INTRO

8.1 INT: DAENERYS’S CHAMBERS - NIGHT

TYRION sits alone in DAENERYS’s chambers, waiting for his peers to arrive. VARYS enters.

TYRION

Your little birds keeping you busy?

VARYS

Just one, actually.

TYRION

I suppose they told you what happened at supper.

VARYS

I didn’t need my little birds to tell me that. The whole castle is talking about it. Would you describe what she did as the actions of an innocent woman?

TYRION

I’d describe it as the actions of a typical sovereign: forging alliances with men of influence.

VARYS

Men of influence? A bastard blacksmith, a grey-haired onion smuggler, and an illiterate wildling.

TYRION

The last son of an ancient house, the most experienced seaman in the Seven Kingdoms, and the de facto leader of a people.

VARYS

The son of Ned Stark’s best friend, the closest advisor to the King in the North, and the respected-enemy-turned-devoted-brother-in-arms to the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. Don’t act as though you don’t see the design.

TYRION

You think she’s neutralising the men most loyal to Jon Snow. The men around whom a rebellion in his name would most likely rally.

VARYS

Isn’t that exactly the strategy you would have advised? If she actually heeded our counsel, that is?

Before TYRION can answer, the door opens and JORAH enters. He nods his greetings and makes a beeline for the jug of wine on the table.

TYRION

You’ve been uncharacteristically absent lately.

VARYS [ASIDE]

And uncharacteristically lubricated.

JORAH shoots VARYS a death stare.

JORAH [TO VARYS]

Back from your bolthole so soon, Spider?

JORAH [CONT’D, TO TYRION]

I was there when I was needed my Lord Hand. I bear the wounds to prove it. 

The door opens again and GREY WORM enters.

TYRION

Ah, Grey Worm. Missandei not with you?

GREY WORM ignores the question and simply stands at ease awaiting his queen. MISSANDEI enters, practically recoiling at the sight of GREY WORM just inside the doorway.

TYRION [CONT’D]

Here she is!

TYRION notices the iciness between MISSANDEI and GREY WORM. He looks to VARYS, but he can only offer a shrug. Before TYRION can probe any further, DAENERYS enters. Without a word of greeting, she walks to the head of the table and the others all take their seats before her.

DAENERYS

Just a few short hours ago, I stood up in front of all of you, and I gave you a choice. I gave each of you a choice: me, or Jon Snow. Each one of you looked me in the face and swore your loyalty to me. And now one of you has betrayed me.

DAENERYS allows her words to sink in while watching to see whose eyes turn towards whom.

DAENERYS [CONT’D]

One of you went to Sansa Stark and told her the truth about Jon Snow.

TYRION [AFTER A LONG PAUSE]

What makes you so certain Sana knows?

DAENERYS

Everything was agreed: once the Night King’s army was defeated, we would march south and turn our combined strength against Cersei. In the time between my leaving with Jon, and just now when I spoke to Sansa, something changed.

VARYS

A great many things have changed.

TYRION

We can’t be certain it was someone here. Perhaps Sansa learned the truth some other way.

DAENERYS

Sam told Ser Jorah that nobody else knew but him and Bran, and I had men watching them both until the very moment of battle.

Once more, TYRION and VARYS exchange a loaded look: this is news to them.

DAENERYS [CONT’D]

Now Sam is dead and Bran in no condition to talk.

DAENERYS paces across the room and turns to the others, a prosecutor preparing to cross-examine a witness box full of defendants.

DAENERYS [CONT’D]

Someone I trusted has betrayed me, and I want to know who.

DAENERYS stops behind VARYS’ chair.

DAENERYS [CONT’D]

Lord Varys. The Spider. The Master of Whispers. You haven’t agreed with very many of my decisions lately, have you?

VARYS

A fact of which I have made no secret, Your Grace.

DAENERYS

Perhaps you grew tired of your wilful Queen. Perhaps you thought your influence could be better exercised upon a younger, more malleable mistress. Perhaps you parlayed my secrets into a position at Sansa’s right hand. You do have a talent for landing on your feet, after all. Sansa would be your…what…fourth master in as many years?

VISERYS

I have given my service to several masters, but blind allegiance to only one.

DAENERYS

Ah, yes, the realm. That which you esteem above all else, to the exclusion of all others.

VARYS

Another fact of which I have made no secret.

DAENERYS lets VARYS suffer under her scrutiny a moment longer, then moves on down the table.

DAENERYS

Ser Jorah. You betrayed me once already.

JORAH looks up at his queen in surprise; he assumed he was safely on the other side of this interrogation. 

JORAH

You only knew about Jon in the first place because of me. I broke my vow to Samwell to tell you his secret.

DAENERYS

And you have not been sober more than an hour since. I half expected you to ride into battle with a sword in one hand and a skin of Arbor red in the other. Did unburdening yourself to Sansa salve your shame when all the wine in Winterfell could not, I wonder?

JORAH

I never spoke to Sansa Stark. I give you my word, Khaleesi.

