March 17, 2018
The survivors deal with the aftermath.
ext. GodswOOD - evening
Jaime calls her name repeatedly as he searches through the godswood. The air is murky with smoke.
No answer. Jaime stands beneath the red leaves of the heart tree, looking around helplessly. The ground is thickly strewn with the smoldering bodies of wights and fallen soldiers.
Jaime gathers his courage and begins walking through the godswood once more, this time searching among the bodies, desperately hoping not to find what he's looking for.
We see Jaime's reaction first.
And then we see her.
Dragon fire has rendered Brienne completely unrecognizable, if not for her armor. The armor that Jaime himself had given her.
Jaime stares down at her in numb silence, blankly willing for this to somehow not be so.
A glint of gold pulls his eye to a smoldering wight corpse laying nearby. He looks closer and sees Oathkeeper's distinctive lion hilt poking out of its body. Not knowing what else to do, he reaches for it, then flinches back -- even through his glove, the sword is too hot to touch.
He wraps his good hand in his cloak and pulls free the burning sword. Its blade is smoking with gory char. He stares at it a moment.
He props his golden hand underneath the blade, supporting it horizontally, and slowly lays Oathkeeper down on the ground in front of Brienne's body. The blade sizzles as it meets the damp ground.
Jaime kneels there, head bowed, a picture of chivalric respect.
Then his face crumples. He sinks backward onto the ground, puts his head in his arms, and dissolves into grief.
int. Winterfell great hall - night
Brienne's armor has been cleaned, as well as could be. Oathkeeper has been cleaned. Both have been carefully laid out upon a table.
Sansa stares down at them. Arya stands at her shoulder, Bran sits at her other shoulder, and Pod hovers nearby. He's still dutifully carrying out Brienne's last order to him, though he looks like he's barely holding himself together.
Jaime stands across from them all, looking down at the relics from his side of the table. For the Starks' sake, he has arranged his face into a mask of stoic decorum.
I refused her service. When she first found me.
(for Sansa's benefit)
So did I.
It didn't stop her. Nothing ever did.
A flash of pain briefly shows itself through Jaime's mask. He buries it, reaches out, and lightly touches Oathkeeper with the fingers of his good hand.
This sword belongs to you now. To your family. I gave it to Lady Brienne when I sent her to fulfill my oath to your mother.
Sansa looks up at Jaime, a little surprised.
You want us to have your family sword?
This is your family sword, Lady Stark. It always has been.
Sansa is confused. Before Jaime can elaborate:
They all look at Bran.
Tywin Lannister took our father's sword after he was killed. He had it reforged into this one.
Sansa and Arya stare at Bran, then look down at Oathkeeper with new eyes. Neither of them had ever imagined they would be getting Ice back. It's an unexpected, poignant moment.
I often see it in my visions.
Ice. It's important somehow.
He gazes at Oathkeeper for a long moment, with a faraway look in his eyes. Then he looks back up at Sansa.
I'd like to return to the godswood now.
...Bran, this is hardly the time.
I have work to do.
Can't you rest for one night? We finally have a bit of respite.
We do. Which means my real work can begin.
He returns his gaze to Oathkeeper, while Sansa casts a helpless look at the others.
(to nobody in particular)
I need to learn more about Ice. I need to learn more about the first War for the Dawn...
INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE JON'S CHAMBER - NIGHT
...and how to defeat the Night King for good.
Dany is standing outside Jon's closed door. She's dressed in fresh clothes now, and the side of her face has been cleaned and bandaged. She stands there hesitating -- a reversal of their final scene in 707.
Dany gathers her courage and knocks.
Footsteps, then Jon opens the door, just a crack. He hesitates, glances inside, then back at her.
I'm not properly dressed.
She pushes lightly on the door, and he relents.
Int. Jon's chamber - conTINUOUS
Jon stands close behind the door as he opens it inward, hiding behind it like a shield. Dany enters, and he closes the door behind her.
Jon is shirtless, with part of his ribcage wrapped in a poultice, which only partially obscures his spectacular bruising. His hair is loose and slightly damp from a recent bath.
Jon glances shyly at Dany, then fishes a loose linen shirt from his bed. He puts it on, with some difficulty, his movements made awkward by his injury.
His decency restored, he turns to look at her. A beat of silence passes.
I'm sorry about Ser Jorah.
Dany's eyes go soft with grief. She nods wordlessly.
Jon hesitates another beat, then walks up to her. He touches the bandage on her face, gently.
The maester thinks this will be alright?
It's not deep.
Mm. Don't let it fester.
He picks up one of her hands. Her fingers are darkened, discolored.
I shouldn't lose the fingers.
Jon inspects her hand more closely, until she pulls it out of his grip.
I'm alright. Really. Your maester was very thorough.
She takes a deep breath.
You were right, by the way.
The witch not being a reliable source of information.
Jon looks at her, confused. Then his expression changes hugely as her meaning dawns on him. She returns his gaze steadily, meaningfully.
Jon backs up a few steps and sinks down onto the edge of his bed, eyes wide.
I know you don't wish for us to be together. We don't have to be, in that way. But for the sake of the realm, and for the child--
Her carefully rehearsed words die in her throat. She stares at him, hardly daring to trust her ears.
Jon takes a moment to collect himself. She needs to know he means it. He looks her in the eye and repeats himself, more deliberately.
Daenerys, will you marry me?
Another beat, then he laughs shakily and jumps up to embrace her. He's visibly trembling.
Are you alright?
He pulls away, smiling tenuously.
Dany smiles sympathetically.
I've heard there's a saying: "Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin."
...that's not very polite.
They don't say it to our faces.
Jon laughs again. He looks down at her belly. He's rather overwhelmed.
He looks up into her face again.
Let's hope we're lucky.
I think we will be.
Jon smiles. Dany pulls him in for another embrace. He mistakes it as her going in for a kiss, and he kisses her reflexively, unthinkingly, practically by accident. Then remembers himself and stops abruptly, flustered.
I'm sorry. I didn't... we should...
She pushes him gently so that he's sitting on the edge of the bed once again, then leans down and lays another kiss on him, a longer one, tender and lingering. She pulls back and looks him in the face, searchingly, imploringly, looking for some kind of response from him.
Jon just stares. He's wide-eyed, helpless, frozen in place.
I want you. All of you.
He continues just staring at her. Dany deflates. Jon sees that, and it visibly breaks his heart.
But you don't want me.
He trails off, looking utterly lost and confused.
I don't know anymore.
Daenerys pauses a beat, then straightens up away from him, respectfully. She gives his shoulder a chaste squeeze.
Are you upset with me?
No. It's alright.
She squeezes his shoulder again. Her eyes are kind.
We'll work it out together.
I love you.
She does know. At some level, despite everything, she never stopped knowing it.
Her hand still rests on his shoulder. He reaches up and squeezes her forearm. They share a long, contemplative, companionable silence. No rush, no pressure, no judgment.
Jon is gazing intently up into Dany's face.
Fuck it. Fuck it all. He wants this.
Slowly, deliberately, he pulls her down by her elbow and kisses her properly.
END OF EPISODE 807
Annotated S08E07 commentary available on Patreon <3