"Then if it's all the same, I suppose I'm glad to have been born a man," Jon mutters, "as I'm no good with words at all." He wasn't a simpleton, he knew that, and he could read well enough and write passably, and when it came to common sense, Jon figured he was clever enough as he needed to be. But skilled with words? No.

He frowned at the way Daenerys seemed to react, and he closed the gap a little further without thinking. "It's not so hard a life," he said, trying to reassure her. "And I'm used to wearing just about all black already." Jon shrugged.

"But if it's true, I confess... who am I supposed to keep reminding to put on her cloak or her woolens, hm? I've seen men of the Night's Watch before," Jon said with an attempt at a smile, "and I don't fancy helping keep any of them warm like you." The moment the words tumbled out, he wanted to snap them back up.