.

Although it was not the best of jobs, it was certainly not the worst he had encountered in his forced self-exile in Essos that had already lasted for fifteen years, which had been a continuous coming and going. Working as a mercenary, escorting merchants, and even at first, Jaime worked unloading cargo from ships at the docks of Lys. Always on the run, always living precariously and watching out for Robert's would-be murderers.

However, since they had settled in Braavos almost three years ago, both Rhaella and his uncle Gerion, as well Davos, convinced Jaime that Robert would never search for the dead, and that his gaze was fixed on the surviving children of the dowager queen of Westeros, Rhaella Targaryen. Or Jenny of Lys, as the current regent and owner of the The Green Eel inn in the Happy Port of Braavos, was known in those days.

In this inn Jaime lived when he was not at the service of the Sealord, with the improvised family that Jaime had unintentionally formed after the final events of the Usurper's Rebellion.

At first it was just him and Rhaenys, but after going through the worst storm in Westeros history and reaching by fortune Dragonstone, they added Rhaella to the group. Miraculously rescuing her from being cremated by the Fortress Maester, who had left Rhaella for dead following the birth of Daenerys Stormborn.

After a period of recovery by the Targaryen matriarch, they headed for Essos, where on one of his many trips he ended up meeting his uncle Gerion, The Laughing Lion, in Volantis. Uncle Gerion, as soon as saw Jaime and found out who he was in company, swore his sword to the queen and princess, accompanying them from that day forward.

However, if not for Davos, none of that would have been possible, nor would they ever have made it this far.

'The Seven bless him and his wife Marya. I don't know what would have become of me and the princess if we hadn't crossed paths with him near Dunksdale in the moons following the Sack of King's Landing.' Jaime thanked all the gods inwardly every time he remembered those terrifying days.

Without Davos, Jaime and Rhaenys would never have reached Dragonstone in the middle of the storm, undetected by either the Velaryon fleet or the Redwyne's. Without the care and attention of Marya in Davos's little cottage at Cape Wrath, possibly both the queen and the princess would be dead. Furthermore, Davos' three sons, Allard, Dale and Mathos have ended up being almost cousins to Rhaenys. That, apart for being sworn swords to her and the dowager queen, trained by Jaime himself.

If Jaime was now following in the footsteps of the Sea Lord's entourage, it was because he was the Third Sword of Braavos, responsible for the security of Ferrego Antaryon, the current Sealord of Braavos. The mission that Qarro Volentin, the First Sword, had commanded Jaime was to escort Antaryon to the Iron Bank, with the objective of conducting the monthly negotiation between the political lord of the bastard daughter of Valyria and the Keyholders of the Iron Bank. The true owners of Braavos.

Between them and the braavosis magistrates, the Sealord was elected. They were the power in the shadows, not only in Braavos, but in all of Essos. Despite being a city founded on anti-slavery, the Iron Bank earned huge amounts of gold and profit thanks to the existence of slavery in the rest of the continent. They had control over the Faceless Men and a large part of the Mercenary

Companies from Essos, something Jaime well learned from working temporarily for some of them.

The sticky summer heat of Braavos caused Jaime to be permanently bathed in sweat. Despite growing up in Casterly Rock and spending his teens in King's Landing and the surrounding area, after fifteen years in exile from Essos, the heat of the eastern continent was still something he hadn't gotten used to.

All that pilgrimage across the essosi continent, all those hardships, dangers and new life, giving up his real name and surname were due to something that began sixteen years ago and supposedly ended fifteen years ago, but that for him continued to be present as if was reliving it every day; the Rebellion of Robert and last days of the reign of His Grace Aerys II, The Mad King.

282 AC Kings Landing, The Crownlands, Westeros.

The day had been windy when he said goodbye to the Prince of Dragonstone Rhaegar Targaryen, in the courtyard of the Red Keep. The prince had donned his night-black armor, with the three- headed dragon gathered in rubies on his breastplate. "Your grace," Jaime pleaded, "let Darry stay to protect the king this time, or Ser Barristan. His cloaks are as white as mine."

Prince Rhaegar shook his head. "My royal father fears yours more than our cousin Robert. He wants you close, so Lord Tywin cannot harm him. I dare not take that crutch from him at this

hour."

Jaime's anger had risen in his throat. "I am not a crutch. I am a knight of the King's guard."

