A complete, independently-envisioned Season 8 for Game of Thrones, written with love by Alice Shipwise
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PART 3 of 5

March 3, 2019

Dragons wage battle in the snow.

ext. Sky - jon/jorah moment
Jon is hanging onto Drogon for dear life, dangling by one hand.

He lets his dagger fall from his grip and grabs another of Drogon's spikes, his legs flailing in the wind. He shouts at Jorah, who is still clinging to Drogon's back, just behind Dany.
Keep shooting!
I'll fall!
Jon sets his teeth and pulls himself higher onto Drogon's back, grimacing with exertion. He comes up behind Jorah, hooks an arm around Jorah's waist and grabs onto Drogon's spikes with both hands.
I have you!
Jorah hesitates.
I won't let you fall! Keep shooting!
Jorah musters his courage and lets go of Drogon's spikes. He takes hold of his bow and nocks an arrow, fumbling a bit from the adrenaline. He scans the sky, looking for Viserion in the swirling murk all around them.
We hear the snap of leathery wings, an eerie sensation of motion, but it's hard to tell from which direction. The wind gusts and tears at their clothes, and Viserion is nowhere to be seen.
ext. WinteRFELL BATTLEMENTS - tyrion moment
Lower me over the wall!
The WALL DEFENDERS stare at Tyrion like he's crazy.
No time to explain! Do it now!
Tyrion puts every ounce of authority he can muster into his bark, and the defenders comply, though they continue to look bewildered. They find a rope and use it to lower Tyrion over the wall of the main castle and into the godswood.

Ext. GODSWOOD - main castle wall - continUOUS
Tyrion stumbles a bit as he lands in the snow, letting go of the rope. He picks himself up and looks skyward. The defenders are looking down at him in bemused concern, but they're not what he's looking for.
The castle wall presses close, and the cloud cover is thick overhead, obscuring his view. Tyrion takes a deep breath. Alright. On faith, then.
He turns and begins walking toward the breach.
Tyrion's POV: the wights rush across the open field toward the godswood, toward Tyrion. They're close enough now that we can hear their snarling and the gnashing of their teeth.
Tyrion grimaces and forces himself to keep placing one foot in front of the other. He is straining every fiber of his courage, to not turn and run for his life.
As the horde rapidly shrinks the remaining distance, Tyrion ponders which is more unfortunate: how much this is going to hurt, or how stupid this is going to sound in his obituary.
He clambers over the rubble and finally stops just outside the breach, standing there looking out at the wights, one man against an army. He looks up into the sky one last time, desperate. Nothing.
Tyrion gazes at his impending doom. Oh well. It was worth a try.
He squeezes his eyes shut. The wights rush up--
And Rhaegal comes strafing down out of the cloud cover to save Tyrion's ass.
With a roar and a blast of flame, he incinerates the wights moments before they would have engulfed Tyrion. Tyrion instinctively drops to the ground, covering his head as the flames shoot forward over him.
Rhaegal swoops up from his strafing dive, banking hard as he comes back around. Tyrion stares up at him in open-mouthed awe as he rises shakily back to his feet.
Rhaegal drops out of the sky like a stone, shaking the earth as he lands over top of Tyrion, facing outward, one wing on either side of him. His head descends down in front of Tyrion, obscuring him from view. Where once Tyrion had stood, now all we see is MOTHERFUCKING DRAGON.

Rhaegal opens his mouth, and fire comes boiling out.
Ext. GoDSWOOD - starks moment - concurrent
The Starks and their contingent are running through the godswood, heading for the main castle as fast as they can. The Hound is on point, cutting down the occasional wight that survived the White Walker's destruction. Bran is still warged -- Gendry carries him in his arms as he runs, the wheeled chair evidently abandoned. Arya and Sansa run alongside him, with Pod shadowing them. Unsullied and Northern soldiers guard their flanks and their rear.
[N.B.: Brienne is not with them, though it's easy not to notice in the chaos.]
The defenders jump to it -- there's no refusing that terrifying roar. The Hound stands and guards their passage as the Starks hurry to safety.
Rhaegal is crouched in the breach, holding it against incoming wights. His fire glows bright as the last of the group makes it inside the gates.
The area outside the breach has turned into an appalling mess of charred bodies and mud and slush. The coast is clear, for now.
Rhaegal snakes his head around to nose at Tyrion, who is weak-kneed and inarticulate with relief.
Good dragon. Good, good dragon.
Rhaegal rumbles as he sniffs at him: "what are you doing out here, dummy?"
Satisfied that Tyrion is not hurt, Rhaegal stretches his wings.

