[ Somewhere in the middle of Jon explaining, Claire frowns. As much for the story itself as the picture he's beginning to paint. Her mind moves in a different direction, and she looks up at the statue of Lyanna's face, to Jon and back again, murmuring. ]

Poor girl.

[ But the pieces he's laid out, that his father left looking for his sister and returned with a baby, she can't help but see what feels obvious. ]

Jon-

[ When Claire looks at him again, she realizes this has never occurred to him, that Lyanna is actually his mother, and she doesn't know now is the time to say it. She isn't even sure she has a right to be the one to lay out the possibility to him. For now, she changes her mind and shakes her head, reaching up to press her hand to his cheek, stroking her thumb over his skin fondly. ]

I didn't expect stories with happy endings. I'm glad to know all of it, even the barbarism. Honestly, it mimics so much of the history of my world. I could easily exchange cultures and it would still make sense.

[ She drops her hand and tilts her head, giving him a wry smile. ]

You explain as well as any historian or...maester could.

[ She's learning his world's language for things, a bit. He calls her that sometimes, his Lady Maester, and she quietly loves it. ]