2.1 EXT: INN AT THE CROSSROADS – NIGHT

JAIME LANNISTER trots his horse along the Kingsroad, the hood of his cloak pulled low over his face. As he approaches the Inn at the Crossroads he gradually becomes aware of the crowd camped on either side of the road, growing denser the closer he comes to the Inn. Everywhere, dirty and dishevelled commonfolk gather around miserable little fires, huddling together against the cold. JAIME reads the fear and desperation in their eyes and discreetly slides a glove over his golden hand. He climbs down from his horse and leads it towards the stables, but finds these too overflowing with people. The INNKEEP approaches, a crossbow in hand.

INNKEEP

If you’re looking for a bed the going rate is ten gold pieces. Something hot in your belly will cost you another five.

JAIME

Fifteen gold pieces, are you mad?

INNKEEP

Twenty if you want to keep that horse in your room.

JAIME

Why would I want to do that?

INNKEEP

Leave it out here it’s like as not to end up in someone’s stew.

JAIME

I’ll just take some bread. And a skin of wine, if you’ve got it.

INNKEEP [CALLING]

Boy!

As they wait, the INNKEEP notices JAIME side-eyeing her crossbow.

INNKEEP [CONT’D]

We’ve had some trouble with bandits passing through. Could be there’s some work for you here, if you know how to swing that sword.

JAIME

Just the bread and wine, thank you.

INNKEEP

Please yourself.

The subject of the INKEEP’s call emerges from the inn. HOT PIE hands JAIME a skin of wine and a loaf of bread from a sack he carries over his shoulder. JAIME hands the INNKEEP her coins; she eyes them suspiciously then returns to the inn. JAIME takes a bite of the bread, then looks at HOT PIE accusingly.

HOT PIE

It’s not good, I know. We ran out of salt a week ago, and she makes me add water to the dough so it’ll stretch further. Criminal, it is.

JAIME

Where are all these people coming from?

HOT PIE

Everywhere. The Queen’s men picked the country dry of food and took it to King’s Landing for the war effort. Then the bandits come and burned everything down ‘cos…well, ‘cos they’re bandits I suppose, and there’s nobody left to stop ‘em. Martells, Freys, Baratheons, Boltons: they’re all gone. There’s plenty come out the woodwork to fight over the scraps, though. Half of ‘em’s as bad as the bandits: taking whatever they want, forcing men to fight for ‘em and killing them that won’t.

JAIME

What do they think they’re going to find out here?

HOT PIE

Them’s from the south is going north, them’s that from north of here is headed south. I try and tell them it’s the same everywhere, but nobody listens.

INNKEEP [FROM THE INN]

Boy!

HOT PIE

I’d better get back. Sorry again about the bread.

JAIME packs away his bread and wine, climbs back up on his horse, and continues on his way.

INTRO

2.2 INT: DAENERYS’S CHAMBERS – DAY

DAENERYS’ inner circle watches their queen with anxious expressions. She stands at the fireplace, her back to the room, watching the flames intently.

S.E: fire crackling.

DAENERYS

It was hard enough seeing him die, hearing his scream of pain, watching him sink beneath the ice…but to know he’s under the Night’s King control? The one consolation of death should be a peaceful slumber free of hardship and pain, surely?

GREY WORM

We will see that your child is given the peace he deserves, my queen.

DAENERYS turns away from the fire.

DAENERYS

Have you and Ser Jorah completed your survey?

GREY WORM

I am ready to make my report.

DAENERYS

And Ser Jorah?

GREY WORM

I do not know. I have not seen him since we first arrive.

VARYS

Your Grace, forgive me, but I hoped we might discuss this plan to -

DAENERYS [INTERRUPTING]

You hoped in vain, Lord Varys. I have made my decision.

VARYS flashes TYRION a look of exasperation and entreaty and receives a beleaguered sigh in reluctant response.

TYRION [SIGHING; RELUCTANTLY]

In the spirit of full disclosure, I would like it known that I agree with Lord Varys on this point. Without your dragons, we do not stand a chance of holding back the army of the dead.

DAENERYS

And with my dragons?

TYRION

Little, but not less.

DAENERYS

It is curious to hear you arguing against the gathering of intelligence when you have always promoted your own as the quality that most recommended you to my service.

TYRION

There are many different kinds of intelligence. I consider mine more of a dry wit, while the kind you have in mind is –

DAENERYS [INTERRUPTING]

The kind that could have alerted us to your brother’s march from Casterly Rock and prevented the loss of Highgarden?

VARYS

Your Grace, if I may inter -

DAENERYS [INTERRUPTING]

Or the kind that could have anticipated Euron Greyjoy’s attack and saved our fleet from sinking to the bottom of the Narrow Sea?

TYRION

Mistakes have been made, I cannot deny that, but we have always provided you the very best counsel we could.

DAENERYS

My point exactly. The efficacy of my advisors is limited by the quantity and quality of the information available to them. And lately your limitations have been all too apparent. The matter is closed.

TYRION

As you say, Your Grace.

2.3 INT: GREAT HALL OF WINTERFELL – DAY

Having finished their debrief with JON, TORMUND and BERIC depart. As he readies himself to follow, the shadows in the Great Hall shift slightly, and JON discovers he’s not alone after all. ARYA has emerged from the shadows across the room from her brother.

ARYA

Since when did you ride dragons?

JON

Since when were you an expert assassin?

ARYA practically flinches, her worst fears seemingly confirmed.

ARYA

You’ve spoken to Sansa. How much did she tell you?

JON

Not much. Some. Enough.

ARYA

Everything I’ve done…I only did what I had to to survive.

