Game of Thrones S4E8.5 Spec
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CREDIT SEQUENCE The landscape below is a map of Westeros. KING’S LANDING with it’s Red Keep and massive walled city sit first. We fly to DRAGONSTONE: a cliff of obsidian with its steep steps and jagged walls on all sides, waves crashing. Flying over THE BITE, we hover over the DREADFORT and MOAT CAILIN, Flayed-Man banners of House Bolton cover the fortress. Just north, we circle around a smoking WINTERFELL whose iconic Weirwood tree is pallid with few leaves to sprout. Now we fly away towards THE WALL, the 800-foot-high barrier of ice that guards the northern edge of the Seven Kingdoms, requiring a series of lifts to reach it’s summit. Gaining altitude and zooming out, we make a sharp left turn to the coast where the seat of the Iron Islands, PYKE, connects it’s Ten Towers by swinging rope bridges over cragged rocks and whirling currents below. With haste, we fly further over the NARROW SEA to the circular city of QARTH. Following the path of the ships coming into the strait... ... sailing up to SLAVER’S BAY is MEEREEN, where the monument of the Harpy perches atop the Great Pyramid. Lastly, high and fast, the golden SUN basks it’s glow over the kingdom of DORNE, with a coiled red viper around it’s central spire; but this time, it’s head is crushed with blood dripping into the WATER GARDENS of SUNSPEAR. END CREDIT SEQUENCE (CONTINUED) 2. CONTINUED: ACT ONE EXT. SUNSPEAR - HEAT OF THE DAY The mighty TOWER OF THE SUN - with its dome of gold and leaded glass. Surrounding its terrace are rows upon rows of BLOOD ORANGE TREES. This is the center of the capital of Dorne. Citizens are screaming - we hear nothing but SILENCE. CLOSE ON a plump blood orange, well past ripe, teetering on it’s branch, waving in the hot wind. SNAP!- and it starts to fall... The faint chant of an angry city grows. The blood orange is falling... The SQUEAK SQUEAK of a empty wooden rolling chair pierces through the muffled chant as it enters the terrace, looking over the crowd from the domed throne room. The blood orange is falling... CUT TO ELLARIA SAND (40s), paramour of the now dead Prince Oberyn Martell, frantically pacing in her quarters, eyes bloodshot, make-up smeared from long nights of crying, hair a knotted mess. The blood orange is falling... The chants grow louder, now intelligible. ANGRY DORNISH CITIZENS TO THE SPEARS! TO THE SPEARS! The blood orange is falling... A caravan is carried through the streets, surrounded by guards, is the focus of all the angry citizens. The blood orange is falling... The chants of the city are deafening. ANGRY DORNISH CITIZENS TO THE SPEARS! VENGEANCE FOR THE VIPER! TO THE SPEARS! (CONTINUED) 3. CONTINUED: The blood orange SPLATS on the marble, innards spew and fly- -CUT TO blood curdling screams as Ellaria terrorizes her room and collapses to the floor in agony. A flash of Oberyn’s head being crushed, Ellaria screaming both at the trial and more here in her room. DORNISH SMALLFOLK TO THE SPEARS! Inside the caravan sits DORAN MARTELL (52), Lord of Sunspear and Prince of Dorne, a slave to his gout-filled legs, unseen behind his robes. Every small pebble in the road shoots searing pain into Doran’s joints. The crowd grows thicker by the minute, taking all the might of AREO HOTAH (40s), the captain of Doran’s guards, and his men to make a path. AREO Make way for Prince Doran! Areo’s voice boomed as he thumped the butt of his longaxe on the bricks. AREO (CONT'D) Make way for the Prince of Dorne! DORNISH WOMAN Our prince is dead! MAN ON BALCONY TO THE SPEARS! NOBLE COUNCILMEN DORAN! TO THE SPEARS! Areo dazed but looking for all the speakers, as the crowd resists stronger. The crowd starts the chant again. DORNISH CITIZENS TO THE SPEARS! VENGEANCE FOR THE VIPER! By the time the caravan reaches the last gate before the palace, the crowd starts throwing things: - a ragged boy darts past the spearmen with a half-rotten pomegranate in one hand. Before he throws, Areo scares him off. (CONTINUED) 4. CONTINUED: (2) - others on the street and balconies let fly lemons, limes, oranges, crying, ‘War! War! To the Spears!’ - one of Doran’s guards takes a whole lemon to the eye and fell over, screaming. - Areo’s boot gets plastered by a well-placed orange. No response from Doran, as the caravan makes it under the overhang, past the blood orange trees and the fallen orange, when the portcullis comes rattling down behind them. The sounds of shouting are now almost not audible. Areo places the prince in his SQUEAKY rolling chair, and the party slips into a hallway. INT . HALLWAY - SUNSET After a quick moment of silence and breathing, the Prince’s royal council rush to his aid, with two score of the Dornish knights in flowing linen of a hundred hues. MYRCELLA BARATHEON (14), daughter of Cersei Lannister, with her really long flowing golden locks of curls, stands innocently with her septa and SER ARYS OAKHEART (30s), of the Kingsguard , sweltering and uncomfortable in his white-enameled scales. They start to roll his SQUEAKY chair, bring some water and wine, lift his legs, fix his robes, move him to the chair, pamper him in every way possible. All grow silent immediately when the PRINCESS arrives. PRINCESS ARIANNE MARTELL (30s) glides effortlessly on the smooth, polished floor in snakeskin sandals laced high her thighs. Her hair a mane of jet-black ringlets that fall to the small of her back. Around her brow is a band of copper suns. Areo’s jaw drops at the sight of Princess Arianne, standing only five foot two, but all woman underneath her purple silk outfit that leaves nothing to the imagination; lush, roundly curved, and firm. Myrcella idolizes Arianne’s beauty even more, taking on her posture and gait. Ser Arys and Arianne make eye contact, hold it for a bit, and Arianne winks her satisfaction to Ser Arys. Areo notices the exchange, and is quickly angered. (CONTINUED) 5. CONTINUED: Bejeweled from neck to waist, Arianne maintains composure but hurries to her father. ARIANNE Father... Sunspear rejoices at your return. Doran eyes her like you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. DORAN (dripping sarcasm) Yes, I heard the joy. Regardless, the prince smiled wanly and cupped his daughter’s cheek with reddened, swollen hands. DORAN (CONT'D) (sincere) You look well. ARIANNE I have commanded the cooks to prepare a feast for this evening, with all your favorite dishes. DORAN I fear I could not do them justice. Doran suddenly stops, looking around the inner courtyard. DORAN (CONT'D) I do not see my nieces. ARIANNE They beg a private word. I will send them to the throne room when you are ready. DORAN (sighing loudly) Very well. Captain? The sooner I am done with this, the sooner I may rest. Hotah strode him up the many long, stone steps into the Tower of the Sun, to the GREAT ROTUNDA beneath the dome, where the last light of the afternoon sun was slanting down. CUT TO: 6. INT . THRONE ROOM - SUNSET Through the STAINED-GLASS WINDOWS, the pale marble floor became diamonds of half a hundred colors. DORAN Captain, help me to the high seat. The are two seats on the dais, near twin to one another, save that one had the MARTELL SPEAR inlaid in gold upon its back, whilst the other bore the blazing RHOYNISH SUN. The captain placed the prince beneath the spear and stepped away, while MAESTER CALEOTTE (50s), a short balding man, stands by fidgeting in his grey robes and chains as he does. Breaking the silence, a DRUMBEAT OF BOOTS coming from the hallway outside. Areo’s eyes widen; he knows those steps. AREO (mumbles) ... Shit. Long-legged strides, hasty, angry. Horse blood on the spurs of riding boots. The pace quickens. OBARA SAND (32), the eldest Sand Snake, (bastard children of Oberyn), big-boned, close-set eyes, and rat-brown hair of the Oldtown whore who’d birthed her. Beneath a mottled sandsilk cloak of dun and gold, her riding clothes are old brown leather, worn and supple, the only soft things about her. On her hip she wears a COILED WHIP, across her back a ROUND SHIELD of steel and copper. Close behind, her sister NYMERIA SAND (25). The speed of her stride lifts and furls her cape, making her look as if she might take flight. Lady Nym is slender as a willow with straight, black hair, worn in a long braid, bound by red-gold wire. With her high cheekbones, full lips, and milk-pale skin, she had all the beauty that her elder sister Obara lacked. Finally, behind Nymeria, the third sister, TYENE SAND (late teens), frail and innocent as a child, save the seductive pale blue, see-through gown that clings to every naked curve underneath. (CONTINUED) 7. CONTINUED: Unlike her furious sisters, she is working on a piece of embroidery with a needle and thread. She seems to pay no mind to the other two, but is struggling to keep up at their pace. The three approach the triple archway of the terrace and Areo Hotah comes storming across the throne room to swing his longaxe sideways to block the way, a shaft of mountain ash six-feet-long, with no way to get around. AREO (CONT'D) My ladies, no farther.