DAENERYS

The same word you gave to Samwell?

JORAH flinches, as though physically wounded that DAENERYS would throw this back in his face. DAENERYS leaves him to recover himself.

DAENERYS [CONT’D]

Lord Tyrion. Sansa’s husband.

TYRION

Unconsummated, Your Grace. A political arrangement, entirely against my will. You’re familiar with the concept, I believe.

DAENERYS

But you’ve come to respect her in the years since, no?

TYRION

Respect has always been a fluid commodity, in my experience. You gain respect for some; you lose it for others.

DAENERYS

You had a great deal for Jon, didn’t you?

TYRION

No more than every other man in Winterfell.

DAENERYS

It was you that vouched for Jon when he first came to Dragonstone. He titled himself King in the North. He refused to bend the knee. And still you argued his case.

TYRION

I championed the cause, not the man himself. A position that recent events have more than vindicated, I might add.

DAENERYS

Only a man intimately familiar with failure clings so dearly to a solitary success. Shall I list those failures?

TYRION

I hardly think it necessary; you’ve listed them so often I’m fairly certain we could all recite them backwards at this point.

DAENERYS

Then I’m surely not the only one to notice that every decision you’ve made has benefited your sister far more than it ever has your queen. If there were someone here more suspicious than I, they might even discern a pattern in your decision-making.

TYRION

Is it Sansa I’m secretly in league with, or is it Cersei? It’s hard to keep track.

DAENERYS

Did you betray me?

TYRION

No.

DAENERYS

Did you betray me to Sansa?!

TYRION

No!

DAENERYS

Tell me!

TYRION

I did not betray you!

DAENERYS

I know you -

MISSANDEI

It was me!

The room gapes at MISSANDEI in stunned silence. She stands defiantly, fixing DAENERYS with a steely, unflinching stare. It’s a look so uncharacteristic that it renders her barely recognisable to these, her closest friends.

DAENERYS

          Missandei…

MISSANDEI

It was me. I was the one who betrayed you to Lady Stark.

DAENERYS looks as though her world just tilted off its axis.

DAENERYS

Tell me why.

MISSANDEI

To hurt you. To make you suffer for what you did.

DAENERYS’s face betrays the guilt of the choice she made in the Land of Always Winter.

DAENERYS

What do you mean, what I did?

MISSANDEI

How could you order him to do something like that? Sam was innocent. Bran Stark is innocent.

DAENERYS sense of relief is fleeting.

MISSANDEI [CONT’D]

You know how loyal Torgo Nudho is, that he would do whatever you asked of him. You knew that and you used him. You used him just like Master Kraznys used him.

DAENERYS

I didn’t ask Grey Worm to kill anybody. I can’t believe you would think that of me.

MISSANDEI

I never thought I could. Now…now I wonder what really happened to Jon Snow.

GREY WORM stands too, now. He and MISSANDEI lock eyes.

GREY WORM

She lies to protect me, my queen. It was me. I betrayed you.

DAENERYS looks them both over.

DAENERYS

You murder Sam in cold blood to protect my secret, then go and tell it to Sansa Stark the very next day? No, I don’t think so. Sit down, Torgo Nudho.  

GREY WORM looks to MISSANDEI. She tilts her head, silently imploring him to disobey.

S.E: chair scrape.

GREY WORM hangs his head, unable to bear the look of disappointment and disgust with which MISSANDEI regards him. DAENERYS walks to the fireplace and stares into the flames. Her back safely to the others, she closes her eyes for a moment and brushes away the beginnings of a tear. When her eyes open, she has made her decision. She turns to face MISSANDEI.

DAENERYS [CONT’D]

You will leave Winterfell before dawn. You will leave Westeros before dusk. I don’t care where you go, as long as it’s away from me.

GREY WORM

My Queen…

DAENERYS

It seems you have another choice to make, Torgo Nudho. You can stay with me, or you can leave with her.

GREY WORM looks at MISSANDEI, then at DAENERYS, then back again to MISSANDEI.

8.2 EXT: WINTERFELL’S YARD - NIGHT

VARYS waits beneath the shelter of the portico’s entrance, a burning torch held aloft against the darkness, while MISSANDEI finishes packing her horse. MISSANDEI takes a parcel from her bag and hands it to VARYS. He unfolds the cloth to reveal the book TYRION and SAM asked her to translate.

MISSANDEI

Please return this to Lord Tyrion. Tell him I mistranslated.

VARYS pulls out a loose piece of parchment poking from between the book’s pages, on which MISSANDEI has written her translation.

MISSANDEI (CONT’D)

Remind him that High Valyrian knows no gender.

VARYS nods. He looks up at DAENERYS’ window, sees her looking down.

VARYS

I’m sorry it had to end this way. Truly, I am. You’re not the first she’s banished. And Ser Jorah won’t be the last she forgives.