"Then take care of the king" Ser Jonothor Darry snapped with some disgust. "When you put on that cloak, you promised to obey."

As Jaime was about to rebut Darry, Rhaegar put his hand on Jaime's right shoulder. "When this battle is over, I want to call a council. Changes will be made. I intended to do so a long time ago, but ... well, there is no use talking about paths not taken. We will talk when I return ..." Rhaegar paused.

When Jaime felt those two black eyes, with purple sparks, fixed on his emerald eyes, he could not help but swallow hard and wait for the prince to tell him what he wanted. Something that Jaime knew would be his burden for the rest of his life.

"Take care of my daughter Ser Jaime. Take care of Rhaenys. If everything goes wrong, protect her with your life and reunite her with my mother. Keep my family safe." Rhaegar Targaryen ordered, almost pleading with his metallic but melodious voice.

Those were the last words Rhaegar Targaryen spoke to him. Outside of King's Landing an army had gathered, while another descended upon the Trident, where the two would eventually collide. Then the Prince of Dragonstone climbed into his massive jet-black destrier, donned his tall black helm, and set out for his fate.

During the return and subsequent departure of Prince Rhaegar, the prince persuaded his father, the Mad King, to swallow his pride and summon Jaime's father.

But no raven returned from Casterly Rock, and that made the king even more afraid of everything. Aerys saw traitors everywhere, and Varys was always there to point out anyone who might have been lost. Then His Grace ordered the alchemists to place mud vessels under all of King's Landing. Under the Great Sept of Baelor and the huts of Flea Bottom under stables and warehouses, in the seven gates, even in the cellars of the Red Keep and in some rooms of Maegor's Holdfast. Vessels stuffed with Wildfire, the Mad King's favorite toy. Capable of turning half a million people and potential raiding armies into a ball of green glow in an instant.

Jaime's sworn brothers were all far away, but Aerys liked to keep him close. He was his father's son, so Aerys didn't trust in him. He wanted me where Varys could look at him, day and night. So Jaime could hear it and see it all.

He still remembered how Rossart's eyes sparkled when unrolled the maps to show where the substance should be placed. The Wisdoms Garigus and Belis wore the same maniac glee.

Rhaegar met Robert on the Trident and when the news reached the court, Aerys sent the pregnant queen to Dragonstone with Prince Viserys. The Princess of Dorne Elia Martell would have gone too, but Aerys forbade it alluding Dorne's treachery. Somehow it had occurred to him that Prince Lewyn must have betrayed Rhaegar at the Trident, but Aerys figured could keep Dorne loyal as long as he kept Elia, Rhaenys, and the supposed Aegon by his side.

Aerys kept delivering the same tirade over and over again to anyone who approached the Iron Throne. "The traitors want my city," Jaime heard Aerys say to Rossart, Aerys' voice that oscillated between a barely audible thread and a wild and angry tone, with high-pitched screeches "but I will give them nothing but ashes. Let Robert be king over charred bones and cooked meat. The Targaryen never bury their dead, they burn them." The Mad King exclaimed and screamed sharply.

This one pretended to have the largest funeral pyre of all.

'Although, truth be told, I don't think he really expected to die. Like Aerion Brightfire before him, Aerys thought that fire would transform him...that he would resurrect, be reborn as a dragon and turn all his enemies to ashes.' Jaime was still thinking fifteen years later, when he remembered those days out of a nightmare.

Then came the day of judgment. Eddard Stark was running south with Robert's vanguard, but Jaime's father's forces reached the city first. Pycelle convinced the king that his Warden of the West had come to defend him, so Aerys opened the gates.

The only time the bloody madman should have listened to Varys, and he ignored him. Jaime's father who had refrained from entering the war, reflecting on all the rudeness Aerys had done to him, determined that House Lannister should be on the winning side. The Trident decided him to act.

If Jaime closed his eyes, he could still see the massive black ebony doors with the Targaryen sigil carved into them, which gave access to the room where the monstrous throne of blades forged by the dark fire of Balerion is located. A great hall, long enough to house thousands of lords, but narrow. Casterly Rock's innards were wider than the Throne room at the Red Keep, in Jaime's opinion.

