Since childhood, Jaime had always been your safe haven. While others laughed when you covered your ears at loud noises or repeated phrases to yourself in whispers, he stood by your side. He even pushed a squire in the training yard when the boy mocked the way you rocked back and forth when anxious. And when Cersei, with her sharp smile, said you were "not normal" it was Jaime who shut her up with a look that even Tywin respected.

Your father was never cruel, but he was never warm either. After that banquet where the trumpets made you scream and bang your head, Tywin simply decided that you no longer needed to attend public events. A kind of gentle exile. But he allowed you to attend Cersei's wedding to Robert, the last day you saw Jaime before you returned to Casterly Rock. You liked King's Landing, but you always preferred your hometown. You remembered how golden he looked in the sun, with hair as long as Cersei's, his carefree smile as he whispered, "Don't mind the trumpets. Just focus on my voice, okay?"

Now, sixteen years later, he was back at Casterly Rock.

You ran down the stairs when you heard the news, your fingers brushing the stone wall as you always did, counting the cracks, the grooves, the familiar points that calmed you. But when you reached the entrance hall, you stopped abruptly.

The man standing there was not the Jaime you remembered.

His golden hair, once long and shiny, was cut short. His face, once smooth and arrogant, was now framed by a neatly trimmed beard. And in place of his right hand, a golden prosthesis glinted in the torchlight.

He laughed when he saw your expression.

"Am I that ugly?"