Hello! Thank you for clicking! This story is a sequel to my story "It'll Always Be Yours", however it can be read independently-everything relevant that happened in the prequel will be explained in the next few chapters, which will be updated regularly-I usually update every day :)

Anyway, please feel free to enjoy and leave any thoughts you have! Much love, hope you're all well xxx

Jaime Lannister was jerked awake by a cry-a cry of anguish. Even without looking at the empty pillow beside him-he knew that voice, which came from somewhere down the corridor, could belong to no one else.

The last fog of sleep leaving him, Jaime swung his legs to the floor, slipping his bare feet into his boots. He grimaced slightly, for his back was never good for the hour after he rose, and had not been for the last few years. However, he was fit enough to sprint across the chamber to grab his sword, before yanking the door open and rushing down the corridor towards the sound of his wife's voice. Evenfall Hall was deserted at this time of night-there was nothing to be heard but the sea breeze outside the windows, gently swaying the red and blue tapestries bearing the Tarth sigil on the walls. But he barely noted them as he ran.

"What's going on?" Jaime whipped around the corner-before skidding to a halt in horror. Before him-he could see an open door, leading into a dark chamber. Before Brienne even spoke, he knew what had happened. It was instinctive-as a father, he knew in his very bones that something wasn't right, that something was dreadfully wrong. Instantly-his heart had turned to ice.

"She's gone!" The voice came from inside, hoarse with anger and shaking with pure fear. "Jaime, she's gone!"

"Seven hells!"

Johanna Lannister cursed as her hands were burned. The rope slipped through them and straight onto the wooden floor of the sailboat with a soft thump-but she had completed her task. Her sails stood true, bending shyly away from the wind as it guided her across the smooth waters, the sapphire colour-the precise shade of her eyes-drained away by the darkness of night. Uncommonly tall, her muscles sleek and her limbs strong, yet still with the adolescent look of a foal who was not quite grown into herself, she sailed. Now, they were like a navy quilt beneath her, bearing her away from the isle of Tarth, the mountains and trees growing quickly smaller behind her. She turned her back on the isle of home, gritting her teeth. There were red burn marks on the palms of her hands and the bends of her fingers. Firmly, folding her long legs beneath her, she sat down at the tiller, one hand carefully steering, the other gripping the wood of the side of the boat. She had never sailed alone before. And especially not across the sea.

She tossed her long, hay-coloured plait over her shoulder as she looked at the small bag at her red-booted feet. Inside, there was nothing but a flask of water, a purse of gold and a stolen map of the land beyond Shipbreaker Bay, of the Seven Kingdoms, the land of her birth. She could see the colours of the kingdoms of Westeros on the faded parchment. The vast north, bigger than all the other kingdoms combined, cut off at the Wall of ice, the winding Riverlands, the mountainous Vale, the sprawling Reach, the Iron Islands to the West, and golden Dorne in the South…They were all just names to her…until now. Then there were the Westerlands…in tiny black writing, she could see Lannisport marked, and above it, Casterly Rock. Her father's family seat. Biting her lip, she touched the golden Lannister hair she had inherited. She felt a pang as she thought of him, of the last time she had seen him, as she had slammed her chamber door in his face. Her gut twisted with guilt.

But she could not think of him now. She looked up at the stars as she steered, wondering if they would look any different from the mainland. On the map, she could just make out Tarth, marked in blue, the very blue of her tunic and leggings. She looked across the water she now crossed in reality to the Stormlands. There they were, huge, new and exciting, and almost in her reach…but her eyes slipped back to Tarth, the land she so firmly turned her back on. In tiny black letters, Evenfall Hall was marked, where her grandfather still sat in his age as lord. She thanked every god there was that he had done what he did, said what he said. But still. She thought of him, of his horror even in his senility when he discovered what she had done…but that was nothing compared to her mother's.

Johanna gritted her teeth. Though she resented her, though her forehead was still stiff with rage…guilt twisted inside her like a dagger. She looked determinedly away from Tarth, dragging her thoughts away from her mother…to the last kingdom marked on the mainland. Crownlands. The capital was marked in those little black letters, a large black spot showing its exact location.

Kings Landing. Kings Landing, where she had been born on the day that the Usurper Daenerys Targaryen had taken the throne from her father's sister. Usurper was a new word to her. She liked the way it tasted on her tongue. Kings Landing, where the Usurper sat on the Iron Throne-her Iron Throne. The throne she had been denied. She had thought of nothing else since she had discovered the truth.

Johanna looked down to her belt. There hung her sword, her own sword in scabbard. She had never named it-it had never seemed grand enough to warrant a name. As a child, she had gazed at Oathkeeper in all its wonder, the lion's head of its hilt, the gold, the beauty of it…But this was her sword. The sword with which she would discover the Seven Kingdoms. And one day, one day not so far in the future…she would use it to take them back.

A sword like that needed a name.

Johanna thought for a moment. She wished she had not brought Oathkeeper to mind, for again it only served to remind her of her mother, of the last time she had seen her...Dismissing the greatsword, she looked back down at her own. It was simple-but it was good. It was steel. It was strong. And one day, it would win her back her kingdom. She leaned back, her hand on the tiller, looking up at the stars who held their fire. She had always loved fire, the way it danced in the fireplaces, the way it burned in the sun, the sun of the Tarth sigil, hot like the scarlet of the Lannister banners, the banners which were hers, that had been Queen Cersei's, the banners which she would hang once more in the Red Keep…and dragon fire. Dragon fire was the greatest of all.

Despite everything, despite the guilt and fear that flickered in her stomach…as she sailed over the calm waters in the small hours of the night, closer and closer to the land of her birth, of her birth-right-the cool wind blew through her hair, and she was alone. Part of her felt as if she had been thrown, thrown down a deep and endless pit of mystery, and she could barely orientate herself to stand up straight. But this was it. She was alone. Alone, and completely, undeniably, free.

Flamemaker.

Hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned for more tomorrow xx

Cheeky hint #1: Jaime will not be easily persuaded to stay behind...

Cheeky hint #2: Johanna meets some familiar faces on the mainland...