(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)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