(epic theme playing)
♪ ♪
♪ ♪
(birds chirping)
(cawing)
(horse neighs)

  • Good morrow, Lady Rhea.
  • Cousin.
    What’s today’s quarry?
    Rabbit?
  • Deer.
  • Oh. Fine challenge.
    Care for some company?
    I’d rather ride alone.
    Good fortune to you.
    (bird squawking)
    (tense music playing)
    (horse snorts)
    Husband.
    What brings you to the Vale?
    Or have you at last come to
    consummate our marriage?
    The Vale’s sheep
    might be willing,
    even if I’m not.
    Our sheep are prettier,
    after all.
    Or perhaps your brother has at
    last had his fill of your company.
    Cast you aside
    in favor of a little girl.
    (horse snorting)
    What will you do now?
    Will you strike the child down?
    Or?
    ♪ ♪
  • (horse whinnies)
  • (Rhea grunts)
    ♪ ♪
    (Rhea winces, whimpers)
    I knew you couldn’t finish.
    Craven!
    ♪ ♪
    (Rhea gasps)
    (indistinct shouting)
    (waves crashing)
    (gagging)
    (retching)
    (King Viserys groans)
    Thank you.
    ♪ ♪
    (raining falling)
    (thunder rumbling)
    A moment.
    I do not wish to see you go.
    Such is the King’s decision.
    A decision I most
    bitterly regret.
    And yet, you made it possible.
    You chose Rhaenyra.
    She swore her innocence,
    and I believed her.
    You wanted to believe her,
    as did her father.
    Your informant was wrong.
    An honest mistake, perhaps,
  • but I did not foresee this!
  • You should have.
    If you had not been so relentless
    in advancing Aegon as heir!
    (thunder rumbling)
    Listen to me, daughter.
    The King will die.
    It may be months or years,
    but he’ll not live
    to be an old man.
    And if Rhaenyra succeeds him,
    war will follow,
    do you understand?
    The realm will not accept her.
    And to secure her claim,
    she’ll have to put
    your children to the sword.
    She’ll have no choice.
    (crying)
    You know it.
    You’re no fool, and yet
    you choose not to see it.
    The time is coming, Alicent.
    Either you prepare
    Aegon to rule,
    or you cleave to Rhaenyra
    and pray for her mercy.
    (sorrowful music playing)
    (crying)
    (thundering)
    ♪ ♪
    (intense music playing)
    ♪ ♪
    (swords clanking)
    Where is Lord Corlys? He
    should be here to receive the King.
    (door opens)
    (sighs)
    Welcome to High Tide,
    Your Grace.
    What is the meaning
    of this, Lady Laena?
    Is this how House Velaryon
    greets its King?
    My father has but just
    returned from his long journey
    and he has hastened
    to the Hall of Nine
    to await Your Grace’s arrival.
    Let’s just get on with it.
    (pensive music playing)
    Larys Strong:
    An outsider…
    among the natives.
    Lord Larys.
    Malvales.
    A rare bloom.
    Indigenous to Braavos.
    By all rights,
    it shouldn’t be thriving here.
    Nature…
    such mystery.
  • The weather has been lovely.
  • Larys: Indeed.
    And yet it is
    a dark day for the realm.
    Your father was a good man.
    As is yours who took his place.
    Yet still,
    the manner of your
    father’s departure…
    it feels something
    of an injustice.
    (thundering)
    What do you know of
    the matter of his leaving?
    When one is never
    invited to speak,
    one learns instead
    to, um… observe.
    You’re perhaps
    in need of an ally?
    I’m the Queen.
  • I have no shortage of allies.
  • Naturally.
    Princess Rhaenyra, for example.
    State your purpose, my lord.
    Uh…
    I did wonder if she
    could be relied upon
    now that she is… unwell.
    Unwell?
    I haven’t heard anything.
    Begging your pardon,
    Your Grace, I may be mistaken.
    It’s just that on the very same
    night your father was dismissed,
    the Grand Maester delivered a
    tea to the Princess’s chambers.
  • A tea?
  • Yes.
    That the Grand Maester
    himself brought?
    At the direction of the King,
    as I understand it.
    I do hope she’s not unwell.
