He'll get a shove to the belly for that. "You've always had a right. I don't care about you being a king or--" She makes a face, finding the word distasteful because of the way it's used in this context, "--or a bastard."

This is Westeros and noble families talking. Highborn and their statuses, which hardly matter here in this place. He might've been a knight or a lord and turned into someone like the Kingslayer or her brother with all that entitlement, had things been different. A bastard... what about her mother and her landed knight? Why should it matter?

All of these thoughts cross her mind in quick succession, like little birds taking flight. She's reaching to cup both his cheeks and stare at him. To make a point of her words. They don't matter. Not to her.

And then she's kissing him.