Wait. No no no, wait. Rhaegal!
Rhaegal launches into the air, despite Tyrion's protests.
Tyrion watches him fly away from the castle. For a man who just survived a near brush with death, he looks quite dejected.
A gust of wind pulls his attention back to the ominous moorlands beyond Winterfell's walls, where there be monsters.
He turns and hauls ass back to the main castle.
int. WINTERFELL GREAT HALL - starks moment
The Starks take refuge in the Great Hall, which is densely crowded with CHILDREN, ELDERLY, and others who cannot fight (GILLY and LITTLE SAM among them).
Gendry settles Bran into a chair. Sansa hovers anxiously, shaken by their close call, while Arya stands watchfully nearby.
The Starks safely inside, Pod looks up and searches their group with his eyes. With mounting alarm, he realizes that Brienne is not with them.
Sansa cups Bran's face in her hands, but he is still deeply warged. We push in close on his white eyes.
A sudden explosion of frantic cawing makes Jorah, Jon, and Dany look up. Viserion is dive bombing them from above.
Jorah swivels and aims up for a shot, just as Dany tries to dodge the attack. Jorah's arrow misses the wound in Viserion's neck, by inches.
Jon tucks his chin and braces for impact.
With a horrible sound, Viserion strikes Jon with talons bunched into fists, like a falcon striking a pigeon. The impact punches Jon off of Drogon's back, and Jorah with him. Jorah cries out, grasping futilely for something to hold onto as they fall.

Even falling to his death, Jorah hears that. And it breaks his poor heart.
The tip of Viserion's tail strikes Dany's face as his dive carries him past Drogon. The blow knocks her violently sideways.
Above her, the flock of ravens scatter in every direction, cawing their alarm.
Bran comes to, with a jerk that suggests his unwarging was not voluntary. He looks up and sees Sansa and Arya standing over him.
Bran looks up into their faces.
Jon's fallen.
Sansa's breath catches in her throat, as the color drains from Arya's face. Sansa clutches at Arya's arm.
(reflexive, desperate)
You're lying.
EXT. SKY - jorah/jon MOMENT
Two figures fall through the blowing snow, in mournful slow motion.
Jorah is staring upward, with heartbreak in his eyes. Jon's face is hidden from view.
Dragon claws materialize suddenly out of the murky air, talons splayed. They close themselves around Jon and Jorah, one man in each claw. The men's bodies jerk as they are caught, whiplashed by the sudden deceleration.
Ext. Sky - dany moment
Dany is reeling from the blow to her face, nearly falling as she slumps sideways. Drogon cries out and jinks to the side to rebalance her. She blinks and clutches at Drogon's spikes, pulling herself back together. The side of her face is covered in blood.

She leans out to one side, staring down toward the ground.
Dany's POV: the storm is an opaque mess of swirling snow. Jon and Jorah are nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly, with a distinctive eerie hurtling sound, an ice blade comes darting up, straight toward us.
Dany cries out and dodges. It misses by a hair.
Ext. Snowy ground - jorah/jon moment
Jorah is lying in a disoriented heap on the snowy ground. With a struggle, he flops himself onto his back, blinking dazedly, completely confused at being alive.
A dragon's concerned crooning pulls his attention. He looks and sees:
Rhaegal, the goodest boy. The dragon is nosing at something on the ground. It's Jon, facing away from us, lying crumpled in the snow.
He is not moving.
The sound of APPROACHING WIGHTS catches Jorah's attention. He rolls himself painfully up onto one elbow and sees a group of them charging. Rhaegal crouches protectively over Jon and lets loose a blast of flame.
Jorah struggles to his feet as Rhaegal burns the wights. He half-runs, half-stumbles his way to Jon's side.
Jon! JON!
He rolls Jon onto his back. Jon's eyes are half-lidded and dull -- it's unclear if he's alive.
Jorah repeats his name, frantic, and slaps at his face. That produces a dazed blink. Jon is alive, but injured... how badly, Jorah can't say. He says his name again, shaking him, trying to revive him.
Jorah stops when he hears wights close at hand. He looks up and sees that a few of them have made it past Rhaegal's line of fire. They brandish bronze and iron weapons as they charge.