    Rhaenyra sailed
    with the King to Driftmark
  • yesterday at daybreak.
  • Oh, what good news.
    I must’ve been in error.
    Oh, a relief.
    See, I thought
    for Mellos himself, well…
    her condition must be
    something very serious.
    What happiness it is
    to have been wrong.
    ♪ ♪
    (tense music playing)
    I’m sorry.
    Come, cousin.
    Let us discover what
    might be had for breakfast.
    ♪ ♪
    (King Viserys coughs)
    Your Grace.
    (King Viserys coughs)
    Rise, Lord Corlys.
    (coughs)
    Be welcome.
  • May I offer you a chair?
  • (door opens)
    Cousin!
    Princess.
  • (winces)
  • (door closes)
  • Are you well?
  • Very.
    Corlys Velaryon:
    I congratulate you, Lord Lyonel.
    I can think of no man more
    suited to be the Hand of the King.
    That is very kind of you
    to say, Lord Corlys.
    His Grace has honored me
    with the post.
    Pity about Ser Otto.
    Despite spending most of my days
    amidst the grandeur of the Red Keep,
    the halls of High Tide
    never fail to impress.
    Corlys:
    You flatter me, Your Grace.
    Though I do wish we could meet
    under happier pretenses.
  • How so?
  • Daemon’s wife,
    the Lady Rhea Royce, has passed.
    Rhaenys:
    A hunting mishap.
    She was thrown from her horse.
    Her neck and skull
    both crushed in the fall.
    Corlys:
    A most surprising end.
    Lady Rhea’s skill as both
    rider and hunter
    were well-known.
  • Rhaenys: The gods are cruel.
  • King Viserys: Indeed.
    Lady Rhea was a fine woman
    and a, uh…
    good wife to my brother.
    Sad thing that she and Daemon
    have no heirs to succeed her.
    She stood to inherit Runestone.
    Mayhaps we can turn
    toward happier pursuits.
  • No, thank you.
  • What did you have in mind, Your Grace?
    (coughs)
    I wish to propose a marriage
    between your son, Ser Laenor…
    and my daughter and heir,
    the Princess Rhaenyra.
    It’s long past time our houses
    were united in blood.
    The last pillars of Old Valyria.
    You honor both me
    and my house, Your Grace.
    There are certain details
    I would wish clarified
    before the Princess Rhaenys
    and I could accept this most…
    generous proposal.
    What details?
    We would like to know how
    the succession… will be handled.
    Rhaenyra is my heir.
    Upon my death, my throne
    and my titles will pass to her.
    She and Ser Laenor’s
    firstborn child,
    regardless of gender,
    will inherit the Iron Throne
    from her.
    Can I presume that,
    in keeping with
    Westerosi tradition…
    their children would take
    their father’s name?
    That they would be born
    Velaryons?
    Surely, Lord Corlys,
    you are not proposing the Targaryen
    dynasty end with my daughter
    simply because she is a woman?
    (chuckles)
    I only seek clarity, Your Grace.
    (coughing)
  • Might I have a chair brought in for you?
  • I do not… (coughs)
    No. I do not require a chair.
    Upon their birth,
    Ser Laenor
    and Rhaenyra’s children
    shall take their
    father’s name, Velaryon…
    in keeping with our traditions.
    However,
    at such time when their
    firstborn ascends the Iron Throne,
    he or she will do so
    bearing the name Targaryen.
    Dragons will rule
    the Seven Kingdoms
    for the next hundred years,
    just as they did the last.
    ♪ ♪
    This is an equitable compromise.
    King Viserys: Good.
    Now, if there’s nothing further.
    (waves crashing)
    Rhaenyra: In truth, if
    it had to be someone,
    I’m glad it is you.
    I know this union is not
    what you would choose.
    I hold nothing
    against you, cousin.
    No, I…
    Rather…
    Dare I say it is
    a matter of taste?
    I prefer roast duck to goose.
    I cannot say why.
    It’s, it’s not for
    a lack of trying.
    There are those who
    like goose very well.
    I find it a bit greasy
    for my taste.
    I know that whatever
    agreement being struck up there
    will not change your appetites,
    nor will it change mine.
    And what do you propose?
    That we perform our duty to
    our fathers and to the realm
    and when it’s done…
    each of us dines as we see fit.
