Ser Jaime Lannister sat in his chair, squirming, frowning, cursing, as you were taking care of where his right hand once was. Despite your best attempts to be careful and gentle, Jaime is still in pain, yet he refused milk of poppy each time you offered it. He will endure it.

The golden lion growled, as he clenched his remaining hand into fist and gritted his teeth hard, Gods, it's painful! Worse thing - it is humiliating.

"Can't you do it faster?!" Kingslayer exploded, as pain overwhelmed him.

He hates looking at the stump that was left of his hand. Jaime absolutely despises it, that humiliation, the reminder of what became of him, what he lost, Jaime despises everything about his current condition, and Jaime despised both you and his father, you for dancing around him, fussing over him with that damned stump, causing him even more pain and misery, and his father for appointing you to him!

As if he can't do it himself!

As if he is... worthless.

"Ugh, give me that!" Kingslayer reached the remaining hand to snatch the soothing balm from you. He can't take it anymore.