When you play the game of thrones, you win, or you die. But what happens after that? In a dark corner of the afterlife, the spirits of slain Thrones characters gather…
Robert: Looks like it’s getting cold down there now.
Ned: Don’t look so surprised. It’s not like I haven’t been warning you about this for years.
Robert: I’m so bored, Ned. I can’t do anything I used to like. Can’t drink, can’t kill anyone, can’t… (He gazes sadly at Margaery) If I can’t talk about the weather, what am I meant to do?
Ned: We could talk about your wife.
Robert: (growls) Bloody Lannisters.
Margaery: Yes, let’s talk about Cersei.
Tywin: That woman is no daughter of mine.
Robert: Do you really want to talk about children that AREN’T YOURS?
Tywin looks sheepish. Ned tries to skulk away.
Robert: And that bastard! NED! Get back here. That bloody bastard of yours…
Margaery: OH LOOK! It’s time!
They stop and turn their attention to the world below.
Margaery: A cold open! They don’t do that very often.
Ned: Oh no. That’s not a flashback. That’s my little girl, isn’t it…
Robert: Where’s Cat? She’d enjoy this.
Ned: (grimaces) She’s… still in the back room. With the others.
Robert: Now that’s a woman with some solid, healthy rage. And your daughter? She’s a real chip off the old block.
Robert: What did Cat do to you in there?
Robert: SPEAK UP!
A door bangs in the distance, and Catelyn Stark appears. The men look at the floor. Margaery smiles, but seeing the stony look on Catelyn’s face, suddenly finds the floor interesting as well.
Catelyn: (with an oddly rasping voice) Are there any more heading my way yet?
Ned: More? You’ve got Freys, Boltons and Lannisters locked up in there. Aren’t they keeping you entertained for now?
Catelyn: Yes, their screams are very entertaining.
Catelyn: Now now, Tywin, there’s no need to panic. I don’t need to bring you back in just yet.
Robert: You’ve got plenty more Freys coming in to keep you busy.
Catelyn: From Arya?
Ned: (sadly) Yes.
Catelyn: Good. The North remembers.
Margaery: How’s the High Sparrow?
Catelyn: Crying like a baby.
She smiles again. This time it seems to work. The corners of Catelyn’s mouth twitch.
Robert: I still don’t know how you’re able to do it. I can’t even… (he looks sadly at Margaery again)
Catelyn: I think it’s because I’m not really meant to be up here. And my rage has no bounds.
Doran: YOU’RE not meant to be here? Look at what happened to me? I’m livid.
Mance Rayder: I’m fairly certain I’m not supposed to be here either.
Doran: I was hoping there’d be less deaths rather than more.
Stannis: (looking up and speaking for the first time) Fewer.
Hodor: This question of ‘who’s supposed to be here’ is an interesting philosophical one. It really rests on whether we believe that there is some sort of singular meta-narrative, some external force that looks over us and guides the development of individual arcs within a fully realised plot. Do we have faith in the Great Creator? Are we all smaller pieces of a grand puzzle? Or is life just a random series of events, that we mortals merely attempt to piece together as evidence of a greater purpose?
Everyone stares at him.
Hodor: (coughs) Hodor.
Margaery: I’d forgotten how much I liked the theme tune.
Robert: Admit it, Ned. It is good to see the direwolf sigil at Winterfell again. And look! Bran’s on his way back!
Margaery: And there’s dear Sansa.
Ned: I remember when all she wanted was to marry a handsome prince and have lots of babies…
Catelyn: She needs to stay away from Littlefinger. Or just send him to me. He’s a filthy traitor. None of us would be here if it wasn’t for him.
Robert: Really? I thought it was Rhaegar’s fault.
Ned: (looks uncomfortable) Robert…
Robert: I still can’t believe you hid that bastard from me.
Catelyn: I still can’t believe you let me believe he was your bastard.
Ned: I made a promise. Let that be an end to it.
Margaery: (changing the subject) Who’s right? Jon or Sansa? Is it better to tear out the root and punish, or forgive and build alliances?
Margaery: I think it’s Jon as well.
Tywin: It’s Jon.
Doran: I’m surprised to hear you say that.
Tywin: I am only ruthless when it makes sense to do so. Sometimes it is more prudent to forge alliances.
Margaery: We really should have spent more time together, Lord Tywin. I think we would have found a lot of common ground.
Tywin: Yes. Cersei never had the knack for making friends. She can lose them easily enough though.
Catelyn: I suspect she’ll be joining us soon. You can’t trust a Greyjoy. And Arya’s coming for her.
Margaery: Wait - how does Cersei know that Tyrion is with Daenerys?
Oberyn: Who let that monster out again?
Doran: Brother, calm down. He has served his punishment. Lady Stark has seen to that.
Oberyn scowls and sits as far from Tywin as possible.
Robert: Why is there so much talking? I don’t want to see dead bodies and chamber pots! I want to see tits and dragons! I’m so bored.
Doran: This business with the books must be important somehow. Just because something seems a bit dull doesn’t mean it isn’t important.
Oberyn: You’d know all about that.
Stannis: I told them there was dragonglass under Dragonstone. No-one listened to me.
Doran: See? The books are important. Samwell Tarly: a craven, who I suspect has the power to save the world.
Robert: Didn’t you leave anyone at Dragonstone, Stannis? Not even a couple of limping guards?
Stannis: We were needed in the North. Unlike certain other people, who shall remain nameless, I was acting like a King rather than just enjoying the benefits.
Margaery: I like her new dress.
Khal Drogo: (looking proud) Yer jalan atthirari anni.
Margaery: Is she sniffing the sand?
Khal Drogo: Me achrae athnajaharoon.
Viserys: This is SO UNFAIR. That is my castle. Those are my allies. Those dragons should have been mine.
Khal Drogo: Yer affesi anni. Es havazhaan.
Stannis: (wistfully) I remember that table well…
Robert: Is that it? I’ve waited an age to watch that. No naked girls. No blood. Why have dragons if they aren’t going to roast anyone?
Catelyn: (getting up) I shall return to my work then. Seven hells hath no fury like a lady with a heart of stone.
Khal Drogo: Me nem nesa.
Margaery: Khal Drogo, do you speak the Common Tongue at all?
Khal Drogo: No.
Margaery: (looking disappointed) Very well. Same time next week?
Robert: This is torture. And when did women get so terrifying?
Oberyn: They have always been that way. You just never noticed before.
Oberyn walks after Catelyn and Margaery. He is practically strutting.
Robert: I like him.