    ♪ ♪
    Rhaenys:
    Viserys has taken to bed
    while his ship is readied.
    Perhaps I…
    overextended myself?
    Pushed him too
    close to the edge?
    My cousin chose to sail
    into this tempest, husband.
    It was undignified of the King
    to drag himself here
    and beg for Laenor’s hand.
    Where is Laenor?
  • He and Rhaenyra are walking the coast.
  • Good.
    Do they seem… familiar?
    They grew up together.
    Familiarity is not at issue.
    Oh, I’m sure Laenor
    was already taken with her.
  • She’s grown quite comely these last few years.
  • You know his true nature.
    He’s still young.
    He will outgrow it.
    There is no pleasure
    in the world like…
  • bedding a woman.
  • We are placing our son in danger.
    The lords of the realm
    bent the knee to Rhaenyra
    and swore obeisance to her.
    That was before there
    was a true-born prince
    named Aegon Targaryen.
    Rhaenyra’s succession
    will be challenged.
    Knives will come out
    for her, her husband,
    and for their heirs.
    Our house controls
    the realm’s navy
    and half its dragons.
    Anyone fool enough to
    challenge Rhaenyra’s claim
  • will be crushed.
  • To what end, Corlys? Wealth? Power?
  • Pride?
  • Justice.
    By all rights,
    you should be Queen
    of the Seven Kingdoms.
    You were robbed
    of the crown by…
    I never wore the crown
    because the realm
    would not have it so.
    And I would remedy that…
    small-minded error
    by any means necessar…
    I myself have put the business
    behind me, Corlys.
    (seabirds calling)
    Ser Joffrey Lonmouth: I’ve always feared
    the day you’d have to marry a woman.
    And now it comes.
    Your betrothed gives you leave
    of her own free will
    to continue partaking of.
    Was I the duck or the goose?
    I’ve come to meet my fate
    and you make a jape of it?
    Look, Rhaenyra will be
    Queen of the Seven Kingdoms
    and you will be
    her king consort.
    (laughs)
    Think of the tournament,
    the feast, the battles at sea.
  • Will you wear your crown today, Your Grace?
  • (chuckles)
    You’re a fool.
    (grunting)
  • You will need a sworn protector.
  • Mm-hm.
    (pensive music playing)
    Well, this is better than
    we could’ve hoped for.
    She has a paramour of her own.
    I wonder who it is.
    ♪ ♪
    Did sleep flee you as well
    this morning?
    I needed to see you, Princess.
    I confess I had
    a similar desire.
    You have confided
    in me now and then
    over the years
    of our acquaintance.
    I feel, forgive me,
    that I, I know you… a bit.
    You know more than a bit.
    I’ve heard you say so many times
    how you loathe the lot
    of your position,
    that you are to be married
    off at your father’s whim
    with no thought given to the
    yearning of your own heart,
    and… now the day comes.
    Ser Laenor is a good
    and, and decent man,
    but you, you did not choose him.
  • He was chosen for you.
  • That’s true.
    If there were another path…
    one that led to freedom…
    would you tread it?
    Rhaenyra, before I came here,
    I was a knight
    in the Stormlands.
    I have deep knowledge
    of the port at Sunspear
    where I’ve seen the ships
    of Essos setting sail
    with their hulls full
    of oranges and cinnamon
    and I’ve always wished
    to see where they went.
    Are you asking for leave?
    I’m asking you
    to come with me…
    away from all of this.
    From the burdens and
    indignities of your inheritance.
    Let us leave it all behind
    and see the world together…
    where we’ll be nameless,
    and free…
    free to go where we like,
    to love as we like.
    In Essos…
    you could marry me.
    A marriage for love,
    not for the crown.
    I am the crown, Ser Criston.
    Or I will be.
    I may chafe at my duties,
    but do you think
    I would choose infamy
    in exchange for a bushel of
    oranges or a ship to Asshai?
    It is my duty
    to marry a nobleman
    from a great house
    and Ser Laenor will
    make a fine husband.
    But my, um…
    my marriage…
    does not have to be the end.
    Ser Criston, Laenor and
    I have an understanding.
    I’ve granted him leave
    to pursue his own interests…
    and in turn,
    he’s granted me the same.