MISSANDEI

If you really believe I’m the one that needs forgiveness, then you’re as broken as Torgo Nhudo, and you have my pity. Be safe, Lord Varys.

VARYS

And you, my child.

VARYS opens his mouth to speak, but his whispered words are smothered by the rain. He turns back to the castle and finds GREY WORM standing in the portico, watching MISSANDEI pass through Winterfell’s gates and out of his life forever.

8.3 INT: DAENERYS’ CHAMBERS – NIGHT

DAENERYS stands at her window, following MISSANDEI with her eyes as rides away into the night. TYRION remains where he sat, but JORAH is busy helping himself to a cup of wine. TYRION considers DAENERYS, clearly weighing a decision.

TYRION [CHALLENGING]

What did you find?

DAENERYS

What?

TYRION

Inside the Night King’s palace. What did you find there?

DAENERYS

I told you: nothing.

TYRION

Nothing at all? You went all that way, you lost a lover, you lost a dragon, and you really came away with nothing whatsoever to show for it?

DAENERYS [AFTER A LONG PAUSE]

Ser Jorah, let us talk.

DAENERYS looks back to TYRION coldly.

DAENERYS [CONT’D]

Alone, if that wasn’t clear.

TYRION looks as though he’s ready to push the issue, but then dutifully stands, bows, and exits the room. JORAH sits with his cup before the fire. DAENERYS joins him, but not before taking his cup and placing it on the table beyond his reach. She studies the flames.  

DAENERYS [CONT’D]

Jon Snow is dead because of me.

JORAH is suitably shocked. He sits up in his chair, the fog of wine instantly lifted.

DAENERYS [CONT’D]

I had the chance to save him. I was ready to burn every last white to cinders and carry John away…but then I looked at him.

DAENERYS’s gaze settles into the middle distance, a sad smile haunting the corners of her mouth.

DAENERYS [CONT’D]

It was only a heartbeat but it felt like it lasted forever. I saw our entire future together. I saw us defeating the Night King, together. I saw us taking the Iron Throne, together. I saw us on our wedding day. I saw our children, the children I thought I could never have, and I saw Jon and I raising them to be good rulers, of course, but good people, too. Kind and honest and brave and always on the side of the powerless and downtrodden. I saw the Seven Kingdoms united in peace and prosperity. Jon and I would grow old together, proud of the legacy we were leaving behind. I saw it all in that one heartbeat…And then I blinked, and it was gone, and in its place just…a man. A stranger, really. A usurper. Jon had the better claim. The throne was his by all the laws of gods and men. And so, I chose to let him die.

JORAH [AFTER A LONG PAUSE]

Why are you telling me this?

DAENERYS

You once told me I had a gentle heart. Would you say the same today?

JORAH [MOURNFULLY]

No.

DAENERYS

I remember I took such offense when you said it. Now…

JORAH

Gentle hearts belong to frivolous young girls and doting grandmothers. Queens and conquerors can afford no such luxury.

DAENERYS

“Conqueror”. You use that word so casually you’d think it was the name my mother gave to me.

JORAH

The gods decide our destiny, but they brook no passengers along the way: you have to walk that road under your own strength, by your own force: force of arms, yes, but even more so force of will, and neither can be exercised without paying a price sooner or later.

DAENERYS

When I finally sit the Iron Throne, and look back on everything I had to do to get there, will I feel it was all worth it? Will the price be worth paying?

JORAH

I don’t know, Khaleesi. And I don’t think you will, either. Not until you’re there. 

JORAH studies DAENERYS’ face in profile. 

JORAH [CONT’D]

Were you speaking the truth to Tyrion just now? Did you and Jon really not find anything?

DAENERYS stares into the flames, perhaps conjuring to mind the flames in the NIGHT KING’s palace, and the images of her dragons therein.

DAENERYS

It doesn’t matter now: Jon is dead, and the Night King’s army is defeated. None of it matters anymore.

8.4 EXT: WINTERFELL GODSWOOD - NIGHT

ARYA stands alone in the Godswood before one of the few trees that survived the axemen’s blade. Measuring out a dozen paces, she draws a knife from her belt.

ARYA

Ilyn Payne.

S.E: knife buried in wood.

ARYA retrieves the knife from the trunk of the tree and returns to her spot.

ARYA [CONT’D]

The Mountain.

S.E: knife buried in wood; Arya retrieving the knife and returning to her spot.

ARYA [CONT’D]

Cersei Lannister.

S.E: knife buried in wood; Arya retrieving the knife and returning to her spot.

ARYA [CONT’D]

Daenerys Targaryen.

8.5 INT: CERSEI’S CHAMBERS – KING’S LANDING – DAY

In CERSEI’s chambers, EURON stands before a long mirror, watching as a tailor takes his measurements. CERSEI sits nearby, nursing a cup of wine and watching EURON with disinterest. The tailor measures EURON’s waist then makes a note in a little book. EURON steals a glance at what he has written.

EURON

You must have measured wrong.

TAILOR

I measured twice, my Lord.

