(epic theme playing)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(heavy breathing)

(groaning)

Older Midwife:

Keep breathing.

(rapid breathing)

And push.

(groaning)

And again.

I c… I can’t.

- Push!

- (groaning)

- Younger Midwife: The head!

- (moaning)

(groaning)

(younger midwife chuckles)

A boy, Princess.

Younger Midwife:

Praise the Mother!

- (baby crying)

- (chuckling)

Ahh.

Healthy?

Kicking like a goat, Princess.

(heavy breathing)

(door opens)

(chuckling)

Elinda: Princess…

the Queen has requested that

the child be brought to her…

immediately.

Why?

(groans)

I’ll take him myself.

You should remain

abed, Princess…

Yes, I should!

Help me dress.

(heavy breathing)

Ooh…

Mmm…

Princess…

your dress?

(baby crying)

(Rhaenyra shushing)

(baby crying)

(shushing)

- Mm, mm, mm, mm, mm.

- Younger Midwife: Princess?

- Oh, it’s coming.

- The afterbirth!

(groaning)

(yells)

A boy. I’ve just heard.

- Yes.

- Well done.

- Where are you going?

- She wants to see him.

Now?

I’m coming with you.

- I should hope so.

- Let me take him.

No, she’ll get no such

satisfaction from me.

Just take my arm, at the least.

Was it terribly painful?

Oh gods.

(indistinct chatter)

I took a lance through

the shoulder once.

My deepest sympathies.

Servants: The

Princess… The Princess…

I am glad I am not a woman.

- Servant: My Princess…

- Servant: My Lord…

(Rhaenyra groaning)

- What is it?

- (bell tolling)

What is it?

What is it?

Fuck.

Walk… Walk!

What could she possibly want?

I thought we were past this.

Princess, Ser Laenor,

it is a privilege

to be amongst the first

to congratulate you.

Thank you, Lord Caswell.

If I may be of any service.

The day may yet come, my Lord.

(groaning)

We are turning back, all right?

She can come to us, all right?

No. Not unless you wish to

carry me down those fucking stairs.

(Laenor sighs)

♪ ♪

This is absurd.

Mm…

Princess.

Rhaenyra! You should

be resting after your labors.

I have no doubt that you

would prefer that, Your Grace.

You must sit.

Talya, fetch a cushion

for the Princess.

- There’s no need.

- Queen Alicent: Nonsense.

We’ll finish this later.

Talya: Your Grace.

- (groans)

- What happy news this morning.

Prince Laenor:

Indeed, Your Grace.

Where is he?

Where is my grandson?

There.

There he is.

Oh.

A fine Prince.

Sturdy.

You will make a fearsome knight.

(softly) Yes, you will.

Does the babe have a name yet?

- We haven’t spoken…

- Joffrey.

He’ll be called Joffrey.

That’s an unusual name

for a Velaryon.

I do believe he has

his father’s nose.

(chuckles)

(softly)

Don’t you?

(clears throat) If you

don’t mind, Your Grace,

your daughter has exerted

herself heroically and should rest.

Of course.

There.

Well done, my girl.

I do hope the labor was easy.

I think I called

the midwife a cunt.

Oh.

Do keep trying, Ser Laenor.

Soon or late, you may

get one who looks like you.

♪ ♪

You don’t…

think to consult me

before you name my child?

He’s our child, is he not?

Only one of us is bleeding.

I deserve some say in

the affairs of my own family.

You haven’t seemed so

interested in our affairs of late.

♪ ♪

Child:

And he sees a big, scary dragon!

Mother…

look.

- We chose an egg for the baby.

- Princess Rhaenyra: Ahh.

That looks like the perfect one.

- Jacaerys: I let Luke choose.

- Lucerys: Thank you, Jace.

Not every day an egg leaves

the Dragon pit, Princess.

I thought it best

to escort the lads.

Laenor and I thank you,

Commander.

Another boy, I heard.

What a fine knight you

are going to make, eh?

Might I?

Ser Harwin wishes to be

introduced to Joffrey.

Of course.

- Harwin Strong: Joffrey, is it?

- Mm-hm.

Mm.

Lucerys: Father, please

may I hold Joffrey?

- No, no. No.

- Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.

Back to the Dragon pit

for you two.

- Lucerys: Come on!

- Laenor: Before they send out a search party.

(door closes)

(humming)

You’re asleep in front of the

Commander of the City Watch.

