Game of Thrones Page #3

JON:

Lord Stark... There are five pups.

Three male, two female.

(off Ned’s curiosity)

You have five trueborn children.

Three sons, two daughters. The

direwolf is the sigil of your

House.

Everyone looks to the Stark banners, with their direwolf

crest-of-arms. We see their opinions about the pups change,

as they come to understand the import of this omen.

JON:

Your children were meant to have

these pups.

NED:

And you?

JON:

I am not a Stark, my Lord.

11.

Ned weighs the situation for a moment in silence.

NED:

You will feed them yourselves. And

train them yourselves.

Bran nods eagerly. Robb nods as well.

NED:

They may die anyway, despite all

you do.

ROBB:

They won’t. We won’t let them.

The decision made, people start to remount their horses.

Bran tugs gratefully on Jon’s sleeve. Jon smiles at him, but

beneath his smile there is a trace of sadness.

Jon is about to climb onto his horse when he hears a distant

whimpering. Leaving the horse behind, he ranges into a snow

drift, and scans the ground until he finds the source:

A sixth wolf pup, with white fur. Unlike the others, its eyes

are blood-red and open, and it is completely silent. Jon

picks it up.

Theon scoffs.

THEON:

An albino. It’ll die even faster

than the others.

Jon ignores Theon. He stares into the pup’s eyes and the pup

stares back.

JON:

This one belongs to me.

INT. DRESSING ROOM - SUNSET

DAENERYS (15) stands by the window, staring out at the bay of

Pentos, where shirtless FISHERMEN haul nets full of wriggling

fish from their boats onto the docks. The setting sun

silhouettes the brick towers of the Free City; intricate and

colorful geometric patterns decorate their bulbous domes.

Daenerys is a beautiful girl but nobody has bothered to tell

her. She is awkward in her own skin, unaware of how rare her

violet eyes and lush silver hair really are.

12.

VISERYS (O.S.)

Where’s my sweet sister?

VISERYS (20) steps into the room, a gaunt young man with

nervous hands and a feverish look in his pale eyes. He holds

a lilac gown in his hands.

VISERYS:

A gift from Illyrio. Touch it. Go

on. Feel the fabric.

Dany lets the delicate silk run through her fingers. It is a

gorgeous gown but the sight of it gives her no pleasure.

VISERYS:

Tonight you must look like a

princess.

Daenerys hands the gown back to her brother.

DAENERYS:

He gives us so much... we’ve been

his guests for a year and he’s

never asked for anything.

VISERYS:

Illyrio’s no fool. He knows I won’t

forget my friends when I come into

my throne.

He hangs the gown from a hook beside the door.

VISERYS:

I’ll send the slaves in to bathe

you. Be sure you wash off that

stable stink.

He studies her critically.

VISERYS:

You still slouch.

He pushes back her shoulders.

VISERYS:

Let them see you have a woman’s

body now.

His fingers brush lightly over her breasts, judging their

shape beneath the rough fabric of her tunic.

13.

VISERYS:

Don’t fail me tonight. You don’t

want to wake the dragon, do you?

His fingers tighten over one of her nipples, pinching. He’s

hurting her but Daenerys does not resist or open her mouth.

VISERYS:

Do you?

DAENERYS:

No.

VISERYS:

Good.

He smiles, releasing her, brushing back her hair with

something like affection.

VISERYS:

When they write the history of my

reign, they will say it began

tonight.

EXT. STREETS OF PENTOS - NIGHT

A dozen STRONG MEN carry a palanquin through the pitch-black

streets of Pentos. Two SERVANTS walk in front, holding oil

lanterns to light the way.

INT. PALANQUIN - NIGHT

Inside the curtained litter, Daenerys, Viserys and MAGISTER

ILLYRIO recline on soft pillows. Daenerys wears the lilac

gown. Her makeup has been artfully applied but somehow she

looks even younger than before. She seems terribly nervous.

Illyrio (50) is tremendously fat, but he carries himself with

a certain elegance. He smiles at Daenerys, takes the girl’s

hand and gives her a comforting squeeze.

ILLYRIO:

(to Viserys)

She is a vision, your Grace. Drogo

will be impressed.

VISERYS:

She’s too skinny. Are you sure he

likes his women this young?

ILLYRIO:

She’s had her blood, she’s old

enough. Look at her!

(MORE)

14.

ILLYRIO (cont'd)

Highest of the highborn, daughter

of the past king, sister to the

future king... he’ll want her.

VISERYS:

I suppose. The savages have queer

tastes. Boys, horses, sheep...

ILLYRIO:

Best not suggest this to Khal

Drogo.

VISERYS:

Do you take me for a fool?

Magister Illyrio gives a slight bow.

ILLYRIO:

I take you for a king. Kings lack

the caution of common men. My

apologies if I have given offense.

He claps his hands and a SLAVE BOY wearing a brass collar,

crouched in the corner of the litter, hurries over to refill

Illyrio’s wine glass.

VISERYS:

I know how to play a man like

Drogo. I give him status-

(nodding at Dany)

-- and he gives me an army.

His fingers toy with the hilt of his sheathed sword.

VISERYS:

I could sweep the Seven Kingdoms

with ten thousand Dothraki

screamers behind me. The people

will be with us. They cry out for

their true king.

Viserys pauses and gives Illyrio an anxious look.

VISERYS:

They do, don’t they?

ILLYRIO:

(an amiable salesman)

All across the Kingdoms, men lift

secret toasts to your health. Their

women sew dragon banners in hope of

your return from across the water.

(shrugs)

Or so my agents tell me.

15.

Daenerys, who has watched Illyrio throughout his speech,

turns away. She keeps her own counsel, but it’s clear the

words that so inspire Viserys do not impress her.

EXT. DOTHRAKI ENCAMPMENT - NIGHT

A great field outside the city walls of Pentos, ringed by

hundreds of the distinctive, round Dothraki tents.

The moon and burning torches light the milling guests. Many

are DOTHRAKI HORSELORDS, big men, their black hair oiled and

braided and hung with silver bells. No women are present.

A smooth-cheeked EUNUCH announces the newcomers:

EUNUCH:

Viserys of the House Targaryen, the

Third of his Name. King of the

Andals and the First Men, Lord of

the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of

the Realm. His sister Daenerys

Stormborn, Princess of Dragonstone.

His honorable host, Illyrio

Mopatis, Magister of the Free City

of Pentos.

The three honored guests step into the clearing. Illyrio

guides them, pointing out various luminaries.

ILLYRIO:

Those three are Drogo’s

bloodriders.

The BLOODRIDERS, fearsome Dothraki warriors, stare back at

Daenerys. She quickly averts her eyes.

ILLYRIO:

Over there is Ser Jorah Mormont.

VISERYS:

A knight? What’s he doing here?

SER JORAH is past forty and balding, but still strong and

fit. When he sees the Targaryens staring at him he bows

deeply. Viserys gives a slight nod, pleased by the obeisance.

ILLYRIO:

King Robert

(correcting himself)

-the Usurper wanted his head. Some

trifling affront. Sold poachers to

a slaver.

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