The path to the Iron Throne felt like the walk of regret as Jaime paraded through the cavernous Hall. Aerys was still there. Scruffy and crazy. Rossart was talking to one of Aerys's lackeys in the small council that was leaving through a side door. When Jaime took his position at the base of the sword monster that served as the throne, Aerys, the second of his name began to address him.

"Did you hear boy? Your father has shown his true colors, just like Rhaegar." After which Aerys began to laugh frantically as stared at him with his injected eyes up and down, something that made Jaime shiver.

It was the look of a madman. Even the Targaryen purple had faded, leaving in its place a dilated iris, in whitish lilac.

"If I sent you to kill your father, would you do it?" The Mad King smiled at him in such a way that it caused tremors in his body; yellow teeth gleamed. Jaime tried to answer but was cut off.

"Maybe yes, maybe not. I don't think you have it in you. Although maybe you do. I had your mother seven times, such a pious number, before she married Tywin, maybe you are my bastard?" Aerys inquired to himself, in a shrill and convulsed voice, Jaime felt his anger rise in those moments, but kept his head down, letting the Mad King continue his rumination.

"That would make sense, maybe I'll have your sister when this is all done. She is pretty enough and has always wanted a dragon in her bed. I don't think there was a father-daughter marriage in the Targaryen bloodline." Aerys laughed again. Jaime looked up then, feeling his face swell with anger.

"NO! Don't give me that look, cub. That's the Tywin demon in you." Aerys tried to say forcefully, but came out weak, scared.

'Was Aerys always this pathetic?' Jaime thought when saw the Mad King on the cusp of his madness and paranoia.

"Bah. It doesn't matter. Ser Jaime. I say you're my son, you look like Joanna, not Tywin." Aerys

said suddenly in a soft and warm voice, totally opposite to the one he had been using up to that moment. Madness it seemed to make Aerys' emotions fluctuate with the speed of a blink, going from panic to euphoria or joy, and from there to anger.

"It shows how strong my seed is and how weak Tywin's is. The only spawn he will have will be a monstrous dwarf." Aerys finished talking to him, laughing. After that Aerys looked at Rossart.

"Burn them all, Rossart; Burn them all. The lions, wolves, falcons and trouts. Only the dragons will remain. Burn them all." Aerys maniacally concluded.

Jaime felt terrified; he knew what that meant. He had led the men of the seven-time-cursed Rossart to the locations indicated by Aerys to destroy Kings Landing, now mostly under Rebel control. It was not a normal fire that Aerys was going to use to burn them, no.

Rossart bowed to Aerys and started walking with an evil smile plastered on the face. It was then that Jaime finally felt the weight of his sword in his hand. He knew what he had to do and damn his vows and oaths.

As fast as his shaking legs allowed him, he got in the way of the Hand of the King "Ser Jaime, what is the meaning of this, hmm-" Jaime finished with the damn sycophant piercing his belly from side to side with his sword.

The wisdom Rossart gasped in pain and fell to his knees, intestines spilled on the floor.

Jaime then turned to Aerys, heading towards the throne from where the Mad King was watching unfold the scene with feverish eyes. Aerys was terrified, his frenzied gaze unable to settle on anything, groaning as struggled up the steps of the throne, cutting himself on the hands and arms as he tried to crawl back.

An intelligent man would descend from the monstrosity of the throne and run. But Aerys was crazy. As Jaime ascended the first steps of the Iron Throne, Aerys tried to stand upright, shouting "STOP! I command you! I am your KING! I am your ..." Jaime jumped up two steps, and unloaded his golden sword on the back of the bloody lunatic.

Jaime felt his blade cut through the skin of the Mad King's back and inside like a hot knife in butter. When he drew the sword, Aerys fell forward down the long iron steps. Each fall was accompanied by a soft, sick, morbid sound of spatter of blood and flesh falling on the steps of the swords that made up the Iron Throne.

Then Aerys continued to fall down the steps, until was on the platform on which the throne properly stands. Only when Aerys stopped rolling and his face continued to look at him, did Jaime decide to descend the steps of the Iron Throne and finish the work.

When he pierced Aeys's throat and his eyes stopped blinking, blood gushing from his open mouth, Jaime sighed in relief. His tired legs finally gave up holding him, and he sank down on a step.

Jaime examined his work, and in that moment he couldn't help but think of Prince Rhaegar's words before setting off to his death. It was like as if he was hearing them again.