Terrible lack of respect.

A certain insolence runs

in the family, I’m afraid.

(chains rattling)

(dragon grumbling)

(speaking High Valyrian)

(grumbling, screeching)

(yawns)

(grumbling)

Dragon keeper: Call Vermax

to heel, Prince Jacaerys.

(speaking High Valyrian)

(roars)

(sheep bleats)

(grumbling)

- (bleats)

- (grumbles)

Vermax!

(louder) Vermax!

(screeches)

(speaking High Valyrian) Zaldrizo

aoho syt aeksio sagon ao bevilza,

darilaros nuhys…

You must hold mastery over

your dragon, my young Princes.

…hae Darilarot

Aegot Vvsperzomy.

Dragon keeper: As Prince

Aegon has with Sunfyre.

Zijosy aot tetiri ozlettosy,

toli rybagon zirylo vindilza.

Once they’re fully bound to you,

they will refuse

to take instruction

from any other.

(screeches)

- Can I say it?

- Mm-hm.

(sheep bleating)

(speaks High Valyrian)

Dracarys, Vermax!

(screeches)

(sheep squealing)

(vocalizes)

Aemond, we have

a surprise for you.

- What is it?

- Something very special.

You’re the only one

of us without a dragon.

Indeed.

And we felt badly about it,

so we found one for you.

A dragon? How?

The gods provide.

(pig grunting)

- Behold…

- Both: The Pink Dread!

(both laughing)

Be sure to mount her carefully.

First flight’s always rough.

- (snorting)

- (laughing)

(laughter continues)

(eerie music playing)

(indistinct vocalizing)

♪ ♪

(animal growls)

(strong winds blowing)

(intense music swells)

(grunts)

Child:

This one has 60 rings…

and two pairs of legs on each.

That’s 240.

Yes, it is.

It has eyes…

though…

I don’t believe it can see.

And why is that so,

do you think?

It is beyond our understanding.

I suppose you’re right.

Some things just are.

(door opens)

Kings guard:

Your Grace.

Aemond.

- What have you done?

- He did it again.

Alicent: After how many

times you’ve been warned,

must I have you confined

to your chambers?!

- They made me do it!

- As if you needed encouragement.

Your obsession with those beasts

goes beyond understanding.

They gave me a pig!

A what?

They said they found

a dragon for me.

The last ring

has no legs at all.

But it was a pig.

You will have a dragon one day.

- He’ll have to close an eye.

- Alicent: I know it.

They all laughed.

Alicent: They made wings

for it, apparently, and a tail.

King Viserys: The lad shouldn’t

have been so credulous.

He’s a child.

He thought they’d happened upon

some wild unnamed dragon

and lured it to the Dragon pit?

Your grandsons are a menace.

They’re more children

than he is.

Th-They’re savages.

And it’s not surprising.

Are you sure it wasn’t our

Aegon who put them up to it?

It’s a wonder to me

their eggs ever hatched.

- And why is that?

- You know why.

- I’m afraid I don’t.

- Don’t! (inhales)

(exhales) Viserys.

We shall continue

this afternoon, Eddard.

I have raised this matter before

and you forbade me to

speak of it, so I held my tongue.

To have one child

like that is a mistake,

to have three is an insult,

to the throne, to you,

to House Velaryon and the match

you battled so hard to make for her.

Not to mention decency itself.

I had a black mare once.

Black like a raven.

One day, she escaped her pasture

and the neighboring stallion

sired a foal on her.

The stallion was as silver as

the moon on a winter’s night

and the foal, when it was born,

chestnut.

(chuckles)

Just the most unremarkable

brown horse you ever saw.

Nature is a thing

of mysterious works.

How do you know?

The silver stallion.

How do you know it was him?

Did you witness the act itself?

(bangs table)

The consequences

of an allegation

like the one you toy at

would be dire.

(Viserys sighs)

Do not speak of this again.

Alicent: Have I lost

my sanity, Ser Criston?

Do my senses lead me astray?

Or is everyone else asleep,

dreaming the same woolly dream?

Sometimes seems so, Your Grace.

She flaunts the privilege of

her inheritance without shame.

She expects everyone in

the Red Keep to deny the truth

our eyes can all plainly see.

- And the King, her father…

- He knows.

Of course, he knows.

Or did once,

but has convinced

himself otherwise.

He’ll do naught

but make excuses for her.

The Princess Rhaenyra

is brazen and relentless.

