"I suppose most of the people in my day would assume the worst and go with the latter. It would compliment the narrative that's been spun in the wake of your house's decline." A narrative that the Mad King unfortunately fed into. (A narrative where people both condemned Aerys for his madness but also condemned Jaime for putting an end to it.) "And yet I'm inclined to say it was magic. Magic is..."

There's a heavy pause as Jaime once again seems transfixed by Caraxes, green eyes taking in every little movement until he sucks in a sharp breath and turns his attention back to the prince.

"Prophecies are a load of shit, but magic is real; I've seen it. I've seen one of the Others. It moved as if it were still living in spite of the eye-less face and decaying flesh that barely clung to the bone. When split in two, both halves of it continued to crawl. It snarled and did not stop until one half was burnt and the other was pierced with dragonglass."

Jaime might have looked at it with an expression akin to 'an ice zombie, in front of my salad?' but on the inside, it scared him shitless. He was fucking terrified of the potential that threat carried, of the very real possibility that the fabled Night King was real, of Westeros being taken over by these mindless creatures while they were too busy bickering about whose arse should be seated upon that godsdamned Iron Throne.

"Perhaps if she succeeds in helping save Westeros from the Army of the Dead, she might be. Until then, my allegiance remains with Sansa Stark." and Brienne of Tarth