05x08 - Hardhome

(theme music playing)

(bird screeches)

Your Grace, I want to say--

You will not speak.

How do I know you are who you say you are?

If only I were otherwise.

If you are Tyrion Lannister, why shouldn't I k*ll you to pay your family back for what it did to mine?

You want revenge against the Lannisters?

I k*ll my mother Joanna Lannister on the day I was born.

I k*ll my father Tywin Lannister with a bolt to the heart.

I am the greatest Lannister k*ll of our time.

So I should welcome you into my service because you m*rder members of your own family?

Into your service?

Your Grace, we have only just met.

It's too soon to know if you deserve my service.

If you'd rather return to the fighting pits, just say the word.

When I was a young man, I heard a story about a baby born during the worst storm in living memory.

She had no wealth, no lands, no army, only a name and a handful of supporters, most of whom probably thought they could use that name to benefit themselves.

They kept her alive, moving her from place to place, often hours ahead of the men who'd been sent to k*ll her.

She was eventually sold off to some warlord on the edge of the world and that appeared to be that.

And then a few years later, the most well-informed person I knew told me that this girl without wealth, lands, or armies had somehow acquired all three in a very short span of time, along with three dragons.

He thought she was our best, last chance to build a better world.

I thought you were worth meeting at the very least.

And why are you worth meeting?

Why should I spend my time listening to you?

Because you cannot build a better world on your own.

You have no one at your side who understands the land you want to rule.

The strengths and weaknesses of the houses that will either join or oppose you.

I will have a very large army and very large dragons.

k*ll and politics aren't always the same thing.

When I served as Hand of the King, I did quite well with the latter considering the king in question preferred torturing animals to leading his people.

I could do an even better job advising a ruler worth the name.

If that is indeed what you are.

So you want to advise me?

Very well.

What would you have me do with him?

I swore I would k*ll him if he ever returned.

I know.

Why should the people trust a queen who can't keep her promises?

Whomever Ser Jorah was when he started informing on you, he is no longer that man.

I can't remember ever seeing a sane man as devoted to anything as he is to serving you.

He claims he would k*ll for you and die for you and nothing I ever witnessed gives me reason to doubt him.

And yet he did betray you.

Did he have an opportunity to confess his betrayal?


Many opportunities.

Tyrion: And did he?

No, not until forced to do so.

He worships you.

He is in love with you, I think.

But he did not trust you with the truth.

An unpleasant truth to be sure, but one of great significance to you.

He did not trust that you would be wise enough to forgive him.

So I should k*ll him?

A ruler who k*ll those devoted to her is not a ruler who inspires devotion.

And you're going to need to inspire devotion, a lot of it, if you're ever going to rule across the Narrow Sea.

But you cannot have him by your side when you do.

Remove Ser Jorah from the city.

(door slams)


My son.

Let me speak to--


I meant it.

My face will be the last thing you see--

(door opens)



My name is Lanna. I'm an orphan.

When I was eight, I begged enough money to buy my first bucket of oysters.

I sold that bucket and made enough money to buy two more.

(people chattering)

Arya: It took a while, but I finally saved enough to buy myself an oyster cart.

Now every morning, I make my way down to the canals.

I pass the fish mongers and the bakers.

I usually see Lhara, my first customer of the day on her way home.

Then I turn left onto Moonsinger Lane--


Turn left onto Ragman Lane where I do most of my trade.

Lanna is very impressive.

Very industrious.

She will make a fine servant for the Many-Faced God.

How will she serve him?

She will no longer turn left onto Ragman Lane.

She will turn right and go to Ragman Harbor.

What will she do there?

She will see.

(people chattering)

Arya: See what?

Jaqen: How can a man tell a girl this?

If he knew what she would see, there would be no reason to send her.

Oysters, clams, and cockles!


Oysters, clams, and cockles!

Oysters, clams, and cockles!

Your oysters fresh?

Best in the city.

You wouldn't lie to an old man, would you?


Very nice. Give me four with vinegar.

It's my 18th voyage.

Returned from all of them without a scratch on me.

Can't do it.

Captain: Please, I've three children.

Without me...

Here, take it. You have to.

I've three children.

