(epic theme playing)

♪ ♪

(flames roaring)

(soldiers chattering)

(soldier grunting)

Velaryon Knight: House

Velaryon is coming for you!

The Sea Snake will have

your poxy fucking head!

No, no, no. No, please!

(screaming, groaning)

Fuck you, Prince Drahar!

Fuck your whore mother

and bastard father!

(groaning) Fuck!

No, no! No!

(wailing)

♪ ♪

(muffled grunting)

(rumbling)

(soldiers shouting)

Soldier:

(shouting) Dragon!

Hail Prince Daemon!

Burn the fucking

Triarchy cunts alive!

(soldiers shouting)

Here, my Prince.

Save me!

(groaning)

(Caraxes screeches)

To the caves! Now!

Soldier:

Retreat to the caves!

(flames roaring)

♪ ♪

(screams)

(growling)

Where are you?

Come out and face me, Drahar!

Come out, Drahar!

Where are you?

I’m gonna feed you

to your own crabs!

Where are you?

(Caraxes screeches)

- (light music playing)

- (toddler babbling)

Noble:

He has your hair, Your Grace.

(all laughing)

King Viserys:

He does have my hair.

- He has your eyes, Your Grace.

- Yes, he does.

(laughter)

And you have my nose, don’t you?

Two years old and already

our boy has a kingly presence.

He may yet, brother,

but this morning

he insisted on eating

porridge with his hands.

(laughs) He will grow.

We’re quite a party

assembled in his honor.

And surely by the end

of this hunt,

we shall have more to celebrate.

And what is that, pray tell.

It is Aegon’s second name day.

His infancy’s behind him.

It only remains for Viserys to

name him heir to the throne.

I wouldn’t be so sure.

He’s the King’s firstborn son.

I don’t know that His Grace

sees it so clearly.

Then it lies with you

to make him see it…

Lord Hand.

Tyland Lannister:

Your Grace…

I bring urgent news

from the Step stones.

The Crabfeeder has dug in

for siege on Bloodstone

while his men sabotage our fleet

under the cover of dark.

Not today, Tyland.

The matter of the Step stones

is regrettably urgent.

It’s been three years.

It can wait another three days.

Come, eat.

Fortify yourselves

for the journey.

Please.

Is the baggage train ready?

It is presently massing

at the River Gate.

Lord Jason expects us

in the Kings wood before midday.

- Have you seen Rhaenyra?

- I have not, Your Grace.

With the Triarchy now sheltering

in Bloodstone’s caves,

the threat of the dragons

is blunted.

They don’t have foot soldiers.

But their sell swords have been

withdrawing in droves,

Your Grace.

Even the mercenaries can

see that it is a losing effort.

Where’s Rhaenyra?

I cannot be sure

at present, Your Grace.

The Velaryon forces have

suffered heavy attrition, Your Grace.

The seeds of dissent are

sown amongst the rank and file.

Daemon has driven the men hard.

They have begun

to question his command.

If the crown were

ever to intervene…

- Tyland…

- …now is the time.

Daemon and The Sea Snake

started their war

without His Grace’s leave.

Were he to intervene

now after so long,

it would make

the crown appear weak.

Can someone tell me

where in the Seven Hells

Rhaenyra might be?

(singing)

♪ Under the dragon’s eye ♪

♪ Under the dragon’s eye ♪

Again.

Perhaps the Princess might

like to hear something else?

She would not.

Play it again.

(minstrel clears his throat)

(singing)

♪ She fled with her ships ♪

♪ And her people ♪

♪ Her heart broken for those ♪

- (singing stops)

- Your Grace.

Did I say to stop?

From the beginning.

(singing)

♪ She fled with her ships ♪

- Rhaenyra?

- Yes, my Queen?

Your presence is wanted

in the outer courtyard.

The royal hunt

readies to depart.

I’ve decided to remain here

and read instead.

- You may go, Sam well.

- (stops singing)

You are to stay

by order of the Princess.

The Queen commands you

to leave the Godswood at once.

Princess.

Your Grace.

The King wishes

for you to join us.

The King has much to celebrate.

He does not need me.

He wants for us

all to be together.

