October 21, 2018

The Night King arrives at Last Hearth.

Cold open

EXT. LONG LAKE NORTHWESTERN SHORE - DAY

The UMBER REFUGEE TRAIN makes its way down the Kingsroad, moving along the northwestern shore of the Long Lake.

[N.B.: The lake sits high in the Lonely Hills, giving it a view of the surrounding forests and countryside.]

Men, women, and children struggle forward in the snow, on foot and horseback. They look frozen and exhausted.

Young NED UMBER is on horseback, watching people as they pass by, scanning for stragglers.

An eerie shriek echoes in the distance. Ned turns and looks toward the sound, back the way they came.

EXT. LAST HEARTH - OUTER WALL - DAY

Blue flames fill our vision.

We pull back to see VISERION breathing fire upon the walls of Last Hearth. He blasts fire again and again, focusing his terrible flames upon the base of the outer wall.

The NIGHT KING sits ominous and terrible on his dragon's back.

The ARMY OF THE DEAD stands in a massive legion nearby, still and silent, the light of the dragon-flame reflecting off their dead faces. WHITE WALKERS sit upon their dead horses, watching and waiting.

EXT. LONG LAKE NORTHWESTERN SHORE - DAY

Tears stream silently down young Ned Umber's face as he stares past us into the distance.

Ned's POV: past the snow-covered lake, past the forests and open countryside, we see distant flashes of blue on the horizon. Its light reflects off the clouds above and the snow below, like lightning. Even from this distance, the effect is otherworldly and terrifying.

EXT. LAST HEARTH - OUTER WALL - DAY

Under the sustained blasts of fire, the stones glow red, then white, then melt into slag and collapse. The stones above collapse down into the void, and a section of wall comes tumbling down.

2.

For a moment, there is utter silence.

Then as one, the army of the dead lurches forward and streams into the breach.

INT. LAST HEARTH - DAY

We creep softly through Last Hearth's abandoned interior, panning slowly and eerily through its rooms, lingering on the signs of everyone having left very suddenly.

A dining hall, the benches pushed back haphazardly, food half-eaten, ale half-drunk.

A parsnip, half-chopped, a knife left askew on the cutting board.

A broom, laying in the middle of the floor where it was dropped.

A blacksmith's forge, a single coal still smoldering a dull, weak red. Then a gust of intense cold makes the coal go dark, emitting a faint, ghostly tendril of white smoke.

Now we see waist-level shots of HUMAN FORMS moving through the rooms, slowly refilling the empty castle with people. We can't see their faces... it is only by context and by the uncanniness of their movement that we know they are dead people.

INT. LAST HEARTH - RAVENRY - DAY

The MAESTER OF LAST HEARTH is methodically attaching scrolls to ravens, leaving the cage doors open as he goes. He's shivering, his breath gusting fog in the intensely cold air.

The ravens refuse to leave their open cages. They cower, cawing their alarm.

Finally, he finishes with the last raven. Shaking violently, he sits down, facing the open window, his back to the door. He squeezes his eyes shut and rocks back and forth, his lips moving with some prayer we can't hear.

Around him, the ravens caw louder and louder, the noise rising up in a cacophonous crescendo of fear.

Over the maester's shoulder, out of focus, the door slowly swings open.

3.

There's an explosion of noise as all the ravens burst simultaneously out of their cages, filling the room with their panic. It's a chaos of flapping wings and frantic cawing. The noise dies down as they empty out through the window, fleeing into the sky.

Now it is completely, utterly, profoundly silent. A few black feathers float in the air, rocking slowing back and forth on the air currents, drifting down toward the floor.

Near-paralyzed with dread, the maester slowly turns to look behind him.

The Night King stands alone and terrible in the center of the room.

Slowly and deliberately, the Night King lifts his ice blade and points it at the maester's heart. We hear that faint high-pitched ringing, on the edge of hearing.

The maester stares up at him, frozen in terror.

The Night King draws the blade back and the ringing grows louder and more painful, louder and louder, then--

CUT TO BLACK