July 29, 2018
Yara takes a gamble. Jaime faces judgment. Bran speaks with Jon.
INT. THEON'S SHIP - BELOW DECK - NIGHT
We came to save her. We can't save her if we're dead.
Theon is huddling with his crew. It's clear that they're not very happy with him.
What is your plan, Theon?
We have to be patient.
How will our patience save her?
I don't know yet!
They all stare sullenly at him. They could've been happily reaving and raiding half a world from here, if it weren't for this idiot.
I'll... I'll think of something.
By their faces, he better hurry.
INT. THE SILENCE - BRIG - NIGHT
Yara is huddled in the brig, still naked, still damp from her last drenching.
The grate swings open with a rusty creak and a set of feet come down the steps. It's Tris, on for night duty. He's holding the same bucket that Maron had used on her. Tris stares at her, and Yara stares back. He shuts the grate and stands there, holding the bucket of seawater, looking at her.
Put that away.
She gives him a look. Somehow, despite being naked and chained to a wall, there's power and authority in that look.
Put it away.
I'm already wet.
Tris stares at her. The double entendre is very much not lost on him. It's a testament to the folly of man that it's affecting him as much as it is.
He resists for a moment longer. Then he slowly upends the bucket, dumping the water harmlessly onto the floor.
He crosses the brig, grabs her roughly by her hair, and kisses her hard. Yara kisses him back, or as well as she can with her hands tied behind her back.
Years of unrequited passion well up as Tris kisses her. His mouth moves to her neck, then down to her chest. He takes a nipple in his mouth and she gasps, her back arching in pleasure.
It's only when his mouth reaches her stomach that he finally notices that her arching and wriggling is more than a side effect of pleasure. She has about six inches of play in the rope binding her wrists, and she's managed to get them underneath herself.
What are you doing?
Yara gives one last wriggle and brings her hands in front of her. Still tied together at the wrists, but in front of her.
I'm very flexible.
He eyes her suspiciously.
Don't look so nervous, it's unattractive.
She pulls his pants down and starts blowing him. He knows he shouldn't be okay with this, but he is. Oh, he is.
He tangles a hand into her hair and leans his head back in pleasure. A moan escapes his lips. She stops and looks up.
Shh shhhh. If they hear you, they'll give your job to someone else.
He grins. She snakes up and straddles him, putting him inside herself. She grabs his face in her hands, and kisses him passionately. His arms go around her and he kisses her back as they start to move together. For a moment, he is the happiest sailor on the fourteen seas.
Then with one quick, deft motion, she presses the rope binding her hands against his throat and simultaneously loops one arm behind and around his head. His neck is trapped now within a circle formed by her two hands and the bit of rope binding them together.
Tris freaks out and his hands fly to his throat. He makes a choked gurgling noise.
She pulls the rope even tighter, cutting off any possibility of sound from him. She continues shushing at him as he struggles.
Finally he stops struggling, goes limp, and dies.
She dismounts him, and like a switch being thrown, she is instantly all-business. She strips his body and searches it for anything useful. She finds a small knife inside his boot. Oh, thank fuck. She grips it in her teeth and uses it to cut at the rope binding her hands.
Poor Tris stares unseeingly at the ceiling, but she's too busy to spare him a second glance.
Her hands free, she goes to work on the collar around her neck. The leather is thick, and she cuts her skin a bit getting it off. She doesn't care. Time is of the essence.
Free of the collar, she hacks off her hair. Then starts pulling on Tris' clothes.
EXT. THE SILENCE - MAIN DECK - NIGHT
Yara emerges onto deck, holding the bucket. She closes the grate and stands where Tris had stood, mimicking his watch posture. Only her eyes move as she scans the deck.
A skeleton crew is minding the ship, and none of the men seem to notice her. From a distance, it's easy to casually mistake Yara for Tris, given that she's wearing his clothes and has hacked her hair short.
Yara waits for a moment when none of the men are looking in her direction. Then slips off.
EXT. THE SILENCE - ROWBOAT - NIGHT
Yara crouches inside a rowboat, which hangs over the side of the ship from a winch. Tris' knife is between her teeth. She hears footsteps and holds still as an unseen sailor walks past.
The footsteps fade. She takes the knife from her teeth and starts cutting at the rope that's supporting the rowboat. She looks down at the waves below. She grimaces. It's a long drop, and the splash will probably draw attention. But she's desperate.
She turns her gaze back up to the rope she's cutting and freezes.
The OLD SAILOR is staring down at her from the railing. Yara stares back at him, not moving, barely breathing. She's caught.
She looks up at him with defiance, waiting for him to say something, to shout, to raise the alarm. At least she tried.
The old sailor stares a moment longer. Then he opens his mouth wide. He shows her the ugly wound where his tongue used to be. He smiles ironically and holds a finger to his lips. Shhhhh.
He looks over his shoulder, scanning the deck. He waits for the right moment, then works the winch, lowering her quietly and gently down toward the water.
Her rowboat touches down with hardly a whisper. She takes up the oars and looks up toward her new best friend. But he's already gone. There's nobody at the railing.
Yara takes up the oars and starts rowing.
