GAME OF THRONES Pilot Episode by David Benioff & D.B. Weiss based on the novel A Game Of Thrones by George R.R. Martin 3/27/09

EXT. CLEARING - DAY Snow drifts across the bodies of the fallen dead. Eight corpses lie frozen on the ground-- men, women, and children, wearing heavy furs. The wind whips through their long hair. At the edge of the clearing, WILL (20), a young ranger dressed all in black, surveys the grim scene from the back of his gelding. He gathers his reins and guides his horse south. EXT. FOREST - DUSK Will rides hard between the towering pines, his horse’s hooves kicking up fresh-fallen snow. He comes to a halt and dismounts beside two tethered horses. His comrades, GARED (50) and SER WAYMAR ROYCE (18), crouch beside a stream, filling their skins with cold water. They rise and look to the newcomer expectantly. Ser Waymar is gray-eyed and graceful, with an aristocrat’s air of command despite his youth. He wears a supple coat of gleaming black ringmail and a lush sable cloak. Will and Gared also wear the black of the Night’s Watch, but their clothes are far less regal, their leather and fur battered from hard usage. Gared wears a hood for warmth. WILL We should start back. They’re all dead. Gared offers Will his water skin and Will takes a drink. SER WAYMAR Any blood? WILL Not that I saw. SER WAYMAR How close did you get? WILL Close enough to see they was dead. SER WAYMAR (skeptical) Or sleeping? GARED If Will says they’re dead, they’'re dead. We should head back to the Wall.

SER WAYMAR (with the hint of a smile) Do the dead frighten you? GARED Mormont said we should track ‘em. We tracked ‘em. They won’t trouble us no more. SER WAYMAR You don’t think Mormont will ask us how they died? He walks toward his horse. Gared and Will exchange a troubled glance. EXT. EMPTY CAMP - NIGHT Moonlight shines down on the clearing, the ashes of the firepit, the snow-covered lean-to. If there were corpses on the ground before, they’re gone now. The three riders enter the camp. Their horses seem spooked, as if they smell a predator nearby. SER WAYMAR Your dead men seem to have moved camp. Will looks around, confused. He knows what he saw. WILL They were here... Spotting something shimmering on the ground near the firepit, he walks his horse closer, dismounts and looks down. Lying at his feet is the hilt of a steel longsword. The blade has been shattered into a thousand shards. Will stares at the shattered sword. He knows what this means; the dread on his face is unmistakable. From his horse, Gared looks at the ground. The indentations where the bodies once lay are still visible-- as are the faint but unmistakable footprints leading away from them. GARED We have to move. Now. He is interrupted by a neigh. Will’s horse, riderless and panicked, bolts from the camp site.

Ser Waymar'’s horse rears back on its hind legs, throwing its rider to the ground before galloping after the first horse. Gared struggles to keep his own horse under control. Ser Waymar stands unsteadily, brushing the snow from his cloak. WILL (terrified) Gods. .. He’s staring into the darkness at the edge of the clearing. Ser Waymar turns to see what the young tracker sees: a shadow emerging from the forest. A figure steps into the moonlight, tall and gaunt, with flesh pale as milk. It slides toward the rangers on silent feet. Its armor appears to be carved from ice. Its sword is translucent, a shard of crystal so thin it almost seems to vanish when seen edge-on. Ser Waymar'’s voice cracks like a boy’s: SER WAYMAR Stay where you are! The OTHER keeps coming. Ser Waymar draws his sword with trembling hands. Will, standing near the fire pit, and Gared, still on horseback, draw their own swords. The Other halts. For the first time we see its eyes, bluer than any human eyes. They emerge silently from the shadows, on all sides of the clearing. Five of them... six... seven... their strange swords shimmering in the moonlight. Gared can no longer control his panicked horse; it bolts from the clearing, ignoring its rider’s commands. The Others watch Gared flee. They turn back to Ser Waymar and Will and begin to advance on the young men. As the circle closes, the Others speak to each other in a language we’ve never heard, with voices like cracking ice. Waymar and Will stand together, class distinctions forgotten, two boys about to die. They steady their sword hands and mutter quick prayers as the Others descend upon them. CREDIT SEQUENCE CLOSE on a pair of ancient, gnarled hands writing a message on a small parchment scroll.

