"If we mean to draw them in, we have to block the Kingsroad," Reed declared.
"We cannot risk another siege," Jaime Lannister countered, "If we man Moat Cailin, they will besiege it and we won't win that fight."
Jon nodded, staring at the map. They had to address the causeway between Moat Cailin and the marshlands of the Neck.
"What if we burn it," Daenerys said lowly, duly expecting the reprimand that followed.
"You cannot burn Moat Cailin," Sansa remarked. "It is the gate to the North, I am sure it would be beneficial now, but we have need for it, seeing we are an independent country from the kingdoms you mean to conquer."
"You already think of defending your kingdom after this war is won," Ser Jorah remarked. "The war is not won yet."
"Forgive me Ser Jorah," Sansa's voice was firm, "My role in this council is to represent my kingdom. My kingdom gave a lot in this war, we cannot risk opening our borders when the next war is already on the horizon."
"So the North will not fight in the next war," Jaime remarked, staring at Sansa.
"The North will close its border, for it cannot have another war fought on its soil after this," Sansa explained, "Our lands are devastated already, and winter is here. Whether we will fight on southern soil, that I cannot tell. We shall see when we come to it."
Jon smiled. It was smart, he had to admit. It wasn't helpful at all, burning Moat Cailin sounded a good idea, easy to execute. But Sansa as always thought ahead, and Jon had to admit that she was right, and played her cards well. Much like Jon used to, after all he paved the way for her – she only had to keep it together.
"We need to block the kingsroad," Jon said, "If the fort is abandoned, it'll be a natural barrier and nothing more. If we block the kingsroad that'll serve us and serve the intention of the Queen in that the northern border will be closed."
His eyes settled on Daenerys, but she showed no emotion. Jon hoped she won't see the offence in this, or a threat, as their eyes met. He couldn't figure her thoughts, she seemed to be focused on the task ahead. It only occurred to Jon now, she was without her advisors. Tyrion and Varys were sent to Dragonstone, stripping her of political advice against Jaime, Sansa and Jon himself. He could tell she didn't deal with politics before, while Sansa trained under Cersei and Littlefinger. Sansa may not be half as strong as either of those snakes, but she presented a threat to Daenerys, Jon could see that. Daenerys was a conqueror, she didn't delve into the 'what comes after'.
"There's not much to burn on the Kingsroad." Daenerys said, "flat grass and dirt."
"How about this, we dig a ditch," Lord Reed said, "redirect the water from the Fever river. It has multiple branches close enough. Cross the road with it right to the fort. In the swamps we can do the same, if the dragons are willing to break the river ice."
"It's a massive task," Jon remarked, "digging miles of trench deep enough and redirecting the river, it flows the opposite way than what we would need."
"Are these woodlands," Daenerys pointed to the west of the neck.
"Aye, they are," Reed remarked, "The woods keep the ground together, so to say. That is why the swamps haven't taken over that area."
"I am not well educated in geography, my lord," Daenerys smiled apologetically, "What does that mean?"
"Ages ago, there was woodland across the neck. The first men began to cut down the woods, perhaps to use as building materials, perhaps to open the road to the lands in the south. The land began to sink, first sinkholes, then the rivers took over, creating the marshes. By the time they realised the effect of it, it was impossible to replant the woodland, the ground was too weak, washed by the waters. In short, that's why my lands are swamps, and Greywater Watch was built on the river to float."
"A castle that floats on a river," Daenerys was amazed.
"It's not a castle, your grace," Reed smiled a proud smile, "It's of wood, not stone, there are no high towers like Cerwyn's. We built it on a small patch of land, I mean my ancestors did, so it could not be made heavy by stone walls and towers. They planted trees in the gardens in the middle and built the fort around it. They somehow released it onto the river, it floats with the ground having to be strengthened time to time, the water tends to wash it away. It requires constant maintenance, but it's safer than any of those stone fortresses. Even Winterfell."
"I would much like to see it," Daenerys said with awe in her eyes that warmed Jon's heart. It must've warmed Reed's too for he stood straighter now as he answered.
"And you are more than welcome to see it soon enough, your grace," Reed declared, "Only a crannogman could find Greywater Watch on the water, with the plantation of the marshes, and we shall make use of that soon. And once we reach my home, I shall invite you to a hearty supper Crannog style, it's overdue. My cooks are on Dragonstone by now, but I can make a good roast myself."
