April 13, 2019
Tormund and Edd ponder their next move. Jon shares difficult news with Sansa.
EXT. CASTLE BLACK, NORTH SIDE OF THE WALL - DAY
A wide shot establishes us at the north side of the Wall. We can see the closed gate of Castle Black's tunnel at its base.
A chunk of ice the size of a bowling ball sails down from on high and shatters against the ground.
EXT. CASTLE BLACK, TOP OF THE WALL - DAY
TORMUND heaves another chunk of ice from the top of the Wall, putting all his strength into the throw. He looks deeply upset about something. The ice falls away from the Wall in a long slow arc.
A collection of ice rubble lays in a heap by Tormund's feet, along with an axe.
DOLOROUS EDD appears, as Tormund continues moodily chucking chunks of ice out into empty space. Edd deadpans at the ice rubble, and at the section of parapet wall that it had been hacked from.
You're ruining my nice Wall.
Tormund ignores him and chucks another piece of ice over the edge. Edd walks up to stand beside him.
I'm sorry about your lady.
A pang of grief comes over Tormund's face. He's silent for a few beats as he continues throwing ice.
She was never really mine. But she would have been. If we'd only had more time.
Edd casts him a look of profound skepticism, which Tormund doesn't see. But he politely refrains from comment.
The raven brought other news.
Tormund throws another chunk of ice. But grunts to show he's listening.
Jon says they brought down the Night King's dragon. And about a third of his army.
Yes. The world is ending slightly more slowly than before. Hurrah.
Tormund finally stops throwing ice and looks at Edd.
The dead are roaming, attacking vulnerable people where they can. Your people are vulnerable. Nice big army of children and old people, all gathered up in one place.
Edd steps over to the southern edge of the Wall, looking down at Castle Black and the surrounding wildling encampment. Tormund joins him there, his face creased with worry.
You think they'll come this far north again?
Maybe they will. Maybe they won't. It won't matter.
Tormund gives him a quizzical look.
Edd heaves a weary sigh.
We're running out of food. Our stores weren't meant to feed four thousand wildlings. So either the dead kill us, or hunger does.
I expect Jon would want us to set ourselves on fire first.
No, Jon would want us to stay alive.
Oh. I'd forgotten. I suppose I won't die then.
We need to find a way. Keep them safe.
The dead are south of the Wall now. There's nowhere left that's safe.
A brooding silence follows Edd's pronouncement. The two men stare down into Castle Black together.
Suddenly, a look of huge epiphany overtakes Tormund's face. He turns his head and fixes Edd with a wide-eyed stare.
Edd looks up at him and freezes.
The dead. Are south. Of the Wall.
Slowly, ponderously, he turns his eyes north. Edd follows his gaze. An "oh shit" look comes over his face as he realizes what Tormund is thinking.
Tormund steps up to the northern edge of the Wall and stares down into the lands beyond -- his once and future home.
(are you crazy)
We can't survive out there. Winter is here.
Aye. Crows can't.
He leans toward Edd with a wild glint in his eye.
But we can.
INT. JON'S OFFICE - DAY
The dead are roaming deeper into the wolfswood, according to his scouts.
Sansa sets down an opened raven scroll upon Deepwood Motte, leaning over a large map of the North, spread out on Jon's desk.
Jon stands silently at Sansa's side. His gaze is achingly sad as it moves lingeringly over their kingdom. Sansa is too preoccupied to see it.
She sets down another raven scroll, this time on Torrhen's Square.
Beren Tallhart reports Walkers moving south into the Barrowlands. That's open ground -- you might have more luck with your dragon there.
Jon looks up at her. She finally notices his expression and trails off.
...what is it?
Jon is visibly struggling.
A stunned silence.
I'm flying south. With Daenerys and Tyrion.
Sansa looks utterly stricken.
Jon, you can't.
I have to.
We need you here!
People in the North have been preparing for this. People in the South have no idea what's about to hit them.
There are still tens of thousands of dead in the North! They're killing our people, your people.
I'm married to the queen now. All of them are my people.
A million people live in King's Landing alone. If we don't save them, the Night King will kill everyone and return to march on the North with a hundred times the soldiers. This war is moving south. I have to move with it.
We're leaving all the queen's forces with you. We'll raise our own army in the South.
Jon, I can't, I don't know anything about armies or fighting or...
(off her look)
You do. You won't be able to save everyone. But with luck, and the right hard choices, you'll make this an even fight. They'll be looking for easy victories, people they can kill without losing more soldiers than they gain.
You're smart, and you're brave. And besides: this is what you were always meant to be.
What do you mean?
He looks her over.
Sansa Stark. We would name you Wardeness of the North.
Sansa stares back at him. In some part of her, this is what she's always wanted. And yet:
How long will you be gone?
I don't know. I'm taking this war one battle at a time.
After the war?
I'll go wherever my queen needs me to be.
Sansa takes a shaky breath. She's fighting tears, and Jon is not quite dry-eyed himself.
I don't want you to leave.
She pulls him in, and they hug. The camera slowly pulls out on them: two Starks, with the North behind them on the desk.