"You are Lord Commander of Tommen's Kingsguard. Could you even defend your nephew when the time comes?" Jaime swallowed heavily at those words. "We can practice in one of the private rooms where none would see. And your left hand is worse than a page's because you've trained it less than one. You didn't become one of the best swords in Westeros in a matter of moons or by wallowing about your lack of skill, but by relentlessly training yourself to the limit for years. You were the best sword in the west once. Do you have what it takes to do it again?" His childhood friend challenged him with an expectant look.