JON

That’s not true. You could have taken vows in a convent down in Dorne and survived. You could have married some farmhand across the Narrow Sea and survived. Things happened to Bran to make him who he is now. Things happened to Sansa to make her who she is now. You’re Arya Stark of Winterfell, because that’s exactly who you chose to be.

ARYA

You don’t know Arya Stark. Not anymore.

JON

Yes, I do. I’d recognise her sword anywhere.

They both look down at Needle where it sits on ARYA’s hip.

ARYA

Her brother gave it to her. A brother she’s missed so much it hurt.

JON

He missed you too.

S.E: ARYA runs to JON and they embrace.

2.4 EXT: WINTERFELL’S YARD – DAY

S.E: swords clashing

LYANNA drills with sword and shield against a man of House Mormont, a circle of soldiers watching her progress. The Lady of Bear Island is a fierce fighter, but the limitations of her slight statue are all too obvious. JORAH quietly joins the onlookers, watches LYANNA struggle to swing her sword.

JORAH

You need a finer blade, my Lady.

LYANNA waves her drill partner to a stop and considers her steel.

LYANNA

My master-at-arms says I may be small, but there’s no reason my sword should be likewise.

JORAH

Your size is your strength. You can strike quickly and dance away before your larger opponent can find his range. But not if your sword is weighing you down.

LYANNA mulls this over, then dismisses her man with a nod. She walks to the sword rack beside JORAH and begins to test the weight of several smaller blades.

LYANNA

If this is what I think it is, let me save you the indignity of asking: there’s no place for you on Bear Island.

JORAH [CRESTFALLEN]

It’s my home.

LYANNA [VERGING ON ANGER]

My uncle – your father – served twenty years as Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. My mother fought every battle for Robb Stark, and died defending him at the Red Wedding. I am the youngest head – man or woman – in the long and proud history of our House. And yet when people hear the name “Mormont” they think of you, the Mormont that traded men like cattle. The dishonour and shame you attached to our name will linger for generations. So don’t stand there and presume to name Bear Island “home”. That’s a privilege you surrendered the day you sold your honour for a bag of silver.

JORAH

It was one mistake. Can I never find forgiveness?

LYANNA settles on a new, lighter blade. She turns to leave, making it clear the conversation is over.

LYANNA

I’m only the Lady of Bear Island. Beyond that, it’s no concern of mine where you look.

S.E: sword being sheathed.

LYANNA [CONT’D]

Thank you for your advice, cousin.

2.5 INT: BRAN’S CHAMBERS – DAY

S.E. knocking.

TYRION

Bran?

S.E. knocking.

TYRION [CONT’D]

Bran? May I come in?

S.E. door opening slowly.

Peering round the door, TYRION finds BRAN sitting in his chair by the fire, his back to TYRION. He walks around BRAN until they are face to face. BRAN’s eyes are open, but misted over.

2.6 EXT: SOMEWHERE OVER THE NORTH – NIGHT

A raven flies through the black and snowing sky, its eyes similarly misted over. It swoops down, scanning the ground below. Through the bitter winds and driving snow, the army of the undead trudges on. Stretching for more than a mile, the NIGHT KING’s host advances with a grim, determined gait.

S.E. dragon screech.

Searching in the storm for the source of the ungodly screech, the raven just has time to turn and look into the gaping maw of Viserion before the dragon’s jaws snap shut and condemn the bird to darkness.

2.7 INT: BRAN’S CHAMBERS – NIGHT

BRAN’s eyes demist and he sits forward with a jolt.

TYRION [STARTLED]

Don’t do that to me!

BRAN

Lord Tyrion. I’ve seen the Night King’s army. We have two days until they reach Winterfell.

TYRION

That doesn’t leave Jon and Daenerys much time to search.

BRAN

It will be enough.

TYRION

You…know?

BRAN

I hope. I’m afraid I cannot talk long. I have a search of my own to begin.

TYRION

I understand. I hoped you might spare a few moments first to tell me more about these powers of yours.

BRAN

You’re not the first curious man from King’s Landing to come knocking at my door looking for answers. You are the one I like the most, however.

TYRION receives the compliment with a nod and a smile.

BRAN [CONT’D]

Do you remember when you gave me the plans for a custom saddle, so that I might ride a horse even without the use of my legs?

TYRION

I do.

BRAN

“I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards, and broken things.”

TYRION

A cruel thing to say.

BRAN

“Never forget what you are. Wear it like armour and it can never be used to hurt you.”

TYRION

If all my words are to be repeated back to me, I’m going to have to learn to sound less of a pompous ass.

BRAN

Your words were a small cruelty, your gift a great kindness. One I fully intend to repay some day. What would you like to know?

TYRION

Everything. Or as much as time allows.

BRAN

You may find some of my story somewhat difficult to believe.

TYRION

I saw a reanimated corpse for the first time recently. I saw my first dragon not long before that, more than a century after they supposedly went extinct. As we speak, men made of ice march this way at the head of an undead army. When it comes to the believable, I’ve learned never to underestimate the bounds of my own ignorance.

BRAN

Very well. It all began with the dreams…

2.8 EXT: FIELDS BELOW WINTERFELL’S NORTHERN WALLS – DAY

JORAH crosses the cleared and flattened field beneath Winterfell’s northern walls, his distracted eye running appraisingly over the preparations underway. He finds QHONO supervising the excavation of a defensive trench, a pair of heavy horse-drawn ploughs modified to purpose followed by a team of Dothraki with picks and spades cleaving with difficulty through the frozen ground.

JORAH

Qhono, ray okeo.

[Qhono, my friend].

