House of the Dragon (2022–…): Season 1, Episode 6 - Episode #1.6 - full transcript
Keep breathing.
And push.
And again.
I can't.
Push!
The head!
A boy, Princess.
Praise the Mother!
Healthy?
Kicking like a goat, Princess.
Princess...
the Queen has requested that
the child be brought to her...
immediately.
Why?
I'll take him myself.
You should remain abed, Princess...
Yes, I should! Help me dress.
Princess...
your dress?
Princess?
- It's coming.
- The afterbirth!
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.
I took a lance through
the shoulder once.
My deepest sympathies.
The Princess... The Princess...
I am glad I am not a woman.
- My Princess...
- My Lord...
What is it?
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.
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.
This is absurd.
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.
- Nonsense.
We'll finish this later.
Your Grace.
What happy news this morning.
Indeed, Your Grace.
Where is he?
Where is my grandson? There.
There he is.
A fine Prince.
Sturdy.
You will make a fearsome knight.
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.
Don't you?
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.
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.
And he sees a big, scary dragon!
Mother...
look.
We chose an egg for the baby.
That looks like the perfect one.
- I let Luke choose.
- 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.
Joffrey, is it?
Father, please may I hold Joffrey?
No, no. No.
Back to the Dragon pit for you two.
- Come on!
- Before they send out a search party.
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.
Call Vermax to heel, Prince Jacaerys.
Vermax!
Vermax!
Zaldrizo aoho syt
aeksio sagon ao bevilza,
darilaros nuhys...
You must hold mastery over your dragon,
my young Princes.
Hae Darilarot Aegot Vvsperzomy.
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.
Can I say it?
Dracarys, Vermax!
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.
- Behold...
- The Pink Dread!
Be sure to mount her carefully.
First flight's always rough.
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.
Your Grace.
Aemond.
- What have you done?
- He did it again.
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.
- I know it.
They all laughed.
They made wings for it,
apparently, and a tail.
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.
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!
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.
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?
The consequences
of an allegation like the one you toy at
would be dire.
Do not speak of this again.
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.
Whose idea was it?
The pig.
- Was it your plot?
- No...
it was Jace and
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?
- 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...
- 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.
Dracarys!
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...
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.
- To Aegon.
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?
I would not count myself
so deserving, my Lady Laena.
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.
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.
It's a most generous offer.
And one we will certainly entertain.
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.
Soften your knees.
Feet light.
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.
Aegon.
I've won my first bout, Ser Criston.
My opponent sues for mercy.
You'll have a new opponent then,
My Lord of the Straw.
Let's see if you can touch me.
You and your brother.
You're gonna have
to do better than that.
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?
I merely suggest that method
be applied to all your pupils.
Very well.
Jacaerys, come here.
You spar with Aegon.
Eldest son against eldest son.
- It's hardly a fair match.
- 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.
- Foul play.
- I'll deal with him.
Plant your feet.
You have a height advantage.
Use it. Advance on him...
You!
Close with him.
Press him backward!
Close with him!
Stay on the attack! Use your feet!
Don't let him get up.
Stay on the attack!
Enough!
- 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?
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.
Get back!
Say it again!
Say it again!
Thought as much.
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.
It fills me with unrelenting shame.
So that's what this is about then?
- Your shame.
- Our shame, Harwin!
Shame on the whole of House Strong.
Because I laid my hands
on that insufferable Cole,
- the son of a steward?
- He is a Knight of the Kings guard now,
- a defender of the crown.
- He assailed Prince Jacaerys,
the future heir to the throne.
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!
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.
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...
You have your honor and I have mine.
To ease the pain, Princess.
- Thank you.
- You'll feel better in a day or two,
when the milk dries up.
My dear wife.
Princess.
I fell down.
- Where have you been?
- 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.
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...
He showed me a sack of sapphires
big as walnuts
he took from the pirate he slew.
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.
A few months, maybe...
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.
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.
He's doing his best.
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?
He seems to have left that detail out.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Why was this issue not
brought before Lord Grover?
Has he grown so feeble
he cannot settle a quarrel over rocks?
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...
- 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.
Of course.
Ser Tyland.
We should address
the latest developments
in the Step stones, my lords.
Will we ever be shut
of that blasted place?
If you ask me, I think
the Black woods have
- the upper hand.
- No.
We've moved on to the Step stones,
Lord Beesbury.
And the Triarchy's
new alliance with Dorne.
I was hoping
our negotiations with Sun spear
might persuade
them to see reason.
To trust a Martell
is to be disappointed.
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.
That was a decade ago and he has
since left the region undefended.
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.
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...
a symbol of our goodwill.
Rhaenyra.
Oh, Seven Hells.
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.
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!
I do not need the blanket...
The Hand, Your Grace.
- The King is resting.
- I will see him.
Lean forward.
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.
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...
- I said no!
- If you insist, my King.
- I do.
You will continue in your service
to the crown.
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?
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.
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...
Talya, not now.
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!
In all of King's Landing,
is there no one to take my side?
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.
Push, my Lady.
Push! Push!
Push!
- You must push!
- Push!
It needs to come now!
Push!
Push!
You must push now, my Lady!
Push!
I've reached the limit of my art.
The child will not come.
My brave girl.
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.
Vhagar, dracarys.
Dracarys!
Dracarys!
Dracarys.
Dracarys!
Dracarys.
Laena!
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.
Princess.
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.
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.
Laenor...
bring him.
We'll need every sword we can muster.
Fire! I will burn!
Harwin! Harwin!
What are children, but a weakness?
A folly?
A futility?
Through them, you imagine you cheat
the great darkness of its victory.
You will persist forever,
in some form or another.