EURON

Then you measured wrong twice. Do it again.

CERSEI

Perhaps you should cut back a little.

CERSEI sips her wine with a smirk and pretends not to notice EURON’s death stare.

EURON

I thought I told you no more wine except with meals. It’s bad for the baby.

CERSEI plucks a grape from a fruit bowl on the table and eats it.

CERSEI

I couldn’t manage another bite.

EURON [TO TAILOR]

You’ll measure her next.

CERSEI

I don’t need a new dress. Any one of the hundred I already have will serve just fine.

EURON

Nonsense. Every little girl dreams of her wedding day; you should have a dress as grand as that little girl’s imagination.

CERSEI

I already had a wedding day. I married the King of the Seven Kingdoms in Baelor’s Great Sept before every Lord and Lady in the land. I’ve had more than my fill of pageantry, thank you.

EURON [TO THE TAILOR]

You’ll measure her next.

The TAILOR looks panicked, caught between a rock and a hard place, but CERSEI decides to pick her battles and lets the matter drop.

CERSEI

Any news on the Golden Company?

EURON

You mean since this morning, the last time you asked me?

QYBURN enters and bows before CERSEI.

QYBURN

Your Grace, a raven has just arrived.

CERSEI’s demeanour transforms instantly. She sets aside her wine glass.

EURON

Come on, lover, don’t leave us in suspense.

CERSEI glares at EURON then tentatively unfurls the scroll. She reads its contents, then holds it out to EURON.

EURON [READING]

“Dragon Queen triumphant, but your man and my girls have not returned. I fear the worst. Please advise.” What is this, shit poetry? What does it mean?

CERSEI

It means Daenerys is on her way.

EURON

What’s this about “your man”?

CERSEI

It doesn’t concern you.

EURON shrugs and tosses the scroll aside. He returns to admiring himself in the mirror.

CERSEI [CONT’D]

Qyburn, tell her to find out if he’s alive or dead. I don’t care if she has to knock on Winterfell’s door and ask for him herself.

QYBURN bows and exits. CERSEI tops up her cup and takes a long drink.

EURON [MUSING TO HIMSELF]

I’ve seen a lot of extraordinary things in my time at sea, but never a dragon.

The light of inspiration dawns on his face.

EURON [CONT’D; TO TAILOR]

Could you fashion a suit made of dragon skin?

TAILOR [NERVOUSLY]

I don’t know, my Lord.

EURON [HAPPILY]

Maybe I’ll talk to the cobbler, have him make me a smart pair of boots. What the hell: Daenerys has two dragons; I’ll have enough dragonskin for a whole wardrobe!

CERSEI isn’t listening. She stares into the middle-distance, even her wine forgotten.

8.6 EXT: UNSULLIED CAMP – MORNING

GREY WORM stands by supervising as the last of the Unsullied file out of camp and head towards Winterfell for their departure. Once the camp is deserted, he walks the rows of empty tents, performing one last inspection to confirm for himself that his men have left no campfires burning, no supplies unpacked. Turning a corner, he finds the little bird, LILITH, standing in his path.

GREY WORM

What are you doing here?

LILITH

The Spider sent me. I have a message for you.

GREY WORM

Lord Varys? Why does he not give me the message himself? Why does he send you?

LILITH

The Spider fears for his safety. Your Dragon Queen would not be pleased to hear he’s been carrying messages for an exile.  

GREY WORM

Missandei?

LILITH

She waits for you in the Broken Tower. You must be quick, though; she will not be there for long.

LILITH dashes away between the rows. GREY WORM considers for only a moment then sets off at a brisk pace towards Winterfell.

8.7 EXT: WINTERFELL’S YARD – MORNING

The yard is packed with Northmen and Freefolk ready to depart, TORMUND, PODRICK, the HOUND, and BERIC among them. The Unsullied and the mounted Dothraki await their marching orders, their ranks stretching out the gates of Winterfell and along the Kingsroad for a quarter-mile. GENDRY exits the castle into the yard, passing a harried GREY WORM going in the opposite direction.

GENDRY

I can’t find her.

HOUND

I did warn you, you soppy cunt.

BERIC

Have a heart, Clegane.

BERIC puts a hand on GENDRY’s back and gently ushers him across the yard.

BERIC [CONT’D]

Come along, lad, and I’ll tell you the story of my first love.

HOUND

I swear, Dondarrion, if you say it was the Lord of fucking Light…

GENDRY takes one last hopeful look over his shoulder as BERIC and the HOUND escort him through the gates.

8.8 INT: BROKEN TOWER – MORNING

GREY WORM bursts through the door and into the derelict chamber at the top of the Broken Tower.

GREY WORM

Missandei?

