Game of Thrones Finale Rewrite: the Dragon Pit Council Scene

So the last season of Game of Thrones really disappointed me. Last three episodes especially, and the second half of the series finale pretty much killed me. I’m dead, you guys. I died. Unlike most people from what I’ve gathered, I was totally fine with Daenerys going fascist and Jon killing her. It was all too rushed, and I still wish Jorah had been the one to kill her, but it’s fine. The Dragon Pit council scene, on the other hand. I lost my shit. And the small council sitcom that followed. I cannot get over it.

So I have made some edits…i.e. I rewrote the second half of the finale. Italicized lines below are from the original script, more or less verbatim. All else = artistic license. Enjoy!

SANSA STARK: Where’s Jon?

GREY WORM: He is our prisoner.

SANSA: So is Lord Tyrion. They were both to be brought to this gathering.

GREY WORM: We will decide what we do with our prisoners. This is our city now.

SANSA: If you look outside the walls of your city, you’ll find thousands of Northmen who will explain to you why harming Jon Snow is not in your interest.

GREY WORM: And you will find thousands of Unsullied who believe that it is.

SER DAVOS SEAWORTH: And all those respawned Dothraki, right. They’re out there as well?

GREY WORM: [shrugs] Sure, yeah.

YARA GREYJOY: Some of you may be quick to forgive. The Ironborn are not. I swore to follow Daenerys Targaryen.

SANSA: You swore to follow a tyrant.

YARA: She freed us from a tyrant. Cersei is gone because of her, and Jon Snow put a knife in her heart. Let the Unsullied give him what he deserves.


ARYA STARK: Say another word about killing my brother and I’ll cut your throat.

DAVOS: Friends, please. We’ve been cutting each other’s throats long enough. Torgo Nudho. Am I saying that properly? If it weren’t for you and your men, we would’ve lost the war with the dead. This country owes you a debt it can never repay, but let us try. There is land in the Reach. Good land. The people that used to live there are gone. Make it your own. Start your own house with the Unsullied as your bannermen. We’ve had enough war. Thousands of you, thousands of them. You know how it ends. We need to find a better way.

GREY WORM: We do not need payment. We need justice. Jon Snow cannot go free.

TYRION: It’s not for you to decide.

GREY WORM: You are not here to speak! Everyone has heard enough words from you.

TYRION: You’re right. And no one’s any better for it.

TYRION: [looks down, mutters to himself] But how else will I win an Emmy this season.

TYRION: It’s not for you to decide. Jon committed his crime here. His fate is for our king to decide. Or our queen.

YOHN ROYCE: We don’t have a king or queen.

TYRION LANNISTER: You’re the most powerful people in Westeros. Choose one.

GREY WORM: Make your choice, then.

EDMURE TULLY: My lords and ladies [CLEARS THROAT] I suppose this is the most important moment of our lives. What we decide today will reverberate through the annals of history. I stand before you as one of the senior lords in the country. A veteran of two wars. And I like to think my experience has led to some small skill in statecraft – and underst-
SANSA STARK: Uncle? Please sit.
YOHN ROYCE: Well, we have to choose someone.
SAMWELL TARLY: Um, ahem. Why just us? Um—we represent all the great houses, but whomever we choose, they won’t just rule over lords and ladies. Maybe the decision about what’s best for everyone should be left to well, everyone. 

EDMURE TULLY: Maybe we should give the dogs a vote as well.
YOHN ROYCE: I’ll ask my horse.
EDMURE TULLY: I suppose you want the crown.
TYRION LANNISTER: Me? The Imp? Half the people hate me for serving Daenerys, the other half hate me for betraying her. Can’t think of a worse choice.

SANSA: [looks quickly to ARYA and TYRION before speaking. They both quietly nod.] It should be Jon. He isn’t really Jon Snow–he is Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegal Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. He’s the true heir to the Iron Throne.

EVERYONE WHO DIDN’T ALREADY KNOW: [jaws drop, gasps of surprise, eyes pop out of sockets] What!

