A complete, independently-envisioned Season 8 for Game of Thrones, written with love by Alice Shipwise
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PART 4 of 9

November 11, 2018

Bronn meets a mysterious stranger.

The burnt remains of Bronn's Volantene ship bob up and down on the waves of Blackwater Bay -- the work of Dany's rival queen. Sailors' corpses float amidst smoldering wreckage.
A good distance away now, BRONN pulls exhaustedly at makeshift oars in his damaged rowboat.
He is not in good shape. His skin is badly sunburnt and crusted with salt. His lips are chapped and bleeding. His arms tremble as he rows.
The hole in the rowboat's hull is plugged with Bronn's wadded-up jacket, though water still seeps in around it, and several inches of seawater slosh about the bottom of the boat. As Bronn rows, the makeshift plug pops loose, and water begins pouring in.
Bronn grabs the jacket and hurriedly works to plug up the hole once more, his hands shaking and fumbling with weakness. He jams it back into place and begins bailing water out of the boat with cupped hands.
He pauses mid-motion and stares down at the seawater in his hands. Sunlight ripples tantalizingly across its surface. He is breathing raggedly, and we can tell how dry his mouth is.
He closes his eyes, gets a grip on himself, and resumes bailing.
In his preoccupied, half-delirious state, he doesn't notice the ship approaching, at first.
Still bailing water, he hears the creaking of sails, looks up, and freezes at the sight of a MERCHANT SHIP sailing toward him. He ducks down and flattens himself into the bottom of the rowboat, his movements made clumsy by exhaustion and urgency. He lies there, partially submerged, hoping he hasn't been spotted, not daring to risk a peek over the edge.
The sun beats relentlessly down onto his already abused face. He drapes an arm over his eyes in an effort to gain some small relief from it.
A shadow falls over him. He opens his eyes. The ship is upon him. On deck, sailors are calling out and pointing down at him.

Bronn gazes dimly up at them, too weak to fight whatever fate these strangers may have in store for him.
Bronn's POV: our view of the sailors fuzzes out as Bronn loses consciousness.
Int. Merchant ship cabin - later
Darkness gives way to a blurry view of a ship's cabin, and then finally to clarity.
Bronn blinks awake, disoriented. He shifts his body and inspects himself. He's lying in a bed. Someone has bathed him, changed him out of his sodden clothes, and bandaged his salt sores. He looks around, and starts when he realizes he is not alone.
An UNKNOWN WOMAN is sitting beside his bed, watching him. She is middle-aged but handsome, with a face that looks like it is more lined than it ought to be for her age. She is dressed simply, in a manner typical of King's Landing commoners.
She smiles when she sees that Bronn is awake. Her smile looks tired, but kind.
[N.B.: her name is LEMORE, but Bronn doesn't know that.]
There you are. Here.
She holds out a wooden bowl. Bronn just stares at it. She proffers it closer, and the motion makes her necklace swing. It's a simple pendant -- a small copper seven-pointed star, green with corrosion, hanging from her neck by a thin leather cord.
It's water. Drink.
Bronn takes the bowl from her, slowly, eyeing her mistrustfully. He looks down at the clean water sloshing in the bowl, and it's clear that the temptation is agonizing.
He looks at her once more, then back down at the water.
Ah, fuck it.
He takes an experimental sip, then his thirst takes over control of his body. He takes down the water in great desperate gulps.

Shhh, not so fast. You'll retch it back up.
Bronn has already drained the little bowl.
(gasping, hoarse)
She nods and takes the bowl back from him.
The crew were making bets on whether you would wake up.
She gets up to refill the bowl from a small open barrel with a ladle sticking out of it.
That burnt wreckage out there. You were one of its sailors, yes?
Bronn says nothing. Lemore shakes her head as she ladles water into the bowl.
Terrible. The captain wanted to stay well clear of it, but I convinced him to go in, see if there were survivors...
She shakes her head again.
I don't suppose you know which passenger had crossed her?
The queen. Who else could do such a thing?
She returns to Bronn's bedside with the bowl of water.
Here. Slowly this time.
She gives him the water and watches as he drinks it down.

You're very lucky to be alive. The gods must have plans for you.
Luck had nothing to do with it, and Bronn doesn't give two shits about the gods. But he's not about to tell this stranger that.
He drains the bowl a second time and hands it back to her. As she takes it from him, the ringing of the ship's bell makes them both look up.
Already, hm? Sounds like it's time to go ashore.
She looks at him quizzically.
I don't want... I'm not going back to King's Landing.
A beat.
We're not at King's Landing.
Bronn stares back at her in confusion.
Ext. Dragonstone island - day
Indeed, we are not at King's Landing. We are at Dragonstone.
A wide aerial of the island shows us the distinctive angular lines of its castle, with Lemore's merchant ship sailing into its harbor.

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