[About Ramsay] You're his wife now.
Do what he says! Do what he says or he'll hurt you!
He already hurts me every night! All day I'm locked in this room and every night he comes! It can't be any worse!
It can. It can always be worse.
You have to help me! Theon, help me!
He'll see us! You don't know him!
My family still has friends in the North. All I need to do is give a signal and they'll rescue me. Climb to the top of the broken tower. Light this candle and put it in the window. Promise me, Theon.
Your name is Theon Greyjoy. Last surviving son of Balon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands. Do you hear me? Theon, promise me!
My beautiful wife. One day I'll be Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. You'll be my Lady and Wardeness.
But isn't your stepmother pregnant?
What happens if she has a boy?
Then I'll have a baby brother.
I'm Lord Bolton's eldest son.
But you're a bastard, a trueborn will always have the stronger claim.
[Ramsay turns to Sansa coldly.]
I've been naturalized by a royal decree from...
Tommen Baratheon? Another bastard.
[Ramsay stares at her incredulously, seething at her consistently reminding him of his precarious claim.]
Bastards can rise high in the world. Like your half-brother Jon Snow. Born the Bastard of Winterfell, now the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. You didn't know? Yes, he's done very well for himself. Oh! I nearly forgot why I asked you to join me. Come, my lady.
[Ramsay leads Sansa out to the courtyard where he has displayed the flayed corpse of the elderly maid who approached Sansa earlier about giving a signal in case she ever needed rescue.]
Your northern friend. [He pulls out the candle she gave Sansa.] Reek told me you wanted to leave. Why? Winterfell is your home, now I am your husband. Tough old bird. Everyone talks when I start peeling them. But this one? Her heart gave out before I even got to her face. [Sansa is in tears.] We do breed tough in the North. [To his men.] Bring my wife back to her chamber. It's far too cold out here for a lady. You should hold on to your candles. The nights are so long now.
Forty horses died in the night. We'll lose more, come sunset. We're runnnin' out of food, we can't open the supply line until the snow clears.
The Stormcrows rode off last night.
Five hundred men. Sellswords - loyal to nothing but gold.
We still have a hard march to Winterfell, and we have a hard march in this weather.
This isn't our time. We should head back to Castle Black, and when the snow clears...
I retreated from King's Landing, Ser Davos. If I retreat again, I become "the King who ran".
Winter is coming. Those aren't just the Stark words, that's a fact. If we march back to Castle Black, we winter at Castle Black and who can say how many years this winter will last?
It's better to wait for the right time than risk everything.
This is the right time and I will risk everything, because if I don't, we've lost. We march to victory, or we march to defeat. But we go forward. Only forward.
You there. Where would I find the High Septon or High Sparrow or whatever bloody fool name he's got?
[Olenna approaches a crouched man revealed to be the High Sparrow, washing the floor of the Sept of Baelor]
It's not as good a name as "Queen of Thorns", I'll admit.
You should have the decency to stand when you speak to a lady.
You should have the decency to kneel before the Gods.
Don't spar with me, little fellow. [the High Sparrow rises to his feet with a groan]
For me, it's the knees. You?
A man of the people. Is that your game? It's an old game. Dull and unconvincing. A man of the people who does Cersei's dirty work for her.
The people always do the dirty work.
Spare me the homilies. I can smell a fraud from a mile away.
I'm here for my grandson and granddaughter.
Your grandson and granddaughter swore sacred vows and lied. The Father judges us all. Sons of high lords, sons of fishermen. If you break his laws, you will be punished.
Don't you walk away from me.
You don't give commands here, Lady Olenna.
What is it you want? Gold? I'll make you the richest septon who ever lived. What, then?
I imagine this is strange for you. Everyone you meet has a hidden motive and you pride yourself on sniffing it out. But I'm telling you a simple truth. I serve the Gods. The Gods demand justice.
How do they communicate their demands? By raven or horse?
By the holy text, "The Seven-Pointed Star". If you don't have one in your library, I'll give you my own.
I've read "The Seven-Pointed Star".
Then you'll remember the passages concerning buggery and perjury. Your grandchildren will be punished in the same manner as anyone who breaks the sacred laws.
Half the men, women, and children in this foul city break the sacred laws. You live among murderers, thieves, and rapists, and yet you punish Loras for shagging some perfumed ponce, and Margaery for defending her brother?
Yes. The Gods' laws must be applied to all equally.
If it's equality you want, so be it. When House Tyrell stops sending our crops to the capital, everyone here will starve. And I'll make sure the hungry know who's to blame.