He scans the room, but finds it empty. He furrows his brow, performs a hopeless lap of the space. He walks over to the window and looks down at the ranks of Dothraki and his own Unsullied waiting outside Winterfell’s gates. Reluctantly, he turns to leave, but discovers to his surprise that he’s no longer alone. He opens his mouth to speak but before the words can leave his lips a knife flashes across his throat and slices wide his windpipe. GREY WORM clamps his hands around his neck, but he cannot staunch the violent gush of blood that quickly stains his tunic a soggy red claret. He drops to his knees, his face a rictus of surprise and confusion as the last of his life flows between his fingers. GREY WORM collapses forward and dies alone on the cold stone floor.

8.9 EXT: WINTERFELL’S YARD - MORNING

JAIME emerges from the castle and lingers at the edge of the crowd waiting to depart. TYRION interrupts his final instructions to the newly-promoted Unsullied and Dothraki commanders and approaches his brother.

TYRION

You’re coming with us, then?

JAIME

As far as the gates of King’s Landing. I’ll go my own way from there.

TYRION

I notice Sansa didn’t take back her father’s sword.

JAIME looks guiltily at the blade on his hip, knowing his brother is smart enough to infer the reason behind SANSA’s refusal.

TYRION

You’re going to kill her?

TYRION [CONT’D; AFTER A PAUSE]

Even if she carries your child?

JAIME

I need to look her in the eyes. I don’t think I can know for sure until I do.

TYRION looks around to satisfy himself that they are unobserved then takes a step closer.

TYRION

There’s a series of tunnels, under the Red Keep, that lead to the harbour. That’s how I was able to reach the room with the dragon skulls the last time we met. While the battle rages above, you and Cersei can escape below. If you’re quick, you can get in and out before Yara sinks her uncle’s fleet and blockades the Blackwater. Sail to the Free Cities, make a new life together.

JAIME [SURPRISED]

You hate Cersei. You’ve wanted her dead for years.

TYRION

I hated father too, but there hasn’t been a single day since I killed him that I haven’t despised myself for doing it. You’re my big brother, and all my life you were the only one that loved me, that protected me, that didn’t treat me like a monster. I don’t want you to ever know what it feels like to murder your own blood, to spend every day with the cold dead weight of it right in the centre of your chest. Even if that means Cersei escapes the justice she deserves.

JAIME kneels and embraces TYRION. TYRION squeezes back, his eyes shut tight.

JAIME

Thank you, little brother.

From the front of the line, the word to march is passed back and the crowd begins to move. JAIME takes a step then realises TYRION is making no move to follow.

JAIME [CONT’D]

Aren’t you riding with us?

TYRION

I’ll catch up. I have some business to take care of before I can leave.

JAIME lingers, but at a reassuring nod from TYRION he continues on and joins the back of the train. TYRION begins up the steps to the battlements.

8.10 EXT: WINTERFELL BATTLEMENTS – MORNING

DAVOS

…get her into the Red Keep, but they’re never going to let her get close enough to Daenerys to…

Registering TYRION’s presence, DAVOS cuts himself off. He takes a step back from SANSA and attempts a more casual affect.

DAVOS [CONT’D]

I thank you, Lady Stark, and I wish you and your family a long and happy life here at Winterfell.

SANSA

And to you, Ser Davos. On behalf of my brother, I thank you again for your loyal service these past months.

DAVOS bows to SANSA, and moves to the battlement steps. 

DAVOS

Just saying my goodbyes. I’ll see you on the road?

TYRION offers only a terse nod in reply, and follows DAVOS with narrowed eyes as he descends to the yard. SANSA keeps her back to TYRION, watching as the men of the North march away from Winterfell as part of DAENERYS’ army.

SANSA

Shouldn’t you be leaving?

TYRION

I hoped I might be able to broker some kind of peace before I left. I thought perhaps in light of our relationship…

SANSA wheels around to face him.

SANSA [INTERRUPTING]

Did you know? Did you know about Jon?

TYRION [AFTER A LONG PAUSE]

Yes. But only a few days ago.

SANSA

Before they both flew north but only she came back?

TYRION

Yes.

SANSA

Did she kill Jon?

TYRION

I don’t know.

SANSA

Would you tell me if you did?

TYRION [AFTER A PAUSE]

No.

SANSA studies TYRION’s face.

SANSA

I want justice for my brother. Whoever his father, whatever his name, he was my brother.

TYRION

Is that really all you want?

SANSA

What else is there?

TYRION

Two of your brothers were named King in the North. Perhaps you believe it’s time for a Queen.

SANSA

Everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve experienced, since the day I first left Winterfell…when I try and strip it all down, to set aside the grief and cut through the pain to discover the coldest, hardest truth there is to find…I always arrive at the one very simple conclusion that I know more surely than I know my own name: nobody should be a queen. Or a king. No one person should have that much power over people. Nothing but cruelty ever comes of it.

TYRION

The time for speaking in abstractions has long since passed us by, Sansa. I’ve no more patience for debating the nature of power, but if it’s cold, hard truth you’re looking for, let me offer you my own: even if every single northman should survive King’s Landing, your army will still be in tatters. Whatever scheme you’ve taken it into your head, whatever notions to defy Daenerys or oppose her rule - forget them now, and forever. You’re supposed to protect your people, Sansa, not send them to their graves fighting to settle their Lady’s grudges.