JORAH receives no reply, and realises QHONO’s attention is distracted. Nearby, a Northern soldier struggles without success to encourage forward progress from a horse harnessed to a wagonload of stone. Despite the Northman’s increasingly-animated exhortations, the horse adamantly refuses to move. QHONO leaves JORAH and approaches the horse and driver.

QHONO

Hrazef athnithar. Darif annithat.

NORTHMAN

You what?

JORAH intercedes to offer a translation.

JORAH

He says –

QHONO [INTERRUPTING]

Good horse. Strong horse. Here…no strong. Here angry.

QHONO calms the horse with one hand, and unbuckles and pulls back the harness of the wagon with the other, revealing an angry red channel where the tough leather strap has rubbed the horse’s flesh bloody and raw. He gestures for the NORTHMAN to inspect the wound.

NORTHMAN

Bloody hell, look at that.

QHONO removes his thick fur coat and inserts it between the harness and the horse and refastens the buckles. At the slightest urging from QHONO, the horse begins its labours once more.

NORTHMAN

I work in the kennels; it’s dogs I know, not horses. I see why they call you people “horselords”, anyhow.

QHONO furrows his brown. Glancing at JORAH, the NORTHMAN awkwardly but earnestly tries his best to express his gratitude.

NORTHMAN [CONT’D]

I. Am. Grateful.

QHONO

I. Am. Qhono.

NORTHMAN

Good to know you, Qhono.

The NORTHMAN beams with a sense of achievement as he pumps QHONO’s hand then hurries after the horse. QHONO returns to his team.

JORAH

You’re learning the common tongue? Yeri ezolat dis lekh?

QHONO

Ah! Yes. I speak. Be here always? Need speak.

JORAH

Always? You’re not returning to Essos? Ayyey yer Essos?

QHONO [INTERUPTING]

Essos. No. Be here. Westeros. Fight for Khaleesi. No Essos. Here.

Distracted once more, QHONO walks away from JORAH to deliver fresh instruction to his men. A forgotten and disconsolate JORAH slopes quietly away.

2.9 INT: GREAT HALL OF WINTERFELL – DAY

The attention of everyone present in the Great Hall is centred upon a large table bearing a map of Winterfell and its surrounds, wooden markers placed appropriately to denote positions of both armies in the coming battle. DAENERYS, TYRION, GREY WORM, and QHONO stand around one side of the table, SANSA, ARYA, DAVOS, TORMUND, BRIENNE, and PODRICK the other. JON stands alone at the third side. BRAN sits in his chair at the last. JON leans close to DAVOS.

JON

I expected Sam to be here.

DAVOS

I haven’t seen him.

Across the table, DAENERYS inclines her head to TYRION. 

DAENERYS [ASIDE TO TYRION]

Have you seen Ser Jorah?

TYRION

Not since this afternoon.

DAENERYS permits herself a brief scowl of displeasure. 

DAENERYS

Let’s begin, shall we?

S.E: door creaking open.

SANSA

Theon! You’re back.

THEON

Lady Sansa. Your Grace. Your Grace.

JON flashes DAENERYS an apology for THEON’s faux pas.

THEON [CONT’D; TO SANSA]

I am. But I don’t come empty-handed.

S.E: footsteps.

DAENERYS

Lady Greyjoy.

DAVOS

Was anyone else hoping he meant a couple thousand soldiers?

YARA

Forgive the intrusion, Your Grace. It’s been a long journey from King’s Landing, but I didn’t think this should wait.

DAENERYS

You have news?

YARA

An offer, actually.

DAENERYS

Is it the same offer you made to me in Meereen?

YARA

I wish it was, Your Grace, but unfortunately I lack both the men and the ships to make any great contribution to your cause. I would still like the Iron Islands, though.

DAENERYS

What would I receive in return for supporting your claim, if not men or ships?

YARA

My crew and I will see your women and children to White Harbour. If you give me the coin, I will buy a ship.

DAENERYS

And do what with it?

YARA

If the stand you’re making here fails, the rest of Westeros won’t be far behind. If Winterfell falls, I will sail your people somewhere safe.

ARYA habitually unreadable face noticeably brightens at this idea.

DAENERYS

I accept your proposal, and on behalf of my people I thank you for it.

YARA

And the Northerners? Will they be joining our little convoy?

SANSA looks unconvinced. She meets THEON’s gaze; he nods reassuringly.

SANSA

They will.

DAENERYS

Then it’s decided. Make your preparations, Lady Greyjoy.

YARA

Thank you, Your Grace.

YARA and THEON turn to exit.

BRAN

Theon. Join us.

Surprised, THEON glances at JON, who doesn’t look best pleased but diplomatically returns his attention to the map. THEON shifts his gaze to SANSA, receives an encouraging smile. THEON nods to YARA and she exits, and THEON joins BRAN at the table.

JON

Alright. I’ve spoken with Grey Worm, and together we’ve taken stock of our numbers, our arms, and the terrain. Let’s start with the good news: weapons. By the time the Night King arrives, we’ll have produced enough weapons tipped with dragon-glass to equip every soldier in our army.

ARYA

What about the bad news?

JON

Numbers: if Bran’s estimates are reliable, we’re outnumbered at least two to one. Not forgetting the Night King himself, an undead dragon, forty or more White Walkers, and half a dozen giants.

TORMUND

Leave the giants to me.

JON

If Hardhome is any indication, we can expect the wights to advance all at once in a single wave. The White Walkers will stay well back, far away from the fighting and beyond the reach of our dragonglass.

SANSA

And the Night King?

JON

We have to assume he’ll be riding Viserion. It’s not only his most powerful weapon, but his best means of assessing our numbers and how we intend to use them.