Have you ever sowed the field, Lady Olenna? Have you ever reaped the grain? Has anyone in House Tyrell? A lifetime of wealth and power has left you blind in one eye. You are the few, we are the many. And when the many stop fearing the few...
The people who built this place didn't inflict their vanity on those who came after them, the way Baelor did with that great gelded monstrosity up there. Their faith was clean. Strip away the gold and the ornaments, knock down the statues and the pillars and this is what remains. Something simple, solid and true. The Tyrells' finery will be stripped away, their lies knocked down, their true hearts laid bare for all to see. And so it will be for all of us, high and low alike. What will we find when we strip away your finery? A young man came to us, not long ago, broken in body and spirit. He had so much to strip away, so much weighing him down. But, piece by piece, he unburdened himself. Let go of pride, vanity, sin. Now, his soul is so light, he will float through the Seven Heavens like a bird and he has much to say about you.
[Lancel Lannister enters. Cersei starts to exit, but the door opens and she is blocked by a tall Septa]
Move. Let me go, immediately. You will order her to let me go! I am the Queen! I am the Queen, have you lost your mind? Let me go! Look at me! Look at my face. It's the last thing you'll see before you die.
Not Theon. There is no Theon. Reek!
Reek! 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. He caught him, strapped him to a cross, cut away piece after piece until there was no Theon left.
Good! If it weren't for you, I'd still have a family. If I could do to you what Ramsay did right here, right now, I would.
I deserved everything. I deserve to be Reek. I did terrible things. Turned on Robb...captured Winterfell...killed 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...
I can't! Not unless the master says...
Tell me! They weren't what?
Tell me why Bran and Rickon should be gone while you still breath the air! [Grabs Theon by the face and shakes his head.] TELL IT TO MY FACE, THEON! TELL ME THAT THEY WEREN'T YOUR BROTHERS!
THEY WEREN'T BRAN AND RICKON! [Pause] I couldn't find them. It was two farm boys. I killed them and burned them so no one would know.
[Sansa releases Theon.]
[Theon shakes his head.]
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...
So, have you decided yet? Whether I'm worthy of your service?
Have you decided yet whether you're going to have me killed?
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 publicly sentenced me to death? I'd say his thoughts on having me killed were abundantly clear.
Is that why you killed him?
Someday, if you decide not to execute me...I'll tell you all about why I killed 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.
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.
The kind that prevents your people from being even more so.
Well, I did re-open the fighting pits. Under my rule, murder 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 killed.
Perhaps it won't come to that.
Jorah sent my secrets to Varys. For twenty years, the Spider oversaw the campaign to find and kill 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.
Yes, oddly. He may be the only person in the world I trust, except my brother.
The brother who killed my father?
Perhaps I will have you killed, after all.
Your Queenly prerogative. I'd given up on life until Varys convinced me you might be worth living for. You chop off my head? Well...my final days were interesting.
I'm not going to kill you.
So, if I'm not going to be murdered and I'm not going to be banished...
You're going to advise me. While you can still speak in complete sentences.
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?
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 blood 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 sent for me, Your Grace?
Find some healthy horses and a few knights to guard you. I'm sending you back to Castle Black. Tell the Lord Commander his King commands him to send food, supplies, fresh horses. In return, when I take the Throne, I'll make sure the Night's Watch has all the men it requires. He can guard all nineteen castles on the Wall, if he so wishes.
Your Grace, you named me your Hand.
The King's Hand should never abandon the King, especially in times of war.
You're not abandoning me, you're obeying a command.
A boy with a scroll could deliver this message.
And if Jon Snow refuses the boy with the scroll, what does the boy say? I didn't name you hand for your expertise in military matters. Ride for Castle Black, and don't come back empty-handed.
Your Grace, perhaps Queen Selyse and Princess Shireen could accompany me.
At least let me take Shireen! The siege is no place for a little girl.
[Jaime is escorted into the palace of Sunspear by Areo Hotah; Doran, Myrcella, Ellaria and Trystane are already there, drinking Dornish wine]
DMDoran Martell
Forgive us, we started without you. Please sit.
MBMyrcella Baratheon
Uncle.
MBMyrcella Baratheon
You don't like it?
MBMyrcella Baratheon
Not at all. The Dornish climate agrees with me.
Prince Trystane. How's your jaw?
TMTrystane Martell
A flea-bite.
What are you doing in Dorne?
Looking after the safety of my niece, the Princess Myrcella.
DMDoran Martell
And rather than send a raven or speak to me directly, you decided to enter my country in secret and abduct our guest by force.
We received a threatening message. The Princess's necklace, in the jaws of a viper.
MBMyrcella Baratheon
That necklace was stolen from my room.
