"I am the son of a prince," Jon said, weighing that thought in his mind, testing it, deciding whether or not he could bear it. He had felt uncomfortable with the yoke of King in the North but that had been before when he was the bastard of Ned Stark and some poor woman.

Now he was a royal bastard, son of the last Targaryen prince to walk Westeros. He had the blood of dragons and the First Men in his veins. It was a great legacy.

"They made me King in the North," Jon said softly. "But this...I could sit the Iron Throne, if I was ambitious."