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May the
Warrior grant him courage

and protect him
in these perilous times.

May the Smith grant him strength

that he might bear
this heavy burden

And may the Crone,

she that knows
the fate of all men,

show him the path he must walk

and guide him through the
dark places that lie ahead.

In the light of the Seven,
I now proclaim Tommen

of the House Baratheon
First of His Name

King of the Andals
and the First Men

and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.

Long may he reign!

Long may he reign!

Special day.

Your Grace.

Your Grace.

- Your Grace.
- Your Grace.

Your Grace.

There he is.

Long may he reign.

Long may he reign.

He sits the throne
like he was born to it.

Yes. He wasn't,
though, was he?

No, he wasn't.

You still mourn for Joffrey?

He was my husband.
My king.

He would have been
your nightmare.

Your Grace, I feel--

You knew exactly what he was.

I did, too.

You never love
anything in the world

the way you love
your first child.

Doesn't matter what they do.

And what he did, it shocked me.

Do you think I'm easily shocked?

No.

The things he did shocked me.

He's only a boy.

A good boy.
A decent boy.

He always has been.

Who was the last
decent king, I wonder?

He could be the first man
who sits on that throne

in 50 years
to actually deserve it.

It would be some
consolation, wouldn't it?

For all the horror
that put him there.

He will need help...

if he's going to rule well.

He has you.

A mother is not enough.

You're still interested
in being queen, I take it?

Oh.

After all
that's happened--

it sounds strange,
I know, but I am--

I haven't even given
any thought to it,

what comes next.

It would be a great
honor, of course.

But I will have to speak
to my father about it.

Yes, speak to your father.

I'll speak to mine.

We may be faced with an alarming
number of weddings soon.

I won't even know
what to call you.

Sister?

Or Mother?

Hmm.

King Joffrey Baratheon is dead.

Murdered at his own wedding.

And we have taken the
Meereenese navy, Your Grace.

The Second Sons took
the Meereenese navy.

Who told you to take the navy?

No one.

So why did you do it?

I heard you liked ships.

How many ships?

93, Your Grace.

How many men can they carry?

9,300, not counting sailors.

Would that be enough
to take King's Landing?

The Lannisters have more.

They've been fighting
Joffrey's wars for years.

They're tired, dispersed.

And now their king is dead.

8,000 Unsullied,
2,000 Second Sons

sailing into Blackwater Bay

and storming the gates
without warning.

It's hard to say.
It could be enough.

But we're not fighting to make
you queen of King's Landing.

10,000 men
can't conquer Westeros.

The old houses
will flock to our queen

when she crosses the Narrow Sea.

The old houses will flock to
whichever side they think will win,

as they always have.

There's other news.

From Yunkai.

Without the Unsullied
to enforce your rule,

the Wise Masters have
retaken control of the city.

They've reenslaved the
freedmen who stayed behind

and sworn to take
revenge against you.

And in Astapor,

the council you installed
to rule over the city

has been overthrown
by a butcher named Cleon

who's declared himself
"His Imperial Majesty."

Please leave me.

Not you, Jorah.

It appears my liberation
of Slaver's Bay

isn't going quite as planned.

You could sail for Westeros

and leave it all behind.

A boy sits on the Iron Throne.

A boy many believe to be a
bastard with no right to it.

They've never been
more vulnerable.

You counseled me against
rashness once in Qarth.

I didn't listen.

That all worked out well.

How can I rule seven kingdoms

if I can't control Slaver's Bay?

Why should anyone trust me?

Why should anyone follow me?

You're a Targaryen.

You're the Mother of Dragons.

I need to be more than that.

I will not let those I have
freed slide back into chains.

I will not sail for Westeros.

What, then?

I will do what queens do.

I will rule.

Pull up your hood.

A memorable shade.

But how would they know?

You know what kind of stories
poor men enjoy the most?

Ones about rich girls
they'll never meet.

Is this the only way
into the Eyrie?

The mountains are impassable.

If you want to get to the Eyrie,

you need to go through
the Bloody Gate.

It doesn't matter how
large your army is,

if you attack this gate,
you do it on this road,

three men abreast

and get slaughtered like goats.

The first Lords of the
Vale didn't have much,

but they had these mountains

and they knew how to use them.

And the fortress they built
here has never been overcome.

Not once in 1,000 years.

Know your strengths,
use them wisely,

and one man can be worth 10,000.

Who would
pass the Bloody Gate?