Perhaps the hunt

could be… fun.

Is it the King’s command?

- Yes, but it…

- Then at once, Your Grace.

But it needn’t be.

None of it needs be this way

in truth, Rhaenyra.

King Viserys:

Well, isn’t this splendid.

The whole of our family off to celebration

and adventure in the Kings wood.

(rattling)

Should you be traveling

in such condition?

The maester said that being

out in nature would do me well.

Well, you will be with your

own child sooner than late,

and make me a proud grand sire.

It’s not so bad.

The days are long, but Aegon

came quickly and without fuss.

You should ride out

with me today.

Join in the chase.

I’d rather not.

The boars squeal like children

when they’re being slaughtered.

I find it discomforting.

It’s a hunt, Rhaenyra.

(Aegon babbling)

How would you like

to participate?

I’m not sure why I must.

Because you are my daughter…

The Princess.

And you have duties.

(softly)

As I am ceaselessly reminded.

- King Viserys: I’m sorry?

- (louder) As I am ceaselessly reminded.

You wouldn’t need to be reminded

if you ever attended to them.

No one’s here for me.

(grand music playing)

(people applauding)

♪ ♪

(crowd cheering)

Hail, hail Aegon, the

Conqueror-Babe, Second of His Name!

Here’s to His Grace

on his second name day!

(pensive music playing)

(cheering continues)

(indistinct chatter)

♪ ♪

Ceira Lannister: Lady Johanna

was reported to have been abducted

when one of Lord Swann’s ships

sailed through the Step stones.

What will happen

to Lady Johanna?

Ceira: She’s to be

sold to a pillow house

in the Free Cities

if you believe the rumors.

I fear the gods did not

make me for hunting.

Might I sit with you, my ladies?

Queen Alicent:

But of course. Please join us.

Larys Strong, the youngest son

of our Master of Law, Lord Lyonel.

My Lord husband

says that no King

has even been able to tame

the Step stones for long.

It’s an inhospitable place

suited only for savages.

Perhaps the Princess…

can give us some insight.

(chuckles)

Oh, I’m not sure how I could.

I’ve never been

to the Step stones.

Your dear uncle is the

great mind behind this war.

- Is he not?

- I wouldn’t know.

I’ve not spoken

to Daemon in years.

Since you supplanted

him as heir.

Daemon made his choices,

Lady Ceira.

The Princess was

more suited to the role.

Joselyn Redwyne: He’s made a

mess and the King must put an end to it.

Send fleets and men

and clear out

the Triarchy for good.

But the crown is not at war.

The crown…

is at war, Princess.

Though your father

refuses to admit it,

we’ve been dragged into it by

your uncle and The Sea Snake.

And how have you served

the realm of late,

Lady Redwyne, by eating cake?

(tense music playing)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(indistinct chatter)

I wonder, Princess…

was your own second name day

as grand as this?

I honestly don’t recall

and neither will Aegon.

Lord Jason Lannister.

I gathered that

from all the lions.

I don’t think we’ve been

properly introduced.

Your twin serves

on my father’s council.

Tyland is…

frightfully dull, gods love him.

The finest honeyed wine

you’ll ever taste.

- Made in Lannisport, of course.

- Of course.

Ah, the Kings wood,

it’s fine hunting ground.

But the best spot is to be

found at Casterly Rock,

near my home.

Have you been?

Um, once… on tour

with my mother when I was young,

and honestly can’t recall

much of that either.

The Rock is thrice the height

of the High tower in Old town,

taller still than

the Wall in the north.

It’s been said that

if one were to stand in the

tower… on a perfect day,

one could see clear

across the Sunset Sea.

It must be quite something.

Hm, I don’t have a Dragon pit,

of course, but…

I do have the means

and resources to build one.

Why would you need a Dragon pit?

To house dragons, of course.

I’d do anything for my Queen…

or… lady wife.

Thank you for the wine.

(sighs)

♪ ♪

Rhaenyra:

Is that what I am to you?

A prize to proffer about

to the great houses?

You’re of age, Rhaenyra.

And Jason Lannister

is an excellent match.

He’s arrogant and self-serious.

Well, I thought you might

have that in common.

