[He swears it so easily, and it makes the corners of Rhaenyra’s mouth uptick into a pleasant little smile. It seems almost like a story, the way a soldier prince returns home to a princess. He will keep her safe, he says. Still she likes the idea more than she even realizes, mostly because she did pick Ser Criston for a reason. Only thankfully Jon isn’t talking of going off on a boat with fruit or something.]

You are a Targaryen. You needn’t pledge your sword. [Because she’s from a time before Targaryens waged war on one another. She has enough hope that maybe her actions can cause the realm to follow her, to accept her as she is, as they said they would.

As he so easily accepts her now.]

There are ties in the back. If you loosen them enough, the gown will lift up. [There is still the matter of her underskirts, but she isn’t sure how well he does with taking off ladies’ dresses.]