BRAN STARK: [monotones and talks at some mosquito in the distance] She’s right. It came to me in a dream.

EVERYONE BUT SAMWELL TARLY AND TYRION: [looking skeptically at one another] um, whatnow…?

SAM: It’s true. Bran is the Three-Eyed Raven now. He saw it all happen.


SAM: Bran is…it means…he’s… [looks at BRAN, thinking of how to explain it all, sees BRAN clearly warging now and fucking off, thinks better of it]. It just means he’s on the spectrum, all right–

EVERYONE: Oooohhhhhhh totally. Whoa. Totally! How did we not see that before.

SAM: Anyway, so I read in someone important’s diary somewhere that R + L = J ❤  , so for sure what Sansa and Bran said is true. I even got it tattooed because DB Weiss told me it was the Single Most Incendiary Piece of Information in the Show.

LORD MAN 1 OF HOUSE WHATEVER: “Someone important”? Diary?! What does that prove? We need a birth certificate.

LORD MAN 2: Yeah, some kind verification, 2-step verification better, stronger, safer.

SAM: [bursts through the fourth wall like the Kool Aid Man] Great, we got a room full of birthers.

SAM: [to LORD MAN 1 and 2] Well, we could ask the same of you. Who are you?

EVERYONE ELSE: No, seriously, who the fuck are you.

TYRION: Really though. I see [points to EDMURE TULLY] House Tully/River Run, Gendry Baratheon [pointing to GENDRY], Stormlands. Slovenly Manspreader with bronzed skin and a V-neck down to your navel who can’t sit up straight in your chair, you’re obviously Dorne. And is that you? Robin Fuckin’ Arryn? You win Best Glow Up, kiddo. Shame about your mother, but looks like you made the most of it–vaccinated and it feels so good?

TYRION: [continues around the horn, identifying everyone but the two LORD MEN 1 & 2] So we know all these guys, verified blue check mark. Although most of you are nonvoting I hope you know – Seven Kingdoms implies seven votes. Yet we have like 20 people here and 10 of them are Starks & Affiliates…So, who are you two?

LORD MAN 1: I’m David Benioff’s cousin.

LORD MAN 2: I’m Ed Sheeran’s cousin.

TYRION: Of course you are. [mutters under breath] D&D, you fuckers.

TYRION: Anyway, the trouble is Jon/Aegon doesn’t want the throne. He told us like ten times this season. He’s tired. He’s done with all of this, all of us. Still, I’ve often thought the best ruler might be the one who doesn’t want it…

GREY WORM: [sensing a soliloquy coming on] Shut it.

ARYA: But Jon really doesn’t want it. I know Jon. He wants nothing to do with any of this.

TYRION: All right. Well, next in line then…it’s you, Gendry. Robert Baratheon’s legitimized son. What say you?

GENDRY: No. I can’t be king. I’m still in fork school with Vivian from Pretty Woman. But I will say this [looks to DAVOS for support. DAVOS nods in encouragement]: this discussion is absurd. You lot, us lot, we lot I mean — anyway this crowd, this [points at all around] cast of clowns is deciding the fate of millions of people you don’t know or even really care about? The people, they’re just your chess pieces, pawns to be sacrificed on a destructive path to the throne. I saw your inexplicably intricate war maps at the traveling GoT museum that’s on the road now. First of all, you made someone carve and draw all that shit. He has a day job, you know. And I bet he wasn’t even a union guy.


BRIENNE: Well, most of the Winterfell map pieces were just stacked special GoT-edition Oreos and Andes mints–we ran out of normal game pieces and we didn’t have time to carve like Robb’s men clearly did. But your point is well taken.

GENDRY: Most of the common folk just want to live their lives. But you’ve made the people your game pieces in this shoddy Game of Thrones that no one asked to be a part of. It’s all just about power and winning. You don’t even care what you’re winning and losing. You stack us up, knock us down whenever, however you please.