SANSA is defiant; she looks away, dismissing his argument. TYRION grabs her arm and compels her to face him.

TYRION [CONT’D]

Don’t be a fool, Sansa! Daenerys will soon command the combined might of Westeros, as well as the world’s only living dragon. You’re too smart to believe the North could stand against her.

SANSA

And you’re too smart to believe wars are only won on the battlefield.

TYRION and SANSA hold one another’s gaze; only the arrival of VARYS on the battlements finally gives TYRION cause to recover his cool and release SANSA’s hand.

TYRION [CURT; IMPATIENT]

I’ll be with you in a moment, Varys. Lady Stark and I are almost through here.

But VARYS doesn’t leave. Instead, he takes a deliberate step towards SANSA. The Lady of Winterfell watches with satisfaction as realisation slowly dawns on TYRION’s face. He looks to VARYS, then to SANSA, then back to VARYS.

TYRION [CONT’D]

It was you. You betrayed Daenerys. You told Sansa about Jon Snow.

VARYS

Yes.

SANSA

I’ll leave you to say your goodbyes. Find me in my chambers when you’re done, Lord Varys.

VARYS

As you wish, my Lady.

With the slightest hint of a triumphant smile, SANSA departs.

TYRION

You were sitting right there at the table when Daenerys accused me. You didn’t say a word when Missandei confessed. 

VARYS

Daenerys accused you because she’s touched by the same paranoia and mistrust that’s cursed the Targaryen line for centuries. Missandei confessed because she wanted to punish Daenerys, and seized upon that same paranoia and mistrust to provide her the ideal opportunity. I had no hand in either instance: a spider may spin his web, but he cannot compel the flies to entangle themselves.

TYRION

You were going to let Missandei burn for a crime you committed.

VARYS

Never. You know me better than that.

TYRION

Clearly I don’t.

VARYS

I knew Daenerys would never execute her. I retain at least that much regard for your Queen.

TYRION

You believe she killed the man she loved. If you believe that, of course you could believe this.

VARYS

Perhaps. But then we all have our own sins to answer for, in one fashion of another.

TYRION

Missandei is an innocent.

VARYS

I made no mention of Missandei.

TYRION

After all the evils you’ve been a party to in service to one wicked ruler or another, now you decide a line has been crossed? Now you decide to grow a conscience?

VARYS

You give me too much credit: wicked I can bear, but unpredictable I cannot. Sansa was a game piece: moved around, manipulated, traded back and forth. She didn’t just learn the rules, she suffered them first-hand. She took instruction from Joffrey and Cersei, from Littlefinger, from the Boltons. Now she has become a player herself, and a rather skilful one at that. Sansa’s game I know, Daenerys’ I do not.

TYRION

This is the coward’s choice you’re making. The choice of a small and frightened old man. Now, finally, right when we’re on the cusp of a brave new world, you turn away, and skulk back to the old world you know first-hand to be rotten and corrupt. Why? Because you’re afraid of change? Afraid you’ll matter less? That there’ll be no place for spiders?

VARYS

A woman that refuses all rational counsel, that would murder the man she loves rather than share her throne…call me a cynic if you will - or a coward if you must - but a new world made in her image seems to me like no kind of “new” at all.

TYRION

Daenerys told you, back on Dragonstone: if you ever felt she was falling short of your expectations, you wouldn’t conspire behind her back, you’d look her in the eyes and tell her as much.

VARYS

And I told her, just as I told you: I serve the realm.

TYRION

And the fact that the best interests of the realm always seem to align with your own good fortune is, I’m sure, entirely coincidental.

VARYS

Entirely.

TYRION

“Storms come and go, the big fish eat the little fish, but you keep on paddling.” I don’t know whether to curse your betrayal or admire your instinct for self-preservation, I really don’t.

They take long, last looks at one another, two old friends facing down a final parting of the ways.

TYRION [CONT’D]

What will you do now?

VARYS looks out over Wintefell’s battlements and the vast, inhospitable open country beyond, DAENERYS’ army diminishing into the distance cutting a swathe through the Northern landscape as it marches to the sea. An icy wind sweeps down the hills and across the frosted fields. VARYS shivers and draws his hands into his sleeves. 

VARYS

Invest in some warm furs, I imagine. There’s a place for you here as well, you know. Sansa is not like Daenerys: she can forgive a man his mistakes. Daenerys never listened to you anymore than she did me, and now that the choices she made have brought her within reach of the Iron Throne she has even less reason to heed the counsel of others.

TYRION

I may not believe Daenerys hung the sun and the stars in the sky, but I do believe in her. I have to believe in something at the end of all this, and for better or worse, I’ve made my choice. I have too much invested in her to make the break now.

VARYS nods, disappointed but not without understanding.

VARYS [CONT’D]

I left you something in your saddle pack. A parting gift from an innocent.