The old man (we never see his face) tightly rolls the scroll, binds it with a black ribbon, and ties it with a leather strip to the leg of a BLACK RAVEN. The old man lifts the raven off his desk; it flaps its dark wings and flies out of the open chamber window. The raven flies away from Castle Black, a large and ancient fortress dwarfed by what lies behind it: the Wall. Older than history, this is the 800-foot-high barrier of ice and stone that guards the northern edge of the Seven Kingdoms. As the raven gains altitude, the landscape below it TRANSFORMS into a map of Westeros. The Wall is revealed to cross the entire continent, a boundary between the Haunted Forest to the north and the civilized lands to the south. The raven flies south over the map, on which the cities, ‘.regions and features of the land are named: Winterfell, the Kingsroad, Moat Cailin, the Riverlands, the Vale of Arryn. Occasionally the bird dips down, and the map resolves back into reality for just long enough to give us a view of some points of interest: Winterfell’s old stone towers, full of cold beauty. The foreboding Eyrie castle high atop the Vvale of Arryn, a feat of montane architecture that would have been impossible for medieval engineers. When the raven reaches King’s Landing, the map resolves back into reality as the bird drops down into the dirty sprawl of the capital. The raven flies through the open gates of the Red Keep, a massive compound with walls the color of fresh-spilt blood. The bird flies through an open window into the throne room, to land on the Iron Throne itself-- a throne built from the hammered swords of a thousand defeated enemies. The raven pecks at its wings, cleaning itself after the long journey, alone in the empty throne room. END CREDIT SEQUENCE EXT. HILLTOP - DAY LORD EDDARD “NED” STARK (40) sits on his motionless horse, his long brown hair stirring in the wind. His closely-trimmed beard is shot with white. He has spent half his life training for war and the other half waging it, and his face conveys both authority and a haunted sadness. He is accompanied by a dozen members of the HOUSEHOLD GUARD, all on horseback. Over their heads flaps the Stark banner: a gray direwolf racing across an ice-white field.

South of the Wall the grass is still green and the sun is shining, but the air is cold enough to cloud the breath of four guardsmen as they escort Gared toward the stump of a massive oak tree. Weeks have passed since we saw the ranger but he seems to have aged years, his eyes bloodshot and weary, his face haggard, his clothes filthy and torn. sons, JON SNOW (17), ROBB STARK (17) and BRAN STARK (8) sit on their own horses (a small pony in Bran'’s case). Jon is slender, darker than his half-brothers, his eyes black and watchful. Robb is big and broad, with fair skin and reddish-brown hair. Bran sits very still, watching the doomed man. He has never seen an execution before. The prospect of it terrifies him, but he tries hard to imitate his father’s solemn expression. The Guardsmen force Gared’s head onto the stump. Ned dismounts. His ward, THEON GREYJOY (19), hands over Ned’s sword: Ice, a beautiful weapon, centuries old. Theon is the only man in the party wearing a kraken sigil instead of a dire wolf. Ned peels off his gloves and hands them to JORY CASSEL (30s), a bull-necked warrior with a heavy mustache. Ned walks to the stump. He speaks in low tones to Gared, who responds. We watch this exchange from the boys’ perspective. Gared’s final words clearly trouble Ned, who studies the condemned man’s face, judging his honesty. Bran watches from afar, his head slightly cocked, trying to make out what Gared is saying. There is a great weariness in Ned’'s eyes as he places both hands on the hilt of his greatsword. NED In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name-- As Ned delivers the formal sentence to the condemned man, Jon Snow moves closer to Bran.

JON SNOW NED (0.S.) (whisper) King of the Andals and the Keep the pony in hand. And First Men, Lord of the Seven don’t look away. Father will Kingdoms and Protector of the know if you do. Realm-- Bran keeps his pony well in hand and does not look away. NED I, Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, sentence you to die. Ned lifts Ice high above his head and brings it down. Blood sprays the swaying grass. Gared’s head topples off the stump, bounces off a root, and rolls. When Ned’'s back is turned, Theon put his boot on the head, kicks it away and laughs. Jon watches this with disgust but says nothing. He turns and grips Bran’s shoulder. JON SNOW You did well. It’'s only three words, but compliments are hard to come by in the Stark house. Bran is proud to be treated like a man, but he cannot look away from the head lying in the tall grass. EXT. HILLSIDE - DAY Bran rides with his brothers, his hard-working pony trying to keep up with the bigger horses. JON SNOW I thought he was brave. ROBB Brave? He was dead of fear. You could see it in his eyes. JON SNOW What would be in your eyes with your head on the stump? He died well. Give him that much. Robb considers the point for a moment and shrugs, already losing interest in the subject. ROBB Race you to the bridge?

Jon rolls his eyes as if he’s beyond such juvenile games-- then, without warning, he spurs his horse and gains a good head start. Robb curses and follows. They gallop off down the trail, Robb laughing and hooting, Jon silent. Bran’s pony can’t compete in that race, so he follows slowly behind, craning his neck to see if he can spot the winner. NED You understand why I did it? Bran turns in his saddle, startled. On his great warhorse, Ned looms above him like a giant. Bran nods to his father. BRAN Jon said he was a deserter. He was in the Night’s Watch and he ran away. Even when speaking with his son, Ned constantly surveys his surroundings, aware of his men’s positions, the possible sites for an ambush, the angle of the sun. NED But do you understand why I had to kill him? Bran thinks about this for a few seconds, confused. BRAN King Robert has a headsman. NED He does. As did the Targaryen kings before him. Ned reaches out to grab the pommel on Bran’s saddle. He forces the horse and pony to walk very close. NED Our way is the old way. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. Bran stares at the massive sword sheathed at Ned’s hip. BRAN Is it true he saw the Others? Ned stares at his son for a long beat. NED You heard that? (off Bran’s nod) (MORE)