GREY WORM: He’s right. You use us. We’re yours to be sacrificed at any time for whatever you want. At the Battle of Winterfell, you stacked the Dothraki Oreos out front in the most ill-advised cavalry charge in history, the trebuchets and catapults were apparently just there for show, the dragons idled for like 40 minutes–

[TYRION and SANSA look especially guilty.]

TYRION: Okay, okay we get it. In a shitty defense of our shitty defense strategy, we also forgot about the dead bodies in the crypts. It was a mess on all fronts.

SANSA: I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. Putting the Dothraki out front was my idea. I was really worried about feeding so many men and dragons, no one else cared, and well, you know how the North feels about outsiders anyway. So I figured…two birds…one stone…?

ARYA: [mumbles to self] I take back what I said about Sansa being the smartest person I know.

SANSA: [also muttering to self] Fair. I once said the same about Tyrion being the smartest person in the room.

SAM: [to the camera] Are we in an Enron documentary?

TYRION: Mistakes were made. But we meant well. Truly. We fought death together.

GENDRY: What does all this well-meaning add up to? Cersei also meant well, she meant to keep herself well, in power, and used her people as a human shield at King’s Landing. Or so I heard. I was conspicuously absent.

DAVOS: And Daenerys, her dragon, and her troops [looks pointedly at GREY WORM] blew right through that human shield. For a throne. Thousands of innocents! Slaughtered!

GREY WORM: [gives a nod of acknowledgement with some acceptance, guilt] We followed our queen. We followed blindly.

TYRION: We all followed blindly. She convinced us to believe in her, her mission, her natural born entitlement. At this point, I think we all can agree, this birthright nonsense is nonsense. Sons of kings and queens can be cruel and stupid, as you well know. Targaryens? Unhinged narcissistic albino hemophiliacs thanks to generations of inbreeding. Jon’s the only one who is all right, and that’s because he’s only halfsies. Baratheons? Robert didn’t give a shit about anything but drinking, lust, gluttony. Then my vile nephew, Joffrey “Baratheon” [uses air quotes]–

BRAN: [monotoning to the awning] “He really was a cunt, wasn’t he?“

TYRION: [ignoring Bran] Joffrey, Tommen, Cersei — Lannisters. Well, Tommen was all right but he was a child, unfit to rule a kingdom. Cersei just appointed herself when she ran out of kids…? I could go on.

EVERYONE: [nodding in agreement, mumbling ‘Aye’, etc.]

YARA: Look. This is all fine and great, but irrelevant to us — the Iron Islands were promised independence from Daenerys. Before…you know, before all the war crimes. If Gendry’s allowed to lord it up at Storm’s End based on a decree from a Queen who was Queen for an hour, we expect our promise to be honored as well. I mean Daenerys and I looked into each other’s eyes, and we did that weird forearm grasp/shake thing. We want the Iron Islands to be free.

TYRION: But the Iron Islands are a dump. Your people will starve if another long winter comes. And you promised Daenerys that the Ironborn would no longer raid and pillage.

YARA: [sheepishly] We can trade. We offer the protection of the Iron Fleet.

DAVOS: What about your trade partners that are landlocked and dgaf about the Iron Fleet?

YARA: We can promise…[grasping at straws] We can assure that…wait, wait EURON. We’ll assure Euron will never deus ex-machina anyone/thing ever again because he’s dead now.

SANSA: Is he though? What about that “What is Dead Might Never Die” bit? Theon was always mumbling something like that.

YARA: “What is dead may never die.”

SANSA: Really? I’m pretty sure “Might” is Right.

YARA: It’s an Ironborn thing. “Might” is wrong. It’s “may.” But you’re right–I need to find the body–

[Out of fucking nowhere yet again, EURON FUCKING GREYJOY swaggers in to the center of the pit]

EVERYONE: [in utter disbelief] This. Fucking. Guy. AGAIN?!

EURON: What is dead may never–

EVERYONE: [ALL take turns stabbing him, YARA first]

YARA: –die. Just DIE, will you.

EURON: [from a nearly dead state, rolls onto his back, chest and belly full of stab wounds, huge grin across his face] I killed the fucking hereditary monarchy.