What will they do?

Come on.

They've nothing without me.

Please, you have to!

Please, you don't understand!


Jaqen: The man is a gambler.

He wages that a sailor's ship will make it to its destination.

It is a strange wager for the captain.

He only wins if he loses his life.

So why would a captain make the wager in the first place?

A girl tells a man that she has seen.

If the captain dies, the thin man pays his family a lot of money.

But perhaps the gambler loses his bet and decides he does not have to pay after all.

A destitute woman and her small child, what can they do to such a man if he keeps their money for himself?

To whom can they turn for recourse?

(whispering prayer)

The Many-Faced God.

You said you didn't know what I would see at the docks.

A man had no idea what a girl would see and what she would not.

A girl named Lanna will return to the docks.

She will watch the gambler.

She will come to know as much about him as she knows about herself.

And then what?

A gift for the thin man.

She's not ready.

Perhaps she is, perhaps she's not.

And if she's not?

It is all the same to the Many-Faced God.

(door unlocks, opens)

(door locks)

The trial will take place soon.

The High Sparrow will be presenting a substantial case against you.

The charges?

Fornication, treason, incest, the m*rder of King Robert.

All lies.

Of course, Your Grace.

My concern is that the Faith does not adhere to the same standards of proof as the crown.

I hope you'll excuse me for saying it, but belief is so often the death of reason.

I wish you had said it sooner.

Is there any word from Jaime?

No, I'm afraid not.

Your Grace, Grand Maester Pycelle has summoned your Uncle Kevan back from Casterly Rock to serve as Hand of the King.

He now presides over the small council.

Tell him I need to speak to him.

I implored him to visit you, but he would not.

What about my son, the king?

If you can visit me, then surely the king...

Your arrest and Queen Margaery's arrest, the king has not taken them well.

He remains in his chambers.

His servants often find his food in the hall left untouched.

You need to talk to him.

You need to talk to my son and tell him to come and see me, come and see his mother.

He-- I tried, Your Grace.

He wouldn't see me. He won't see anyone.

I can't stay here.

There is a way, Your Grace.

A way out.


To the High Sparrow?

I won't.

I made him.

I rose him up from nothing.

I will not kneel before some barefooted commoner and beg his forgiveness.

Good-bye, my queen.

The work continues.


Why, Theon?

I'm not Theon. There is no Theon.



Why did you tell him, Reek?

I was helping you.

You wanted to escape.

There is no escape.

Not ever.

Theon Greyjoy tried to escape.

The master knew.

He knows everything.

He hunted him and caught him and strapped him to a cross and cut away piece after piece until there was no Theon left.


If it weren't for you, I'd still have a family.

If I could do what Ramsay did to you right here, right now, I would.

I deserved everything.

I deserve to be Reek.

I did terrible things.

Turned on Robb.

Captured Winterfell.

k*ll those boys.

They weren't "those boys."

They were Bran and Rickon. They were your brothers.

You've known them since they were born.

They weren't. They were only--

Only what?

I can't.

Tell me.

I can't, not unless the master says.

Tell me. They weren't what?

They weren't--

Tell me why Bran and Rickon should be gone while you still breathe the air.

Tell me to my face, Theon.

Tell me that they weren't your brothers!

They weren't Bran and Rickon!

I couldn't find them.

It was two farm boys.

I k*ll them and b*rned them so no one would know.

You didn't?

Do you know where they went, Bran and Rickon?

I can't talk to you anymore.

Theon, you have to tell me. Do you have any idea where--

Not Theon! Reek!

(door closes)

Our scouts tell us he's got no more than 6,000 men.

More than half of those are mounted, however.

And how high do Stannis's horses jump?

Our walls have been fully repaired.

The gates have been reinforced.

We have enough food for six months.

We are more prepared for a siege than they could ever be.

All we have to do is wait for them to freeze, starve, and mutiny.

You disagree?

Stannis isn't from the North.

You are, Father.

I think you're missing an opportunity to show the people of the North how House Bolton treats southern invaders.

And what do you recommend?

That we not sit and wait for Stannis to decide what sort of fight this is going to be.

That we hit first and hit hard and leave a feast for the crows.

