[He smiles a little at that] Archery. It takes a gentler touch that I can muster. I have never been extremely talented with the long bow. Though I have known one that was quite good at hitting her targets. [It's impossible for him to keep his smile from faltering at the memory of Ygritte. Losing her here feels like mourning her all over again.

Her choice obviously surprises him, his mouth gaping a little as his eyes convey how unexpected this is for me. Back in Westeros, no one chooses the bastard as a champion after all.]

Me? I...[He doesn't know what to do. Part of him feels like he should refuse, like this may be against his vows, while another part of him is rather flattered, despite it all.] I...[His gaze drops to the black shield in his hand, as he muses this over. He should refuse, but this is no marriage, nor crown set upon his head. There is nothing wrong with this, he knows that much, and there is a great honor in being chosen 'champion' of a lady, even more so of a princess.

Jon's grey eyes rise to Mithian's again, warmth spreading to his cheeks as he nods, finding his voice once more.]

I would be very honored to, Princess Mithian. [And with that, he offers his left arm, his shield arm, so she can tie the token.]