NED (cont'd) The Others have been gone for eight thousand years. BRAN So he was lying? NED He believed it. A madman sees what he sees. interrupted by the sound of hooves; Jon reappears on the crest of the hill before them, waving urgently. JON Over here! EXT. RIVERBANK - DAY Ned’s party reaches the riverbank. Jon has dismounted beside Robb, who cradles something in his arm. Bran and Ned stay back with the rest of their party as Jory and Theon approach the older boys. When he sees what lies on the ground beside Robb, Theon curses and pulls his horse away. Jory does the same and yells to the boys: JORY Get away from it! ROBB She can’t hurt you. She’s dead. Burning with curiosity, Bran spurs his pony to keep up with Ned as they approach the others, who are all dismounting. THEON What in hell is it? Bran finally gets close enough to see. ROBB A wolf. The dead wolf is impossibly huge, bigger than Bran’s pony. Its blind eyes crawl with maggots. THEON It’s a freak. JON No. That’s a direwolf.

Ned kneels beside the wolf. Groping under the beast’s head, he gives a yank and comes up with a foot of shattered antler, slick with half-dried blood. THEON There hasn’t been a direwolf south of the Wall for two hundred years. Jon looks at the bundle beneath Robb’s arm and grins: JON Well... now there are five. When Bran sees what everyone is staring at his eyes widen. He moves in to get a closer look at the direwolf pup-- a tiny ball of gray-black fur, eyes still closed, nuzzling blindly against Robb’s chest, whimpering. JORY Tough old beast, wasn’t she? Birthing a litter with an antler in her throat. ROBB (to Bran) Go on. You can touch him. Bran gives the pup a quick, nervous stroke. As he turns: JON Here you go. Jon thrusts another pup into Bran’s arms. Overjoyed, Bran plops down in the snow and rubs the wolf pup’s soft fur against his cheek. Ned picks up two more helpless pups, one in each hand. Jon picks up the fifth. HULLEN (40s), the horse master, frowns at this ill omen. HULLEN Direwolves loose in the realm. THEON Not for long. Theon draws his sword and reaches for Bran’s pup. THEON Give it here. BRAN No! It’s mine!

Robb speaks to Theon in a commanding tone. ROBB Put your sword away. We're keeping them. Theon bristles at the command. THEON I take orders from your father, not you. HULLEN be a mercy to kill them. BRAN No! Bran looks to Ned for support, but finds none. NED Better a quick death. They won't last without their mother. JON Lord Stark... There are five pups. Three male, two female. (off Ned’'s curiosity) You have five trueborn children. Three sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Everyone looks to the Stark banners, with their direwolf 10. crest-of-arms. We see their opinions about the pups change, as they come to understand the import of this omen. JON Your children were meant to keep them. NED And you? JON I am not a Stark, my Lord. Ned weighs the situation for a moment in silence. NED You will feed them yourselves. And train them yourselves. Bran nods eagerly. Robb nods as well.

11. NED They may die anyway, despite all you do. ROBB They won’t. We won’t let them. The decision made, they start to remount their horses. Bran tugs gratefully on Jon’s sleeve. Jon smiles at him, but beneath his smile there is a trace of sadness. Jon is about to climb onto his horse when he hears a distant whimpering. Leaving the horse behind, he ranges into a snow drift, and scans the ground until he finds the source: A sixth wolf pup, with white fur. Unlike the others, its eyes are blood-red and open, and it is completely silent. Jon picks it up. Theon scoffs. THEON An albino. It’ll die even faster than the others. Jon ignores Theon. He stares into the pup’s eyes and the pup stares back. JON This one belongs to me. INT. DRESSING ROOM - SUNSET DAENERYS (18) stands by the window, staring out at the bay of Pentos, where shirtless FISHERMEN haul nets full of wriggling fish from their boats onto the docks. The setting sun silhouettes the brick towers of the Free City; intricate and colorful geometric patterns decorate their bulbous domes. Daenerys is a beautiful girl but nobody has bothered to tell her. She is awkward in her own skin, unaware of how rare her violet eyes and lush silver hair really are. VISERYS (0.S.) Where’s my sweet sister? VISERYS (20) steps into the room, a gaunt young man with nervous hands and a feverish look in his pale eyes. He holds a gown in his hands. VISERYS A gift from Illyrio. Touch it. Go on. Feel the fabric.

12. Dany lets the delicate silk run through her fingers. It is a gorgeous gown but the sight of it gives her no pleasure. VISERYS Tonight you must look like a princess. Daenerys hands the gown back to her brother. DAENERYS We’'ve been his guests for a year. And he’s never asked for anything. VISERYS Illyrio’s no fool. He knows I won't forget my friends when I come into my throne. He hangs the gown from a hook beside the door. VISERYS I'11 send the slaves in to bathe you. Be sure you wash off that stable stink. He studies her critically. VISERYS You still slouch. He pushes back her shoulders. VISERYS Let them see you have a woman’s body now. His fingers brush lightly over her breasts, judging their shape beneath the rough fabric of her tunic. VISERYS Don’t fail me tonight. You don’t want to wake the dragon, do you? (beat) Do you? DAENERYS No. VISERYS Good. He smiles, releasing her, brushing back her hair with something like affection.