Due to this, Jaime gathered the forces that after the adrenaline rush he had left, and went as fast as he could towards the rooms where Jaime supposed Rhaenys Targaryen was, praying to all the gods to his arrive before his father's men.

Jaime knew that when the princess had nightmares or was scared, she used to go to her father's room so that he would calm her down. Therefore, he decided to go to the prince's rooms in

Maegor's Holdfast, sealing in turn the fate of Elia and the supposed Aegon who were upstairs in the nursery.

As he approached, Jaime began to hear screams and the smell of smoke assaulted his nose. A man stood guard at the entrance to the prince's rooms, in front of the lifeless body of the she-dwarf who acted as Aerys's buffoon. Jaime whirled around as he drew his sword, and headed for the guard who wore a Lannister livery over a rusty chainmail.

"Lorch...!" the aforementioned gasped, as Jaime pierced the chest before the man could even draw his sword.

It was at that moment that black smoke filled Jaime's senses. The door to the prince's chambers was open, but the smoke in the hallway and the smoke coming from Rhaegar's chambers prevented him from seeing what was going on inside.

As Jaime groped into the rooms and gazed at the scene before him, his stomach turned and his heart nearly stopped.

A burly man with a manticore on the shield and parchment ornaments etched into his steel breastplate leaned over the prince's bed, while much of the room was in flames. Through the open visor of the helmet, a pale piggy face peered out.

"Come damn Dornish bitch, I will teach you." Rhaenys attacker shouted with a loud and thin voice. Meanwhile, the princess kicked, moaned, and tried to evade the attacker, trying to hide under the bed.

As the girl resisted, the damned dragged her out of bed and threw her against the wall, where tongues of fire began to spread on the curtains and the canopy of the bed.

Rhaenys seemed to have lost consciousness, if not dead. However, the bloody knight, still unaware of Jaime's presence at the door, drew a dagger from his waist and went to stab the still body of the princess.

Without thinking it twice, in four long strides Jaime got within sword distance of the knight with the manticore and cut off his head with a powerful down arc from above his right shoulder.

The body of the princess's attacker fell heavily on the poor girl, staining her in the process, whose hair was starting to catch fire. Jaime realized that the flames had risen to caress the ceiling, so he began to frantically search for the jug of water that Prince Rhaegar kept at all times in his rooms. Thank the gods it was packed. Jaime threw its contents at Rhaenys to quench the flames that threatened to spread past her hair and garments.

Ignoring the fire that was beginning to feed on the furniture in the room, Jaime headed towards the princess.

He pushed the corpse from the headless knight away, while using it to extinguish some of the flames that were dangerously close to Rhaenys, if not covering her. Jaime was able to drag the girl to the center of the rooms, away from the fire that spread through three of the four walls. When checking her condition, she noticed that the princess seemed to breath, although she was unconscious and in shock, possibly with a broken bone. Her body temperature seemed that of a forge. Jaime didn't know what he could do now for the princess.

If Jaime's father had sent these two men to kill the princess, surely more would be on the way and Jaime was tired, exhausted, and all the adrenaline had drained from him. Knowing that despite

saving the daughter, he had failed poor Elia and Rhaegar's supposed heir, was in turn a burden he would have to bear for the rest of his days. However, Jaime had no time for regrets at the moment.

The room began to go up in flames. He had to think fast what to do. Jaime knew that if he stayed in Westeros, the princess would die and he would forever be labeled as the king-slayer, a man without honor. Worst of all, is that the biggest beneficiary of all would be his father, and this would surely force Jaime to be the heir again. If Jaime chose to choose to save the princess, he knew that his life would be one of exile and deprived of any luxury. But he owed it to Prince Rhaegar.

'It's what Arthur would do.' thought at the time. In addition, the pregnant queen, Viserys, Princess Lyanna and her three king's guards, as well as her future son or daughter, were still alive. The dynasty had been defeated, but it had not been exterminated.

Jaime quickly made up his mind. First he dropped his golden sword to the ground, after which stripped himself of his armor, surcoat, and his white cloak at that time broken, frayed and burned in some places. He was dressed only in beige hose, leather boots, and a now threadbare shirt that he wore under the surcoat of his armor. His only weapon was a dagger that was hooked on the laces of his hose.

