[Brother Lancel and a group of the Faith Militant accost Littlefinger and his guards]
BLBrother Lancel
Lord Baelish.
BLBrother Lancel
Brother Lancel. We abandon our family names.
Quite a family to abandon.
BLBrother Lancel
The city has changed since you were here last. We've flooded the gutters with wine, smashed the false idols and set the godless on the run.
Well done. [Lancel bars his path as he moves to leave] I'm here on urgent business for the Queen Mother. Should I send word I'll be delayed? [Lancel and the Faith Militant move aside]
BLBrother Lancel
Step carefully, Lord Baelish. You'll find there's little tolerance for flesh peddlers in the new King's Landing.
We both peddle fantasies, Brother Lancel. Mine just happen to be entertaining.
Do you think it's wise, your Grace? Arresting the heir to Highgarden?
The Faith arrested the heir to Highgarden.
Of course. And the Faith were armed on your orders.
The King's orders. Is the King to blame for Ser Loras's perversion?
[Shakes his head.] House Tyrell won't tolerate this insult.
House Tyrell won't tolerate it? I'm the insulted party, Lord Baelish. Ser Loras was promised to me, instead he chose the company of boys.
One's choice of companion is a curious thing.
If there's nothing else...
There is another matter, your Grace. Something so urgent I couldn't trust the words to a raven. You once charged me with finding Arya Stark. To my shame, I failed you. But I have found Sansa Stark. Alive and well. At home again. Living at Winterfell.
My sources are well placed. They tell me Roose Bolton plans to marry her to his son Ramsay, a bastard recently legitimized by King Tommen.
Roose Bolton is Warden of the North by the grace of my father.
Indeed. His reward for stabbing his own king in the heart.
We were fools to trust a turncloak.
Marrying his son to the last of the Starks gives him more legitimacy in the North than an alliance with a hated southern house.
I will skin him and his bastard like that wretch on their bloody sigil!
I would counsel patience, your Grace.
Patience!? Sansa helped murder my son, Roose Bolton is a traitor!
Stannis Baratheon is also a traitor, marching with his army on Winterfell. Let Stannis and Roose battle. Let the enemies of the Throne slaughter each other, and when they're done, seize Winterfell from whichever thief survives.
Winterfell is a thousand miles away from here. The weather has already begun to turn.
That is why it is critical to strike soon while the victor still licks his wounds. Surely, your uncle Kevan could muster a force.
My uncle Kevan has all the courage of a kitchen mouse.
Jaime is away on a sensitive diplomatic mission. I have no idea when he'll be back.
Perhaps I can help. The knights of the Vale are some of the best fighters in Westeros. Trained to battle in the ice and the snow.
Forgive me, Lord Baelish, your reputation is a moneylender and profit-keeper, not a military man.
You wouldn't risk a single Lannister soldier or a single coin from the royal treasury. What do you have to lose? A brothelkeeper?
Name me Warden of the North?
I'll speak to the King this evening. Have an issue of royal decree.
I'll not rest until the lion flies over Winterfell.
And I'll know you're a man of your word when I see Sansa Stark's head on a spike.
As I said, I live to serve.
OOlyvar
Yes. Very well. He is Ser Loras Tyrell out of Highgarden.
How did you come to meet him?
OOlyvar
I squired for him. He took a liking to me. He summoned me to his chamber the first day we met.
And what occurred in his chamber?
OOlyvar
We engaged in intimate relations.
OOlyvar
That night and many others.
LTLoras Tyrell
[hoarsely] Liar! He's a liar!
Is there anyone else who can support your claim?
OOlyvar
Yes. Yes, Queen Margaery. She walked in on us once, not long ago. She didn't seem surprised.
This testimony is an insult to a Great House. Why should the Faith or anyone else take the word of a squire over the heir to Highgarden?
OOlyvar
He has a birthmark, your Grace. Quite high on his thigh. Wine-colored and roughly the shape of Dorne.
[Loras lunges at Olyvar but two Sparrows rush in to restrain him.]
[They pull him away as two more Sparrows walk over toward Margaery.]
What are you doing? Let us pass.
The Faith is satisfied there is enough evidence to bring a formal trial for Ser Loras. And Queen Margaery.
Bearing false witness before the Gods is as grave a sin as any, my lady. Take her.
[The Sparrows take hold of Margarey.]
No! Tommen! Tommen! [Tommen silently raises his hand to the Kingsguard, unwilling to attack the Sparrows.] You can't do this! I am the queen! Tommen! Tommen! I am the queen! How dare you...take your hands off me!
My father said you're still a virgin.
Why? Why are you still a virgin? Afraid of dwarves?
Lord...Lord Tyrion was kind. He was gentle. He never touched me.
Lying to your husband on his wedding night...that would be a bad way to start a marriage. We're man and wife now. We should be honest with each other. Don't you think?
[Ramsay kisses Sansa on the lips.]
Good. Take off your clothes. [Sansa turns toward Reek, who tries to leave.] Oh no, no, no! You stay here, Reek. You watch! [To Sansa] Do I need to ask a second time? I hate to ask you a second time. Reek, I told you to watch. You've known Sansa since she was a girl. Now watch her become a woman.
[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.