JON takes a wooden token in the shape of a dragon and places it on the map at the head of the undead army.

S.E: JON placing tokens on the map as he speaks.

JON [CONT’D]

A typical army, with typical objectives, would look to break our lines while maintaining their own, secure an advanced position, attack our flanks, kill or capture our command, and, ultimately, seize control of our stronghold.

DAENERYS

And the Night King’s army?

DAVOS

A little more straightforward: keep throwing bodies at us until our side is as dead as theirs.

JON

Which is why our forces will organise along multiple lines. We’ll keep as many men in reserve as we can, while allowing those at the front plenty of opportunities to fall back. If all the others are overrun, the walls of Winterfell will be our last line of defence.

SANSA

And if they make it over the walls?

JON

If they make it that far the battle is lost, and our only option as fast a retreat as we can manage.

A funereal silence descends.

JON [CONT’D]

Grey Worm will lead the Unsullied at our centre. The Northern army will form up on either side along with the Freefolk, Brienne and Tormund taking command. Ser Jorah will command the cavalry on the left flank, Qhono the right. Overall command will belong to Tyrion.

All eyes turn to TYION, whose own grow twice their size in surprise.

TYRION

I wasn’t aware there were two Tyrion’s in Winterfell.

JON

You’re the smartest man I’ve ever known.

TYRION [INCREDULOUS]

In history and the arts, certainly, and the sciences perhaps, but not how to direct an army. Understanding the distinction between tactics and strategy hardly qualifies me for command.

DAVOS

You equipped yourself well enough in the defence of King’s Landing, if I recall correctly.

GREY WORM

And planned the capture of Casterly Rock.

TYRION

While my brother was on the other side of the country plundering the bounty of Highgarden! And the day was lost on the Blackwater until my father arrived with reinforcements. Every one of your commanders has more valuable experience than I.

JON

We have experience in spades but it’s all going to be down there in the thick of things. We need someone positioned above it all, someone with a cool head and sharp wits who can anticipate and adapt to the enemy and direct that experience where it can do the most damage.

DAVOS

Someone that’s spent a lifetime fighting from a disadvantage, who can recognise an opening in the defences of a bigger and stronger opponent and strike a killing blow without baring his own belly any longer than strictly necessary.

JON

Or do you really think you’d serve our cause better hundreds of miles away on the road to White Harbour with the women and children?

TYRION

We can find a reasonable middle-ground, surely?!

JON

Is there anyone here that doubts Lord Tyrion’s competence to command?

TORMUND [SHEEPISHLY, AFTER A PAUSE]

I only met him a few hours ago…

TYRION

Your Grace? Surely you have something to say about this?

DAENERYS [AFTER A PAUSE]

Jon has the battlefield experience, and he believes you’re up to the task. I’m not going to disagree.

JON

Then it’s settled: Tyrion will command the field from Winterfell’s battlements.

ARYA

What about me?

DAVOS

There’ll be plenty of room in the wagons for White Harbour. You’ll be safe with Lady Greyjoy.

ARYA [INDIGNANT]

You can’t be serious?! I’m a better fighter than any of you!

GREY WORM

The battlefield is no place for a lady.

ARYA

I don’t believe this! You’ll let an up-jumped squire and a fat librarian fight but send the best soldier you’ve got to hide away with the women and children! If I was a man –

JON [INTERRUPTING]

Arya. They’re having fun with you. Of course you’re going to be there.

ARYA

Oh. Well then. Good.

TYRION

Jon and I have already discussed how to deploy your particular talents to our greatest advantage. I should have known then that I was about to be ambushed with command.

JON [APPRECIATIVE]

Smartest man I’ve ever known.

SANSA

What about the terrain? How do we best utilise Winterfell?

JON

You’re not going to like it.

SANSA

I’ve liked very little of late. Why should this be any different?

JON

Tyrion, as it was your idea, I think you should explain it to Sansa.

TYRION [SARCASTICLY]

Thank you, Lord Snow.

TYRION [CONT’D]

The one advantage we have over the Night King is that we have control of the field. We need to exploit that advantage: slow their advance, dictate their movement, and keep them within the field of fire from our trebuchets for as long as possible. We need walls to create a bottle-neck, and forward bunkers to provide cover for our archers…

SANSA

Alright…

JON

The nearest quarry is two days’ ride from here.

ARYA

So where are we going to get the stone?

TYRION

From Winterfell herself. The guard’s hall, the kitchens, the library…

SANSA [INTERRUPTING]

Absolutely not.

JON

Sansa –

SANSA (INTERRUPTING)

I won’t allow you to tear Winterfell apart.

JON

They do nothing for us inside the walls. Outside the walls, we can use them to shape the field in our favour.

SANSA

I said “no”.

TYRION

It can all be rebuilt, Sansa, but only if there’s anybody left alive to do it.

SANSA

It’s about more than just mortar and stone. This is my home. This has been home to generations of Starks before me.

JON

I may only be half a Stark, but this was my home every bit as much as it was yours.

SANSA

I didn’t mean –

JON (INTERRUPTING)

It doesn’t matter, Sansa! None of it matters! History, homes, family… if we don’t defeat the Night King it’s as though none of this ever existed. These buildings will provide us the stones we need, and the trees in the Godswood will provide us the hardwood –

SANSA (INTERRUPTING)

You want to cut down the Godswood too? The weirwood tree is even older than Winterfell. It was here before the Andals sailed to Westeros. Before the Wall was built. It was here the last time the White Walkers came south. It didn’t survive the Long Night just to be cut down for kindling now.