TYRION moves to leave, then stops, and turns back to face VARYS.

TYRION

For the life of me, I cannot understand why Sansa feels so confident in defying Daenerys. She hates Cersei too much to ever make an alliance, surely?

VARYS raises an eyebrow, but offers no reply.

TYRION [CONT’D]

The Ironborn, then? Wait until they have our men in the middle of the Narrow Sea then spring the trap and slit their throats?

Again, VARYS holds his silence.

TYRION [CONT’D]

Something simpler, cleaner. Why bother with an actual war when you have a master assassin in the family capable of settling things with a single stroke of her blade.

VARYS

I really have no idea what Lady Sansa might have in mind. But then, it is only my first day.

TYRION just about manages to summon a sad, humourless smile. 

TYRION

Goodbye, Lord Varys.

VARYS

Farewell, old friend.

VARYS watches TYRION descend the steps and start across the yard, then turns away and follows after SANSA.

8.11 INT: BLACK CELLS – DAY

Taking a torch down from its wall sconce, EURON holds it out before him to light his way through the Black Cells. Turning arbitrarily left or right at each junction, he explores the Red Keep’s deepest, darkest depths one corridor at a time. Finally, he finds what he was looking for: the door to QYBURN’s laboratory. EURON brings his face close to the small grille set into the door and peers through the bars, squinting at the candle-lit gloom beyond.

S.E: bare feet running across the laboratory floor.

He dashes back for a second look, but catches nothing but a shock of dirty blonde hair receding into the shadows.

S.E: door opening.

QYBURN steps out, pulling the door to behind him. He shows no sign of surprise at EURON’s presence, and waits patiently for whatever’s about to happen next.

EURON

What was that? I saw someone else in there.

EURON leers suggestively.

EURON [CONT’D]

I knew you were getting up to more down here than you were letting on. Looks like I’m not the only one with a weakness for blondes.

QYBURN

The shadows must be playing their tricks on you, my Lord. Only I am permitted inside my laboratory.

EURON

Let’s see about that, shall we?

EURON takes a step forward but QYBURN matches it, blocking EURON’s way.

EURON [CONT’D]

You left the big bastard upstairs with the queen. If I want to come in there, there’s nobody that’s going to stop me.

EURON shoves QYBURN aside and puts one foot inside the doorway before it fills with half-a-dozen children dressed in rags. Set deep in pallid, waxen skin, ice-blue eyes stare up at EURON with unmistakable menace. EURON takes a step back.

EURON [CONT’D]

My my, the little grey rat has been busy, hasn’t he?

QYBURN

My recent line of scientific inquiry has, I admit, produced certain advances in making the process of reanimation more…viable…

EURON

Then why haven’t you informed your queen? I’m sure if she really wracked her brains, she could find some kind of use for an army of undead soldiers, don’t you think?

QYBURN

I said “viable”…but not fool-proof.

QYBURN gestures away to his right and EURON uses his torch to illuminate an open cell and a dozen or more mutilated cadavers piled high against the back wall.

QYBURN

I don’t intend to promise Her Grace something I cannot yet deliver.

EURON eyeballs QYBURN, and curls his lip at the gaggle of blue-eyed little birds.

EURON

Fine, keep at your tinkering. But make sure you keep this door closed. If I see these creepy little shits running about up there, I’ll toss them all from the top of the Red Keep. We’ll see how smart you really are when you try and bring a puddle on the cobblestones back from the dead.

EURON moves away down the corridor, but finds his way blocked by a second heap of bodies dumped naked and haphazard against the wall. He turns back to QYBURN with an expression of quizzical challenge.

QYBURN

On the bright side, the issue of overcrowding in the city’s holding cells is no longer quite as pressing as it once was.

EURON shakes his head in censure and departs down an alternative means of egress. 

8.12 EXT: SANSA’S CHAMBERS – DAY

From her window, SANSA surveys the yard below as the women and children arrive back at Winterfell. She sees GILLY holding LITTLE SAM’s hand, watches as GILLY’s face slowly drops as she comes to understand that her worst fears have come to pass. GILLY kneels and speaks gentle words to her son.

SANSA

Is this everyone?

VARYS

I had a headcount taken on the road. Everyone is present and accounted for.

SANSA

Daenerys’ word is worth that much, at least.

SANSA leaves the window and sits at her desk.  

VARYS

I’ve taken the liberty of preparing your application to the Citadel for a new maester. It only requires your signature and seal.

VARYS hands SANSA a parchment and takes a seat across the desk. SANSA signs, rolls, and seals the application, pressing the wax with a stamp in the shape of a wolf’s head.

SANSA

What else?

VARYS

As of last count, there are nine houses that lost their Lord in Winterfell’s defence. Ten, if Ronnel Harclay’s injuries should prove fatal, as sadly I suspect they shall.

SANSA

How many can we expect to cause issue?

