(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.
    ♪ ♪
    ♪ ♪
    ♪ ♪