A spider who stings

and sucks her prey dry.

A spoiled cunt.

That was beneath me,

Your Grace. I apologize.

I have to believe,

that in the end, honor

and decency will prevail.

We need to hew to that

and to each other.

(bell tolling)

(grunting)

(grunting)

- Alicent: Whose idea was it?

- Oh!

(Aegon grunts)

The pig.

- Was it your plot?

- No…

it was Jace

and… uh…

it-it was the two of them.

I couldn’t be sure.

Aemond is your brother.

- Well, he’s a twat.

- We are family.

You may cuff him about

as you wish at home,

but in the world…

we must defend our own.

It was funny.

Do you think Rhaenyra’s sons

will be your playthings forever?

As things stand…

Rhaenyra will ascend the throne

and Jacaerys Targaryen

will be her heir.

- So?

- Ugh! You are nearly a man-grown.

How is it that you can be

so shortsighted?

If Rhaenyra comes into power…

your very life could be forfeit.

Aemond’s as well.

She could move to cut off any

challenge to her succession.

- Then I won’t challenge…

- (yells) You are the challenge!

You are the challenge, Aegon!

Simply by living and breathing!

You are the King’s

firstborn son…

and what they know, what

everyone in the realm knows

in their blood

and in their bones…

is that one day,

you will be our King.

Get dressed.

(footsteps retreating)

(tense music playing)

(all cheering)

(screeches)

(grumbles)

♪ ♪

(dragon squeals)

(speaks High Valyrian)

Dracarys!

(roars)

♪ ♪

(hisses, roars)

Prince Reggio Ha rat is:

The lamb hearts are excellent.

We are fortunate in our

cook, Your Excellence.

There’s a plum-cake

yet to be served,

which will have us

fighting over the crumbs.

Then before we come to blows…

(taps on table)

A toast to Aegon the Conqueror,

your exalted forebear,

who joined our cause

against Volantis

in the Century of Blood.

On the great dragon Balerion,

he flew to our aid in Lys

and burned a fleet

of enemy ships,

thus turning the tide.

- Aegon the Conqueror.

- All: To Aegon.

Reggio: This brings

me to some business.

A proposal I wish to make

in the spirit of honoring

our storied alliance.

If your aim is to marry one of

our daughters, Your Excellence,

you might have said so and

spared us the history lesson.

- What?

- (Prince Reggio chuckling)

I would not count myself

so deserving, my Lady Laena.

(chuckling)

I wish to offer you a permanent

residence here in Pentos.

This manse I would

gift to you, outright,

along with its farms and lands,

the vineyard and the wood.

The tenants would pay

their tributes annually

to their new Targaryen lord.

You would have your freedom

of the city and the harbor,

as befits your royal station.

Continue.

Reggio:

Lys and its allies rise again.

The Triarchy has

made common cause

with Qoren Martell of Dorne.

At any moment, they may

turn their sights north.

Your family has dragons.

Three now…

mayhaps four in the future.

My aim is to protect Pentos

from the lustful eye

of the Triarchy.

Aid Pentos in this,

as Aegon once did…

and my gratitude will fill

your cup and overflow it.

Your Excellence,

we are travelers.

We’ve already extended

our visit here.

♪ ♪

Prince Daemon:

It’s a most generous offer.

And one we will

certainly entertain.

(conversing in High Valyrian)

(light music playing)

- You are considering Prince Reggio’s offer.

- We have a good life here.

We’re free to do as we please,

welcomed and feted.

- And eternally guests.

- Precisely.

We are without responsibility.

The political scheming,

the endless shifting

of loyalties and succession

is none of ours.

- They are using us.

- It’s refreshing, isn’t it?

A simple transaction.

We have dragons, they have gold.

We are more than this, Daemon.

We are not minstrels or mummers

who play at the pleasure

of an alien prince.

We are the blood of Old Valyria.

We don’t belong here.

Valyria is gone.

We don’t belong anywhere.

I want my child to be born

where I was born, on Driftmark,

in my lord father’s castle.

I want my daughters to be

raised in their homeland

with their family

according to their birthright.

And at my end, I want to die

a dragonrider’s death.

Not that of some

fat country lord.

(horses nickering)

(trainees grunting)

(grunting)

- (grunts)

- Soften your knees.

Feet light.

(chuckles) - Keep your feet

light and your hands heavy.

This is the stuff, Lyonel.

