“Is it supposed to look so… unpleasant?” Jaime snickers, doing his best to be polite.

Who knew mixing a turtle and a hamster would look so disgusting? Apparently, you’d been curious enough to see for yourself. Figures; you experiment often— even as children, Jaime would stand in gross awe of your magic projects.

He bites back a quip about the furry shell, glancing at you instead. He hopes the little thing has made you happy.

“Maybe I could use it in my next performance.” He hums, smirking mischeivously. Yes, he’ll take his hat and put in a dove, only to pull out a turtle-hamster-monster! A hamtle— no, a tumster— no that’s worse, a— well, nevermind. Point is, the little creature will make a good prop.

Jaime’s always had a fascination with you and your work. While he’d grown up juggling batons, you’d grown up waving wands and mixing spells. It’s funny to him how different your childhoods were despite them both taking place in the palace.



Then again, most things are funny to him. After all, what good is a jester who can’t make a joke out of everything?



The first time he’d told a proper joke though wasn’t until he was 14. Well at least in Jaime’s eyes that is. He’d found you crouched down in the garden picking some herbs for a tonic and made some stupid remark on how the task was what gave witches hunchbacks. Of course, Jaime had laughed, but you didn’t find it as funny and turned his hair green for a week. 
 After that, he’d found that green was quite a flattering color on him. Thus his hair has been green ever since.

Come to think of it, you do a lot for him— even if some of it's unintentional. Whenever he doubts himself, you show him how to overcome it. You help him to shake his troubles and disregard his uncertainty. You freed him, as sappy as it sounds.



You’re magical, he thinks. Both because you’re a mage and because you’re… well, you.