"We'll all become frog-eaters," Jaime Lannister's face was a mix of shock and excitement, with some resentment thrown in at the thought of what a hearty supper would entail to Howland Reed.
"Frog-eaters?" Daenerys looked at Reed, then Jon, who burst out laughing at her face.
"Aye, I meant to try that before I die," Jon said amidst his laughter, and Reed laughed too.
"There's not much growing in the marshlands, your grace," he began to explain to Daenerys, "sea weeds, frogs and birds. That's why those in the south call us frog-eaters. It's delicious by the way, you will agree with me I am sure."
"First we need to reach Greywater Watch with thousands of men," Ser Jorah spoke.
"True, and you cannot take thousands of men to Greywater Watch," Reed pointed at the map, "Here, the map marks rivers. They're there, but the land is nothing more than mud. Not a man can safely walk it, not without guidance. Here," he pointed, "and here, here, and here," his fingers travelled on the map, "there are patches safe. Still we have too many men."
"We could execute something like the plan at the Last Hearth," Jaime Lannister said, "Though the distance is longer, we could march the men south on the Kingsroad and camp near the Twins. Take those we have no use for and use them as bait."
"I like that idea," Jon remarked, "But it poses one problem. You leave the marshlands and you left the North. Either of you will be beyond our protection, it must be highlighted now."
"Forgive me, Jon," Daenerys turned toward him, "Either of us were beyond your protection for a long time now."
Jaime Lannister took a deep breath, listening as she spoke. "I will ferry across the Dothraki from Dragonstone, because this seems to be the last chance to land beyond the reach of Cersei."
"Here," Reed pointed, "This is the harbour, merely a village and it's small and abandoned, but this is the last harbour on northern soil. We use it to ferry whatever trade we make."
"This should mean that the Dothraki and the Unsullied will definitely march across the Neck, and unite with the rest of their forces," Jon stated the obvious, looking at Jaime. "It is your choice, Ser Jaime."
"It is not his choice," Sansa remarked. "Forgive me, but we will be revealing our vulnerabilities. The Neck should be defended by northmen."
"Sansa," Jon began pleadingly, "This is an alliance, a level of trust is due to Ser Jaime and his Lions for fighting by our side."
"And it has been given," Sansa declared, "But I rather have the Wolves fighting in the marshlands. Ser Jaime's forces are good at pitched battles, as a fighting unit. I would assume the Wolves are more skilled at the kind of fight we are planning, and even if not, they are sworn to the North. Beyond the marshlands it's no longer the North."
"But the dead must still be defeated," Jon argued, "and we cannot do it if we divide now. You're giving Ser Jaime no choice but to leave this alliance."
"Open your eyes, Jon," Arya interrupted, "We are no longer in the North. Ser Jaime will be fighting on his own soil."
"Four thousand against thirty, how long before the thirty turns against the four?" Jon raised his voice, his fist slamming onto the makeshift table that held the map.
"That is not our problem," Arya argued, "That is being a Lannister. We cannot change that."
"If I may speak," Ser Davos stepped forward, to Jon's surprise. Davos seemed silent these past days, Jon realised just this moment how he missed his reasonable grounded advice. "Jon, it is true. You cannot hold this alliance together, it no longer depends on you or the North. It depends on Daenerys and Jaime. It's their trust that can hold it together."
"Besides," Reed added, "Neither of them would part from us I presume? My invite for supper stands for both, so send your armies and give your commands to uphold the peace. I didn't know Dothraki or Unsullied defying command, not once in this war. We've all seen the Lions fight on the wall and in every battle since, I would hope that demands trust and respect."
The tent settled into silence for a moment, before Daenerys ushered Ser Jorah to step back so she could step in front of Jaime Lannister.
"I will order the protection of your men," she declared, "Until the dead are defeated, they are the true enemy, that is what your sister said. It still holds true."
"And what about after," Jon asked, "When the Night King falls on southern soil and all the dead are dealt with, will your men just turn around and slay lions in that instant?"
Daenerys glanced at Jon, her eyes narrowed, fuelled by anger. "Three days," she said lowly, obviously controlling herself as she turned back to Jaime Lannister. "You'll have three days to return to your sister, should you wish it. I advise you against it, but I give you my word."