Seeing that the princess was momentarily safe, or as safe as she could be in the situation, Jaime went to the door of the rooms where the corpse of the Lannister soldier and that of the she-dwarf were. Using the forces he had left to drag both bodies, Jaime placed them on top of his armor, sword and cloak.

Taking with his left arm, while supporting the unconscious princess on that same shoulder, Jaime went to the fireplace, where he knew there was an access that connected with the labyrinth of tunnels and passageways built under strict orders from Visenya Targaryen and Maegor the Cruel. And he was one of the few people who knew of its existence.

Behind the false wall, a Wildfire container was ready to explode in a chain with the others scattered throughout the capital of the Seven Kingdoms. Knowing that if this explode in the prince's rooms, it would not have a chain effect with the others, nor would it leave a trace of anything except armor and swords in the best of cases, when it crossed the false wall of the chimney, Jaime left the wildfire container on the side of the stays.

Fleeing with Rhaenys in his arms, Jaime realized that Rossart's blood, that of the Mad King, that of the manticore knight and that of the other man was impregnated by his hands, his long hair and his face.

For hours he groped his way through twisting corridors, narrow access spaces, hidden doors, secret steps, and shafts that plunged into utter darkness. Rarely had Jaime felt so tired. A man takes a lot for granted when he has two hands, but in his case, in his left arm Jaime always held the unconscious body of the princess.

He came to a room lit by the sullen orange glow of embers in the mouth of an iron dragon. The brazier heated a chamber at the bottom of a shaft where there were half a dozen tunnels that led to different parts of the city and outside of it. The same tunnels that were used in his day during the Dance for the plot of Rhaenyra, he needed to use now to flee as soon as possible.

On the tile floor he had found a striped mosaic of House Targaryen's three-headed dragon done in tiles of black and red. 'I know you, Protector of the Princess.' the beast seemed to be saying.

'I've been here all the time, waiting for you to come to me.' And it seemed to Jaime that he knew that voice, the iron tones that had belonged to Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone. In that

moment Jaime knew he was doing the right thing.

As he lost himself several times in the dark tunnels, he could hear the muffled noises of the battle,

or rather, the massacre that must be taking place in King's Landing and the Red Keep.

He continued to wander through the corridors and tunnels, where his eyes were unable to adjust to the darkness. As Jaime's right hand moved in front of his face, he felt the air move, but saw nothing. His fingers brushed against the rough unfinished stone to his right. He followed the wall, his hand skimming the surface, taking small gliding steps through the darkness, as he carried Rhaenys on his left arm.

'All corridors lead somewhere. Where there is an entrance, there must be an exit.' Jaime tried to think calmly at that time.

Fear sometimes cut deeper than swords. He didn't know if it had been minutes or hours, but it looked like he had walked a long way when the wall abruptly ended and a draft of cold air passed over his cheek. The hairs that weren't matted with sweat and blood against his face, fluttered slightly against his skin. The moment came that he tripped over a rock and fell against the wall, and his right hand found raw earth supported by timbers, whereas before the tunnel had been lined with stone.

He found the wall again and followed it, blind and lost, his muscles beginning to feel fatigued from the strain of fighting his father's men and time carrying Rhaenys. Eventually, moving through knee-deep, foul-smelling water, Jaime resurfaced in the night air.

The darkness of the night was broken by the glow of the fires coming from the city. 'Fortunately, no reflection is green. The Wildfire is intact.' thought, internally relieved. When Jaime observed his surroundings, he could realize that he was standing at the mouth of a drain that emptied into the river.

When looked at Rhaenys in the glow of the Sack's fires and the moonlight, he could see that she was covered in blood, with half a burned hair and burned brows, but no skin burns. And seemingly, she has finally come to her senses, but showed signs of being shocked.

Rhaenys' totally purple eyes, almost dark, seemed to be looking at more than a thousand meters. 'The look of a survivor of a thousand terrors' Jaime thought immediately, remembering the survivors of the worst battles against the Brotherhood of the Kingswood.

"Princess, you're okay?" He tried to communicate with her in the warmest, most familiar voice he could, but Rhaenys seemed absent from everything that was going on around her.

"Rhaenys, you are safe. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you. I'm here to protect you."Jaime said to the princess, trying to get her out of the trance she was in and assure her that nothing was going to happen to her while he was with her. In view of the fact that the princess did not seem to get out of the shock she was suffering, Jaime decided to sit her on a rock that was nearby.