Lads that learn together,

train together…

knock each other down,

pick each other up.

They will certainly form a

lifelong bond, wouldn’t you agree?

That is the hope, Your Grace.

Don’t stand too upright,

my Prince.

You’ll get knocked down.

(grunting)

Aegon.

I’ve won my first bout,

Ser Criston.

My opponent sues for mercy.

Well, you’ll have a new opponent

then, My Lord of the Straw.

Let’s see if you can touch me.

You and your brother.

(Viserys sighs)

(grunting)

(yelling)

You’re gonna have

to do better than that.

(grunting)

Ah.

Weapons up, boys.

Give your enemies no quarter.

It seems the younger boys

could do better with a bit

of your attention…

Ser Criston.

You question my method

of instruction, ser?

Oh, I merely suggest that

method be applied to all your pupils.

Very well.

Jacaerys… come here.

- (grunts)

- You spar with Aegon.

(chuckling)

Eldest son against eldest son.

- It’s hardly a fair match.

- Criston Cole: I know you’ve never seen true battle, ser,

but when steel is drawn, a fair match

isn’t something anyone should expect.

Blades up.

- Engage.

- (grunting)

(yells)

Ow. (grunts)

(chuckles)

(shouts)

(grunting)

- Foul play.

- Criston: I’ll deal with him.

Plant your feet. You have a height

advantage. Use it. Advance on him…

(continues quietly)

(shouts) You!

- (grunting)

- Close with him.

Press him backward!

Close with him!

Stay on the attack!

Use your feet!

- (yells)

- (grunts)

Don’t let him get up.

(yelling)

Stay on the attack!

Harwin: Enough!

(Aegon yells)

- Aegon: (yells) You dare put hands on me?

- Aegon!

You forget yourself, Strong.

That is the Prince.

This is what you teach, Cole?

Cruelty…

to the weaker opponent?

Criston: Your interest

in the princeling’s training

is quite unusual, Commander.

Most men would only

have that kind of devotion

toward a cousin…

or a brother…

or a son.

(grunting)

(yells)

Kings guard: Get back!

(yells) Say it again!

Say it again!

(chuckles) Thought as much.

Rhaenyra:

Let him be bathed with a cloth,

and see to it the cook

gives you a good,

clear wine to drink.

Princess…

there’s been an incident

in the yard.

(tense music playing)

Lyonel Strong: It fills me

with unrelenting shame.

Harwin: So that’s

what this is about then?

- Your shame.

- Lyonel: (shouts) Our shame, Harwin!

Shame on the whole

of House Strong.

Harwin: Because I laid my

hands on that insufferable Cole,

- the son of a steward?

- Lyonel: He is a Knight of the Kings guard now,

- a defender of the crown.

- Harwin: He assailed Prince Jacaerys,

- the future heir to the throne.

- (both shouting)

Lyonel: You have laid

us open to accusations

of an uglier treachery.

And what treachery is that?

Don’t play the fool

with me, boy.

Your intimacy with

the Princess Rhaenyra

is an offense that would

mean exile and death…

for you, for her,

for the children!

Harwin:

It is rumor only…

spun by the Princess’s rivals.

People have eyes, boy.

Yet His Grace the King, it seems,

will not accept what his eyes see.

This flimsy shield alone

stands between you

and the headsman.

The willful blindness of

a father towards his child.

I wish my father affected

a similar blindness.

Lyonel:

Have I not these many years?

And yet today,

you publicly assaulted

a Knight of the Kings guard

in the, in the defense of your…

♪ ♪

Harwin: You have your

honor and I have mine.

(door closes)

To ease the pain, Princess.

(Laenor and Qarl singing)

- Thank you.

- You’ll feel better in a day or two,

when the milk dries up.

(singing grows louder)

- (singing stops)

- (laughing)

Laenor:

My dear wife. (chuckles)

Qarl Correy: Princess.

Oh… I fell down.

- Where have you been?

- Laenor: Out with Qarl. Didn’t I mention it?

Are you in very much pain?

The milk…

- swells the breasts…

- Would you mind, Ser Qarl?

I would like to speak

with my husband.

Of course, Princess.

- (Laenor sighs)

- (door closes)

War… is afoot again

in the Step stones, Rhaenyra.

The Triarchy takes new life

from its alliance with Dorne.

They’re waylaying

ships and cargo.

Qarl’s been fighting there.