INT. WINTERFELL DUNGEON - EVENING
Jaime sits in his cell, his head leaning against the stone dungeon wall. A key scrapes in the lock, and the door opens.
Jon enters, eyeing Jaime, saying nothing. He pulls up a small bench and straddles it, leaning forward so that his elbows are resting on his knees. He regards Jaime, letting the silence hang until it's uncomfortable.
(breaking the silence)
So you've spoken with your magic cripple.
Jon says nothing. Another long silence passes.
Will you be taking my head today? Or are you just going to brood at me until I die?
A beat, then Jon begins.
When the fighting in the North is over, someone wins. You understand that, don't you?
Jaime narrows his eyes, unsure where Jon is going with this. Then, as Jon continues, Jaime slowly realizes that Jon is quoting Jaime's own words back to him, verbatim.
If the dead win, they march south and kill us all. If the living win, and we've betrayed them, they march south and kill us all. I pledged to ride north. I intend to honor that pledge.
That's what you said to Cersei. By the courtyard with the painted floor. Before you left her.
Jaime looks completely flattened by his own shock. He gapes at Jon as though he's not sure that he's real. Jon gazes steadily back at him.
You were telling me the truth. For that, you get to live.
Jon stands up and flips him the key to the manacle. It lands in Jaime's lap. He looks Jaime straight in the eye.
Don't ever lie to me.
Jaime is still visibly shaken, but remembers himself enough to give a nod.
You'll find a more comfortable room in the Great Keep. You've been riding hard... we'll have a bath drawn and food sent to your room. Get a good night's sleep. At first light, we tour the castle together and discuss its defense.
Jon crosses to the door and opens it. He turns, framed in the doorway, and looks back at Jaime.
Welcome to Winterfell, Ser Jaime.
He departs, leaving the door open. Jaime stares down at the manacle key in his lap and picks it up with trembling fingers. He looks up and stares at the open door.
He's not entirely sure what just happened to him.
INT. BRAN'S CHAMBER - EVENING
BRAN STARK sits alone in his room, gazing into the fireplace. Behind him, the door opens.
(without looking up)
You've finished with Ser Jaime.
Jon closes the door.
I have something else to tell you.
(finally looks at Jon)
Jon crosses over and pulls up a chair, eyeing Bran all the while.
What happened to you beyond the Wall?
I became the Three-Eyed Raven.
You learned to See.
I can see anything. Things happening far away. Things that happened in the past.
He turns his head slowly and stares disconcertingly at Jon.
I've seen your past, Jon. I watched you being born.
Jon is rather creeped out by this strange statement, though he suppresses it for Bran's sake. Then a look of realization dawns across his face.
Does that mean... do you know about my mother?
Your mother... and your father.
Ned Stark was not your father. He was your uncle. Your mother was my aunt Lyanna Stark.
But Lyanna died during Robert's...
His words die in his throat and a horrible realization takes him.
She died giving birth to me?
After Rhaegar raped her?
He didn't rape her. They were in love. They ran away together. The High Septon annulled Rhaegar's marriage to Elia Martell and married him to Lyanna in a secret ceremony. And then you were born.
JON.exe stops working for a long moment. He stares wide-eyed at Bran without moving, almost without breathing.
...are you certain?
I saw it.
Jon stares at him some more.
Your friend Samwell Tarly found a record of their marriage, in the Citadel. High Septon Maynard wrote about it in his private diary.
But... if that were true... that would mean...
You're not a bastard. Your name isn't Jon Snow. It's Aegon Targaryen.
Jon slowly absorbs this. It's... a lot to absorb.
Did father know?
Why didn't he tell me? Why didn't he tell anyone? Why did he lie?
The truth would have been your death. They killed Rhaegar's other children. Lyanna made my father promise to protect you, before she died. And he did.
There's a long silence. Then Jon stands up abruptly.
Where are you going?
I need to visit the crypts.
He moves to the door. Then pauses just short and looks back at Bran.
Does anyone else know?
Go on, Jon.
EXT. WINTERFELL COURTYARD - EVENING
Winterfell's courtyard is full of people busy with war preparations. Jon strides briskly through, blind to everyone and everything. A few people turn curiously as he passes.
EXT. CRYPT ENTRANCEWAY - CONTINUOUS
A wall-mounted torch flickers in the crypt entranceway. Jon's gloved hand grabs it roughly from its bracket.
INT. CRYPT STAIRCASE - CONTINUOUS
Jon descends a set of dark, claustrophobic stone stairs. Down, and down, and down.
INT. CRYPT CORRIDOR - CONTINUOUS
Down in the crypt, a stone wolf statue stares out from one of the Stark graves. Jon's feet and cloak sweep past it. The grave he's interested in is deeper, farther down the corridor.
Jon walks so quickly he's almost running. There's something he needs to see. Something he's always needed to see. The corridor seems to stretch on and on, despite his brisk pace.
Finally, finally, he finds what he came here for. He takes the last few steps slowly, then stops, staring wide-eyed at:
Lyanna's statue, faintly illuminated by the torchlight and by crypt candles.
Very slowly, Jon reaches out and touches her stone hand. Then looks up into her face.
He lowers himself to his knees and stares up at his mother.
END OF EPISODE 802