She reached out her hand, her right hand, and Jaime took it.
"I would declare this council over, Jon," Reed said, "We all need to let off some steam."
Jon merely nodded as they all left. All except Sansa and Arya.
"We need a word," Arya stepped in front of him as he tried to pass.
"There is nothing to say," Jon hissed. "You've done your duty, I understand that. But if you spoil this alliance we may as well cut our own throats and wait for the Night King to collect our bodies. Don't be fooled by their numbers, they still have those beasts and birds. We need to win this together."
"What we don't need is trusting your queen," Arya remarked in that icy tone of hers that she reserved for such occasions.
"So she's my queen now?" Jon raised his voice. "Since when is she my queen, is that meant to be an insult? Is that what I am to you know?"
Sansa stepped forward, her hand on Jon's arm. "No Jon," she said softly, "that is not what Arya meant. But you trust her, and we don't. We can't. We have to secure ourselves from her and her dragons, you must see that."
"And you've done a marvellous job of it," Jon said coolly, "I congratulate you Sansa. You're every bit of a Queen, righteous and selfish. You seem to have forgotten that there are others in this war. You forgot about me." He broke free from her and stormed out of the tent.
"He won't act," Arya remarked.
"No, he won't," Sansa agreed, "she's his family just like us and he won't act against her."
"Then we will have to." Arya said turning back to her, awaiting her approval that never came.
"He would never forgive us," she whispered instead. "He will never forgive me."
xxxxx
Jaime walked through the camp, toward the red tents of the lions, as Jon Snow called the Lannister forces. Jaime still liked that. He still admired that while they retreated across what seemed half of Westeros to him, they still had tents. Jon Snow was every bit of the commander that Tywin Lannister portrayed himself to be, Jaime noted to himself once more. And Jon Snow stood for his men just now. He didn't have to, what does he care about a few thousand men south the border.
Except he did care, because he was a Targaryen. What a twist that was, Jaime still pondered about it. A Targaryen defending Lannisters from another Targaryen. Tywin, I hope you are laughing, that your ashes are laughing at your son now. It was humiliating to say the least, but Jaime was used to humiliation. It was also true, they were nothing but desert after that hearty supper of frogs that Reed promised to them all, and it presented an even bigger conundrum.
Jaime didn't think of Cersei for weeks now. He didn't send ravens, he didn't even consider sending a message, because he didn't think of her, at all. Knowing Cersei, she knew what was going on anyways. She surely wouldn't have relied on Jaime spying for her. And in that case, Jaime was certain that Cersei cursed him by now. He should've left Winterfell when he could, when Jon Snow declared who he was, Jaime should've declared it as Jon siding with Daenerys, which in effect it was – albeit without any force that was certain. One man, but Jon Snow wasn't just any man. He could mobilise anyone to fight beside him, Jaime could tell. Damn, the man was inspiring, the Lions adored him. That is until he revealed who he was, by now they feared him just as much – but they still adored him, they looked up to him, they were proud to follow him.
The conundrum was that Jaime felt the same. Jon Snow proved to be talented enough to undo many years of being a Lannister, and untie many chains that name bound him with. He felt that he could stand straight once more, fighting this war meant much more than gaining victory. It meant gaining back his honour, as a knight and as a man. And Jaime liked that. He liked who this war turned him to be.
But was it really the war itself? He couldn't call it happiness, being by Cersei's side. Not after he learned what she's done. She blew up the sept, thousands of innocents died. Jaime used to wonder how many of those whose lives he saved by stabbing Mad Aerys in the back have lost their lives at Cersei's doing. He couldn't settle it with himself. No, it wasn't happiness. It was acceptance, of something he could not change, of the fact that he could not turn back time and take them on a different course. He could not save Myrcella, and he could not save Tommen either, and if he thought long enough about it, he could place the blame on Cersei. It was harder in Myrcella's case, she died for being a Lannister, used as a pawn to declare war between Martells – Sands, not Martells – and Lannisters. But if Cersei wasn't so hellbent on Tyrion gaining a death sentence, if she didn't corner that stupid whore whatever her name was, if she didn't conspire with their father, then perhaps the Red Viper could've been saved. True, Oberyn came to Kings Landing then to deal with it, but perhaps for once the Lannisters should've acknowledged that they weren't alone in the world, that the rest of the people who didn't bear the name weren't sheep – they were beasts, whose opinions were concerning the Lions, after all, had the Lions not live and die in a cloud of denial and conviction of their own invincibility. No, Cersei herself could've saved Myrcella, if she only had any humanity in her. As for Tommen, Cersei didn't push him out of the window – but it was as good as if she did. Tommen was good, he was innocent, he was nothing like Cersei. And Tommen was smarter than he looked, Jaime could tell. Tommen knew to curb his mother's lust for power and tried what he could to do just that. Tommen didn't want to live with the defeat and the loss, and the knowledge that his mother could never be curtailed in her quest for power. Yes, that was Cersei's fault, Cersei and her undying quest to be on the top of the world. It must be very lonely at the top, Jaime thought, for he knew he didn't want to join her there.