Lord Petyr Baelish
and his niece Alayne.

Stand to.

- Stand to!
- Stand to!

Welcome back, Lord Baelish.

Uncle Petyr!

My lord.

Oh.

I have brought you a gift.

Lord Baelish.

- My lady.
- Look what Uncle Petyr brought me.

A beautiful gift
for a beautiful boy.

It's a pleasure to make
your acquaintance, Lady Arryn.

My name is Al--

Oh, do take down
that hood, child.

Don't you think I know
who you are?

You think I'd let my intended

leave the Eyrie
on urgent business

without knowing
what that business was?

I let him go so he could
bring you here to me.

My flesh and blood.

It's wonderful
to meet you, Aunt Lysa.

You mustn't call me that
in front of anyone else.

Of course.
I understand.

No one can know you're here.

It would put us in a very
precarious position.

I would never say a thing.

The Lannisters
want to destroy us.

They've been trying for years.

Now they know
what it feels like.

Mummy said they killed your mother and
they chopped off your brother's head.

They did, and my father's.

They killed my father,
too, with poison.

I wanted to make the little
Lannister baby man fly,

but Mother said I couldn't.

Make him fly?

Through the Moon Door.

And on top of
everything else,

they made you marry
that filthy troll.

They did.
They made us both.

Lord Tyrion didn't want to.

I don't believe
that for a moment.

Did he force himself on you?

No.

- We never--
Good.

Robin, this is
your cousin Sansa.

But you're not to call
her Sansa in front of anyone

but Uncle Petyr and myself.
Do you understand?

Sansa, this is my son Robin.

It's a pleasure
to meet you, Robin.

Robin, show Sansa
to her chamber.

Take the back stairs.

Go.
We'll speak soon.

What took you so long?

Arranging for the ascension
of King Tommen I,

extricating Sansa,
getting her here alive.

She's here. We've spent more than
enough time on her for one evening.

Let's get married tonight.

Ought we not...

inform the Lords of the
Vale about the ceremony?

There's only one
Lord of the Vale.

The others can all hang.

Lurking and simpering
on the stairs like buzzards

the moment my husband died,
trying to get their claws in me.

I do think that
we could wait until--

I'm done waiting, Petyr.

We had our wedding night
many years ago.

Or don't you remember?

Like it was yesterday.

What wife would do for you
the things I've done for you?

What wife would trust you
the way I've trusted you?

When you gave me those drops

and told me to pour
them into Jon's wine,

my husband's wine--

when you told me
to write a letter to Cat

telling her it was
the Lannisters--

The deed is done.

Faded into nothing.

Only speaking of it
can make it real.

Tonight it is, then.

Let me bathe and dress
for the occasion.

Once I'm presentable, I'll call
on the septon immediately.

I'm warning you.

I'm going to scream when my
husband makes love to me.

I'm going to scream so loud,

they'll hear me clear
across the Narrow Sea.

When will the wedding
take place in your mind?

As soon as decency permits.

After we've allowed Tommen the
appropriate time to mourn his brother

and Margaery
to mourn her husband.

- A fortnight?
- That seems reasonable.

No jugglers,
no jousting dwarves,

no 77-course meals.

And your wedding to Loras?

Shortly after Tommen's.

- Shortly?
- A fortnight.

I know you don't like them.

I didn't like your husband.

Used to pat me
on the back a lot.

I didn't trust him.

We had that in common.

You don't need to make formal
alliances with people you trust.

Then whom can we trust?

Ourselves alone.

The Tyrells

are our only true rivals

in terms of resources

and we need them on our side.

Robert wasn't particularly rich.

Robert had me funding him.

Wars swallow gold
like a pit in the earth.

I suppose that explains why we
did so well in the last one.

Do you know how much gold was mined
in the Westerlands this past year?

Haven't a clue.

Go on, your best guess.

Pounds, tons, ounces?

Doesn't matter.
The answer is the same.

That can't be.

Our last working mine
ran dry three years ago.

Then how do we pay for anything?

The crown owes
the Iron Bank of Braavos

a tremendous amount of money.

How much?

A tremendous amount.

There must be someone
at the Iron Bank

you can speak to,
come to some arrangement.

The Iron Bank is the Iron Bank.

There is no someone.

Someone does work there.
It is comprised of people.

And a temple
is comprised of stones.

One stone crumbles
and another takes its place.

And the temple holds its form
for 1,000 years or more.