JON

The wood you’ve already gathered is fine for arrows and the stake-lined trenches, but it’s not strong enough for the trebuchets. We need hardwood, and the next nearest supply is a day’s ride past Torrhen’s Square.

SANSA

Then fly your dragon south and fetch it!

DAENERYS [COLDLY]

My dragons are not dogs. They do not play “fetch”, no matter how big the stick.

JON

Arya? This is your home too; you should have a say.

ARYA [AFTER A PAUSE]

Sansa is head of this family. I support whatever decision she makes.

JON

Bran?

BRAN

The weirwood tree has watched over this family for ten thousand years. My namesake Brandon the Builder raised this castle around it. It is the heart of Winterfell.

JON

I thought perhaps you’d seen too much to still be so sentimental.

BRAN

I’ve seen more of Westeros’s history than any man alive. And always, whatever the age, the weirwoods were there. Winterfell’s weirwood was the very tree the Children of the Forest used in the ritual that created the Night King. I don’t claim to understand all the mysteries of the world, but whatever the answer might be I do know those trees can get us as close as we might ever come. 

All eyes turn to SANSA. She studies BRAN, shares a silent exchange with ARYA.

SANSA

Fine. You can tear it all down. You can cut down the Godswood. But the weirwood tree is not to be touched.

2.10 INT: WINTERFELL’S FORGE – DAY

The air in Winterfell’s forge is hot as the Seven Hells, and the noise twice as cacophonous. Every anvil is occupied, the small cadre of blacksmiths overseeing two dozen layman impressed into service by the demands of the Northern war machine. A second team works to carve the ingots of raw dragonglass into shape, a third to smelt the iron and affix the dragonglass to the freshly-crafted weapons. JORAH enters, blanching at the heat that buffets his face and immediately draws a crown of sweat from his scalp. He finds BERIC hammering away at a white-hot strip of steel under the critical eye of GENDRY.

BERIC [BREATHING HARD]

Ser Jorah! Come to watch an old dog learn a new trick?

GENDRY

Concentrate!

BERIC accepts his scolding with a nod and turns his attention back to his labours. From across the room, the HOUND roars in frustration, his latest attempt at forging a sword shattered in half beneath his hammer.

HOUND

Argh! Gendry! I’ve fucked another one!

GENDRY (WALKING OVER; SCOLDING)

Because you keep wailing away at it! How many times do I have to tell you, it’s not about brute force!

JORAH

Most commonfolk will tell you that lords aren’t capable of sweating, so rarely do the highborn lower themselves to labour beside their people.

BERIC

I’ve spent the last year living the brigand’s life, fighting every day just to survive, and still, I must confess, it seems a charmed existence next to a single hour stood at this anvil. I’ve discovered a whole new respect for young lord Gendry and his smithying skills.

GENDRY [IMPATIENT]

I’m flattered, but you’re going to have to start all over again if you don’t keep at that steel.

BERIC

My apologies, lad.

BERIC returns to work. JORAH shuffles his feet awkwardly, reluctant yet compelled to carry through on his purpose for seeking out the Lightening Lord.

JORAH

It must have had its moments, life with the Brotherhood. Riding beside your brothers, living off the land, sleeping beneath the stars. Fighting for a cause you believed in, a cause that made you feel proud.

BERIC

The reality is far less romantic than the legend, old friend. Everyday is a struggle: there’s never enough to eat, your feet are somehow always wet even in the driest weather, and every second person you meet either tries to kill you our sell you out to someone that does.

GENDRY

Here, give me that!

His patience exhausted, GENDRY snatches the hammer and tongs from BERIC and shoulders him away from the anvil.

GENDRY [CONT’D]

Just go. Come back when you’re ready put in a shift, my Lord.

BERIC sighs and steps away, wiping his soot-blackened face with the cloth of his sweat-soaked shirt.

BERIC

No, it’s a young man’s game, adventuring. Old men like you and me should be sleeping in soft beds beside softer women, with a roof over our heads and a hot meal in our big unsightly belly. Not something you’ll need to worry about, though: should you survive the war to come, I should think a life at the Queen’s right hand with bring you all the comforts you could possibly need in your coming dotage, aye you Old Bear?

JORAH managed to summon an unconvincing smile and his friend’s solicitous slap on the shoulder, but only the flickering light of the forge’s many fires prevent BERIC from reading the expression of quiet desperation on JORAH’s face.

2.11 INT: TYRION’S CHAMBERS – NIGHT

In Tyrion’s chambers, VARYS and DAVOS sit on either side of the fire. TYRION refills their cups from a jug of warmed wine sprinkled with cloves.

TYRION

We’ve been talking for several hours now, and as delightful as the company is, I’m quickly approaching the age at which a man pays a heavy price for every hour of sleep he foregoes.

VARYS

Do you intend to reach that age right here in this very room? Because if so I shall need a comfier chair.

DAVOS

If I really try I can just about remember that age. Let’s get to the meat of it, then, shall we?

TYRION

Daenerys is young, beautiful, and unwed. Jon Snow is young, beautiful, and unwed. The first and second shall resolve themselves in time, but perhaps we can intervene to decide the third in a timelier fashion.

                            DAVOS     

You propose a marriage.

TYRION

I do. Assuming we all survive the coming battle, once Daenerys has overthrown Cersei the first priority of her reign will be restoring the Seven Kingdoms to a place of peace and harmony.

DAVOS

I’ll look forward to it. I always enjoy visiting places I’ve never been.