He was given three days once the war is won. What would he do with it? He felt responsible for his men, he would give them the choice to decide. Perhaps he'd ask to be sent to the wall. He chuckled – there was no Nights Watch anymore, Edd Tollett and whatever few dozen remained were in this very camp somewhere. Perhaps he'd book a ship to Essos and would never return, but that option rang too foreign. He was a Westerosi, and he knew himself enough to know that he'd not make anything of himself but a beggar in Essos, he was proud enough not to choose that life. Perhaps he'd ask the Queen in the North for protection, but it'd be futile. Sansa Stark suffered at the hand s of Lannisters, and even if she didn't, she mad her intentions of closing off the North from the upcoming war very clear. Harbouring a Lannister in the North would defeat her purpose, without question, it'd give Daenerys reason to attack the North if it came to it. Jaime had nowhere to go. And nothing to lose, he thought bitterly. Thank you, father, Jaime remarked to himself. Thank you, Cersei.
"Ser," Jaime almost jumped at the sound of a voice behind him. He didn't realise that he stopped in his walk, on the camp perimeter, staring into the distance south. The marshlands of the Neck.
"Edric," Jaime recognised the man, "forgive me, Lord Edric. Your Queen made you a lord. That was smart, doing that just before you lost your king, bind you to the North without him."
"Aye, I thought the same," Edric nodded.
"How is the leg," Jaime asked nonchalantly.
"It's not the leg that bothers me, I can fight and limp. It's the cut right here," he placed his hand just where his left leg met his torso, "I can't fuck without a cock. So yea, that's a bother. Let's hope this war is won swiftly for I mean to figure out whether I still have use of women."
"This war will be won swiftly," Jaime remarked, "The fight at White Harbor lowered the numbers of the dead enough for that. They'll lose a few more thousands in the marshlands, I presume there'll be a pitched battle to end it. I doubt the northerners would march further south than the Trident either way."
"What about the next war," Edric asked and Jaime chuckled at the question.
"We didn't bring much to this war, did we?" He answered with his own question, "I knew it as soon as I saw the fifteen thousand behind Jon Snow at the Twins. I kept wondering why we were here."
"You brought more than you know," Edric said, "You brought your name. That helped your sister, thanks to you the North doesn't despise her as much as they would otherwise. But you also brought yourself, and thousands of men, who fought beside northmen. Do you remember the old Flint? How he spoke about wolves and lions marching, that he could've never imagined it until he saw it. That's what you brought."
"Unity," Jaime remarked, "It's a wonderful concept. I doubt it's achievable in the long term. I doubted it being achievable at all, but Jon Snow proved me wrong."
"Jon Snow of House Targaryen," Edric remarked lowly, more to himself than a correction.
"That must be a blow for you," Jaime said with an understanding smile, "For me, it's merely entertainment. But for you it's an identity crisis. You swore yourself on your knees to Jon Snow in front of your whole army, of all our armies, and declared him to be the greatest king that ever was."
Edric took a deep breath. "It's a bit of a conundrum."
"A bit of one," Jaime nodded, "Certainly smaller than mine. You see, I am here fighting when I should've left the North as soon as he declared himself a Targaryen, and I have my sister on the Iron Throne. The North would never accept her, the North that I fight for quite gladly if I am honest. Daenerys Targaryen is itching to remove her. And…" he sighed, not wanting to finish the sentence.
"And?" Edric turned toward him, "and she is your lover, I heard you say before."
"And she is carrying my child." Jaime finished his sentence softly, "No, she WAS my lover. Once, for long, but not anymore. Not after what she's done."