VARYS

Eight have direct male heirs ready to assume their Lordships. Lord Liddle of Pyre Pass was killed in battle, and so too were both his sons. Morgan Liddle, his sole remaining heir, is barely out of swaddling clothes.

SANSA

Lord Liddle’s aunt, Beatrice, moved south to marry a minor Redwyne that recently left her a widow. She’s not a young woman anymore, but if she can be persuaded to return to the North then she’d make a fine steward until Morgan comes of age.

VARYS

I shall make the necessary enquiries. That just leaves House Condon.

SANSA

Two sons: Kennet the elder and Ser Kyle the younger. What’s the problem?

VARYS

If the captain of his guard is to be believed, Ser Kyle has made plain his intention of riding in force to Hilltop Hall and seizing his late father’s seat as his own.

SANSA

It will be weeks before Kennet is able to walk again, let alone travel home to secure his inheritance.

SANSA stands and walks back to the window, lost in thought.

SANSA [CONT’D; AFTER A PAUSE]

With the country in such turmoil, the open road is no safe place for a highborn lady traveling alone. Send Ser Kyle south to escort Lady Beatrice home to Pyre Pass. That will ensure safe passage of Morgan’s steward while keeping Ser Kyle occupied until his brother has time to recover and install himself at Hilltop Hall.

VARYS smiles to himself, impressed with his new employer and with himself for choosing her. 

VARYS [IMPRESSED]

Very good, my Lady.

VARYS thinks about leaving, but cannot ignore SANSA’s obvious melancholy.

VARYS [CONT’D]

If I may, my Lady: I may not have known your sister a long time, but what little I have observed gives me every reason to believe in her abilities. She will not fail.

SANSA

Knowing what success will mean for her, I almost hope she does.

SANSA turns to face VARYS.

SANSA [CONT’D]

Do you think I asked too much?

VARYS

I think Arya is always going to do whatever she must to protect her family, whether it’s asked of her or not. Her name is Stark, after all.

8.13 EXT: KINGSROAD – DAY

The long line of soldiers snakes along the Kingsroad, the mounted Dothraki riding ahead of the marching Unsullied, and behind them the rather more rag-tag crowd of Northmen. Drogon swoops down low over the march, DAENERYS surveying her depleted army from his back. Below, TYRION spurs his horse to trot alongside JORAH’s.

TYRION

Mormont. When it comes time to board at White Harbour, don’t let Yara Greyjoy spread our men too thin. I want us to have the majority over the Ironborn on every ship in the fleet.

JORAH

You believe she means to betray us?

TYRION

I doubt it, but expect the worst from life, you’ll never be disappointed. Or unprepared.

TYRION glances back down the line at DAVOS, lost in conversation with a disconsolate GENDRY.

TYRION [CONT’D]

And keep half an eye on Ser Davos, too.

JORAH

Ser Davos? All of Winterfell heard him accept our queen’s commission as Master of Ships.  

TYRION

Words are wind, Ser Jorah, and Northern loyalties take longer to die than a wounded aurochs.

JORAH

Am I to mistrust Tormund Giantsbane and the young Lord Baratheon, too? Podrick Payne was squire to Lady Brienne, who died in Sansa Stark’s service. Now I think of it, I believe I’ve heard Dondarrion admire the Stark banners in the past. Shall I eavesdrop outside his chambers at night?

TYRION

I take your point, Mormont.

JORAH

I may be a soiled knight, but I’m a knight all the same. If you want a spy, go talk to your friend the Spider.

JORAH turns his horse and rides back down the line. TYRION spurs his horse in the opposite direction and falls in at the head of the Unsullied.

TYRION

Grey Worm, before you disembark, make sure to search every corner of every cabin until you’re certain Arya Stark has not travelled with you to King’s Landing.

GREY WORM

And if she has?

TYRION

Don’t make the same mistake my sister made: if you find her, seize her.

GREY WORM

Do you command me to kill her?

TYRION

Absolutely not! She is not our enemy, and I will need her safe if I have any hope of convincing her sister of that fact. Treat her with nothing but the upmost respect, do you understand me?

GREY WORM

As you say.

TYRION turns his horse and returns to the rear of the procession. GREY WORM watches him go, then switches his attention to the sky, studying DAENERYS and her dragon with the cool and calculating eye of an expert assassin.

8.14 EXT: THE SKIES OVER WESTEROS - NIGHT

JON SNOW opens his eyes, first gradually and the suddenly. He gasps with alarm to discover himself a thousand feet above the ground. With both hands bound behind his back, he has to twist his body to look around. To his left: a dozen wights sitting astride Viserion’s back. To his right: the NIGHT KING, one hand placed possessively atop Viserion’s head. The NIGHT KING turns to look at JON, his blue eyes burning like supernovas in the deep-set sockets of his skull. If the NIGHT KING is capable of smiling, this is it now. The NIGHT KING turns back, and JON follows his gaze. He feels his blood run cold as the dense cloud that envelops them falls away and their destination is revealed: King’s Landing.

OUTRO