Ah, excellent. A last meal, before the beheading?
DMDoran Martell
Oh, I can't behead you. Many in Dorne want war but I've seen war. I've seen the bodies piled on the battlefields. I've seen the orphans starving in the cities. I don't want to lead my people into that Hell.
No, you want to break bread with the Lannisters.
DMDoran Martell
And that is precisely what we're doing. Let us drink to Tommen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms! King Tommen insists on his sister's return to the Capital.
DMDoran Martell
I cannot disobey my King's command. She will return with you, to King's Landing and my son, Prince Trystane, will accompany you both. If the alliance between Dorne and the Iron Throne is to continue, their engagement must stand.
DMDoran Martell
One more thing. My brother was named to the Small Council before his... death. Your father understood the importance of keeping Dorne in the fold. With Oberyn gone, Trystane will take his place on the Small Council.
The word of a Kingslayer! [to Doran] No wonder you can't stand; you have no spine!
DMDoran Martell
You are mother of four of my nieces, girls I love very much. For their sake, I hope you live a long and happy life. Speak to me that way again, and you won't. [releases her, Ellaria storms off]
[as Jaime writes a letter] You write like a seven-year-old.
My maester kindly agreed to copy it over for me.
He didn't try to make you pay? [Jaime shakes his head] Maybe he's changed. The Queen will be thrilled to know you're bringing her daughter home.
You love her very much, don't you?.
Of course! She's my niece.
I wasn't talking about her. You think I disapprove? Why? Because people disapprove of that sort of thing where you are from? They disapproved of Oberyn and me, where you are from. Here no one blinked an eye. A hundred years ago, no one would have blinked an eye at you if you'd been named Targaryen. It's always changing, who we're supposed to love and who we're not. The only thing that stays the same is that we want who we want. I know your daughter had no part in the terrible thing that happened, to the man I loved. Perhaps, even you are innocent of that.
HZHizdahr zo Loraq
[about the fighting pits] You don't approve?
There's always been more than enough death in the world for my taste. I can do without it in my leisure time.
HZHizdahr zo Loraq
Fair enough. Yet it's an unpleasant question, but what great thing has ever been accomplished without killing or cruelty?
It's easy to confuse what is with what ought to be, especially when what is has worked out in your favor.
HZHizdahr zo Loraq
I'm not talking about myself. I'm talking about the necessary conditions for greatness.
[gesturing to a slain fighter] That is greatness?
HZHizdahr zo Loraq
That is a vital part of the great city of Meereen, which existed long before you or I and will remain standing long after we have returned to the dirt.
My father would have liked you.
One day your great city will return to the dirt as well.
HZHizdahr zo Loraq
At your command?
HZHizdahr zo Loraq
And how many people will die to make this happen?
If it comes to that, they will have died for a good reason.
HZHizdahr zo Loraq
[indicates the fighters in the pit] Those men think they're dying for a good reason.
HZHizdahr zo Loraq
So your reasons are true and theirs are false? They don't know their own minds but you do?
Well said. You're an eloquent man. Doesn't mean you're wrong. In my experience, eloquent men are right every bit as often as imbeciles.
[Stannis, wounded in the Battle of Winterfell, collapses against a tree in the forests outside Winterfell. Looking up, he sees Brienne standing over him.]
Bolton has women fighting for him?
I don't fight for the Boltons. I'm Brienne of Tarth. I was Kingsguard to Renly Baratheon. I was there when he was murdered by a shadow with your face. You murdered him with blood magic?
[Steps forth and unsheathes Oathkeeper] In the name of Renly of House Baratheon, First of His Name, rightful King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I, Brienne of Tarth, sentence you to die. Do you have any last words?
Go on, do your duty. [after a pause, Brienne raises Oathkeeper and swings]
MMyranda
My lady. I've come to escort you back to your chamber.
I know what Ramsay is. I know what he'll do to me. If I'm going to die, let it happen while there's still some of me left.
MMyranda
Die? Who said anything about dying? You can't die. Your father was Warden of the North. Ramsay needs you. Though I suppose he doesn't need all of you. Just the parts he'll use to make his heir, until you've given him a boy or two and he's finished using them. Then he's got incredible plans for those parts. So, shall we wait for him to come back or should we begin now? You're leaving it to me? Good. Let's begin.
[Theon grabs Myranda by the waist as she fires her first arrow, making her miss Sansa.]
MMyranda
Reek, stop! Stop!
[He pushes her off the catwalk, killing her. Theon and Sansa stare down at her body and then turn at the sound of a horn.]
[Theon takes Sansa's hand and leads her to the nearest balcony. Together they jump into a deep snowdrift]