13. VISERYS When they write the history of my reign, they will say it began tonight. EXT. STREETS OF PENTOS - NIGHT A dozen STRONG MEN carry a palanquin through the pitch-black streets of Pentos. Two SERVANTS walk in front, holding oil lanterns to light the way. INT. PALANQUIN - NIGHT Inside the curtained litter, Daenerys, Viserys and MAGISTER ILLYRIO recline on soft pillows. Daenerys wears the silk gown. Her makeup has been artfully applied but somehow she looks even younger than before. She seems terribly nervous. Illyrio (50) is tremendously fat, but he carries himself with a certain elegance. He smiles at Daenerys, takes the girl’s hand and gives her a comforting squeeze. ILLYRIO (to Viserys) She is a vision, your Grace. Drogo will be impressed. VISERYS She’s too skinny. Are you sure he likes his women this young? ILLYRIO She’s had her blood, she’s old enough. Look at her! Highest of the highborn, daughter of the past king, sister to the future king... he’ll want her. VISERYS I suppose. The savages have queer tastes. Boys, horses, sheep... ILLYRIO Best not suggest this to Khal Drogo. VISERYS Do you take me for a fool? Magister Illyrio gives a slight bow.

14. ILLYRIO I take you for a king. Kings lack the caution of common men. My apologies if I have given offense. He lifts his empty cup and a SLAVE BOY wearing a brass collar, crouched in the corner of the litter, hurries over with a wineskin. VISERYS I know how to play a man like Drogo. I give him status-- (nodding at Dany) -- and he gives me an army. His fingers toy with the hilt of his sheathed sword. VISERYS I could sweep the Seven Kingdoms with ten thousand Dothraki screamers behind me. The people will be with us. They cry out for their true king. Viserys pauses and gives Illyrio an anxious look. VISERYS They do, don’t they? ILLYRIO (an amiable salesman) All across the Kingdoms, men lift secret toasts to your health. Their women sew dragon banners in hope of your return from across the water. (shrugs) Or so my agents tell me. Daenerys, who has watched Illyrio throughout his speech, turns away. She keeps her own counsel, but it’s clear the words that so inspire Viserys do not impress her. EXT. DOTHRAKI ENCAMPMENT - NIGHT A great field outside the city walls of Pentos, ringed by hundreds of the distinctive, round Dothraki tents. The moon and burning torches light the milling guests. Many are DOTHRAKI HORSELORDS, big men, their black hair oiled and braided and ringed with silver. No women are present. A smooth-cheeked EUNUCH announces the newcomers:

15. EUNUCH Viserys of the House Targaryen, the Third of his Name. King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. His sister Daenerys Stormborn, Princess of Dragonstone. His honorable host, Illyrio Mopatis, Magister of the Free City of Pentos. The three honored guests step into the clearing. Illyrio guides them, pointing out various luminaries. ILLYRIO Those three are Drogo’s bloodriders. The BLOODRIDERS, fearsome Dothraki warriors, stare back at Daenerys. She quickly averts her eyes. ILLYRIO Over there is Ser Jorah Mormont. VISERYS A knight? What’s he doing here? SER JORAH is past forty and balding, but still strong and fit. When he sees the Targaryens staring at him he bows deeply. Viserys gives a slight nod, pleased by the obeisance. ILLYRIO King Robert- (correcting himself) -the Usurper wanted his head. Some trifling affront. Sold poachers to a slaver. VISERYS He could be useful. Illyrio places his hand on Daenerys’ bare shoulder. ILLYRIO Over there, sweet princess. There is the Khal himself. KHAL DROGO (30) is the tallest man in the courtyard, but despite his size and musculature, he has the grace of a panther. His black hair is woven into a single braid, hung with small silver bells, that swings below his belt. Illyrio walks over to the Khal (a dozen yards away). Viserys leans closer to his sister, never taking his eyes off Drogo.

16. VISERYS You see how long his hair is? When Dothraki are defeated in combat, they cut off their braids in disgrace, so the world will know their shame. Khal Drogo has never been defeated. A savage, of course, but one of the finest killers alive. And you will be his queen. Daenerys stares at the Khal. The man’s face is hard and cruel, his eyes dark as onyx as he watches Illyrio perform his submissions. DAENERYS (her voice small and thin) I don’'t want to be his queen. Please, please, I don’t want to, I want to go home. Viserys maintains a mask of politeness and keeps his voice low, but there is fury behind his eyes. VISERYS Home? How do we go home? They took it from us. He grabs her arm and pulls her closer, his fingernails digging into her. VISERYS How do we go home? Tears well in her eyes. DAENERYS I don’t know. VISERYS I do. We go home with an army. With Khal Drogo’s army. He brushes her cheek with the back of his hand and speaks to her with real tenderness. VISERYS I'd let his whole khalasar fuck you, all forty thousand men and their horses too, if that’s what it took. Come, dry your eyes. Dany wipes away the unfallen tears. Illyrio, all smiles and bows, escorts Khal Drogo toward them.