    So you want me to be your whore?
    I want us to continue
    as we began,
    with you as my sworn
    protector, my white knight.
    I took an oath.
    As a, as a knight of,
    of your Kingsguard.
    An oath of chastity.
    I’ve broken it.
  • I won’t tell anyone…
  • I-I’ve, I’ve soiled my, my, wh… my white cloak.
    And it’s the only thing
    I have to my fucking name!
    I, I thought if we were married,
    I might be able to restore it.
    The Iron Throne
    looms larger than me,
    larger than anyone in my family.
    Aegon the Conqueror
    united the Seven Kingdoms
    and put them on a path…
    Ser Criston.
    ♪ ♪
    (breathing heavily)
  • Harrold Westerling: Fetch the Maester!
  • Lyonel Strong: Get back.
    Harrold:
    Get Mellos! Get back!
    Grand Maester Mellos:
    Prepare the crucible.
    We’ll need leeches.
    Ser Criston…
    you’ve been summoned.
    I left the Princess
    just minutes ago.
    Not the Princess, ser.
    The Queen.
    (baby crying)
    (door opens)
    Ser Criston, Your Grace.
    Queen Alicent:
    That will be all.
    I fear I must question you on a,
    on a delicate matter,
    Ser Criston.
    I am your servant
    as always, my Queen.
    It concerns our dear
    Princess Rhaenyra.
    Please.
    You are her sworn protector
    and rightly loyal to her.
    I am.
    The night of Daemon’s return…
    there’s been a rumor…
    or rather, my father
    received an accounting of…
    a lapse of morals
    that may have occurred between…
    It is, of course,
    unthinkable for me
    to question the virtue
    of the Princess,
    whom I hold in highest regard,
    but, I-I, I did,
    however, wonder if…
    I’m not unaware that
    in flush of youth…
    there may be errors made…
    (sighs)
    breaches in resolve,
  • breaches, or rather lapses…
  • It happened, Your Grace.
    The sin you allude to.
    I have committed it.
    At her instigation,
    it is true, but that should…
    It is no excuse.
    My oath has been broken.
    I have dishonored myself.
    I deserve no consideration.
    But if…
    as a clement Queen,
    you are inclined to pity…
    I would ask only this…
    that rather than gelding me
    and having me tortured…
    you would sentence me
    mercifully to death.
    ♪ ♪
    Thank you for your honesty,
    Ser Criston.
    You may go.
    (tense music playing)
    (door opens)
    (door closes)
    ♪ ♪
    Mellos: Rest now, Your
    Grace. I will bring the leeches.
    Maester Orwyle:
    If I may, Grand Maester,
    I took the liberty
    of preparing a fresh set
    of herbal poultices that
    might be more… effective.
    Mellos: That will not
    be necessary, Orwyle.
    The leechings have always
    brought His Grace relief.
    (door opens)
    (softly)
    To help him sleep.
    (bottle pops open)
    Where’s the Queen?
  • (door closes)
  • I was given to understand
    that she is otherwise
    occupied, Your Grace.
    (sighing)
    Will I be remembered
    as a good king, Lyonel?
    Your Grace?
    What will they say of me
    when the histories are written?
    I have neither
    fought nor conquered,
    nor suffered any great defeat.
    Some might call that
    good fortune.
    It hardly makes
    a good song, does it?
    To be sung at feasts
    in a hundred years…
    five hundred.
    Lyonel: You have carried
    King Jaehaerys’s legacy.
  • And kept the realm strong.
  • (King Viserys sighs)
    Is it not better
    to live in peace
    than to have songs
    sung after you are dead?
    Perhaps.
    But there is a part of me
    wishes I’d been tested.
    I often think that
    in the crucible,
    I may have been forged
    a different man.
    Many that are tested,
    only wish
    to have been spared it.
    (sighs)
    Another lord might assure me
    that I would rise like
    Aegon the Conqueror
    given the chance.
  • Your Grace, that is…
  • You’re right.
    You’re right… as always.
    It is perhaps best not to know.
    (ethereal music playing)
    (dragons screeching)
    (intense music playing)
    (screeching)
    Harrold:
    It is with great pleasure
    that His Grace, King Viserys,
    announces the start

    of the royal wedding
    celebrations.