He showed me a…

(laughing)

He showed me a sack of

sapphires big as walnuts

he took from the pirate he slew.

Ahh… after all this time,

this is just what I need,

a little adventure.

A good, honest battle

to enliven my blood again.

He says there is

a Tyroshi general there,

a giant, they say,

who dyes his beard purple

and wears women’s frocks.

(Laenor laughing)

A few months, maybe… Hm.

To be back at sea.

Are you mad?

Do you know what’s happened…

while you’ve been guzzling

all the ale in Flea Bottom?

Gods know what besides?

Dark rumors are

hunting us, Laenor.

They nip at our heels.

Questions… about

our sons’ parentage.

Vile, disgusting insinuations.

Insinuations, are they?

They are our sons!

Yours and mine.

And their true father

will not abandon them now

to go carousing

through the Narrow Sea,

- waggling his sword and winking at his sailors.

- I am a knight…

and a warrior.

And I have played

my part here, faithfully…

for 10 years.

- I am owed some…

- You are owed nothing!

For 10 years, you have

indulged yourself at court,

bought the finest horses,

drunk the rarest of wines,

fucked the lustiest boys.

This was our agreement.

I have not begrudged you.

But…

you do not desert your post

when the storm lashes.

The wise sailor flees

the storm as it gathers.

Very well then.

I command you.

As your Princess

and the heir to the throne,

you are commanded to remain

in King’s Landing

and at my side.

(child humming)

(door opens)

(humming continues)

It’s been eight years,

sweetling.

- Half of them never do, you know?

- What?

Hatch.

Will they let me stay?

Will who let you stay?

The Prince of Pentos.

I don’t understand.

He wants you and father…

and Baela…

‘cause you have dragons.

There is more than one way

to bind yourself to a dragon.

I was without one

until I was 15 years old

and now I ride Vhagar,

the largest in the world.

You have a harder road.

Baela’s dragon was born to her.

But if you wish to be a rider,

you must claim that right.

Your father would

tell you the same.

Father ignores me.

(solemn music playing)

He’s doing his best.

(animals howling)

♪ ♪

Laenor has written.

Rhaenyra has delivered

another son.

Does your brother

mention if this one

also bears a marked

but entirely coincidental

resemblance to the

Commander of the City Watch?

(chuckles) - He seems

to have left that detail out.

Mm.

I miss my brother, Daemon.

As I think do you.

I miss Westerosi strong wine.

It could be depended on for a

few hours of peaceful oblivion.

This amber shit

that they drink here.

Lady Laena:

Do you never long for home?

No.

- I don’t believe you.

- Believe what you please.

You laud the virtues of Pentos,

but you have no interest in it.

If you did, you would

venture into the city,

but instead,

you spend your time here,

in the library, reading accounts

of the same dead dragon lords

whose legacy you claim

has no hold on you.

Didn’t know I was being

so minutely observed.

- You do not sleep.

- Well, how can I with you haunting my every move?

- Life has, I know, disappointed you.

- (Daemon chuckles)

Perhaps, I too, am not the wife

you would’ve wished for yourself.

Laena.

It does not pain me.

I have made my peace.

But you are more

than this, Daemon.

The man I married

was more than this.

♪ ♪

Lyonel: It is Lord Blackwood’s

contention, therefore,

that the Brackens moved

the boundary stones

in the dead of the night

and put their horses

to graze in his field.

Alicent: Why was this issue

not brought before Lord Grover?

Has he grown so feeble he

cannot settle a quarrel over rocks?

Jasper Wylde: I’ve heard

tale that Lord Grover’s son

now rules River run

in all but name.

Well, he is also a Tully

and this remains

a Tully problem.

I would agree.

- If we may move on, my lords…

- Rhaenyra: And yet,

the Brackens and the Black woods

will use any excuse

to spill each other’s blood.

So… this dispute

bears looking into.

There will be countryfolk who know where

the lines have been drawn for generations.

That is easy enough.

(softly) Of course.

Ser Tyland.

Tyland Lannister: (clears

throat) Uh, we should address

the latest developments

in the Step stones, my lords.

(sighs) Will we ever be

shut of that blasted place?

If you ask me, I think

the Black woods have

- the upper hand.

- Alicent: No.

We’ve moved on to the

Step stones, Lord Beesbury.

(louder) And the Triarchy’s

new alliance with Dorne.

I was hoping our negotiations with Sun

spear might persuade them to see reason.

