Jon can see the way she easily keeps up and understands. She spoke of a war of her own in her world, which she had to contend with. She said it was more personal, which means she had to front these discussions and make- (her blood is power, and Jon doesn't like to think of the barters she had to make). His stomach twists tight.

Of course, she would understand, but he deeply appreciates the understanding nonetheless. Few of the North could understand it (and he still doesn't know that it was the right choice). They reach the stables outside in the cold, and Jon turns to her. His dark eyes full of a quiet worry (that he didn't do what was necessary, that it led to more death than he ever could have imagined). He swallows through that feeling like bile up his throat.

"I tried." His voice is low, strained. He shakes his head, straightening his shoulders as he looks at her- dark eyes full with all of this emotion and ache even as he shifts the topic of conversation. "I've not been to the stables before."