That's what the Iron Bank is--
a temple.

We all live in its shadow
and almost none of us know it.

You can't run from them.
You can't cheat them.

You can't sway them
with excuses.

If you owe them money and you
don't want to crumble yourself,

you pay it back.

Vesting the Tyrells in the crown

will help a great deal
in this respect.

It's for the good of the
family, I understand that.

I'm not sure my brothers do.

I know you're building
a strong case against Tyrion.

And as a mother,
that is your right.

But as a judge, I cannot
discuss the trial with you.

I respect that.

We don't need to discuss it.

The Lannister legacy is the
only thing that matters.

You've started wars
to protect this family.

Turned your back on Jaime

for refusing to
contribute to its future.

What does Tyrion deserve

for lighting
that future on fire?

Joffrey.

Cersei.

Walder Frey.

Meryn Trant.

Tywin Lannister.

The Red Woman.

Beric Dondarrion.

Thoros of Myr.

Ilyn Payne.

The Mountain.

Would you shut up?

I can't sleep
until I say the names.

The names of every
fucking person in Westeros?

Only the ones I'm going to kill.

Hate's as good a thing
as any to keep a person going.

Better than most.

We come across my brother,

maybe we can both cross
a name off our list.

If he were here right now,
what would you do?

I'd tell him to shut the fuck up

so I can get some sleep.

Go on, get it over with,

your list of doomed men.

I'm almost done.

Only one name left.

Go on.

The Hound.

Thank you.

Your mother always had a
sweet tooth, you know?

- Really?
- Oh, yes.

At suppertime, she would go
straight for honey cakes,

candied almonds, custard.

Anything sweet.

Eventually, your grandfather

had to assign a septa
to watch her at meals.

Cat was the firstborn
daughter after all.

It was important
that she remain desirable

so Father could arrange
a good match for her

and she was starting to get fat.

My mother fat?

She never let me have my pudding

until I'd finished
all my proper food.

This is before she married your
father and moved to the North.

By the time you were born, your
father's austerity had become hers.

Marriage changes people.

I didn't mean for you to stop.

Go on, enjoy them.

How do you like them?

They're delicious.

Where did you get the lemons?
You can't grow them up here.

Oh, gods, no.

Petyr had three crates brought
all the way from King's Landing.

He knew you liked lemon cakes.

He's so kind.

He really cares for you.

Think where you'd
be without him.

In their clutches
and tried for murder.

Yes.
I'm very lucky.

He feels responsible for you.

Oh, I know he does.
I'm so grateful.

Why?

Why does he feel
responsible for you?

Well, I'm half Tully.

- He loved your family so much.
- Loved your mother.

- No.
- That's what you wanted to say.

He loves you, Aunt Lysa.
He's married to you.

Your mother never
loved him. Never.

Cat always went straight
for the sweetest thing.

The most obvious thing.
Your Uncle Brandon.

Your handsome, arrogant,
cruel Uncle Brandon.

He almost killed Petyr
in a duel.

And your mother
loved him anyway.

And now Petyr is risking
his life to save you,

the daughter of a woman
who didn't love him

no more than those
whores in his brothels.

- Has he told you about them?
- No.

He hasn't told you about the vile
things they do with their bodies?

The vile things they let
him do with their bodies?

- No, never.
- Are you pregnant?

What? No, I told you.
Lord Tyrion and I never--

I wasn't asking about Tyrion.

What have you let Petyr
do with your body?

- Aunt Lysa, no, I--
- Your young, pretty body.

- Nothing. I'm a virgin.
- Don't lie to me.

You're hurting me.

I'll know if you lie.

I'm a virgin, I swear it.

He loves you, Aunt Lysa.

All he says is that I'm stupid.

I'm a stupid little girl
with stupid dreams

who never learns
and I'm a terrible liar,

so I should always
tell the truth.

And I swear to you that
he has never touched me.

- Not once, not ever.
- Shh. Shh. Shh.

It's all right.

It will all be all right.

You'll be a widow soon.

They'll execute that dwarf
for murdering the king

and you'll be free
to marry Robin.

You'll be the Lady of the Vale.

Hmm.

Didn't they teach you
how to ride a horse?

Yes, my lady, when I was young.

There wasn't much call for
it with Lord Tyrion, though.

He preferred litters.

Perhaps you should
have stayed with him.

It's not going to be
a pleasant journey for you.

It could take weeks to get to the
Wall, depending on the weather.