Since you came of age,

I’ve been slowly drowning

in a lake of parchment

flung from every

corner of the realm.

Marriage proposals, all.

And I have tried often

to discuss it with you,

but you’ve refused me

at every turn.

That is because I do not

wish to get married.

(shouts) Even I do

not exist above tradition

and duty, Rhaenyra!

Excuse me, Your Grace.

You must marry.

- Yes?

- The royal huntsman have sent a report, Your Grace.

There’s been a sighting

of a white hart.

The stag is “The King of

the Kings wood,” Your Grace.

A regal portent for

Prince Aegon’s name day.

♪ ♪

(laughs)

Princess.

(horse neighs)

Criston Cole:

Princess, wait!

♪ ♪

(shouts)

Princess, slow down!

Hyah, hyah, hyah!

Princess!

No!

- Criston: Whoa, whoa, now!

- (horses neighing)

(both panting)

What happened back there?

My father…

trying to sell me off

to Jason Lannister.

Was… was I named heir

to the Iron Throne

so that I might only

further raise the standing

of a Lord of Casterly Rock?

Do you want me to kill him?

(Rhaenyra chuckles) - We

should return to camp, Princess.

It’s a beautiful day.

We should take in the Kings wood.

(birds calling)

Were you ever betrothed,

Ser Criston?

I had an adventurous

youth when my father

served at Blackhaven,

to be sure.

But my station was

never high enough

for a formal betrothal.

Before I spoke my vows as

a knight of the Kings guard,

I could’ve married

a common-born girl had I wished.

How lucky you are to have

a say in your own life.

Many in the realm would gladly

trade positions with you, Princess.

Only because none of them

has ever held my position.

I may be the Princess

of Dragons tone,

but I am toothless.

One day…

not so long ago,

you held enough power

to write my name

into the White Book.

And when your father

named me to his Kings guard,

it was the highest honor

any Cole have ever known.

All that I have, I owe to you.

Now I’d hardly call that

toothless, Princess.

(dogs barking)

♪ ♪

(growling)

(dogs barking)

- How land Sharp: Your Grace.

- King Viserys: How far?

Her droppings were found

half a league to the east.

- (sniffs) Still fresh.

- Between two and three hours, Your Grace.

My best scouts spied him.

The beast is upward of 35 stone.

And we now have his trail.

- Aye.

- Before the dragons ruled over Westeros,

the white hart was a symbol

of royalty in these lands.

And on this day of all days.

I’ve never been one for signs

and portents, Your Grace,

but if the gods did wish

to show their favor.

(chuckles)

(dogs barking)

♪ ♪

(indistinct chatter)

Oh!

Jason Lannister:

Your Grace…

I had this forged in the Golden

Gallery in honor of Prince Aegon.

It’s quite a thing.

I hope it might provide the killing

stroke against your white hart.

The King of the Kings wood.

It’s as if the Seven themselves

have blessed this day.

Thank you…

for your generosity.

I would be honored

to take the Princess Rhaenyra

to wife, Your Grace.

What I offer you,

The crown and your daughter,

is strength.

Do you think that House

Targaryen wants for strength?

If someone offered

you more dragons,

would you not take them?

Do you have dragons to offer?

Casterly Rock

is a splendid seat.

Rhaenyra may take her place

there by my side without shame,

and feel herself

well-compensated

for her loss in station.

What loss of station?

If you were to name

young Aegon heir, Your Grace.

And when would I be doing that?

I had assumed…

As he’s your firstborn son…

- Many of us had assumed…

- Many of us, you say?

Have your bannermen

questioned my choice of heir?

Of course not, Your Grace.

It is your sworn duty

to report rebellion

- stirring in my kingdom.

- Rebellion?

There’s been nothing of

the sort, Your Grace. I, I…

I did not decide to name

Rhaenyra my heir on a whim.

All the lords of the kingdom

would do well to remember that.

Thank you… for the gift.

Your Grace.

Wine.

(sighing)

(sighs)

Otto High tower: The huntsman

has the trail, Your Grace,

and has sent out the hounds.

It won’t be long now until

the white hart is cornered.

Your prize is within reach.

What do you make of

Lord Jason’s proposal?