TYRION

There will be a period of adjustment as the country acclimates to the new order, I admit. Those that supported our cause will be rewarded their share in the spoils of war, while the lords and ladies that opposed us…well, let’s just say we expect there’ll be plenty of room for Daenerys to raise her favourites up in the world. The Crownlands will pass to Daenerys, obviously, while Yara Greyjoy will take her uncle’s place as ruler of the Iron Islands, and I shall inherit the Westerlands as Lord of Casterly Rock. The Riverlands will remain with the Tullys, and Robert Arryn confirmed as Lord of the Vale.

DAVOS

What about the North?

TYRION and VARYS steal a quick glance at one another: the ball is in play.

VARYS

If Daenerys means to marry Jon Snow, then naturally she will need to legitimise him first. As the oldest surviving child of Ned Stark, Winterfell and all its attendant lands and titles – including Wardenship of the North – will pass to him. 

DAVOS

I don’t need Bran Stark’s gift of foresight to tell you: Jon will never go for any plan that involves disinheriting his sister.

TYRION

The titles are just a formality; in practice nothing very much will change. Sansa will remain as Lady of Winterfell, with charge over the day-to-day governance of the North. Jon will serve as Warden in name only; his place will be at Daenerys’ side in King’s Landing.

DAVOS

But any children Sansa should have will also be excluded from the line of inheritance.

TYRION exchanges a seemingly spontaneous yet strategically prearranged look of frustration with VARYS.

TYRION [SIGHING FOR DRAMATIC EFFECT]

I can envision a scenario in which all lands and titles revert back to Sansa and her line upon Jon Snow’s death.

DAVOS

Really? You could convince Daenerys to deny her children control of the North?

TYRION [FEIGNED RELUCTANCE]

If it’s a necessary sacrifice to ensure the smooth transition to her new world, then…yes, I believe I can.

                   DAVOS

If I under –

TYRION [INTERRUPTING]

Assuming, of course, you were willing to mitigate that sacrifice with a reasonable concession of your own.

DAVOS raises an eyebrow.

TYRION

In return for placing Sansa’s rights and claims above those of her own children, Daenerys would ask only that Sansa proclaim - loudly and without equivocation, for all the Nothern lords to hear – that she is in full support of Jon’s having bent the knee.

TYRION quickly holds up a hand to forestall DAVOS’ coming interjection.

TYRION [CONT’D]

I know you cannot speak for Sansa. But you can bring your influence to bear upon her brother and, if we can settle these terms in principle now, we can hold off on their practice until a later, less apocalyptic date.   

TYRION watches closely as DAVOS digests his proposal. VARYS feigns nonchalance, studying the wine in his cup.

DAVOS

Then it seems, gentlemen, that we have agreed upon a union binding together the largest and the most powerful of the Seven Kingdoms.

VARYS

A union made all the easier by the happy coincidence that the two parties are actually in love with one another.

TYRION

I believe it was Archmaester Gyldayn, in his unfinished history of the Targaryen kings, that wrote “love in a political marriage is like warm furs in a cold brothel: never essential, always welcome.”

DAVOS

I can’t say I’m familiar with the author nor the experience, but I’m happy to toast to the wisdom of the more worldly.

The three men raise their cups and take a long drink.

DAVOS [CONT’D]

I always suspected the world turned according to the decisions of a handful of men in dimly-lit backrooms, but I never imagined I’d be one of them.

VARYS

It’s the people we serve that make the decisions, Ser Davos. We are merely the humble few, that do what we can to steer them true.

DAVOS

A scholar, a poet, and a smuggler: a brain trust for the ages?

TYRION

Or the set-up to a bad joke.

DAVOS

Only time will tell which.

TYRION

I’ll toast to that!

They raise their glasses and toast again. TYRION and VARYS sharing a covert look of satisfaction at a job well done, and a rich return on the false coin with which they traded.

2.12 EXT: WINTERFELL BATTLEMENTS – NIGHT

SANSA stands alone on the battlements, looking out over the vast camp below. Thousands of tents stretch off into the distance, the sound of several hundred conversations drifting up from their campfires.

S.E: approaching footsteps.

SANSA

Your Grace.

DAENERYS

I hope I’m not disturbing you.

SANSA

Not at all. I trust your chambers are to your liking?

DAENERYS

Very much so, thank you.

SANSA

I like to come up here late at night when the rest of the castle is asleep. Everything is so…

DAENERYS [FINISHING SANSA’S THOUGHT]

Still.

SANSA nods, a little surprised at this shared sentiment.

DAENERYS [CONT’D]

I used to do the same thing in Meereen. I’d look down from the top of the Great Pyramid and even though I knew there were tens of thousands of people in the streets below, from so high up it all looked as peaceful as a painting. Seeing so much of the city like that, all contained within a single glance, made everything seem so… 

SANSA [FINISHING DAENERYS’ THOUGHT]

Simple.

SANSA keeps her gaze focused out over the camp. DAENERYS studies her face in profile.

DAENERYS

Is something on your mind, Lady Stark? Besides the obvious, I mean.

SANSA

You see that tent, the one with the white pine tree? That’s the banner of House Mollen. Hollis Mollen is captain of my guards. His little sister Elise was born the same day as Arya. When I was angry, I’d tell Arya she and Elise were swapped in the cradle, and that she wasn’t really a Stark at all. Mother made me stop after she scolded Arya for getting mud on her best dress and Arya ran away to be with her “real” family.

DAENERYS [AMUSED]

          I can understand why!

SANSA

There. That’s House Glenmore of Rillwater Crossing. We once spent an entire summer in the Rills, before Rickon was born. We’d take our buckets down to the shore when the tide was out and search the rockpools for crabs. Robb and Theon would find these little rocks smoothed into balls by the water and convince us they were pellets from slingshots used by the Andals in their wars with the First Men.