"It always struck me," Edric said, "Women. We think ourselves invincible with our swords and lances, but no man would do things as despicable as a woman can do. Women are the end of us."
Jaime chuckled. "They certainly are."
"If she is with child," Edric said softly, "Would you not want to save her?"
"Save Cersei?" Jaime laughed painfully, "No one can save Cersei. It took me years to accept it, perhaps if we could turn back the time to when we were mere babes and be raised by Ned Stark as his bastards. Even then, Cersei would lust for power, it's in her core. She's evil. So many people told me, the Queen of Thorns told me, and it took me a march through the north and back and battles against dead men to see it."
"The child is innocent," Edric pointed out, "You've had three children if the rumours are true, were they as vile as your sister? If you don't mind me asking."
"Do you have children?" Jaime asked.
"None," Edric shook his head, "The one I had was born still, killed his mother in the birthing bed. See, I would have use of a functioning cock now that I am made a lord."
"And you should," Jaime remarked kindly, "For there is no better reward in this life. You watch them grow, and you wonder what they'll make of themselves and you try to teach them not to make your mistakes. Yet they aren't like you at all, they are their own, with their own personalities and they keep surprising you."
"Joffrey was a monster. As if everything bad in Cersei and my father and all Lannisters through the ages was united in him. I cannot sugar-coat it, he enjoyed torturing people. He enjoyed torturing Sansa Stark. When he died, I was still heartbroken, knowing that he deserved it, that it was inevitable, it didn't ease it at all. Myrcella was… she was beautiful. She grew into this beautiful lady, when I saw her in Dorne I couldn't believe my eyes. And she grew smart. I wish she lived, she deserved a chance, but it was taken from her. By Cersei, by my father. Same for Tommen, too naïve to be a match for his own mother, brave enough to end it before it swallowed him wholly. It's ironic how I was just thinking of them when you approached me, my Lord."
"I too wish your son lived," Edric said, "I hear your sister rules after him. It'd be much easier with a weak king if you don't mind me saying. There'd be a lesser threat of war. And your daughter, perhaps if she lived she would be helping you now. Tying Dorne into you, instead of the Dragon Queen."
"And where would I be tying Dorne too?" Jaime asked. It became clear, this conversation had a purpose beyond pleasantries.
"That I cannot tell," Edric said, "I don't see your mind. I can only tell that returning to your sister isn't high on your list of priorities. You can't turn North; my Queen made that clear. You can't turn South; your own mad Queen surely wouldn't welcome you back after staying away for so long. Seems to me there is nowhere for you to turn. I can emphasize with that."
"Sometimes the amount of insight in you surprises me, my Lord," Jaime said. "So, you see why Jon Snow being a Targaryen is of little significance to me."
"Perhaps it is of more significance to you than anything else, Ser Jaime," Edric said with a slight grin.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Your sister's days on the Iron Throne are numbered, you know that. If the Dragon Queen takes the throne, you'll have nowhere to go. It seems to me that unless you mean to die in this war, which I hope you don't, you need to find a better candidate."
Jaime looked lengthily into the distance.
"He surrendered his claim," he whispered.
"Aye, he did," Edric responded, "I'm told he's that kind of fool, likes to sacrifice himself."
"There's nothing to do about it then," Jaime said resolutely.
"I've also spoken to the Lord Commander and the Tarly boy about him." Edric began to explain, "Did you know he tried to silence Sam Tarly during the election that made him Lord Commander? He didn't want it. Then he was elected, and he took it. He was elected because he led them when the wildlings attacked the wall. He led a group North to deal with some mutineers as well."
"He is good at leading, that much is true," Jaime nodded, "Men follow him, because he inspires them. He gives them purpose."
Edric smiled, "That is what my Queen said, he gives men purpose. They named him King above her, and she told me he offered her the crown, but she refused it. I don't think he wants power, not at all. Which is what inspires people I believe. Just think of how uncomfortable he looked when I called him the greatest king that ever was."
"I often thought of that," Jaime said smiling, "That you may have spoken truly in that bosting show."
"Aye, it was a show," Edric grinned, "But I meant it."
"He's a Targaryen," Jaime pointed out, "He cannot be your king, cannot be king of an Independent North."
"No, he cannot, but I am not talking about the North," Edric said, "I am talking about the bloody Seven Kingdoms. He's the rightful heir."