YARA: [Cuts out EURON’s tongue. Looks to the group] We need to burn the body, or he’ll just keep coming back like a wight.

GREY WORM: We will handle it. [Hands EURON’s body off to some DOTHRAKI SOLDIER OFFSCREEN]

DOTHRAKI SOLDIER OFFSCREEN: Hey, it’s that dude from Dawson’s Creek!


SANSA: Yara’s right. We should honor the Iron Islands’ independence. Because we want an independent North, too. We’ve fought, we’ve suffered, we’ve starved. [Through gritted teeth] Those dragons ate everything in sight. We cannot live under a Southern ruler again because the North remembers. We’re angry, we’re bitter, and we never forgive.

TYRION: [to the camera] It’s true. And I was the best of them, apparently.

PRINCE OF DORNE: We’re seceding, too, then. I was born a prince, never understood why, and I just realized I can King myself if we leave the Seven Kingdoms.

SAM: So three less kingdoms now, and–

DAVOS: Fewer.

SAM: What?

DAVOS: Three fewer kingdoms.

SAM: Right, okay. So we’re down to four. Well, five, since the Iron Islands [looks at YARA, a little scared; YARA glares back] aren’t actually a kingdom? The rest of you: Vale, Stormlands, Islands and Riverlands, the Rock, no one for the Reach…? Do we even need a unifying ruler anymore? What does the Crown even offer, when you lot can all just trade for what you need? We just need some solid trade rules, enforceable with the perpetual threat of an enduring mercurial tariff war, maybe semiannual stakeholder meetings, and …what else?

SANSA: Well, I know we said the North is out, but since you’re asking. We want a wall — along the southern border. When’s Infrastructure Week again? We aren’t worried about White Walkers up north anymore, but south…we hate outsiders and are probably racist.

GREY WORM: [to the camera] It is known.


SANSA: Make the North Great Again. MTNGA. Doesn’t really roll of the tongue, does it. We’ll have hats made.

YARA: We’re independent, too, but truthfully, the Iron Islands really are a dump. Unemployment’s at like 30%. We could use some sort of food stamps/Medicaid support.

ROBIN ARRYN, THE VALE: Paid maternity leave until the child is the greater of 12 years old or fully weaned off breastmilk.

GENDRY, STORMLANDS: Unions and defined benefit pensions for the trades. And a rebranding of trade school to be more than just beauty/battle map maker school for white trash. Smithing is an art. It’s a real way to make a good, honest living…Also…[whispers to himself, rubs belly gently] also I want to have Arya’s baby.

EDMURE TULLY, RIVERLANDS: I was imprisoned by the Freys for years. I want an end to the prison-industrial complex. No more private for-profit prisons.

TYRION, THE ROCK: Lannisters always pay their debts, but should we? I want loan forgiveness in cases of demonstrated hardship.

PRINCE OF DORNE: Everyone in Dorne is an alcoholic or a walking STD. We’d like universal healthcare.

DAVOS: And as for the Reach, I was wrong to try to pawn off the Reach earlier as a prize. Gendry’s right. The people and the land’s natural resources aren’t just chips in the Game of Thrones. There must be some distant Tyrell hiding out somewhere to consider at least for the time being, and if not, we have to find someone to represent them.

SAM: Well, if I may summarize, it sounds like you all want access to your favored social programs, but no one wants to pay for the programs that you think the other kingdoms utilize more? I.e. the mantra of the socially liberal, fiscally conservative?

SAM: [to the camera] Fucking shitfucker libertarians. We’re fucked.

TYRION: Well, hang on now, Davos and Gendry may have been onto something earlier. We have to find someone to represent the people. Not by lineage, not by entitlements…

BRAN: [to no one in particular] “If you want a whore, you can buy her. If you want a queen, you have to earn her.”

EVERYONE: The fuck?

SAM: [ignores BRAN] So let’s say we have opt-in and tiered social welfare systems? North, Dorne, Iron Islands, are you back in if we do?


SAM: And no hereditary monarchy.