While Rhaenys did not seem to know that she was now sitting on a rock, Jaime decided to dive into the river. He stink so much that Jaime stripped right there, remaining only in minor cloths, dropping his dirty clothes on the riverbank as he dived into the deep black waters of the Blackwater. Once he felt clean, or as clean as he could find after the events of that night, he headed towards the princess.

"My princess, forgive me for what I'm going to do, but I have to clean your wounds and remove the scab from the septic water." Jaime said as he took her with the gentleness with which as a child he

had taken a newborn Tyrion.

Although he had rarely participated in his care, Jaime occasionally played with his little brother on the rocky shores of Casterly Rock, so he tried to emulate his actions at the time. Grabbing the princess gently with both hands, he brought her to his chest without the girl putting up any resistance

'At least she knows I don't want to do anything bad to her and trusts me' thought with some relief. If she also resisted his care, it would be extremely difficult to take care of Rhaenys.

After that, Jaime went back into the river with her in his arms. He began to clean a shocked Rhaenys, who now seemed to have come to her senses, but did not make a sound. Jaime held her with one arm, while with the other hand he ran water over her face, her arms and her head. Although he knew it was not his place, nor proper, Jaime remove her of the half-burned garments that she wore for clothing, but which were now, apart of half burned, frayed, gnawed and stained with blood and stains of human excrement.

When the princess was stripped of all her clothing except for her undergarment, Jaime beheld something that stopped his heart, threatening to make him lose his senses.

On the little back of Rhaenys, now surprisingly of pale complexion, on the left side of the ribs, just below the scapula, a gash about three fingers wide and five fingers long appeared to have been sealed with fire from the insides of the body of the princess.

Recreating the events that had happened, Jaime realized that when the knight of the manticore had thrown the little princess against the wall, something must have gone through her back and chest.

'But it is not possible. If so, she would be dead. She breathes. She's in shock, but she's breathing. She is alive. What sorcery of the Seven Hells is this ' Jaime rationalized, trying to understand what was in front of his eyes. But everything he saw was incontestable.

Such a laceration would have killed even a grown man. Not to mention that a wound does not heal in a matter of hours, nor does it appear to have been sealed with fire from within the body. However, despite the shock and the absent gaze of the princess, she was alive in his arms. He felt her breath against his chest and his left arm. The princess body temperature was elevated, as those of a Flame of the World. Surely something dark had happened that night, but Jaime was unable to understand anything. He simply thanked all the gods that Rhaenys was, somehow, still alive.

Some riders passed along the river path when Jaime was cleaning the princess, but if they saw him in his hose or the skinny, half-naked girl with matted half-burned hair, they did not notice, or did not pay the slightest attention to them.

In view of the situation, Jaime decided to move as far away as he and the princess could from where they were. In front of the exit of the tunnels that led to the Red Fortress. After cleaning the clothes he still had as well as possible, Jaime put them on.

After that, with Rhaenys hugging his chest, they began to move away from Kings Landing in an easterly direction.

If Jaime was exhausted after a night fighting, killing, committing regicide, saving a princess and crossing thousands of meters of tunnels and passageways, some of them submerged in excrement and human waste, after half a day of forced march with the girl in his arms, Jaime felt like he couldn't take it anymore. When he stopped walking, he tried to locate where they were and take a break.

It was noon the day after the Sack, and certainly no one would march eastward looking for a dead knight and a dead princess. They were at the bend of the Blackwater half a day's march from Rosby. In a cliff side, protected by a thick grove there was a cave, where Jaime decided it would be safe to rest. Without realizing it, he and the princess spent several days sleeping close together inside the cave, warming each other.

After that, began the days and weeks of flight, always looking back, always avoiding any human contact. The princess and he survived based on what Jaime was able to capture with traps for animals such as hares, or what he was capable of fishing on the river bank and with the small bonfires that heated them at night. Their only protection, Jaime's dagger.

So until one day when they arrived near Cape Dunksdale, where they found a small one sail vessel anchored less than fifty meters from the shore. In the shore, a boat was stranded, probably waiting for its owner. 'If I have murdered a King, stealing a boat is nothing' Jaime thought.

Lack of food, sleep and fatigue took their toll. Jaime's senses after several weeks on the run were no longer as alert, if were alert to begin with. As he deposited the princess in the boat, the only thing he was able to register was a shadow behind him.

