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Ah, there’s the question I’ve been expecting and dreading in equal parts. How in the name of the seven am I meant to go about answering this? Jaime inhaled a deep breath in through his nose, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he turned to face his son, calmer than he had been when the question had first been posed. Silently, cautious emeralds flickered to his wife briefly, taking on some of the comfort and strength that he always found in her presence. He knew she would not speak, it was Jaime’s story to tell. But that did not mean that he would not need her through this.
In light of this, he padded across the short distance to the bed where she lay, perching next to her. He captured one of her hands in his, lacing their fingers together. The simple feel of her skin on his, chaste a touch as it was, soothed his slowly fraying nerves. “Come and sit, Rhaegar,” he softly offered his son, patting the spot next to him on the mattress. Easily, their son obliged, clambering up onto the bed to snuggle into his father’s side. The mere presence of his son next to him also helped to calm him for what was bound to be an unpleasant trip down memory lane.
Now, how to begin? Jaime surely did not know. Was there even a delicate way to talk about this? How did one begin to explain to a young child that their father was responsible for the death of another of their family members? Especially when said child barely understood the concept of death nor the complexities of life. But, he could not and would not lie and therefore, he needs find a way.
A light and yet defeated sigh fell from Jaime’s lips as his free arm wrapped around the tiny body of his son. “Your grandfather Aerys was…mad, for lack of a better word. He wasn’t himself for a long time and he did a lot of nasty things that his healthy mind never would have done.” He paused briefly, anxious emeralds flickered to Dany once more, seeking reassurance that he wasn’t saying anything that perhaps their young child shouldn’t hear and what he found in his wife’s expression seemed to do just that. “Papa used to be one of his guards; I used to wear a white cloak just like Ser Barristan and all the other members of the Queensguard. It was because I used to guard him that I knew he was planning to do something particularly nasty, something that I knew I could not let him do. I knew I had to stop him, and so I did, in the only way I could think of. So yes, son, I did kill your grandfather but I did it to protect people who he would have killed had I not acted.”
Zuhair Murad, Fall 2012 Couture