(coughs) To trust a Martell

is to be disappointed.

Jasper: And where, I

wonder, is our Prince Daemon?

Or I suppose I should call

him King, as he styled himself

when he won a battle there…

- once.

- Alicent: That was a decade ago

and he has since left

the region undefended.

Rhaenyra: We have

left it undefended.

There should’ve been

fortifications built,

watchtowers, a fleet of ships,

a garrison of soldiers

sent to hold our ground.

We cannot afford it.

Our coffers are great,

but not infinite.

We must consider

the cost to our subjects.

- I must agree.

- The cost of war is greater.

But we have been lax and the

old monster now lifts its head.

Let us be finished.

(sighs) Yes.

Wait.

I wish to speak.

Be seated.

I have felt the…

strife…

between our families

of late, my Queen.

And for any offense given

by mine, I apologize.

But we are one house.

And long before that,

we were friends.

My son Jacaerys will inherit

the Iron Throne after me.

I propose we betroth him

to your daughter, Helaena.

Ally ourselves…

once and for all.

Let them rule together.

A most judicious proposition.

Additionally, if Syrax brings

forth another clutch of eggs,

your son Aemond will have

his choice of them, uh…

a symbol of our goodwill.

Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra:

Oh, Seven Hells, um.

My dear…

a dragon’s egg

is a handsome gift.

The King and I

thank you for your offer

and we will consider it duly.

You must rest now, husband.

Yes.

Alicent:

How sweetly the fox speaks

when it’s been

cornered by the hounds.

- She is sincere.

- She is desperate.

She feels the earth

washing away beneath her feet

and now she expects us

to ignore her transgressions

and for me to marry

my only daughter

to one of her…

plain-featured sons.

The proposal is

a good one, my Queen.

We’re a family.

Let us put aside

these childish quarrels.

Join hands

and be stronger for it.

You may do

as you wish, husband…

when I am cold in my grave.

Alicent.

Alicent!

(coughs)

(exhales)

(groans)

I do not need the blanket…

Criston:

The Hand, Your Grace.

- The King is resting.

- I will see him.

Lean forward.

(fluffing pillow)

(exhales)

I’m being endlessly

fussed over, Lyonel.

It’s a wonder I can

visit the privy alone.

Your Grace.

What might this errand

be about, Lord Lyonel?

Your Grace, I feel…

I have come to resign my

position as Hand of the King.

The episode in the yard

this morning.

My son Harwin

has disgraced himself

and every fishwife in King’s

Landing will soon be telling the tale.

Young Harwin’s outburst

was unfortunate,

it’s true.

But he’s been expelled

from the City Watch.

That seems punishment enough.

Forgive me,

Your Grace, it is not.

You have served me

faithfully for many years,

10 as Hand.

Your advice has been sage,

unmarked by self-interest…

which stands in contrast

to all others.

Lyonel:

You speak kind words…

but there is a shadow

over my house

and it grows… ever darker.

I can no longer serve you

with integrity.

What is this shadow?

Name it, if it casts

such a gloom.

Yes… we must have your

reasoning in plain language.

I cannot.

Then I cannot accept this.

- My dear husband…

- Viserys: I said no!

- If you insist, my King.

- I do.

You will continue in

your service to the crown.

(deep breath)

I would then ask leave

to take my son from court

and escort him back to

the family seat at Harrenhal.

He is my heir

and will be lord of

Harren’s castle one day.

It is time he assumed

his duties there.

Do it.

Aren’t you gonna help me?

(distant chatter)

(deep breath)

(door opens, closes)

Larys Strong:

I took the liberty of beginning

without you, Your Grace.

It seemed a sin to let

such a pie grow cold.

You did wisely, Lord Larys.

Though you had no such worry

about the wine, surely.

- Meat without wine is also a sin.

- Mm.

It’s been my duty to tell you

of happenings about the castle,

but tonight you know,

and I do not.

The King had an audience

with my father.

He attempted to resign his post.

I thought as much.

His honor’s always

been a millstone

about his esteemed neck.

Interesting you said

“attempted”?

My lord husband

refused to accept.

Then he fell short of confessing

my brother’s… transgressions.

With his eruption in the yard,

your brother

all but confessed

the truth himself.

Truth has many flavors,

Your Grace.

Do you expect the King to doom

his dear daughter to exile,

- or even…

- (door opens)

Talya, not now.

(door closes)

It’s a willful blindness,

the King.