    House Lannister with their lord,
    Jason Lannister.
    Lord Paramount of the West,
    and Master of Casterly Rock.
    House Hightower
    with their lord,
    Hobert Hightower.
    Beacon of the South,
    Defender of the Citadel,
    the Voice of Oldtown…
    (guests chattering)
    (cheery music playing)
    Congratulations, Your Grace.
    You have made a fine match
    for the Princess.
    Thank you, Lord Jason.
    I could think of no better
    man than Ser Laenor.
    (chuckles) Well… if this
    is only the welcome feast,
    I admit, I cannot imagine what you
    might have planned for the wedding.
    Well, my daughter
    is the future queen.
    I wanted this to be
    a wedding for the histories.
    Where is the Queen?
    I had hoped to pay my respects.
    I understand the Queen is still
    readying herself for the celebrations.
    This is why men wage war…
    because women would never
    be ready for the battle in time.
    (Lord Jason chuckles)
    Your presence is always
    such a pleasure, Lord Jason.
    Princess…
    Your Grace.
    Your Grace, Princess Rhaenyra,
    congratulations are in order.
    We are very honored to have
    you as a guest, Ser Gerold.
    I must say,
    I was most distressed
    to hear of the Lady Rhea’s
    tragic passing.
    I’m very sorry for your loss.
    Ser Gerold Royce: Lady
    Rhea was a unique character.
    Her kind… is not
    soon to be seen again.
    If there is anything the crown
    might do to aid House Royce…
    (drumming)
    Harrold:
    Lord Corlys of House Velaryon.
    Lord of the Tides,
    Master of Driftmark.
    And his lady wife,
    Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.
    And their son and heir,
    Ser Laenor Velaryon,
    the future king consort.
    (intense music playing)
    (applause)
  • My Betrothed.
  • My Betrothed.
    (applause)
    ♪ ♪
    (coughs)
    (guests murmuring)
    (tense music playing)
    Be welcome,
    as we join together
    in celebration.
    Tonight is only its beginning.
    We honor the crown’s oldest
    and fiercest ally,
    House Velaryon.
    Reaching back
    to the days of Old Valyria
    and the Age of Dragons.
    With House Targaryen and H…
    ♪ ♪
    (guests murmuring)
    The King will not be happy.
    Right in the midst
    of his speech.
    The beacon on the Hightower,
    do you know what color it glows
    when Oldtown calls
    its banners to war?
    Green.
    ♪ ♪
    Congratulations, stepdaughter.
    What a blessing this is for you.
    Please be seated.
    (King Viserys coughs)
    (softly)
    Where was I?
    The joining of the two
    houses, Your Grace.
    Yeah.
    (clears throat)
    Yes.
    With House Targaryen
    and House Velaryon united,
    I hope to herald in
    a second Age of Dragons
    in Westeros.
    (applause)
    (cheering)
    And after
    tonight’s small affair…
    (laughter)
    seven days of tournament
    and feasting.
    At the end of it all…
    At the end of it all,
    a royal wedding…
    between my daughter,
    my heir…
    your future Queen…
    and Ser Laenor Velaryon,
    the heir to Driftmark.
    (applause)
    (drumming begins)
    Rhaenyra:
    I was never much of a dancer.
    It’s not much
    different to combat.
    Hm, I shall hope
    for a different outcome.
    ♪ ♪
    (drumming ends)
    Ah!
    (indistinct chatter)
    (drumming)
  • Your Grace.
  • We thank you for coming, uncle.
    I worried that given leave
    of your father’s shadow,
    you might wither
    in King’s Landing’s sun.
    But you stood tall.
    Know that Oldtown
    stands with you.
    ♪ ♪
    Gerold:
    In the Vale,
    men are made to answer
    for their crimes.
    Even Targaryens.
    Who are you?
    Ser Gerold Royce of Runestone.
    And?
    I am cousin
    to your late lady wife.
    Ahh, yes. Terrible thing.
    I’m positively bereft.
    Such a tragic accident.
    You know better than anyone,
    it was no accident.
    Are you confessing
    some guilt, Ser Gerold?
    I am making an accusation.
    You know, in King’s Landing,
    men are made to answer
    for their slanders.