TYRION: That is the wheel our queen wanted to break. I think. Except for her hereditary claim. And Jon’s…It’s possible she didn’t understand her own metaphor.

SAM: How about an elective monarchy for the time being? In which we, lords and ladies of the largely defunct great houses, elect this monarch until we figure out how to get the people to directly elect. We’re certainly not ready. I don’t think they’re ready. It will take some time for the latter.

BRAN: [to the sky, stage left] Ladder? “Chaos is a ladder…The climb is all there is.”

DAVOS: [ignores BRAN] So whom do the great houses want? For now at least?

EVERYONE: [silence]

TYRION: I nominate Bran the Broken.

EVERYONE ELSE: [cringing at the nickname. And the very thought.]

TYRION: [delivers inane Bran the Broken screed from the actual episode] I’ve had nothing to do but think these past few weeks. About our bloody history. About the mistakes we’ve made. What unites people? Armies? Gold? Flags? Stories. There’s nothing in the world more powerful than a good story.

TYRION: [to the camera] Way to jerk yourselves off, by the way, D&D.

TYRION: [to the group] Nothing can stop it. No enemy can defeat it.

TYRION: [to the camera] That’s patently false–the Night King almost did us in, remember?

TYRION: [to the group] And who has a better story than Bran the Broken? The boy who fell from a high tower and lived. He knew he’d never walk again, so he learned to fly. He crossed beyond the Wall, a crippled boy, and became the Three-Eyed Raven. He is our memory, the keeper of all our stories. The wars, weddings, births, massacres, famines. Our triumphs, our defeats, our past.

[EVERYONE slowly raises his/her own hand]

SAM: Literally, everyone here has a better story than Bran. Bran was benched in Season 5, and no one even noticed.

SANSA: He hasn’t cared about people or his own family since he started in on that Three-Eyed Raven nonsense. How can we expect him to care for all the people of Westeros? He is a living corpse, and honestly we really don’t know what to do with him.

ARYA: We’ve mostly just been leaving him in the courtyard under a huge stack of furs.

BRAN: [to the sky] I’m right here, you know. Just because I am dead in the eyes, heart, and soul doesn’t mean my ears don’t work.

[EVERYONE wonders briefly if that was some random quote from previous seasons as per usual or Bran’s real-time thoughts…then proceeds to ignore him]

THEON, from the grave: And WTF was he doing, warging during the Battle of Winterfell?

SAM: This. What’s the point of the warging, if not to help us in battles and fights to the death? He ditched us during the Battle of King’s Landing, too.

SANSA: Also, his dick doesn’t work.

ARYA: Sister!

TYRION: Fine, you’re right. You’re all right. Bran is the worst. The WORST. I just wanted to be the Hand of a weak king so I could lowkey be king.

SANSA: Then just be king, Tyrion. No one here wants it, and we can’t think of anyone else who would.


BRAN: Why do you think I came all this way?

[EVERYONE gives him a dirty look, then ignores him.]

SAM: Tyrion, so long as you’re aware that this will be a thankless job that will gradually evolve into a figurehead role as we educate and empower the populace. The question then is if the people will accept Tyrion now. Half hate you for serving Daenerys, the other half hate you for betraying her.

BRAN: [to something/someone offscreen] The other, other half–I’m bad at math–hate you because you’re the Imp, and the other, other, other half hate you because they still think you killed King Joffrey. Also you killed your dad, and you strangled your lover after you discovered she was boning him, too.

TYRION: Did you just read my Wikipedia page?

BRAN: [looks EVERYONE in the eye for the first time] I AM Wikipedia. That’s what I’ve been trying to impassively convey via a series of affectless non sequiturs for entire seasons now. I am our memory, the keeper of all our stories. The wars, weddings, births, massacres, famines. Our triumphs, our defeats, our past.

[EVERYONE pauses for a minute and then completely ignores him]

DAVOS: Tyrion, you also gave right, proper terrible advice to Daenerys.

SANSA: And you’re gullible af.