I mean, you’d surely

suffer the same affliction,

- if it came to it.

- I would not.

Lord Lyonel is to escort

Ser Harwin back to Harrenhal

to watch over his seat whilst

he continues to serve as Hand.

But the Hand is compromised

by the acts of his son.

My father… cannot give

unbiased counsel to the King.

It is now that I most rue the

absence of my own father.

He wouldn’t hesitate

to speak the truth to the King.

If Otto High tower

were still Hand…

You cannot say, my Queen,

that your father would be

impartial in this matter.

No, but he would

be partial to me!

(exhales)

(Alicent breathes deeply)

In all of King’s Landing, is

there no one to take my side?

(prisoners wailing)

♪ ♪

Larys: What a collection

of heroes I have before me.

A murderer…

a deviant…

a traitor to the crown.

For your crimes, you’ve been

sentenced to death by hanging.

What do you want with us?

I am prepared

to offer you mercy…

if you’re prepared

to pay a little price.

(breathing heavily)

(tense music playing)

(panicked groans)

(yells, screams)

(wailing)

- (Laena screaming)

- Surgeon: Push, my Lady.

Handmaiden:

Push! Push!

- (screaming)

- Push!

- Surgeon: You must push!

- Handmaiden: Push!

- Surgeon: It needs to come now!

- (screaming)

Handmaiden: Push!

All: Push!

Surgeon:

You must push now, my Lady!

- (screaming)

- Handmaiden: Push!

(crying)

♪ ♪

I’ve reached

the limit of my art.

The child will not come.

Ah, my brave girl.

- (crying)

- (breathing heavily)

Surgeon:

I am very sorry, my Prince.

We could lay open the womb…

try to remove the infant

by way of the blade.

But I cannot say

for a surety whether it lives.

Would the mother survive it?

- No.

- (grunting)

♪ ♪

(breathing heavily)

(wincing)

(speaks High Valyrian)

Vhagar, dracarys.

Agh!

(shouts) Dracarys!

Dracarys!

(cries) Dracarys.

Dracarys!

(Laena grunts)

Dracarys.

(Vhagar wailing)

(solemn music playing)

♪ ♪

Laena!

♪ ♪

Harwin:

Be good to your mother, lads.

I’ll visit when I can.

But that may be some time.

Jace.

I will return…

I promise.

I will be a stranger

when we meet again.

(solemn music playing)

Princess.

♪ ♪

(door opens)

We will exchange letters

by raven.

- Won’t that be fun?

- Is Harwin Strong my father?

Am I a bastard?

You are a Targaryen.

That’s all that matters.

(grunting)

(swords clanging)

A word?

I take it he’s gone.

We’re finished here.

We’re leaving.

What of your offer?

Jace and Helaena?

I have been undermined…

and made a spectacle. They

whisper about me in the corridors.

Well, I leave them to it.

To Dragons tone then?

We should’ve left years ago.

What of your position?

You’ve always said if you

were absent from court,

she would pour her honey

in your father’s ear.

The wise sailor flees

the storm as it gathers.

- (chuckles)

- Laenor…

bring him.

We’ll need every sword

we can muster.

(horse neighs)

(apprehensive music playing)

♪ ♪

(coughing)

- (banging on door)

- (Harwin yelling)

(shouts) Fire! I will burn!

Harwin!

Ah! Harwin!

(banging)

(yelling)

(both yelling)

♪ ♪

Larys: What are

children, but a weakness?

A folly?

A futility?

Through them,

you imagine you cheat

the great darkness

of its victory.

(rat squeaking)

You will persist forever,

in some form or another.

As if they will keep

you from the dust.

(indistinct yelling)

But for them…

you surrender

what you should not.

You may know what is

the right thing to be done,

but… love stays the hand.

♪ ♪

(sniffles)

Love…

is a downfall.

Best to make your way

through life unencumbered…

if you ask me.

They’re dead.

You’ve heard the stories

of Harrenhal, Your Grace.

It was built in hubris

by Harren the Black

as a monument

to his own greatness.

Blood mixed into the mortar.

It is said to be a cursed place.

That it passes judgment on

all who pass beneath its gates.

Alicent:

You…

You passed judgment.

The Queen makes a wish.

What servant of the realm

would not strive to fulfill it?

I assume you will write

to your father now?

Larys…

I did not wish for this.

I feel certain

you will reward me…

when the time is right.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