An unexpected number of things to unpack, this morning jog has resulted in. Arthur feels ancient. Days seemed so much longer as a child, but surely the past six months of his life are unnaturally condensed. Less than a year ago he was a street boss who would die that way. The strange mix of curiosity, relief, and understanding he feels listening to Daenerys makes him realize - for the first time - just how isolated the experience and position has made him. He's felt it, he just hadn't realized that's what it was, because feelings have never factored too significantly into anything he's done. His life has never afforded him such a luxury - before or after.

He also thinks: Ah. You make sense, now.

Arthur looks at her with his eyebrows raised, expression incredulous. Not at her story but the fact that it exists-- and his, too. He doesn't think he needs to vocalize anything about the improbability of their meeting, as surely she's thinking the same thing.

"Sounds like a rough go," he says. "I got the courtesy of blissful ignorance on all sides."

He didn't know who he was, and neither did anyone else.