A smart commander does not abandon a defensive advantage.

As long as we stay behind these walls, they can't touch us.

Not to mention that the snow is so deep, we couldn't get an army through to engage them even if we wanted to.

I don't need an army.

I need 20 good men.

So, have you decided yet?

Whether I'm worthy of your service?

Have you decided yet whether you're going to have me k*ll?

It's probably my safest option.

I can see why you would think so.

It's what your father would have done.

And what would your father have done?

My father, who publically sentenced me to death?

I'd say his thoughts on having me k*ll were abundantly clear.

Is that why you k*ll him?

Someday, if you decide not to execute me, I'll tell you all about why I k*ll my father.

And on that day, should it ever come, we'll need more wine than this.

I know what my father was.

What he did.

I know the Mad King earned his name.

So, here we sit.

Two terrible children of two terrible fathers.

I'm terrible?

I've heard stories.

Why did you travel to the far side of the world to meet someone terrible?

To see if you were the right kind of terrible.

Which kind is that?

The kind that prevents your people from being even more so.

Well, I did reopen the fighting pits.

Under my rule, m*rder will once again become entertainment.

Yes, that was wise.

And you agreed to marry someone you loathe for the greater good.

Very impressive.

My own sister married someone she loathed as well, though not by choice and certainly not for the greater good, gods forbid.

She ended up having him k*ll.

Perhaps it won't come to that.

It's not impossible that Varys was right about you after all.

Varys? King Robert's spymaster?

Yes, he's the one who convinced me to come find you.

He was my travelling companion before Ser Jorah seized that role for himself.

Jorah sent my secrets to Varys.

For 20 years the Spider oversaw the campaign to find and k*ll me.

He did what he had to do to survive.

He did a lot of other things as well, things he didn't have to do.

I suspect he's the main reason you weren't slaughtered in your crib.

But you trust him?

Yes, oddly.

He may be the only person in the world I trust.

Except my brother.

The brother who k*ll my father?

That's the one.

Perhaps I will have you k*ll after all.

Your queenly prerogative.

I had given up on life until Varys convinced me you might be worth living for.

If you chop off my head, well, my final days were interesting.

I'm not going to k*ll you.

No? Banish me?


So if I'm not going to be m*rder and I'm not going to be banished--

You're going to advise me.

While you can still speak in complete sentences.

Advise you on what?

How to get what I want.

The Iron Throne.

Perhaps you should try wanting something else.

If I want jokes, I'll get myself a proper fool.

I'm not entirely joking.

There's more to the world than Westeros after all.

How many hundreds of thousands of lives have you changed for the better here?

Perhaps this is where you belong, where you can do the most good.

I fought so that no child born into Slaver's Bay would ever know what it meant to be bought or sold.

I will continue that fight here and beyond.

But this is not my home.

When you get back to your home, who supports you?

The common people.

Let's be generous and assume that's going to happen.

Here in Slaver's Bay, you had the support of the common people and only the common people.

What was that like? Ruling without the rich?

House Targaryen is gone.

Not a single person who shares your bl*od is alive to support you.

The Starks are gone as well.

Our two terrible fathers saw to that.

The remaining members of House Lannister will never back you, not ever.

Stannis Baratheon won't back you, either.

His entire claim to the throne rests on the illegitimacy of yours.

That leaves the Tyrells.

Not impossible, not enough.

Lannister, Targaryen, Baratheon, Stark, Tyrell.

They're all just spokes on a wheel.

This one's on top, then that one's on top.

And on and on it spins, crushing those on the ground.

It's a beautiful dream, stopping the wheel.

You're not the first person who's ever dreamt it.

I'm not going to stop the wheel.

I'm going to break the wheel.



You said whoever wins will fight at the Great Pit in front of the queen.

I won.

You struck me.

Have me flogged if it makes you happy.

But I'm the best you've got.

If I win at the Great Pit, how much can you sell me for?

You're a free man.

You could have gone anywhere.

Why did you come back?

Let me fight for her and I belong to you.

Woman: Thirsty?


I'll get out of here, you realize, before long.


I can make you a wealthy woman.

A lady of the court.


