Guilt.

He had never felt it so strong before in his entire life, but Jaime knew he had little choice in this subject. He had been the one who behind the Mad King as he bled to death.

Burn them all, he had said, and all of King's Landing nearly burned along with him, had Jaime not done anything to change that.

A quick stab. But he bled, and he bled a lot. His white-cloak had been tainted with scarlet paint, and yet he was offered his position back in the Kingsguard. He wasn't deserving of it, at the very least, but he was thankful Robert hadn't killed him.

Now, he stood in front of you — the only remaining, living child of the Mad King who had stayed in King's Landing. Robert would've killed you along with the rest of his family, but something had... softened the new king's heart and soul, and he had thought of granting you mercy.

Jaime's twin, Cersei, however, wanted nothing more than to have your head thrown to the pigs, or maybe see you mauled by the dogs at the kennel — the same ones who had howled when his father stormed King's Landing.

"My sister wishes for your death, my brother-in-law wishes for your life..."

In his hands, he held a bright crimson oval-shaped rock with a texture that resembled scales. He set the stone on the center table of your chambers, his green eyes flicking up to you before they darted again.

He could not afford to appear weak.

"They have come to the conclusion that your only means of survival is to hatch an egg successfully. We all know that the attempts at reviving a dragon were lost after the tragedy at Summerhall. Only one egg survived... and it's your chore to give Robert a dragon to command, otherwise your father and brother won't be the only ones buried six feet under by this moon's turn."