17. VISERYS Smile. And stand up straight. Let him see that you have breasts. Gods know, they’re small enough as is. Dany smiles and stands up straight. EXT. LANDING - DAY The walled city of King’s Landing, capital of Westeros. The royal castle, the Red Keep, built of red sandstone, perches on the cliffs above Blackwater Bay. The seven-towered Great Sept of Baelor rises on the south edge of the city. In between sprawls the fetid slum called Flea Bottom. We PULL IN closer to the Red Keep, to a window near the top of the Tower of the Hand. INT. BEDCHAMBER - DAY JON ARRYN (60s), cold and still, lies on his deathbed. Two SILENT SISTERS, veiled adherents to the Faith of the Seven, fold his hands across his chest and close his eyelids. GRAND MAESTER PYCELLE (70s) stands beside them. He wears a heavy chain around his neck, each link forged with a different metal. Beside him is QUEEN CERSEI (30s). Green-eyed and golden- haired, the queen’s beauty has already become legend. Both look down at Jon Arryn. PYCELLE I gave him milk of the poppy at the end. To ease his path. Cersei touches the old Maester’s arm in thanks. CERSEI We are blessed to have a man of your wisdom caring for us. The old Maester is not too old to appreciate a little flattery, or the touch of a beautiful woman. CERSEI He was peaceful, in his final hours? PYCELLE Mostly he slept, my Grace. Though he had moments of clarity.

18. CERSEI Did he? What did he say, in these moments of clarity? PYCELLE He asked to see the King-- CERSEI Robert will never forgive himself for not being here. These hunts of his last longer and longer. PYCELLE And he asked to see Lord Stark. CERSEIL A shame Lord Stark is a thousand leagues away. That was all? PYCELLE Yes... No. There was a phrase, one phrase he kept repeating. “The seed is strong.” Cersei focuses on the Maester. CERSEI The seed is strong? What does that mean? PYCELLE (shrugs) The dying mind is a demented mind. For all the weight they’re given, last words usually have as much significance as first words. CERSEI Where is the Hand’s wife? PYCELLE Lady Arryn left the moment he breathed his last. Cersei turns and heads for the door. CERSEI Send a raven to Casterly Rock. My father should know Jon Arryn is dead. PYCELLE At once, my Grace.

19. Cersei exits the bedchamber. Pycelle watches the Sisters perform their ritual ablutions, imagining, perhaps, the not- too-distant day when they will minister to his own corpse. EXT. FLEA BOTTOM - NIGHT The most dangerous neighborhood in the kingdom. DRUNKS spill out of doorways of taverns lit with oil lamps, singing: DRUNKS She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair, but he licked the honey from her hair, her hair! Her hair! INT. BROTHEL - NIGHT Outside we hear the sounds of rough laughter and singing. The room is expensively appointed in silks, damasks and gilded ornaments, but its garishness betrays its true nature. That, and the naked REDHEADED WHORE on her knees beside the bed. She bestows oral favors upon TYRION LANNISTER, a dwarf with mismatched eyes: one green, one black. Tyrion’s hands grip her hair as he shudders. Bells begin to ring outside, thousands of them, great pealing bells from all across the city. The Redhead, finished with her work, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. REDHEAD Who they ringing the bells for? TYRION The King’s Hand died this morning. Tyrion grabs a goblet of wine from the bedside table. He swigs and passes it to the whore. She raises it in toast. REDHEAD Here’s to Jon Arryn, then. He was the only one of you lot who cared about the smallfolk. She drinks deeply, sloshing the wine around her mouth. TYRION I care about the smallfolk. REDHEAD Only the ones with good tits. Who's Robert picking for a new Hand?

20. TYRION If he’s smart, my father. REDHEAD And if he’s not smart? TYRION If the King is not smart? Milady, these are treasonous words... He clamps his palms on the back of her head and guides her back toward his crotch. The Redhead laughs, disbelieving. REDHEAD No chance you're ready again. He takes the goblet from her, downs the remainder, and tosses it across the room. TYRION The gods gave me one blessing. The Redhead grins and pushes her hair away from her face as she dips down for further service. Just as Tyrion closes his eyes the door swings open. SER JAIME LANNISTER (30s), the Queen’s twin brother, stands in the doorway. Considered by many the best-looking man in the Seven Kingdoms, there is a hint of savagery behind his eyes. He smiles as the Redhead, flustered, covers her breasts. JAIME Don’t get up. REDHEAD Forgive me, my lord... TYRION Should I explain to you, dear brother, the meaning of a closed door in a whorehouse? Jaime continues to favor the redhead with his lazy grin, fucking her with his eyes as he speaks with his brother. JAIME You have much to teach me, no doubt, but in this instance perhaps you’ll forgive the interruption. (MORE)