Or I can make sure you die in the most hideous way imaginable.

And all I do is sit here imagining hideous ways for you to die.

(door opens)

(door closes, locks)


(wind howling)

Does it hurt?



How are you?

I'm not the one who got punched and kicked in the face.

You know what I mean.

I'm good.

Are you scared?

A little.

Me, too.

(knocks on door)

Who's there?



Come in.

I heard what happened.

Oh, not to worry.

Men brawl from time to time. It's only natural.

Figured you were hungry.

Oh, you're a good lad.

Wanted to ask you something if you've got the time.

I need to check on baby Sam.

(door closes)

Sam: Now then, how can I help?

It's about the Lord Commander.


He's going up to Hardhome to save all them wildlings.

Wildlings k*ll my mom and dad.

They k*ll everyone in my village.

We've been fighting them for years.

This wasn't a fight.

We were farmers and they slaughtered us.

So why is he saving them?

Wildlings are people.

Just like us, there are good ones and bad ones.

The one he's travelling with, the one with the red beard, he led the raid on my village.

Oh, Olly.

How can he trust him?

I've seen the army of the dead.

I've seen the white walkers.

And they're coming for us, for all the living.

And when it's time, we'll need every last man we can find.

But what if we let the wildlings through the gates and they cut our throats while we sleep?

Jon's taking a risk, but he has to.

We don't stand a chance otherwise.

Sometimes a man has to make hard choices, choices that might look wrong to others, but you know are right in the long run.

You believe that?

With all my heart.

Try not to worry, Olly.

I've been worrying about Jon for years.

He always comes back.

(wind howling)

(men grunting)

Ranger: Turn us about!

You trust me, Jon Snow?

Does that make me a fool?

We're fools together now.

(man whistles)

Lord of Bones.

Been a long time.

Last time I saw you, the little crow was your prisoner.

The other way around now. What happened?


w*r? You call that a w*r?

The greatest army the North has ever seen cut to pieces by some southern king.

We should gather the elders, find somewhere quiet to talk.

You don't give the orders here.

I'm not giving an order.

Why aren't you in chains?

He's not my prisoner.


What is he?

We're allies.

You f*cking traitor.

You fight for the crows now?

I don't fight for the crows.

We're not here to fight. We're here to talk.

Is that right?

You and the pretty crow do a lot of talking, Tormund?

And when you're done talking, do you get down on your knees and suck his cock?


Gather the elders and let's talk.

(man coughs)

My name's Jon Snow.

I'm Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

We're not friends.

We've never been friends.

We won't become friends today.

This isn't about friendship.

This is about survival.

This is about putting a 700-foot wall between you and what's out there.

You built that wall to keep us out.

Since when do the crows give two shits if we live?

Jon: In normal times we wouldn't. But these aren't normal times.

The white walkers don't care if a man's free folk or crow.

We're all the same to them, meat for their army.

But together we can b*at them.

b*at the white walkers?

Good luck with that. Run from them, maybe.

It's not a trick.

It's a gift for those who join us.


A man of the Night's Watch used one of these daggers to k*ll a walker.

You saw this?


But I trust the man.

There are old stories about dragonglass.

There are old stories about ice spiders as big as hounds.

And with the things we've seen, you don't believe them?

Jon: Come with me and I'll share these w*apon.

Come with you where?

Jon: There are good lands south of the Wall.

The Night's Watch will let you through the tunnel and allow your people to farm those lands.


I knew Mance Rayder.

He never wanted a w*r with the Night's Watch.

He wanted a new life for his people, for you.

We're prepared to give you that new life.


If you swear you'll join us when the real w*r begins.

Where is Mance?

He died.


I put an arrow through his heart.

(wildlings shouting)

Tormund: Hey, hey.

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.

Hey, hey, hey.

Loboda: I say we send the Lord Commander back to Castle Black with no eyes.

Hey, none of you saw Mance die.

I did.

The southern king who broke our army, Stannis, wanted to burn him alive to send us a message.

Jon Snow defied that c**t's orders.

His arrow was mercy.

What he did took courage.

And that's what we need today, the courage to make peace with men we've been k*ll for generations.

I lost my father, my uncle, and two brothers fighting the damn crows.