That man’s pride has pride.

You’re not only Rhaenyra’s

father, you’re the King.

She’ll do as you command.

It is not my wish

to command her, Otto.

I want her to be happy.

There is another choice

beyond Casterly Rock.

One, perhaps, you might

be more comfortable with.

One… closer to home.

Who do you have in mind?

Prince Aegon.

(Aegon babbling)

The boy just turned two, Otto.

Yes, but it would cease the endless

proposals for Rhaenyra’s hand.

(laughing)

- Betroth them.

- I came here to hunt…

not to be suffocated by

all this fucking politicking.

Let us speak no more of it.

♪ ♪

(echoing laughter)

♪ ♪

(clanking)

(thuds)

Lyonel Strong: We’ve sent out

riders to find Rhaenyra, Your Grace.

Ser Criston went after her,

so the hope is that

they are together.

The girl is

a heedless contrarian.

If I instead forbade her

to wed a Lannister,

she would’ve run off

with Lord Jason out of spite.

A truly great

Targaryen King I am.

Powerless over mine own

daughter of seven-and-ten.

King Jaehaerys ruled over

half a century of peace

while his children drove him

to the edge of madness…

his daughters, in particular.

It is tradition, Your Grace.

(chuckles)

Do you wish to hear

my opinion on the matter?

(sighing)

Should I guess?

You believe that your son,

Ser Harwin “Break bones,”

the strongest knight

in the Seven Kingdoms,

is the best match for Rhaenyra.

You flatter me,

Your Grace, but no.

It would seem to me the best match for

Rhaenyra is the son of The Sea Snake,

Ser Laenor.

Some years ago, I counseled

you to take his sister to wife.

My reasoning remains the same.

Laenor is of pure

Valyrian descent.

He shares blood with your

cousin, the Princess Rhaenys.

And he is the heir to the

wealthiest house in the realm.

The breach between your houses

has not narrowed since

I last spoke of it.

It would do much

to assuage Lord Corlys

of any slights real…

or imagined.

We must pray, of course,

that Laenor survives

the fighting in the Step stones.

(solemn music playing)

(insects chirping)

Princess, I must make a final

plea that we return to the camp.

I rather prefer it here.

His Grace is certain to be

worried by your absence.

His Grace can worry

himself to death if he so likes.

Tell me something, Ser Criston.

Do you think the realm will

ever accept me as their Queen?

They’ll have no choice

but to, Princess.

(horse neighs)

(twigs cracking)

(horses snorting)

(squealing)

(Criston grunts)

- (Rhaenyra yelling)

- (boar growling)

(boar squealing)

(growling)

(Rhaenyra grunting)

(fire crackling)

Is everything all right,

Your Grace?

You know, I…

I named her… to protect

the realm from Daemon.

She was my only child.

“The Realm’s Delight.”

I named her out of love

because I no longer believed…

Believed what, my love?

(sighs)

Many in my line have

been dragon riders.

Very few among us

have been dreamers.

What is the power of a dragon…

next to the power of prophecy.

The hour is too late, husband.

When Rhaenyra was a child…

I saw it in a dream…

as vivid as these flames,

I saw it.

A male babe born to me…

wearing the Conqueror’s crown.

(sighs)

And I so wanted it to be true,

to be a dreamer myself.

I sought that vision again,

night after night…

but it never came again.

I poured all my thought

and will into it.

And my obsession killed

Rhaenyra’s mother.

Queen Alicent:

Viserys.

I thought Rhaenyra was the way

out of my abyss of grief and regret.

And naming her heir would

begin to set things right.

- Oh, it did.

- I never imagined I would remarry…

that I would have a son.

♪ ♪

What if I was wrong?

(horn blowing)

(dogs barking)

(hart baying)

Harwin Strong:

Left.

(hart bellowing)

He may not be white, Your Grace.

But he’s a big lad.

(dogs barking)

Your Grace… for the kill.

(tense music playing)

(hart bellowing)

Royal Huntsman:

Right here, Your Grace.

(dogs barking)

♪ ♪

(hart wailing)

(wailing)

One more time, Your Grace.

A little bit to your left.