DAENERYS

I think I understand: these are your people. You’re afraid of what’s going to happen to them. 

SANSA

That’s the banner of House Mallister. Lord Patrek Mallister is nephew to Jeffory Mallister, one of the four men that rode south with my uncle Brandon to demand Rhaegar Targaryen return his sister Lyanna.

DAENERY’s smile drops and her demeanour chills as she realises where this was all leading.

SANSA [CONT’D]

The Mad King burned three of those men alive, the fourth he let live to tell the rest of the North what traitors to the crown could expect. That was Ethan Glover, great uncle to Lord Robbett Glover. That’s his banner, there. Ethan was killed by Rhaegar’s kingsguard in Dorne, fighting with my father to free Lyanna from the tower Rhaegar was using as her prison.

DAENERYS [ICILY]

I think I take your point, Lady Stark.

SANSA

Do you see the blue banner, with the three buckets? And next to it, the black horse on bronze? They belong to House Wull and House Ryswell. Theo Wull and Ser Mark Ryswell were killed that day, too. Their sons are Lords now: Hugo and Rodrik. They don’t remember their fathers; they were just infants when the rebellion began, after the Mad King murdered my uncle and grandfather and Prince Rhaegar raped and murdered my aunt.

SANSA turns to face DAENERYS.

SANSA [CONT’D]

These are my people, and I’m afraid of what’s going to happen to them.

DAENERYS recognises the resolve flaring in SANSA’s eyes. Her face softens and she takes a step closer to SANSA.

DAENERYS

The crimes my family committed against yours are unforgivable. I arrived in this country bearing a terrible legacy, and I know it will take time for me to prove to the people of Westeros – and to you – that I am neither my father nor my brother. All I ask for is the chance.

Now it’s SANSA’s turn to read the face looking back at her. Like DAENERYS’ own a moment ago, SANSA’s demeanour softens.

SANSA

Jon gave you that chance, and you convinced him. So much so that he gave up his crown.

DAENERYS

I fought for Jon beyond the Wall, and I came here to fight for you, too. For the Wulls, the Glenmores, the Glovers, all of them.

DAENERYS takes SANSA’s hand and places it between her own.

DAENERYS [CONT’D]

I want you and I to be allies, Sansa. I want us to be friends. For Jon’s sake, yes, but most importantly for the sake of the Seven Kingdoms. Together we could do miraculous things, with me as Queen and you as my Warden of the North.

SANSA [AFTER A LONG PAUSE]

I would like that very much, Your Grace.

DAENERYS joins SANSA in looking out over the parapet, and they stand together in silence for a long moment. Finally, she sighs, and turns to leave.

DAENERYS

It’s past time I should be in bed.

SANSA

Tomorrow will be a long day.

DAENERYS

And I don’t want to keep Jon waiting.

DAENERYS walks away, allowing herself the hint of a smirk once her back is turned. SANSA did not miss this last little act of territory-marking, and watches DAENERYS depart with a frosty glare. As soon as DAENERYS is gone, ARYA detaches herself from the shadows not five feet from where DAENERYS just stood.

ARYA

You shouldn’t have tipped your hand like that. Now she knows you don’t trust her.

SANSA

She knew that before we’d even met. Now she knows she’s won me over.

ARYA

After one conversation? Even if she’s fool enough to believe that, Tyrion certainly isn’t.

SANSA

She’ll believe it, because above all else, she believes in herself. And if Tyrion should disagree with her…well, all the better for us.

SANSA reaches into her sleeve and pulls out several inches of an off-white handkerchief bordered with lace. The fabric is stained with several faded drops of blood. SANSA absentmindedly rubs the handkerchief between forefinger and thumb.

SANSA [CONT’D]

Queens, kings, princes…give them what they want, and you save yourself a lot of pain.

ARYA

You’re Lady of Winterfell now, Sansa. I think you can afford a new handkerchief.

SANSA looks at the handkerchief as though someone smuggled it into her hand, and pushes it back into her sleeve. She nods at Needle on ARYA’s hip.

SANSA

You have your reminders. I have mine.

2.13 EXT: FIELD OUTSIDE OF WINTERFELL – NIGHT

JORAH sits on a rocky outcrop within sight of Winterfell, the fires of the Northern camp speckling the darkness on the castle’s far side. The old bear drinks liberally from a wine bottle he cradles like a newborn.

S.E: horse hooves approaching.

JORAH

How’d you find me?

VARYS looks back over his shoulder. A young girl waits at the edge of the field.  

VARYS

Thank you, Lilith, that will be all.

LILITH turns and skips away towards a small stone hut and a flock of sheep crowded together against the cold.

JORAH

Is there nowhere a man can escape the prying eyes of your little birds?

VARYS

We all serve Her Grace as best we know how.

JORAH

Deception and intrigues. Plots and whispers. Always conspiring from the safety of the shadows. There’s no honour in the sort of service you offer.

VARYS

I’m under no illusions to the contrary. Perhaps that’s why I don’t feel the need to drink myself insensible.

JORAH stares at VARYS, but decides against a reply and instead swallow his words with a long draft of wine.

VARYS [CONT’D]

A good vintage at least, I hope?

JORAH holds out the bottle, studies it with disdain.

JORAH

How many times can you water down wine before the word loses all meaning, I wonder? Tell me, spider, did you judge me when I served you as King Robert’s spy?

VARYS

I did not.

JORAH

Not even when I helped you conspire to murder Daenerys’ unborn child?

VARYS

You were neither king nor assassin. You did not give the order nor did you wield the blade.

JORAH

What a simple life it must be, never having to take responsibility for the things you’ve done.