21. JAIME (cont'd) You told me once that you wanted to see the North. I didn’t want you to miss your chance. TYRION Who’s going North? JAIME The King. The Queen. Me. You, if you can find your pants. TYRION Why? JAIME Well, I'm used to it, but the rest of the court might be frightened by the sight of your wet little dagger. TYRION (annoyed) Why are we going north? JAIME The King has chosen his Hand. And no one’s going to be happy about it. EXT. WINTERFELL GATES - LATE AFTERNOON Winterfell, the stronghold and ancestral home of House Stark, is an ancient and austere place. Many acres lie within its two concentric granite walls; its keeps and towers stretch toward the gray skies above. A RAVEN flies into view, heading toward the stronghold with a small parchment scroll dangling from its leg. We follow the black bird as it glides over the Winterfell walls, banks over the main courtyard, and comes to rest on the windowsill of INT. MAESTER LUWIN’S CHAMBER - CONTINUOUS The raven jumps from its windowsill perch onto the arm of MAESTER LUWIN (75). He is a small, gray man: gray eyes, gray hair, gray wool robe. A heavy chain lies around his neck, much like Maester Pycelle’s. The Maester removes the scroll from the raven’s leg and opens it. His face darkens as he reads.

22. EXT. GODSWOOD - DUSK A thousand years of humus lie thick upon the forest floor, swallowing the sound of a woman’s feet as she walks. LADY CATELYN STARK (35), Ned’s wife, makes her way among the dark tree trunks, their twisted branches weaving a dense canopy over her head. In her hand, she holds the small parchment scroll from the above scene. She reaches a small grove at the center of the wood, where an ancient weirwood tree broods over a small, black pool. Looking like no tree on Earth, the bark is bone white, its leaves dark red. Long, long ago, a melancholy face was carved into its trunk; its deep-cut eyes are red with dried sap. They seem to follow her as she rounds the tree. Seated on a moss-covered stone on the other side of the tree, Ned rests his sword across his knees as he cleans it with a cloth dipped in the black waters at his feet. CATELYN I knew I'd find you here. He lifts his head to look at her. He sees her shivering and hands her his cloak, which she wraps around herself before sitting on the forest floor. He registers her somber face, and the scroll in her hand. He stops cleaning his sword. NED Tell me. CATELYN Forgive me, my lord... there was a raven from King’s Landing. Jon Arryn is dead. Ned looks at the wet sword, lying flat across his lap. NED How? CATELYN A fever took him. He was healthy at the full moon and gone by the half. NED Your sister, the boy...? CATELYN The letter said they’re well.

23. Ned looks more angry than grief-stricken. He dries his sword with a swatch of oiled leather. CATELYN He loved you very much. NED I haven’t seen him in how long, nine years? CATELYN You couldn’t have known-- NED Of course I could have known. He was an old man. He sheathes the blade. Catelyn reaches for his hand. For a moment they are silent. NED The girls won’t remember him. Bran never even met him. CATELYN You’ll tell them the stories. NED He would have been proud of Bran. The boy was brave at the beheading. Catelyn is troubled by the thought. She releases his hand. The words CATELYN Eight is too young to see such things. NED Should I tell you about the things I saw before I was eight? (beat) He be a child forever. And winter is coming. disturb Catelyn but she keeps her silence. NED His brothers helped him. Especially Jon. CATELYN Jon Snow is his half-brother. My lord.

24. Ned notes his wife’s tone but says nothing. This isn’t a fight he needs right now. Catelyn, realizing she has broached the wrong topic at the wrong time, changes the subject. CATELYN The raven brought more news. The king rides for Winterfell. (beat) Along with the queen and her brothers. Ned considers this prospect for a moment. Clearly Catelyn already has. They both know what it means. NED He hates the cold. Always has. If he comes this far north, it’s one thing he’s after. CATELYN You can always say No. Ned allows a grim smile, taking his wife’s hand and helping her to her feet. NED You don’t know the king very well. EXT. WINTERFELL GATES - DAY From the stronghold’s gates, the King’s Road wends its way to the horizon -- where tiny specks of red and gold appear, barely visible. Very slowly, they grow larger. The king’s party approaches. EXT. TOWER - DAY Bran climbs down the side of the tower, his hands and feet finding purchase on its jutting stones with a monkey'’s unthinking agility. Climbing is as natural to him as studying is onerous. He smiles as he makes his way toward the ground in record time, very pleased with himself-- Until his mother yanks him off the stones. Catelyn lowers him to the ground and sternly waits for an explanation. BRAN I was... I was...

25. CATELYN You were bored with your lesson so you decided to climb the castle walls, even though I’'ve forbidden it two hundred times. BRAN I—— CATELYN Brandon... I want you to promise me: No more climbing. Promise. Bran looks at his feet before gazing up at her solemnly. BRAN I promise. Catelyn leans over to look her son dead in the eye. CATELYN You know what? BRAN What? CATELYN You always look at your feet before you lie. Despite Bran’s best efforts, his mouth stretches into a smile, and a chuffing laugh escapes from behind it. Catelyn smiles, unable to help herself. She sees that his hands, clothes and bare feet are filthy from the climb down. CATELYN Go on, clean yourself up. The king will be here soon. Bran kisses his mother on the cheek and runs off. EXT. WINTERFELL GATES - DAY The king’s party pours through the gates of Winterfell in a river of gold, silver and steel, one hundred strong. Over their heads, a dozen golden banners whip in the wind, emblazoned with the crowned stag of the House Baratheon. INT. WINTERFELL - COURTYARD - DAY At the far end of the yard, Ned’'s face betrays nothing as he watches the party approach with his family beside him.