♪ ♪

- (grunts)

- (hart shrieks)

(shrieking stops)

(breathing heavily)

♪ ♪

(hunters applauding)

(wind blowing)

(rustling)

(low bellow)

♪ ♪

(softly) No.

(light music playing)

(indistinct chatter)

♪ ♪

♪♪

(Aegon crying)

Come, sweet Prince.

Let’s give Her Grace some peace.

(crying continues)

Did you enjoy the hunt,

Your Grace?

- Well enough.

- How fared my grandson?

The ladies Lannister and

Redwyne were quite taken with him.

Otto: As they should be.

He’s the future of the realm.

Well, you yourself witnessed

the scale of the celebration,

how it’s united the men.

When you bore the King a son,

you ended 15 years

of uncertainty and doubt.

Aegon, like his namesake,

was born to rule

the Seven Kingdoms.

If Viserys were

to name him heir,

the realm would fete him for it.

And does this not please you?

- Do you not want your son to be King?

- And what mother wouldn’t?

You mustn’t ignore

the certain truth

that if Rhaenyra were to step

over Aegon to ascend the throne,

the realm would

tear itself apart.

They all swore obeisance to her,

our house among them.

That was before Aegon.

Rhaenyra will be a good queen.

It wouldn’t matter if she were

Jaehaerys himself born again.

- Rhaenyra is a woman.

- What of my son?

Would you have me raise a man

to steal his own sister’s birthright?

It is Aegon that’s being robbed.

He’s the firstborn

son of the King.

To deny that he

is heir to the throne

is to assail the laws

of gods and men.

The road ahead is uncertain,

but the end is clear.

Aegon will be king.

You must guide

Viserys towards reason.

He’ll never find it on his own.

How are you feeling, husband?

The gods have punished me

for my indulgences.

- (door closes)

- At least the wine was good.

Too good.

(King Viserys sighing)

I was hoping we might

discuss something.

Rhaenyra?

(sighs)

I do not think she enjoyed

Jason Lannister’s company.

She is cross.

I warned you that she would be.

Rhaenyra has come of age.

She must needs marry a high lord

who will honor her, defend her,

and serve her as king consort.

Her wishes in this matter

are irrelevant.

I do believe that Rhaenyra

will marry, Your Grace.

But she must believe

it is her choice to do so.

(sighs)

- What’s this?

- A letter…

from Vaemond Velaryon.

- The Sea Snake’s brother.

- Yeah.

He’s fighting

in the Step stones,

with all the rest of them.

May I?

Lord Corlys and Prince Daemon

are losing their war.

Badly, by all accounts.

This is a plea for aid.

Then why not send it?

Because it is a war

started by two malcontents,

unhappy with decisions I made.

If I now provide

Daemon and Corlys succor,

what will that say

of their king?

Perhaps, that he is a good

man who loves his brother.

Well, if you truly

believe that, my dear…

then you possess

a generous spirit.

What do you believe, Viserys?

That I am forever doomed

to anger one person

in the pleasing of another.

Then I pose a simpler question.

Is it better for the realm

if the Crabfeeder thrives,

or is vanquished?

(door opens)

King Viserys: Make haste

to Dwarfstone, Ser Addam.

Hand-deliver this

to Prince Daemon yourself.

At once, Your Grace.

- Dwarfstone?

- I’m sending word to Daemon.

Aid is sailing

to the Step stones.

- Did he make call for help?

- He would sooner die.

But his king does not

mean to allow that.

Do you not think

my decision correct?

It is no consequence

to what I think…

as I’m often reminded.

Daemon is thorn enough

in my flesh.

Will you insist

on taking after him?

Must everything be a battle?

If you refer to your attempt to

marry me off to Casterly Rock.

(sighs) I am sorry, Rhaenyra.

I was trying to help you.

Will you not be helped?

Why must every effort

on your behalf be resisted

- as if to the death?

- Because you mean to replace me…

with Alicent Hightower’s son,

the boy you always wanted.

You have him in hands now.

Y-You have no

further use for me.

You might as well peddle me

for what you can.

A mountain stronghold

or a fleet of ships.

You have misjudged me, Rhaenyra.

All know it.

Jason Lannister knows it.