TYRION: Fine, fine! Not me. Then who do we want?

DAVOS: Whom.

ARYA: [in a resigned tone] All right. Let’s just make Jon do it. He doesn’t want this, but guess what he’s not here. We are. And it’s really fucking hot out here. [Sips from SAM’s polypropylene WATER BOTTLE] This needs to end soon.


BRAN: [to some clouds in the sky] You’re all exactly where you needed to be.

[EVERYONE ignores him]

SANSA: He’ll hate it, but he’ll do it. He can’t say no to his family if we ask him. It’s why he seems so fatigued all the time.

DAVOS: Nothing fucks you harder than unending moral and familial obligations.

SAM: We’ve chosen Jon then. He’s gonna be so pissed. Is everyone all right with this?

[EVERYONE votes AYE. Nonvoters particularly loudly. GREY WORM also nods approval.]

TYRION: I think we broke the wheel.

GREY WORM: No, you just talked a shitload, and we’re no better off afterward. That’s your MO. The only thing broken here is Bran. Your words, not mine.


BRIENNE: Grey Worm’s not wrong–we’re back where this conversation started. Jon is king by birthright.

SAM: And because no one else wants it, and because we aren’t ready for meaningful change. But it’s a start. We have an eye on Endgame: Democracy. And that counts for something, doesn’t it?

BRAN: [to the floor, eyes now crossed, a little glazed] “When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground.”

EVERYONE: Shut up, Bran.

[BRAN begins to sputter random, popular GoT quotes, twitching, spasming, appearing to short circuit. His eyes roll to the back of his head and just start spinning like a casino slot machine. A fire starts in the heaps of furs on his lap. SANSA, more puzzled than worried, wonders if she was wrong about his dick. SAM and DAVOS grab the polypropylene water bottles by their feet and try to put out the fire. A small explosion results, and BRAN is left completely still, presumably dead but do living corpses really die, busted wires all sticking out of his empty chest, where a heart would normally reside.]

TYRION: Great, there go our stories.

ARYA: Did the Night King just win?

[SAM rolls up Bran’s sleeves to see where the Night King had previously left his mark. It now reads “FUCKING.” SAM’s brows furrow in confusion. He rolls up BRAN’s other sleeve to reveal “YES.” A huge ANVIL then drops from the sky, smashes BRAN’s head into his body which smashes through his chair into the ground. It reads, “BRONN DOESN’T DESERVE HIGHGARDEN. ❤ , The Night King”]



SAM: [strolling through the CITADEL LIBRARY, talking to the camera] They were wrong though. The Night King didn’t win. Bran’s death wasn’t the end of mankind. He wasn’t even the end all of our stories. He was just a huge fucking weirdo who could see some things, but didn’t know how to use it or how to communicate. Your regular charmless, useless idiot savant. With a rather middling story when you think about it. The Three-Eyed Raven knowledge didn’t inform any good decisions in the end — it was really just good for startling people. It was a red herring, like communism, like “R+L=J”–really regretting this tramp stamp [gestures to his lower back] rn, like the white horse at the end of The Bells, like the Night King’s sigil…


SAM: Our stories aren’t lost. That’s what we have the written word for. Why would humankind entrust our entire history to an enigmatic, mortal being? We didn’t. We put it all in books and raven scrolls, of course.


[PAN OUT to the CITADEL LIBRARY. Hone in on some new APPRENTICE whose job it is to transcribe bits of partially burnt raven scrolls]

SAM: It’s messy work, but we’re piecing it together. The real risk is that we’re not backing up our data often enough, but otherwise, I think we’ll do all right. This place is teeming with asbestos, and we’ve got pretty good fire insurance coverage with the Iron Bank.

[Heaves huge BOOK, titled, A Song of Ice and Fire, onto the table before him.]

SAM: This here [points to ASOIAF] is my contribution. I wrote about some feasts and my favorite foods. Under a pseudonym, GRRM. That’s the sound Gilly said my stomach makes when I’m hungry.

[Turns to page 1, begins to read aloud…]


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