26. Catelyn, Robb, Jon and Bran are here, as are SANSA (13), traditionally beautiful, with high cheekbones and thick red hair; ARYA (11), a skinny tomboy; and their little brother RICKON (3). Ser Jaime rides through the gate and into the courtyard. BRAN (whispering to Jon) Is that the king? JON That’s Jaime Lannister. The Kingslayer. Bran can’t take his eyes off the man. He’s heard the stories. Tyrion Lannister rides behind his brother Jaime, studying the castle and its occupants, missing nothing. JOFFREY BARATHEON (13), the crown prince, tall for his age, and haughty. Beside him: SANDOR CLEGANE (35), “The Hound,” Joffrey’s bodyguard. Terrible burn scars cover half his face. A huge man approaches, flanked by knights in snow-white cloaks. A black beard covers his double chin, but nothing can hide the belly that threatens to burst his doublet’s buttons. This is KING ROBERT BARATHEON (40s). He vaults from his warhorse and gives Ned an imperious once-over. ROBERT You’ve gotten fat. Ned tries to maintain his stony decorum, but it’s hopeless. For the first time, we see him laugh -- and it becomes clear that Ned and the King are actually old friends. Robert joins in, engulfing him in a bone-crunching hug. He finally releases Ned, who takes a moment to catch his breath. ROBERT Nine years! Why I seen you? Where the hell have you been? NED Guarding the north for you, your Grace. Winterfell is yours. As the king’s party dismounts, an ornate wheelhouse pulls into their midst. QUEEN CERSEI LANNISTER (32) emerges with her younger children, TOMMEN (7) and MYRCELLA (8).

27. Ned kneels to kiss her ring; her smile is pure formality. Robert, on the other hand, embraces Catelyn like a long lost sister. As the children on both sides are brought forward and introduced, Robert steps back to Ned. ROBERT Take me down to your crypt. I want to pay my respects. CERSEI We've been riding since dawn. Surely, the dead will wait. Robert gives her a hard look. Cersei stares back at him, uncowed. Finally Robert turns and walks away. After an awkward glance at the Queen, Ned leads Robert toward one of Winterfell’s old towers. INT. WINTERFELL - CRYPT STAIRS - DAY Ned holds a lantern as he leads Robert down the narrow, winding stone steps. ROBERT I thought we’d never get here. All the talk about my Seven Kingdoms... a man forgets your part is as big as the other six combined. (disbelief) It snowed on us! Snow! As they descend, their breath becomes more and more visible from the cold, and Robert’s becomes more and more labored. ROBERT How will you stand it, man, when winter finally comes? Your balls frozen right up into your guts for the next twenty, thirty years? NED The Starks will endure. We always have. ROBERT You need to come south, get a real taste of summer before it’s gone. Everyone is fat, drunk and rich. And the girls, Ned! Women lose all modesty in the heat. They swim naked in the river, right beneath the castle...

28. The king laughs happily, but his laughter trails off as the staircase ends. INT. WINTERFELL - CRYPT - CONTINUOUS Ned sweeps the lantern in a semicircle; shadows lurch along a procession of granite pillars that recede into the dark. NED She’s down at the end, your Grace. Side by side they proceed, their footsteps ringing off the stones as they walk among the dead of House Stark. Between the pillars on either side: granite sculptures of the deceased sitting on thrones, their backs against their own sepulchres. Great stone direwolves curl around their feet. Ned stops at the last tomb and lifts the lantern. The crypt continues on into the darkness ahead of them, but beyond this point the tombs are empty, waiting for him and his children. In front of him, illuminated by the lantern, a beautiful young woman stares out at them with blind, granite eyes: Lyanna Stark, sister. ROBERT She was more beautiful than that. Silently, Robert kneels and bows his head. Ned joins him. Robert’s voice is hoarse with remembered grief. ROBERT Did you have to bury her in a place like this? She should be on a hill somewhere, with the sun and the clouds above her. NED She was a Stark. This is her place. The king rises to touch her cheek, his fingers brushing the rough stone as gently as if it were living flesh. ROBERT In my dreams, I kill him every night. NED It’s done. The Targaryens are gone. The warrior Robert used to be surfaces in his face, pitiless.

29. ROBERT Not all of them. NED We should return, your Grace. Your wife will be waiting. ROBERT To hell with my wife. That said, he starts back the way they came. Ned follows. ROBERT And if I hear “your Grace” one more time, I’1l have your fucking head on a spike. We’'re more to each other than that. NED I haven’t forgotten. (beat) Tell me about old Jon. ROBERT (shakes his head) One moment he was fine, and... It burned right through him, whatever it was. (stops walking) I loved that man. NED We both did. ROBERT He never had to teach you much. But me? You remember me at sixteen? All I wanted to do was crack skulls and fuck girls. He showed me what was what. Ned gives the king a sidelong, skeptical look, barely suppressing a smile. ROBERT Don’t look at me like that. It’'s not his fault I didn’t listen. He puts a massive arm around Ned’s shoulder and walks on. ROBERT You must wonder why I’'ve finally come north, after all these years.

