Game of Thrones Page #7

INT. GREAT HALL OF WINTERFELL - NIGHT

The feast for the king is in its fourth hour. A SINGER plays

the harp at one end of the hall but no one can hear him above

the roar of the fire, the clangor of pewter plates and cups,

and the din of a hundred conversations.

The long wooden tables are covered with steaming platters of

roasted meats and baked breads.

Banners hang from the stone walls: the dire wolf of Stark;

Baratheon’s crowned stag; the lion of Lannister.

Ned and Catelyn host King Robert (already drunk), Queen

Cersei, Ser Jaime and Tyrion Lannister (the queen’s brothers)

and a few other luminaries at a table on a raised platform.

The Stark and Baratheon trueborn children sit at a table

directly below the guests of honor.

On the main floor, the SOLDIERS, SQUIRES and other COMMONERS

sit on backless benches. Jon Snow sits with them.

33.

The young men sitting around Jon are telling the usual

stories about fighting and f***ing. Jon seems comfortable in

their midst, but he’s not paying attention to them; he’s

stealing a glance at his siblings, at their table of honor.

Jon downs his wine, and signals a serving boy for a refill,

and watches his father and the King and the high table.

Robert and Ned toast with tankards full of ale. Ned takes a

healthy drink; Robert drinks the whole tankard.

A few seats down, Catelyn notices Queen Cersei staring at her

drunk husband with plain disgust. A good hostess, Catelyn

tries to distract Cersei.

CATELYN:

Your children are quite beautiful,

my Queen. They have the gift of the

Lannister eyes.

Cersei, a little startled to be addressed, stares at Catelyn

with her vaguely reptilian green eyes.

CERSEI:

I heard a rumor we might share a

grandchild someday.

CATELYN:

(pleased)

I heard the same rumor...

CERSEI:

Of course, these decisions

ultimately fall to our husbands. As

all important decisions must.

She glances past Catelyn to Robert, as he gnaws on a rib and

leers at the BUXOM SERVING GIRL refilling his tankard. Only

her eyes reveal her anger, and they only do so briefly.

Jaime, sitting on the other side of Cersei, leans forward,

his forearms on the table, flashing his white teeth at

Catelyn. Many women have waited their whole lives for that

smile, but it only serves to make her nervous.

JAIME:

You’d enjoy the capital, my lady.

The north must be hard for someone

who wasn’t born here.

CATELYN:

I’m sure it seems very grim, after

King’s Landing.

(MORE)

34.

CATELYN (cont'd)

I remember how scared I was when

Ned brought me up here the first

time.

CERSEI:

You were only a girl. I’m sure you

were scared of many things.

CATELYN:

But harsh as it is, I’ve come to

love it. The north gets in your

blood.

Cersei seems skeptical, looking around the rough-hewn Great

Hall, which would fit in the kitchen of her own palace.

CERSEI:

Your daughter will take to the

city. Such a beauty can’t stay

hidden up here forever. It’s time

we introduce her to the court.

CATELYN:

Mm... of course, I have two

daughters.

If Cersei knew this at one point, she had forgotten. She sees

Catelyn’s distressed look and follows her gaze to the

children’s table, where Sansa looks as radiant as ever,

chatting with young Princess Myrcella.

Arya, on the other hand, has already ruined her evening

dress. She uses her spoon as a catapult to fling a wad of

pigeon pie at Bran, across the table. It hits him square in

the forehead.

JAIME:

The girl has talent.

Catelyn, embarrassed, begins to stand so she can take matters

in hand. But Ned, passing behind her, grips her shoulders,

leans down and kisses the side of her neck.

NED:

I’ll take care of it.

Cersei smiles at Catelyn. To her credit, she has an excellent

fake smile. The two women resume their conversation.

As Ned passes behind Jaime’s seat, Jaime pushes his chair

back, momentarily blocking Ned’s path. Jaime stands.

JAIME:

Excuse my clumsiness.

35.

He smiles down at Ned. Jaime is taller and broader in the

shoulders. They are considered two of the greatest warriors

in the Seven Kingdoms, and there can be little doubt that

right now each man wonders who would win a fight.

NED:

Not a trait most people associate

with you. Your pardon-

He moves to step around Jaime, but Jaime puts his hand on

Ned’s shoulder.

JAIME:

I hear we might be neighbors soon.

I hope it’s true.

Ned would rather talk to any living man than this one.

NED:

Yes, the King has honored me with

his offer.

Again he tries to pass, and again Jaime sidesteps to block

him. Jaime smiles but his actions are just shy of aggression.

JAIME:

The King has promised a tournament

to celebrate your new title... if

you accept. It would be good to

have you on the field. The

competition has become a bit stale.

NED:

I don’t fight in tournaments.

JAIME:

No? Getting a little old for it?

Ned is tired of trying to get around Jaime. He stands very

close to the younger man and looks him dead in the eye.

NED:

I don’t fight in tournaments

because if I ever have to fight a

man for real, I don’t want him to

know what I can do.

The comment pleases Jaime immensely, judging from his smile.

JAIME:

Well said, well said! I do hope you

take the King’s offer.

(MORE)

36.

JAIME (cont'd)

Though of course, we all know the

court hasn’t been kind to Stark

men.

Ned stiffens at the comment. Nobody wears swords at the

banquet but his hand reflexively grips for the absent hilt.

JAIME:

Your father and brother. Yes, I was

a witness to that... tragedy.

NED:

I know you were.

JAIME:

I suppose it’s some consolation

that justice finally came to their

killer. No need to thank me-- oh,

I’m sorry, you never did.

NED:

Was it justice you were thinking of

when you shoved your spear in the

Mad King’s back?

JAIME:

It was his kidneys I was thinking

of. His liver and spleen. Was that

terrible of me? After all the

suffering the man caused?

Ned has had enough. He pushes past Jaime. This time the

Kingslayer lets him go, but not before one final remark. For

an instant Jaime’s air of perpetual amusement evaporates.

JAIME:

The worst king in a thousand

years... and people treat me like

some back-alley cutthroat.

But Ned is already gone, heading down the raised platform.

Jaime stands alone. The only one at the banquet table who has

overheard the Jaime/Ned conversation is Tyrion, who grins at

his brother and raises his tankard in toast.

TYRION:

If it came down to it, big brother,

I’d bet on you-- but I wouldn’t bet

much.

He downs his tankard of ale with a single, heroic gulp and

wipes the foam from his mouth, pleased with himself.

37.

A second later it hits him: he’s one tankard over the line.

Tyrion stands and staggers away from the royal table without

a goodbye.

Jaime retakes his seat beside his sister, who watches Tyrion

stumble down the steps to the main floor.

CERSEI:

He is a vile little beast.

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