'Damn, there's only one paddle. How could I not realize it before...' The next thing he felt was an immense pain in his head and everything turned to darkness.

When Jaime opened his eyes again, he was in a small cabin with little light. In the dim light of the small porthole, he could see the princess sitting on the ground playing with a dragon carved in wood, near the cot where he was lying. As the boat rocked with the waves, Jaime tried to establish his position.

It was daylight, but he had no idea if it was the same day he had lost consciousness and even if his life depended on it, he was incapable of knowing the intentions of his captors.

The princess had been bandaged on the head and someone had sewn up the cut of her lip and left arm. She was wearing a shirt that surely belongs to a ten-day-old boy of the name, which served as a tunic for her.

Jaime, for his part, had his left arm in a sling, his abdomen was bandaged, and someone had cut his hair, sewn his cuts and healed his wounds. When he tried to sit up on the cot, he felt pain all over his body, making him groan.

"Ser Jaime..." said the princess with concern and a small voice. Before Rhaenys could continue speaking, he tried to throw himself into hug her.

'The Others take away my pain. Thanks to the goddamn Seven, the fucking Mother Rhoyne, the goddamn Fourteen Flames of Valyria, and the fucking old Gods. Thank you. I have not failed in my mission. I have protected Rhaenys.' he came to think before passing out again.

After that, what came was the journey with the smuggler to Dragonstone and from there to the Davos cottage, from where they finally ended up leaving at the beginning of 283 AC in the direction of Lys.

For all that reasons, back to the present fifteen years after that damned day of the Sack, Jaime that sunset was heading towards the Iron Bank as escort to Antaryon, the Sealord of Braavos.

Suddenly three unnatural roars brought him out of his thoughts of the past. It was a sound like the one Jaime had never heard in his life. Without quite knowing why, Jaime's body went on guard and tense, waiting for something to happen. In a few moments, the roars were repeated, reverberating through the walls of the houses of the narrow street, this time accompanied by high- pitched shrieks. However, the narrowness of the city's streets and canals, prevented Jaime from seeing beyond the roofs of the houses that closed over the canal and the street.

"[Aucturum. Go to the Bank Square and inspect what is happening.]" the fat Sealord ordered suddenly, with a certain tremor and concern in his voice.

'Without a doubt, like me, he knows that those roars are not natural and something must be happening' he thought as he nodded, not bothering to answer him in the Valyrian bastard in which the braavosi spoke.

Jaime began to quickly ascend the steep stairs, after which he would come out to the narrow street that gave access to the Iron Bank Square. Unlike in Westeros or when he worked as a mercenary, now he wore no armor, just donned embossed leather under a striking crimson shirt. This allowed him to sprint, something he soon saw, was doing almost everyone in the same direction as him. 'Without a doubt, from the esplanade of the square, you can see the source of the terrifying sound'

As he reached the end of the street, Jaime gazed at the Iron Bank building and at the plaza that stretched out in front of him. His mouth fell open in such a way that almost parted it. Although it was sunset and the sun must still be high in the sky, it seemed that it was dark as night.

When Jaime looked up to the sky to see what had happened to the sun, his surprise gave way to an immediate sense of panic, dread and fascination.

'So much thinking about the past has caused me to go madder than Aerys. I can't be seeing a fucking Dragon.' thought as a chill ran through Jaime's body.

Not only was it a dragon, but it was a gigantic dragon, capable of hiding the sun. Black in color like coal, highlighting only the bloody red of the ridge behind its monstrous head that must have been the size of two carriages put together, and an color similar to that of a red-hot metal in its huge eyes.

At the base of the impossibly long neck, three figures seemed to be drawn against the sky. Each beat of the massive black membranous wings that ended in enormous claws, caused whirlwinds of air in the plaza on which he stood. The people who had gathered began to run off in different directions, but Jaime did not.

Jaime felt like he was pinned to the ground, unable to move a single muscle in his body, but equally unable to look away from the huge dragon that no doubt intended to land in the plaza. When the gigantic creature from the legends, which by its appearance remembered all the descriptions that Jaime had read as child of the Black Dread, was less than twenty meters above the ground, emitted a long roar that almost deafened him.