VARYS

Quite the contrary. Kings and queens are rarely called to answer for their sins; it falls to men like me to bear the burden on their behalf. Men of honour invariably buckle beneath the weight.

JORAH smirks ruefully to himself.

JORAH

You thought you were buying my honour with a royal pardon, but I was trading with false coin. I’d already sold my honour for a bag of silver and the love of a grasping woman. There’s nothing left but water for poor Samwell.

VARYS [CONFUSED]

The Tarly boy?

JORAH [WEARILY]

Leave me in peace, spider. I’ve no doubt you and your little birds will know it all before too long, anyway.

VARYS considers a moment, then departs, leaving JORAH alone with his watered-down wine.

2.14 INT: BRAN’S CHAMBERS – NIGHT

S.E: fire crackling.

BRAN sits before the fire. THEON busies himself stoking the flames.

THEON

It felt good. When I got Yara out of King’s Landing, and we made it to her ship, I felt better than I had since…

BRAN

Go on, you can say it.

THEON

Since the day I captured Winterfell. It was the most shameful thing I’ve ever done, but I remember feeling so proud. I’d outsmarted everyone. I’d taken the great Ned Stark’s castle with half-a-dozen arrows and a handful of men. I was putting Yara’s accomplishments to shame. I was going to sail back to Pyke and lay your banners at my father’s feet. I was going to prove to him…I don’t really remember what I was going to prove.

BRAN

Why are you here, Theon?

THEON

I settled one of my debts when I freed Yara. Now I intend to settle the other.

BRAN

You’re here because you think the Gods still have your ledger in the red? After what Ramsay did to you, I don’t think there’s a man in the Seven Kingdoms that wouldn’t agree you’ve been justly punished. You’ve suffered enough to balance the scales for a thousand betrayals.

THEON

What I did to you –

BRAN [INTERRUPTING]

Was cowardly, and dishonourable. But I’ve made my peace with the past; why should you still be defined by it? If it’s guilt keeping you here, then you have my leave to go. I absolve you of your crimes against my family.

THEON

I want to stay because this is my home.

BRAN

No, it’s not. Not really. You were dragged here as a hostage, taken from your family when you were still a boy. But your father’s rebellion is all but forgotten. Your father is dead, and so is mine. Your bonds of obligation were dissolved a long time ago now.

THEON [GRASPING]

You need my help. If you’re going to defeat the Night King –

BRAN [INTERRUPTING]

If we’re going to defeat the Night King it won’t be because we have Theon Greyjoy in our ranks. We already have plenty of excellent archers, and even more below-average swordsmen. If the Night King succeeds here then it won’t be long before the darkness swallows this world whole. Ride south, buy passage to the Free Cities. Make the most of however much time you have left.

THEON [HURT]

Why are you doing this? Why are you pushing me out?

BRAN

Because the time has passed when doing the right thing for the wrong reasons was enough. This war is about more than the stories that led each of us here. If we’re going to defeat the Night King, then our purpose has to be exactly as selfless as our cause.

THEON

I’m staying because I owe you a debt. And because I feel guilty for what I did. And because this is my home, and I want to defend it. And…and because it’s the right thing to do.

BRAN studies THEON’s face. Through the shine of tears, THEON looks right back at him, resolute. Finally, BRAN smiles.

BRAN

Good. I’m glad that’s settled.

2.15 INT: DAENERYS’S CHAMBERS – NIGHT

DAENERYS and JON lie in bed together, DAENERYS’ head on JON’s chest.

DAENERYS

That thing you do with your tongue…

JON

What about it?

DAENERYS

Did someone teach you that? Someone…before me?

JON

Is that really a conversation you want to have?

DAENERYS

I told you about Drogo.

JON

And Darius.

DAENERYS

Daario.

JON

I wish his name wasn’t the only detail I forgot.

DAENERYS rolls away. She climbs out of bed and slips into a robe.

DAENERYS

You should have consulted me before handing Tyrion command.

JON half-smiles to himself, frustrated but not surprised that DAENERYS wants to talk business.

JON

You said the military decisions were mine. You said you trusted my experience.

DAENERYS

It’s not your experience I question. Tyrion’s recent experience has been a string of mistakes.

JON

His brother made a fool of him with Casterly Rock, I’ll grant you that. But he was right to counsel you against attacking King’s Landing.

DAENERYS

If something happens and we don’t make it back in time…do you trust in Tyrion to lead my army?

JON

If this all comes down to just one man on a wall, I don’t think it would matter if we left Aegon the Conqueror himself in command.

DAENERYS

Maybe I made a mistake. Maybe we should stay.

JON

Maybe you should have listened to Tyrion, you mean?

JON smirks at the irony, but DAENERYS is unimpressed.

S.E. knocking.

JON quickly rolls out of bed and hurries to dress. DAENERYS waits until he’s decent then answers the door.

DAENERYS

Ser Jorah?

JORAH

Khaleesi, I…

JORAH sees JON fastening his breeches. Anger, hurt, and resignation pass over his face in quick succession.

JORAH [CONT’D]

I need to speak with you. Alone.

                          DAENERYS

Of course.

JON nods to JORAH as he slips past him and makes his escape down the corridor.

S.E: door closing.

DAENERYS [CONT’D]

I expected your report at our strategy meeting this evening.

DAENERYS notices the slight stagger to JORAH’s gait, recognises the smell of alcohol.

DAENERYS [CONT’D]

Is everything alright, Ser Jorah? You look…out of sorts.

JORAH

Forgive the intrusion, Khaleesi, especially at this late hour, but…there’s something you need to know.

OUTRO