As if they will keep you from the dust.
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.
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.
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.
And push.
And again.
I can't.
Push!
The head!
A boy, Princess.
Praise the Mother!
Healthy?
Kicking like a goat, Princess.
Princess...
the Queen has requested that
the child be brought to her...
immediately.
Why?
I'll take him myself.
You should remain abed, Princess...
Yes, I should! Help me dress.
Princess...
your dress?
Princess?
- It's coming.
- The afterbirth!
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.
I took a lance through
the shoulder once.
My deepest sympathies.
The Princess... The Princess...
I am glad I am not a woman.
- My Princess...
- My Lord...
What is it?
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.
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.
This is absurd.
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.
- Nonsense.
We'll finish this later.
Your Grace.
What happy news this morning.
Indeed, Your Grace.
Where is he?
Where is my grandson? There.
There he is.
A fine Prince.
Sturdy.
You will make a fearsome knight.
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.
Don't you?
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.
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.
And he sees a big, scary dragon!
Mother...
look.
We chose an egg for the baby.
That looks like the perfect one.
- I let Luke choose.
- 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.
Joffrey, is it?
Father, please may I hold Joffrey?
No, no. No.
Back to the Dragon pit for you two.
- Come on!
- Before they send out a search party.
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.
Call Vermax to heel, Prince Jacaerys.
Vermax!
Vermax!
Zaldrizo aoho syt
aeksio sagon ao bevilza,
darilaros nuhys...
You must hold mastery over your dragon,
my young Princes.
Hae Darilarot Aegot Vvsperzomy.
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.
Can I say it?
Dracarys, Vermax!
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.
- Behold...
- The Pink Dread!
Be sure to mount her carefully.
First flight's always rough.
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.
Your Grace.
Aemond.
- What have you done?
- He did it again.
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.
- I know it.
They all laughed.
They made wings for it,
apparently, and a tail.
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.
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!
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.
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?
The consequences
of an allegation like the one you toy at
would be dire.
Do not speak of this again.
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.
Whose idea was it?
The pig.
- Was it your plot?
- No...
it was Jace and
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?
- 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...
- 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.
Dracarys!
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...
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.
- To Aegon.
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?
I would not count myself
so deserving, my Lady Laena.
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.
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.
It's a most generous offer.
And one we will certainly entertain.
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.
Soften your knees.
Feet light.
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.
Aegon.
I've won my first bout, Ser Criston.
My opponent sues for mercy.
You'll have a new opponent then,
My Lord of the Straw.
Let's see if you can touch me.
You and your brother.
You're gonna have
to do better than that.
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?
I merely suggest that method
be applied to all your pupils.
Very well.
Jacaerys, come here.
You spar with Aegon.
Eldest son against eldest son.
- It's hardly a fair match.
- 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.
- Foul play.
- I'll deal with him.
Plant your feet.
You have a height advantage.
Use it. Advance on him...
You!
Close with him.
Press him backward!
Close with him!
Stay on the attack! Use your feet!
Don't let him get up.
Stay on the attack!
Enough!
- 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?
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.
Get back!
Say it again!
Say it again!
Thought as much.
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.
It fills me with unrelenting shame.
So that's what this is about then?
- Your shame.
- Our shame, Harwin!
Shame on the whole of House Strong.
Because I laid my hands
on that insufferable Cole,
- the son of a steward?
- He is a Knight of the Kings guard now,
- a defender of the crown.
- He assailed Prince Jacaerys,
the future heir to the throne.
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!
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.
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...
You have your honor and I have mine.
To ease the pain, Princess.
- Thank you.
- You'll feel better in a day or two,
when the milk dries up.
My dear wife.
Princess.
I fell down.
- Where have you been?
- 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.
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...
He showed me a sack of sapphires
big as walnuts
he took from the pirate he slew.
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.
A few months, maybe...
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.
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.
He's doing his best.
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?
He seems to have left that detail out.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Why was this issue not
brought before Lord Grover?
Has he grown so feeble
he cannot settle a quarrel over rocks?
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...
- 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.
Of course.
Ser Tyland.
We should address
the latest developments
in the Step stones, my lords.
Will we ever be shut
of that blasted place?
If you ask me, I think
the Black woods have
- the upper hand.
- No.
We've moved on to the Step stones,
Lord Beesbury.
And the Triarchy's
new alliance with Dorne.
I was hoping
our negotiations with Sun spear
might persuade
them to see reason.
To trust a Martell
is to be disappointed.
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.
That was a decade ago and he has
since left the region undefended.
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.
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...
a symbol of our goodwill.
Rhaenyra.
Oh, Seven Hells.
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.
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!
I do not need the blanket...
The Hand, Your Grace.
- The King is resting.
- I will see him.
Lean forward.
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.
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...
- I said no!
- If you insist, my King.
- I do.
You will continue in your service
to the crown.
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?
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.
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...
Talya, not now.
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!
In all of King's Landing,
is there no one to take my side?
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.
Push, my Lady.
Push! Push!
Push!
- You must push!
- Push!
It needs to come now!
Push!
Push!
You must push now, my Lady!
Push!
I've reached the limit of my art.
The child will not come.
My brave girl.
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.
Vhagar, dracarys.
Dracarys!
Dracarys!
Dracarys.
Dracarys!
Dracarys.
Laena!
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.
Princess.
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.
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.
Laenor...
bring him.
We'll need every sword we can muster.
Fire! I will burn!
Harwin! Harwin!
What are children, but a weakness?
A folly?
A futility?
Through them, you imagine you cheat
the great darkness of its victory.
You will persist forever,
in some form or another.
As if they will keep you from the dust.
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.
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.
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.