I'm not asking you to forget your dead.

I'll never forget mine.

I lost 50 brothers the night that Mance attacked the Wall.

But I'm asking you to think about your children now.

They'll never have children of their own if we don't band together.

The Long Night is coming and the dead come with it.

No clan can stop them.

The free folk can't stop them.

The Night's Watch can't stop them.

And all the southern kings can't stop them.

Only together, all of us.

And even then it may not be enough, but at least we'll give the f*ck a fight.

You vouch for this man, Tormund?

He's prettier than both my daughters, but he knows how to fight.

He's young, but he knows how to lead.

He didn't have to come to Hardhome.

He came because he needs us and we need him.

My ancestors would spit on me if I broke bread with a crow.

So would mine, but f*ck 'em, they're dead.


I'll never trust a man in black.

But I trust you, Tormund.

If you say this is the way, we're with you.

This is the way.


Elder: I'm with Tormund.

We stay here, we're dead men.

At least with King Crow, there's a chance.

(giant growls)


Keep that new life you want to give us.

And keep your glass, King Crow.

As soon as you get on his ships, they're gonna slit your throats and dump your bodies to the bottom of the Shivering Sea.

That's our enemy.

That has always been our enemy.

I f*cking hate Thenns.


Man: Move it.

Woman: Be careful.

Man #2: Move 'em along, now.

Man #3: Cast-off time.

That's it, come on.

How many are with us? 5,000?

I'm not good at counting.

We're leaving too many behind.

The free folk are stubborn.

You know how long it took Mance to band them together?

20 f*cking years.

And he knew them better than I ever will.

They're running out of food and there's nothing to hunt.

They'll come around.

Jon: Get yourselves ready.

Man: Aye!

Johnna is gonna look after you.

She's in charge. You listen to her.

Man: Take her. There you are.

I want to go with you.

I need to get the old folks on the boats.

I'm right behind you. I promise.

Go on.

(overlapping voices) Another one.

Keep moving. We'll meet you out there.

Won't be able to take that on the boat. It's too big.

That's the last one!

Three more! Move on!

(overlapping voices continue)

There's more dragonglass everywhere.


I've got some more daggers over here.

Put that dagger in his bag.


(speaks the Old Tongue)

(dogs barking, howling)

(wind gusting)

(barking continues)

(thunder rumbling)



Man: Steady!


(wind howling)

(people shouting)

Shut the gates.

Man: Close the gates!

(shouting, screaming)

Shut the gates!



Open the gate!

Let us in!

(all shouting)

Help us!

(people screaming)

Woman: Please open it!


Man: Open the gate!

(shouting continues)

(shouting stops)


(distant screams echoing)



(people screaming)

Tormund: Ready your arrows!


(people screaming)

(all shouting)

Tormund: Wait! Wait!

Keep in line! Keep in line!

Get in line!


(thumping, snarling)



Man: Get to the front!

Man #2: Go on, sh**t it!


Karsi: Wait, wait!

Jon: Duncan, hold the line! Hold the line!

Lord Commander!

Get them to the ship and come back for me!

But you'll never make--


(people shouting)

Let me on!

Let me on!

Bloody f*cking move!

Let go!

You should be on one of those boats.

So should you. My little girls got on.

They're gonna let them pass the Wall even if you're not there?

You have my word. I've given orders.

Don't think you're gonna be there to enforce those orders.

(thunder rumbles)

If they get through, everyone dies.

Night's Watch, with me!

Move! Move!




Man: No, no!

Jon: Tormund, the sleigh!

Tormund: Okay, okay!

The dragonglass.

You and me, then!


(giant growling)

Get the glass.








(screams echoing)




(people shouting)

Come on!

The dragonglass.

f*ck the glass! We are gonna die here!


Oh, f*ck!


Man: Tormund, run!

(wood creaking)

(men shouting)

Wun Wun, to the sea.


(woman screaming)

(overlapping voices) Quickly!

Faster, faster!

Run, run!


Quickly, row! Row!

Go, go, come on!

(wildlings screaming)

Let's go! Now, now!

Man: Come on, row!


(screaming continues)

(music playing)