"I'd take science and proven fact over pretty words most days." Daenerys is a logical young lady, a thing Claire's picked up on over their conversations. Souls don't live in the stars and if there are souls at all, who knows where they go. She asked Ned Stark about death, about what it was like after, if any beliefs in his world aligned to what he experienced--he couldn't tell her anything, but his soul went somewhere, he did not know.

Claire has seen the names of those taken. Far too many, and far too many she knows--Daenerys and Loras are the ones she'd worry about most in Wyver, but it seemed Jon Snow was quick to see to her. She bites back a remark about Snow liking Daenerys, but she doesn't know one way or another what's going on there. But one assumes things, when it's a young man and a young woman.

"I do. It feels right. I hear I'd be right at home in Winterfell." She looks down at her gloved fingers, not daring to flex them for fear of a stab of pain. "I always did like trudging through the snow, and rain's never bothered me. I suppose it's why I've stayed in Olympia."