You said it yourself,

the lords of the realm gather

like vultures to a carcass,

hoping to feast on my bones.

It is true that as rulers

we must marry for advantage

to forge alliances

and bolster our strength.

You have always understood this.

I myself was promised

to your mother when I was…

Ten-and-seven years of age.

The Vale had an army

to rival the North.

I’ve heard that story

since I’ve had ears to.

I loved her.

She made a man of me.

I do not seek

to replace you, child.

You’ve been much alone

these last few years.

Alone and angry.

I will not live forever.

I wish to see you contented,

happy even.

You think a man will do it?

- A family.

- I had a family.

What would you have me do?!

If it was for advantage, you

would’ve wed Laena Velaryon!

That is true enough.

You must marry,

strengthen your own claim,

shore up your succession,

multiply.

As to your match…

make it yourself.

Search him out.

Find one that pleases you,

as I did.

Rhaenyra…

I did waver

at one time.

But I swear to you now,

on your mother’s memory,

you will not be supplanted.

(door opens)

(door closes)

(tense music playing)

♪ ♪

(dragon screeching)

Corlys Velaryon: We have 16,

perhaps 18, seaworthy ships.

Seven hundred foot,

some 60 knights.

Our food quickly dwindles, save

for what we can fish from the sea.

I would say we have a fortnight,

mayhaps a bit longer

with strict rationing.

I’ve made call for Driftmark

to send more ships,

but they will be weeks away.

We are faltering

and the Triarchy knows it.

We must press the attack,

continue sending the dragons.

Laenor Velaryon:

It’s pointless, father.

The Crabfeeder has

created a choke point here,

beyond these dunes.

Archers hold the high positions,

foot soldiers hold the ground.

We’ve strafed them on

dragon back again and again,

but they just retreat

within the caves.

Dragons can circle Bloodstone

until they fall out of the sky.

The Crabfeeder and his men

have no reason

to leave those caves.

Laenor:

We must give them one,

an offering of flesh

to bait the crab.

Corlys: Who?

Joffrey Velaryon:

Dragon returning!

(dragon roaring)

Vaemond Velaryon:

Yes. Who?

Which man here will

happily go to his death?

Show me the knight who

will march into that hell pit,

nephew, and I will

show you a madman.

- Daemon.

- Daemon is why we are losing!

Laenor: He at least

is fighting this war.

What role have you played

in his council, uncle,

- other than Master of Complaints?

- Enough, Laenor.

Vaemond: If King’s Landing

will not support Daemon,

why should any of us?!

♪ ♪

Blood or no, Vaemond,

I will not have

you stoke mutiny.

If you do not seize control

of this war, my lord,

the crabs will soon

dine on all of us.

Prince Daemon.

I bring word from His Grace,

Viserys Targaryen,

first of his name,

King of the Andals,

the Rhoynar, and the First Men,

Lord of the Seven Kingdoms,

and Protector of the Realm.

(contemplative music playing)

♪ ♪

(muffled shouting)

Joffrey: (muffled)

That’s enough! Stop!

King Viserys:

Brother…

I have ordered 10 ships

and 2,000 men to set sail

from King’s Landing

to join the effort

in the Step stones.

Though time and circumstance

have seen us estranged,

know that it is not my desire

to see you fail in your cause.

It is instead my hope

that this aid will deliver

the victory that has

thus far evaded us.

I shall pray nightly to

the gods for your safe return.

♪ ♪

(vocalizing)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

Nock.

(vocalizing)

♪ ♪

Draw.

(grunting)

(intense music playing)

Loose!

(arrows thwacking)

Loose!

(grunting)

Loose!

♪ ♪

Loose!

♪ ♪

(yelling)

(soldiers shouting)

(grunts)

(winces)

♪ ♪

(soldiers shouting)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(flames roaring)

♪ ♪

(speaking High Valyrian)

Dracarys!

(screaming)

(soldiers shouting)

Nock!

(shouts) Dragon!

(yelling)

♪ ♪

(grunts)

(grunts)

♪ ♪

(Sea Smoke screeches)

Whoo!

Dracarys!

♪ ♪

(Sea Smoke screeches)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