That's a long way off.

Well, Lady Sansa's
brother's at Castle Black.

If I were her,
that's where I'd go.

Feel free to stop at any point.

Never, my lady.
I'm your squire.

I've made it this far in
the world without a squire.

I don't see why I need one now.

All knights have
squires, my lady.

I'm not a knight.

And I'm not a slaver, either.
I don't own you.

I swore an oath, my lady.

I am releasing you
from that oath.

That means you could leave.

I know.

What do you think
will happen if you leave?

They'll say I wasn't
a very good squire.

- The hell you doing?
- Practicing.

- What, ways to die?
- No one's going to kill me.

They will if you nance
around like that.

That's no way to fight.

It's not fighting.
It's water dancing.

Dancing?

Maybe you ought
to put on a dress.

Who taught you that shite?

The greatest swordsman
who ever lived.

Syrio Forel, the First Sword
to the Sealord of Braavos.

Braavos.

Greasy-haired little
bastard, I bet.

They all are.

What do you know about anything?

I bet his hair is greasier
than Joffrey's cunt.

- It was not.
- Was? He dead?

- Yes.
- How?

- He was killed.
- Who by?

Meryn Trant.
That's why Ser Meryn--

Meryn Trant?

The greatest swordsman who ever lived
killed by Meryn fucking Trant?

- He was outnumbered.
- Any boy whore with a sword

could beat three Meryn Trants.

Syrio didn't have a sword.
Or armor. Just a stick.

The greatest swordsman who ever
lived didn't have a sword?

All right.
You have a sword.

Let's see what he taught you.

Go on, do it for
your Braavosi friend.

Dead like all the rest
of your friends.

Your friend's dead
and Meryn Trant's not

'cause Trant had armor

and a big fucking sword.

Your Grace.

Prince Oberyn.
Writing letters?

A poem, actually.

May I show you the gardens?

I couldn't very well
refuse a royal escort.

No, you couldn't.

I didn't realize
you were a poet.

Not a very good one.

For your paramour?

For one of my daughters.

You have several, don't you?

Eight.

Eight?

Eight daughters?

The fifth is difficult.

I named her after
my sister Elia.

Beautiful name.

Yes.

But I can't say it
without turning sad.

And after I turn sad,

I grow angry.

Perhaps that's why
she's difficult.

The gods love their
stupid jokes, don't they?

Which joke is that?

You're a prince of Dorne.

A legendary fighter.

A brilliant man feared
throughout Westeros.

But you could not
save your sister.

I'm a Lannister.
Queen for 19 years.

Daughter of the most
powerful man alive.

But I could not save my son.

What good is power

if you cannot protect
the ones you love?

We can avenge them.

Yes, we can avenge them.

You really believe
Tyrion murdered your son?

I know he did.

We will have a trial and
we will learn the truth.

We'll have a trial, anyway.

I haven't seen my
daughter in over a year.

The last time I saw her,

she was swimming with two of
my girls in the Water Gardens.

Laughing in the sun.

I want to believe that.

I want to believe she's happy.

You have my word.

We don't hurt
little girls in Dorne.

Everywhere in the world,
they hurt little girls.

Would you bring her
a gift for me?

I wasn't there for her name day.

I don't know when
I'll see her again.

Anything at all.

The best shipwrights
in King's Landing

have been working
on it for months.

Myrcella loves the open water.

I will have it sailed
down to Sunspear for her.

Please tell her...

her mother misses her very much.

Oh, no, no, no.

No, no, no, no.

Hells.

Gods.

Did you remove the skin?

No, my lady.

Have you ever cooked
a rabbit before?

No, my lady.

Did you ever cook
anything for Lord Tyrion?

No, my lady.

That was the cooks.

What are you doing?

I'm helping you with your armor.

I've been removing my own armor for
quite some time, thank you very much.

What exactly did you do
for Lord Tyrion?

I brought him his meals and cleared
his table when he was finished.

I kept his clothing
and linens clean.

Carried his messages
and returned the replies.

Mostly I poured wine.

Oh.

Whilst in Lord Tyrion's service,

did you ever do anything
remotely related to combat?

I killed a man.

Who?

A Kingsguard.

He tried to kill
Lord Tyrion at the Blackwater.

How did you kill a Kingsguard?

I pushed a spear through
the back of his head.

Bloody ridiculous.

Help me with these straps.

Hey.

Hey, get up.

Get up.