Jorah reaches down and pulls Longclaw from Jon's sword belt. His father's sword, the Mormont family blade. He stands up and fights the wights heroically, defending himself and protecting Jon.
Jon is still gazing hazily up at the sky. His breath is coming in tight, weak, distressed gasps.
Jon's POV: high above us, an aerial battle is raging, blurry and abstract in our dazed state. Fuzzy flashes of orange and blue flames light up the wintry murk.
Dany dodges a jet of blue flame. Drogon sends back an answering fireball.
The Night King sails through it unscathed and lets loose another burst of blue fire. This time Dany takes a partial hit.
She's fireproof, but her clothing is not. She loses a glove and a sleeve up to her collar.
Jorah cuts down the last of his wights and returns to Jon's side.
Get up! You have to get up!
Jon is barely lucid, but Jorah hauls him bodily to his feet. He pulls Jon's left arm around his own shoulders and supports him under his right armpit with his other hand, still grasping Longclaw.
Rhaegal is still busy burning oncoming wights. Together, the two men stumble toward the dragon's shoulder, side-by-side.
Dany dodges yet another attack, just barely. Drogon lets out a frustrated growl as he levels out again. He's beginning to tire.
Dany's teeth are chattering from the cold, partially exposed as she is. She is frightened and desperate, aware of the unsustainability of her situation.

As she ducks and passes beneath Viserion, she notices the wind whistling through the holes in his wings. A look of realization dawns on her face.
She banks Drogon around and urges him into a steep climb.
Jon gasps and goes down on one knee. His mouth gapes as he struggles painfully to breathe.
Jorah is completely beside himself. His khaleesi is in danger. No way in hells is he going to let Jon's dragonboy ass tap out on them now.
She's alone up there! You have to help her, get UP!
Jon's ribs are fractured, he's in no condition to fight, but Jorah's raw passion somehow gets him back on his feet. He leans heavily on Jorah. The two men struggle through the snow together, moved by sheer determination, and by devotion to the woman they both love.
Dany squints painfully against the cold as Drogon gains altitude. Frost is caked into her hair, her brows, even her eyelashes. She is shivering violently. She tucks her exposed arm against her body and flexes her fingers, which are beginning to succumb to frostbite. The pain makes her gasp.
In a wide shot, we see Drogon flying almost straight up, with Viserion in pursuit.
Viserion's wing membranes are full of holes, their torn edges fluttering as he beats the air. He lags farther and farther behind, unable to fly as powerfully as Drogon.
Jon and Jorah have reached Rhaegal's shoulder. The dragon is hunched low, his long neck sweeping back and forth as he breathes fire at the incoming wights.
Jorah lets Longclaw drop to the snow and uses both hands to throw Jon up and onto Rhaegal's shoulder. Jon gropes weakly for a handhold and drags himself painfully upward, with Jorah boosting him from below. As Jon gains the top, Jorah reaches down and finds Longclaw in the snow.

The growling of wights makes him look up. Another cluster has made it past Rhaegal. They run toward him, closing fast.
For the briefest split second, Jorah looks at them, then up at the sky where Dany is battling for her life. He sets his jaw, hurriedly hands Longclaw up to Jon, and scrambles up after him.
A rotted hand closes around Jorah's ankle.
The hand yanks Jorah back toward the ground, hard. He slips a few feet before checking his fall, clinging to Rhaegal's wing as the WIGHT growls and pulls at him.
Jon reaches down a hand, but Jorah is just out of reach. Jorah kicks desperately at the wight, but it has him in a grip like a bear trap, and doesn't seem to register his blows at all.
Jorah looks up into Jon's face.
Go! Go to her, now! Fly!
He lets go, falling to the ground as the wight drags him down.
Jorah's POV: Jon is looking down at us from atop his dragon, horrorstruck, clutching Longclaw in one hand, reaching futilely toward us with his other.
It's going to be the last thing Jorah ever sees.
Jorah stares up at this sight as more wights rush up, engulfing him like a pack of ravenous wolves. They tear at him, leaving deep bloody gouges in his face.
A great wind whips the snow, buffeting Jorah backward and out of frame as the camera rises up above the trees.

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