30. NED Your inspection of the Wall is long overdue. ROBERT The Wall’'s stood for eight thousand years. It can keep a while longer. Robert stops walking and turns to face Ned. ROBERT These are dangerous times... I need good men around me, men like Jon Arryn. (beat) Men like you. I want you down in King'’s Landing, not up here where you’re no damn use to anybody. (stops walking) Lord Eddard Stark, I would name you Hand of the King. Ned drops to one knee, not at all surprised. NED I'm not worthy of the honor. ROBERT I'm not trying to honor you. I'm trying to get you to run my kingdom while I eat, drink and whore my way to an early grave. You know the saying... NED The King shits, and the Hand wipes. Robert laughs. Still on one knee, Ned can’t help but join him. ROBERT Damn it, Ned, stand up. (Ned does) You helped me win the Iron Throne, now help me keep the fucking thing. We were meant to rule together. (beat) If your sister had lived, we’d have been bound by blood. Well, it’s not too late. I have a son, you have a daughter. We will join our houses. This does surprise Ned. After a moment he shakes his head and smiles.

31. NED How long have you been planning this? ROBERT How old is your daughter? Both men laugh. Robert’s face grows serious. ROBERT I never loved my brothers. A sad thing for a man to admit, but it’'s true. You were the brother I chose. We were meant to be family. NED (moved by these words) I don’t know what to say. ROBERT Say “Yes”! NED If I could have some time to consider these honors... ROBERT Yes, of course, talk it over with Catelyn, sleep on it if you must. He claps his hands roughly on Ned'’s shoulders. ROBERT Just don’t keep me waiting too long. I'm not the most patient man. Ned smiles-- but his glance drifts over Robert’s shoulder to the dead of Winterfell, who watch with disapproving eyes. INT. GREAT HALL OF WINTERFELL - NIGHT The feast for the king is in its fourth hour. A SINGER plays the harp at one end of the hall but no one can hear him above the roar of the fire, the clangor of pewter plates and cups, and the din of a hundred conversations. The long wooden tables are covered with steaming platters of roasted meats and baked breads. Banners hang from the stone walls: the dire wolf of Stark; Baratheon’s crowned stag; the lion of Lannister.

32. Ned and Catelyn host King Robert (already drunk), Queen Cersei, Ser Jaime and Tyrion Lannister (the queen’s brothers) and a few other luminaries at a table on a raised platform. The Stark and Baratheon trueborn children sit at a table directly below the guests of honor. On the main floor, the SOLDIERS, SQUIRES and other COMMONERS sit on backless benches. Jon Snow sits with them. The young men sitting around Jon are telling the usual stories about fighting and fucking. Jon seems comfortable in their midst, but he’s not paying attention to them; he'’s stealing a glance at his siblings, at their table of honor. Jon downs his wine, signals a serving boy for a refill, and watches his father and the King and the high table. Robert and Ned toast with tankards full of ale. Ned takes a healthy drink; Robert drinks the whole tankard. A few seats down, Catelyn notices Queen Cersei staring at her drunk husband with plain disgust. A good hostess, Catelyn tries to distract Cersei. CATELYN Your children are quite beautiful, my Queen. They have the Lannister eyes. Cersei, a little startled to be addressed, stares at Catelyn with her vaguely reptilian green eyes. CERSEI I heard a rumor we might share a grandchild someday. CATELYN (pleased) I heard the same rumor... CERSEI Of course, these decisions ultimately fall to our husbands. As all important decisions must. She glances past Catelyn to Robert, as he gnaws on a rib and leers at the BUXOM SERVING GIRL refilling his tankard. Only her eyes reveal her anger, and they only do so briefly. Jaime, sitting on the other side of Cersei, leans forward, his forearms on the table, flashing his white teeth at Catelyn. Many women have waited their whole lives for that smile, but it only serves to make her nervous.

33. JAIME You’d enjoy the capital, my lady. The north must be hard for someone who wasn’t born here. CATELYN I'm sure it seems very grim, after King'’s Landing. I remember how scared I was when Ned brought me up here the first time. CERSEI You were only a girl. I'm sure you were scared of many things. CATELYN But harsh as it is, I’'ve come to love it. The north gets in your blood. Cersei seems skeptical, looking around the rough-hewn Great Hall, which would fit in the kitchen of her own palace. CERSEI Your daughter will take to the city. Such a beauty can’t stay hidden up here forever. It’s time we introduce her to the court. CATELYN Mm... of course, I have two daughters. If Cersei knew this at one point, she had forgotten. She sees Catelyn’s distressed look and follows her gaze to the children’s table, where Sansa looks as radiant as ever, chatting with young Princess Myrcella. Arya, on the other hand, has already ruined her evening dress. She uses her spoon as a catapult to fling a wad of pigeon pie at Bran, across the table. It hits him square in the forehead. JAIME The girl has talent. Catelyn, embarrassed, begins to stand so she can take matters in hand. But Ned, passing behind her, grips her shoulders, leans down and kisses the side of her neck. NED I'11l take care of it.