That's it lad,
put it inside.

Get the fire going again.
We're all freezing.

Aye. What we need
is a girl there.

I've got to have a piss.

Now keep quiet.

You need water.

It doesn't matter.

Of course it matters.

You mustn't let
anything stop you.

They already have stopped me.

No.

You're not here.

You're far from here.

What does that mean?

At the hill.

A great weirwood tree.

You've seen it, too.

Meera and I, even Hodor,

we're only here to guide you.

He's waiting for you.

We have to find it.

You have to make it.

We will.

This-- this isn't
the end.

Not for you.

Not yet.

How...

will we know the end?

You'll know.

Brothers.

You do move quiet.

- How many?
- 11 men.

Most of them already drunk.

No guards posted. They don't seem
to have a care in the world.

We'll carve them up
like walnut pie.

Karl was a top paid
cutthroat in Flea Bottom.

I've seen what
he can do with a knife.

Have you seen what
I can do with a knife?

Not yet.

There's a hut on the west side of the keep.
We should steer clear of it.

Why?

They've got some hounds
chained up inside.

Closer we can get without the
dogs sniffing us, the better.

New moon tonight.

Get some rest.

We move at sundown.

I've always liked
a girl with curls.

A touch of class.

You take whatever's left.

Get her up.

Stop.

Stop.
What are you doing?

Hodor. Hodor. Hodor.

Stop.
Stop!

- Hodor. Hodor.
- Stop!

- Please.
- Hodor.

- Please, get off her!
- Hodor. Hodor.

Please!
Please, leave her alone!

Please, stop. Stop.

- What are you doing? Leave her alone!
- Hodor. Hodor.

- No!
- Shh.

Shh, shh, shh.

Shh.

You've got pretty hair,
don't you?

Now what is a pretty little
highborn girl like you

doing out here in
the deep, dark woods, eh?

You left your daddy's castle
looking for trouble, didn't you?

No dresses for you.

You like it rough, don't you?

You like it in
the gutter, don't you?

If you let my sister go,
I can help you.

You can help me?

I can.

And how you gonna do that?

I have the sight.
I can see things.

That's very helpful.

Things that haven't
happened yet.

What a fine thing.

A fine thing.

Have you seen what I'm
gonna do to your sister?

Have you seen what they're
going to do to your sister?

No.

Don't close your eyes.

I saw you die tonight.

I saw your body burn.

I saw the snow fall
and bury your bones.

To arms!

They're here, the Night's Watch.

Rescue party is here, lads.

Lady.

- Is Jon with you?
- Aye.

I'll take you to him.

You're Brandon Stark?

Hodor. Hodor.

The little crippled lord.
We're going for a ride, boy.

Jon! Jon!

Keep talking and I'll cut
your friends' throats.

Starting with the idiot.
Do you hear?

Do you hear?

Hodor! Hodor!

Hodor. Hodor.

Hodor. Hodor.

Hodor. Hodor.
Hodor.

Hodor.

Hodor, get his knife.
Cut me loose.

- Hodor, get his knife.
- Hodor.

Cut me loose, Hodor.

Jojen and Meera, free them.

Go!

Jon.

Jon!

If he sees you, he won't
let you go north.

- He's my brother.
- And wants to protect you.

He'll take you back
to Castle Black.

You have to decide.

Do you want to find
the three-eyed raven?

- Hodor.
- Hodor.

We need to free Summer.

And we need to go.

Lord Snow.

Are you bringing me
back for trial?

We had a good thing here.

We were free men.

You'll never be free.

You'll never know
what that's like.

You learn how to fight
in a castle?

Some old man
teach you how to stand,

how to parry?

How to fight with honor?

You know what's
wrong with honor?

You.

Are you all right?

Come with me.

Come on.

We lost four brothers?

Five.

What the seven hells
could do that to a man?

I count 10 dead mutineers.

Locke said there
were 11 of them.

Where's Rast?

- Here's another.
- Jon.

Where in seven hells?

Come here.

I missed you, boy.

What should we do with this lot?

It's not safe for you
here on your own.

Mance Rayder has an army
heading this way

and there's worse out
there than Mance.

Come with us to Castle Black.

We can find you work.
Keep you safe.

Meaning all respect, Ser Crow,

Craster beat us and worse.

Your brother crows
beat us and worse.

We'll find our own way.

You want to stay here

in Craster's Keep?

Burn it to the ground

and all the dead with it.

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