"Are you afraid of Others Kingslayer," he almost spits his name. Contempt marring his visage. Deep lines on his forehead and between his eyebrows, showing where they have come from. Never the grim second son was jovial or happy, but the biting cold of the wall has done nothing good to him. Cold, stern and without any joy of life. Sad life, in Jaime's opinion. His is too, but he still is laughing, at least, to himself.
"Not at all, Baratheon. My mother said, "fear of others is an excuse to run from our own demons."" though he did not explain to him if others means other people or Others. Nevertheless, it applies to this.
"Wise words from a wise mother," says Maester Aemon, his great great uncle.
Jamie commands his muscles to smile, he smiles albeit a shaky one. He feels uneasy around him. Aemon never tells him if he knows or not, yet he is always avoiding to call his mother a she or a woman or a lady as if he knows and finds it disrespectful.
"Aye."
"Are you?"
"What?"
"Running?" the self-righteous asks and without waiting for an answer leaves them.
They do not know what he is running from. He has his own demons, but not what they are thinking.