"And the one without two dragons and thirty thousand men," Jaime remarked, "Besides, Seven Kingdoms would include the North. There goes your independence, what you came back to Westeros for."
"I've not figured that out yet," Edric said, "I'm not a fucking politician. But I know he would be a better choice on that Gods Damned chair of swords, and I know he has a dragon."
Jaime looked stunned at Edric.
"Aye, I suspect it," Edric explained, "Dragons chose their rider do they not? The green one had no rider and Ser Davos tells me Jon felt its call. Dragons are intelligent beasts, Ser Jaime. This one broke formation to save Jon Snow at the lake. He burned thousands of wights at White Harbor, and just as I walked toward you, I saw Jon sitting with the dragon."
"This doesn't mean the dragon would fight its mother, my lord," Jaime pointed out the obvious.
"No, it does not, but if his mother would turn against his rider, what would the dragon do?" Edric took a deep breath. "I am sure of it, I watched him with the dragon and I am sure of it. Which is why I am speaking to you."
"I presume you'll arrive at the point of this conversation now," Jaime laughed.
"You knew the point of this conversation already," Edric laughed with Ser Jaime, "You knew it as soon as you mentioned the sight of my forces at the Twins. I swore an oath outside White Harbor and I swore it again outside Winterfell."
"It seemed to me in Winterfell that you were ready to forsake that vow," Jaime said.
"Aye, I'm one prone to blindness by my anger," Edric said lowly.
"What made you change your mind?"
"My Queen opened my eyes," Edric whispered, "let's just say I needed a reminder."
"You mean to serve the White Wolf," Ser Jaime said. "Why telling me? Why not telling him?"
"Because he forbade any action against his agreement with the Dragon Queen," Edric said, "And yet, I cannot find a man who is willing to go along. I presume that you aren't willing either. I mean to offer you a different choice."
"And you have the authority to offer me a choice," Jaime asked suspiciously.
"No, I don't," Edric chuckled, "I merely act on my own accord, and my Queen has no knowledge of it, truly. But I also command the largest force in the North. You see Ser Jaime, I could turn you in, and you could turn me in. We both would be burned alive I reckon. But if you mean to take that risk, I will take it with you. I've seen you fight, you don't want to fight for your sister. You would want to fight for Jon Snow. Think on it, Ser Jaime, and give me your answer when you have one."
Edric turned and limped away, and Jaime watched. He tried to reason what just transpired between them. Suddenly, it came to him. He had an answer.
"My Lord," Jaime called out and Edric turned, grinning. Of course, he knew.
"Don't say it," Jaime murmured as he reached him. "What is your plan, and what is my role in it."
"I have no plan," Edric said, stunning Jaime. "Not yet. But it seems to me that we are outnumbered. We better begin to gather forces behind us, as any plan would require. And I mean to keep the Lions close, when the dead are defeated."
"You cannot offer us northern protection," Jaime hissed.
"No, I cannot offer you anything," Edric remarked, "Nothing more but a chance to turn this around, same as what I have. It may fail, we need allies, we need a fighting force first of all. Between us we only have twelve thousand at most. We need more, before we can have a plan."
"Who do you have in mind," Jaime asked curiously, "It seems to me that there aren't many allies to recruit."
"The Tarly boy, he's the heir of Horne Hill. Does your sister command his men?"
Jaime shook his head, "No but the bulk of their forces were at the Blackwater Rush. This said, Randyll Tarly had a good military mind, I doubt that five thousand is the most he could muster, or that he would've so easily declared for my sister with all his might."
"That is good then," Edric said, "See, you already have a role. So does the Tarly boy, and he has no love for the Dragon Queen."
"It won't be enough," Jaime pointed out.
"No, it won't," Edric agreed. "It's a start." He glanced up in the sky, the treeline close to them. "My next choice won't need much explaining either," he said lowly, looking straight up a tree. Jaime turned.
The raven took flight, circling above their heads.
"I just hope he's trustworthy," Edric declared clearly, "After all, this is what he hoped to achieve is it not?" The raven flew away.
"You knew it was there all along," Jaime hissed.
"No, I did not," Edric said, "I merely noticed as I turned after you called after me. But it's true. Lord Reed would've never wanted Jon to give up his claim. He wants to see him on the Iron Throne."