To Jaime's further surprise, the roar was answered by softer, but no less intimidating, roars from two other dragons circling the sky above the square. Glancing at the smallest of them, although gigantic compared to any other animal Jaime knew, sandy orange in color, he saw that it too was carrying what appeared to be two people. 'I've definitely gone crazy. Suddenly there are three gigantic dragons and none of them are in the hands of the surviving Targaryen.'

The fact that there were dragons was not impossible. Jaime had seen their skulls in the Iron Throne room thousands of times. Not to mention, since the night of the Sack he hadn't rejected at all the existence of magic. But Jaime was convinced that if there was some magic in the world, it would be in the Targaryen blood. And dragons have always been bonded to the Targaryen, the only pure line descended from Valyria.

'Viserys and Daenerys must have been dead for years. It can't be them.' thought, and that's what made it incredible that he was suddenly looking at five people on top of dragons coming out of nowhere.

Suddenly, a thud that shook the ground beneath his feet caused Jaime to return his gaze to the gigantic winged fire worm that had landed on the steps of the Iron Bank building.

Shrugging over its own body, the dragon dropped its left wing, through which a girl descended first. This one must have been around the twelve days of the name. Athletic, tall for her age, her dark brown hair tied back in a long ponytail over her right shoulder. In the distance Jaime could see that she was fair in complexion, but not the pale Targaryen. She was dressed in black leather riding breeches over long gray woolen hose, black leather riding boots up to the knees, and a long dark blue corded tunic over a white woolen shirt. On her chest the girl wore an embossed leather breastplate, from which a full gray cape hung back. There was no trace of any sigil.

'She is not the Dragonrider' he muttered to himself as he contemplated the scene rapt.

After the girl, a boy came down, possibly a year or two younger than the girl. His hair was light brown, pulling copper. The boy would be around five feet tall, and he dressed practically the same as the girl, except that he wore a totally black cloak. The boy was not a Targaryen at all, but moved towards the dragon's neck with absolute normality and began unloading what appeared to be sacks dangling from the chains that served as mount.

When the last occupant of the dragon descended, Jaime nearly fainted. He was seeing a ghost. Or what he believed was the ghost of Rhaegar Targaryen in the year of Lannisport's Tourney, when the prince was ten and five days of his name.

The Ghost's Prince wore all black except flashes of red on his cloak and on the collar of his surcoat. The armor, made up of chainmail, breastplate and back, was made of Valyrian steel like Jaime's eyes had never seen, varying in color according to the reflections of sunlight, oscillating between dazzling polish and smoky black. Brilliant blue, red, and purple jewels stood out in the carving of House Targaryen's rampant dragon. The same sigil was sewn in dark red thread on the black cloak. Over the right shoulder of the mysterious Targaryen's was somehow the hilt of a sword that could be no other than Blackfyre. On the lad's head, a band of Valyrian steel and rubies. The crown of the Conqueror.

'Nothing I am seeing is real. I'm going to wake up soon.' Jaime tried to convince himself.

But when he took a closer look at the ghost of Rhaegar, Jaime saw that it was a boy of about ten and five years of the name, slightly shorter than the Last Dragon, less broad in the shoulders, and with more elongated features,

'Who the hell is he? It's impossible to be Viserys, right? And if it's him, where did he get the dragons, that armor, the sword and the crown of the Conqueror? Is he here for his mother or is it fortuitous? Who are the boy and girl with him?' tried to rationalize.

But when the gigantic dragon took flight again, to make room for the orange-yellowish dragon, the small boy raised a banner that confirmed some of Jaime's suspicions, but momentarily flooded him with more doubts.

On a pole about four feet high, flapping proudly in the wind, was unfurled a House Targaryen banner about five feet long by one meter wide. On the back of this, a shorter banner, but also on a black field, a white rampant dragon expelled its red flame. 'The bloody banner of Bloodraven and the Raven's Teeth. I'm sure I'm either dreaming or I've gone mad.'

Jaime had been so shocked after contemplating the sigils that he thought would never see them waving in the air again that hardly noticed that the second dragon had landed and its two occupants had descended at the same time.

When Jaime saw them, he was about to loosen his bladder from shock.

'By all the Gods! They're alive! I have to get Rhaenys before they go!'

And he started running like mad towards the direction of Happy Port. Jaime had a Queen Mother

and a Princess to warn.

'We finally can go back home!'