Jon's confusion about being sent back to the Night's Watch was not alleviated during his remaining stay in the cell in King's Landing, nor on the journey back to the North, nor even when he finally arrived at Castle Black.

Of course no one had even bothered to make him take the vow-he'd be breaking it just by being at the Wall, as he could hardly guard of the realms of men while sitting in a useless castle waiting for an enemy that no longer existed.

And Tormund and the others were just as confused.

"So...none of them realized there was nothing for you to do up here?"

Jon shook his head, brow furrowing. "I think it was supposed to force me not to father any children and continue my line, but..." he motioned around to the people, nearly entirely free folk, around them, "I doubt anyone here is going to enforce that." He remembered that, Tyrion specifically mentioning that, and thought it must have been a warning.

Tormund snorted, shaking his head. "Those kneelers are idiots. The storms are almost over, come back with me." He smirked, wagging his eyebrows at Jon. "We can share furs."

Letting out a soft laugh, one of the few he'd been able to give since going South, Jon didn't actually try to protest. It's not as though he had anything to live up to, anymore. He'd done the right thing, he'd saved Westeros, and possibly even more of the world beyond that, but all anyone in the South-even his own family-cared about was gaining power.

From the way Bran spoke, Jon had a nagging suspicion that he'd done at least something to manipulate events so that he'd be king. And in order to do that, he needed to get Jon out of the way.

"It's odd, I spent so long being a Stark, and when I finally got the chance to be...I found out I was a Targaryen. Then I finally start coming to terms with that...and everyone wanted me to act like a Stark again. When I, like my father, put other people's lives before my own honor, they just used it as an excuse to kill off the last Targaryen. "

He'd never felt more kinship for Jaime Lannister than he had at that moment, in the throne room, alone with Daenerys.

"Fuck 'em, we'll go to the True North, you'll have a dozen broody babes and call them all 'legitimate'."

Jon smirked back at Tormund, the idea certainly had its appeal. He didn't know where Drogon was, or if he'd ever forgive Jon for what had happened, but the world could still need dragon riders someday.

"Thought I was sharing your furs, Tormund."

"Aye, but that doesn't mean we can't invite others over for fun."

He thought of Ygritte, of how for the first time with her he felt something like freedom, and found himself nodding. "Aye, we could, couldn't we?"

No one here would judge him, not for his past actions, not for what future ones he might make. They knew him, knew what he'd done to save them and the world itself, and he'd earned their respect. They wouldn't turn on him for his parents, for his blood, for destroying his honor to save people time and again.

Jon took a deep breath, enjoying the crisp, fresh air of the North after so long in the South, and let himself smile. "No more Night King, no more wights...just the open land and the free folk in it...And people in the South think that's a punishment."