November 4, 2018
Dany looks after her citizens.
ext. Winterfell landscape - day
A wide landscape view of Winterfell shows REFUGEES lined up outside the gates, in a long winding procession of people, carts, and horses.
DOTHRAKI RIDERS deposit their human cargo with rough-handed efficiency before wheeling and galloping off again into the countryside.
ext. Winterfell gates - day
At the gates of Winterfell, the procession moves slowly into the castle. The people look tired, hungry, and very cold. Among them, we see the ELDERLY COUPLE that Arya had threatened, in 804. They stare dully at the ground as they shuffle along with the rest of the crowd, guided by STARK GUARDSMEN.
A dragon's cry rings out from above. Everyone stops and looks up. Mouths gape open as the Northern commoners behold a sight straight out of myth and legend. The old man and woman reflexively clasp each other. Their eyes are huge with awe -- half fearful, half amazed. We hear the flapping of dragon wings and see an enormous shadow fall over them.
EXT. WINTERFELL COURTYARD - DAY
Is it true that you can ride them?
DAENERYS TARGARYEN is sitting in the Winterfell courtyard, surrounded by a gaggle of wide-eyed NORTHERN CHILDREN. The courtyard is packed with refugees of all ages, resting after their long journey.
Yes, it is. Would you like to see one day?
Could I ride with you?
I don't imagine your mother would approve.
I don't have a mother. She died when I was a baby.
I'm very sorry to hear that, Benny. My mother died when I was a baby too.
A little REDHEAD GIRL pipes up.
Why is your hair white?
It runs in my family. Does red hair run in your family?
Mother says my nan used to have hair like mine. But now it's white like yours. Only it's not so long and pretty.
You're very kind, Palla. I think your hair is beautiful. Is it your mother who braids it for you?
The little girl nods, smiling shyly.
Ext. WINTERFELL COURTYARD - elsewhere - day
How much room do we have left?
SANSA STARK is walking through the Winterfell courtyard with MAESTER WOLKAN, her eyes scanning the crowd critically.
The Great Keep is nearly full, my lady, but there is still room in the western tower.
We're going to need more room than that. We can't very well turn people away once we run out of rooms in the castle.
Perhaps we could house the newcomers in the winter town?
The winter town won't be safe when the attack comes. We need to make room within the walls of Winterfell. Do we have tents, perhaps?
I'm sure we do, my lady.
Instruct the guardsmen to pitch tents wherever there's open ground. In the godswood, even. Everywhere except the lawn of the broken tower.
Yes, my lady.
Maester Wolkan bows and departs. Sansa stops walking and looks around at the people in the courtyard with a pensive expression.
Sansa's POV: our gaze lingers on individual Northerners. A little boy tugging at his father's arm, pointing at the Stark wolf banners. A young mother shushing her crying infant. A teenaged youth draping a blanket around an old woman's shoulders.
You look troubled, Lady Stark.
Sansa turns to see Dany approaching her.
What's on your mind?
Surviving the war, your grace.
Anything in particular, just now?
Sansa hesitates, thinking. Snow crunches underfoot as they walk together through the courtyard.
I hope you feel you can speak freely with me, Lady Stark.
In truth, your grace, I was thinking that we haven't dug enough latrine pits.
They don't put that part in the songs, do they?
No, your grace.
Did you used to daydream about being a lady, as a child? About ruling a castle?
Yes, your grace.
Did you imagine it would be like this?
No, your grace.
Dany casts Sansa a quizzical, mildly amused look.
You don't need to address me as "your grace" in every sentence, Sansa. May I call you "Sansa"?
If it pleases your grace.
Dany gives her a look. Sansa realizes what she just said -- she glances back at Dany, a look of sheepishness briefly disrupting her perfect poise. Dany laughs.
I'm sorry. It's a habit.
No need for apologies.
They walk on in silence for a bit.
Is there anything I can do for you, Sansa? To lighten your burden?
That's kind of you. But unless you know how to double the size of our castle, or turn snow into wheat...
You're short on food?
Sansa pauses, weighing her words carefully.
We might have had enough for our own people. And we're deeply grateful for your aid in this war, of course, more than we can express.
Feeding your armies and your dragons is necessary for the living to prevail. I'm glad for their presence. But as it stands now, thousands of my people will starve to death by winter's end.
Dany regards Sansa soberly.
It isn't easy, is it?
Without my armies, your people face slaughter. With my armies, your people face starvation. These people look to you for protection, and yet you know already that you will fail them. I know how hard it is.
Sansa watches Dany's face, saying nothing. Dany lets the silence hang for a moment.
My fleet is not as large as it was. But it should be enough. If the living prevail, you should expect regular shipments from White Harbor.
Sansa stops walking, surprised.
The first voyage is already underway. After your brother and I disembarked with my Unsullied, I ordered the fleet to set sail for Braavos and pick up as much food as they can carry.
Sansa is still staring, slowly absorbing this bit of unexpected good news. Dany watches her expression with a slight smile.
I can't very well let my citizens starve, can I?
Sansa finally finds her voice.
Thank you, your grace.
There's sincerity in her voice, this time. Dany gives her a nod and a smile, and together they resume walking through the Winterfell courtyards.