    Even old bronze cunts like you.
    (scoffs)
    The truth is,
    I’m glad you’ve come.
    I wish to speak to you
    about my inheritance.
  • What inheritance?
  • Lady Rhea and I had no heirs.
    As her husband, whatever
    she was due now passes to me.
    She stood to inherit all of
    Runestone… Did she not?
    After my niece’s wedding,
    I plan to fly to the Eyrie
    and petition Lady Jeyne myself.
    Perhaps I’ll see you there,
    Ser Gerold.
    (tense music playing)
  • (indistinct chatter)
  • (laughter)
    ♪ ♪
    Has anybody ever told you you’re
    nearly as pretty as your brother?
    Well, you flatter me, my Prince.
  • I was sorry to hear about your lady wife.
  • Don’t be, I wasn’t.
    My lady was never
    very kind to me.
  • I know who it is.
  • Hm?
    The handsome paramour.
    Who?
    Ser Criston Cole.
  • Laenor: Her sworn protector?
  • Joffrey: Look at him.
  • The man is fully cunt-struck.
  • (laughs)
    Laena:
    A Targaryen prince,
    a dashing knight,
    and a dragonrider.
    You appear to be every
    young maiden’s dream.
    That’s only because
    you don’t know me yet.
    I believe Ser Criston has
    bloodied that white cloak of his
  • with your bride’s maidenhead.
  • Oh, keep your voice down.
  • Perhaps that is something we might remedy, my Prince.
  • Perhaps it is.
    This is a good thing.
    She knows your secret…
    and now you know hers.
    ♪ ♪
    All: (shout) Hey!
    (laughter)
    All: (shout) Hey!
    ♪ ♪
    All: (shout) Hey!
    All: (shout) Hey!
    Hey!
    They make a handsome match,
    don’t they?
    What?
    Well, the Princess
    and Ser Laenor.
    All: (shout) Hey!
    Ser Joffrey Lonmouth,
    or the Knight of Kisses,
    they call me,
    though I don’t know why.
    I’m on watch.
    What’s your business?
    You don’t know me, Ser Criston.
    But we are both deeply
    invested in this union.
    All: (shout) Hey!
    Ser Criston Cole: If you have
    something to say, Ser Joffrey, speak it.
    Ser Laenor is quite dear to me.
    As I know…
    the Princess is to you.
    We should swear
    to each other to guard them,
    and their secrets,
    because if those
    are kept safe…
    then so are we all.
    ♪ ♪
    All: (shout) Hey!
    All: (shout) Hey!
    All: (shout) Hey!
  • May I, Ser Harwin?
  • Of course, my Prince.
    ♪ ♪
    (speaking High Valyrian)
  • All: (shout) Hey!
  • (guests screaming)
  • (grunting)
  • (screaming)
    What in the Seven Hells
    is going on?
  • (indistinct yelling)
  • (shouts) Laenor!
    (grunting)
    (grunting)
  • (bone crunches)
  • (all gasp)
    (screaming)
  • Corlys: (shouts) Stop this!
  • Where’s Rhaenyra?
    ♪ ♪
    (grunts)
    Ser Harwin Strong:
    (shouts) Princess?
    (yelling)
    (grunting)
    Rhaenyra:
    Put me down!
    ♪ ♪
    (breathing heavily)
    (melancholy music playing)
    (guests chattering)
    (grunting)
    (Laenor wailing)
    High Septon: The love of
    the Seven is holy and eternal.

    The source of life and love.
    We stand here tonight
    in thanks and praise
    to join two souls as one.
    Father…
    Mother…
    Warrior…
    Smith…
    Maiden…
    Crone…
    Stranger.
    Hear now their vows.
    (sadly) I am yours
    and you are mine.
    Whatever may come.
    ♪ ♪
    Rhaenyra:
    I am yours and you are mine.
    Whatever may come.
    High Septon: Here, in the
    presence of gods and men,
    I proclaim…
    Laenor of House Velaryon…
    Rhaenyra of House Targaryen,
    to be man and wife.
    One flesh…
    one heart…
    one soul…
    now and forever.
    Queen Alicent:
    Ser Criston.
    ♪ ♪
    (thud)
    ♪ ♪
    ♪ ♪