All language subtitles for House.of.the.Dragon.S03E04.Tumbleton.720p

[♪ epic theme music playing]

- [insects chirring]
- [birdsong]

[man shouting indistinctly]

Keep going!

Bring it on down!

- That's it!
- Come on!

- Keep moving!
- Back into it.

[chickens bocking]

Three more in here.

- [crowd shouting]
- [banging]

- Three more in there.
- [animals bleating]

You, go with them!

Two more in here.

[indistinct chatter continues]

Two more in here.

[giving orders]

You three, in this one.

Oh, please, please.

Our home, it's...
it's already crowded.

There's 15,000 of us.

Be glad you only got three.

- Maybe crowded ain't so bad.
- Mind yourself.

You don't like it,
go and carp to Lord Ormund.

See what good it does you.

[townsfolk chattering]

It is only regarding
the lodging situation, my lord.

You are unhappy with
your lodgings, Lord Footly?

It is only that we are very fond
of our ancestral home.

You are sleeping
in our bedchamber.

You bent the knee to the pretender,
Rhaenyra Targaryen,

did you not, Lady Footly?

We did.

Then mayhaps
I should remind you

that the wage of treason
is death.

We do not seek conflict,
my lord.

- [groaning]
- Tumbleton has no battlements.

Our people know only trade.

We never thought to see war.

So, you swore to her
out of fear.

We swore because
she is the queen.

Is she?

Or is she a bitch
with a dragon?

[water sloshing]

My purpose is to restore
the rightful line

to the Iron Throne.

It follows from that
that I must be well rested.

It follows from that that I must have
acceptable lodgings.

I will ensure that my men
remain on their best behavior

whilst in your town.

Provided, of course...
[sighs]

...that you remain on yours.

See them out.

[Lady Footly] Don't.

When dealing with those
beneath you,

you must be fair, but firm.

Yes, sire.

My prince.

My lord, a raven
from Storm's End

carrying more excuses
from Lord Borros Baratheon.

That lackwit sealed a marriage pact
between Prince Aemond

and one of his horse-faced
daughters.

And yet, where is he now?

Send another raven
that he can understand.

This one mayhaps with drawings
rather than letters.

What word from Harrenhal?

[Roxton] If Vhagar does not come,
our defenses will not hold.

Do not be disheartened,
Daeron.

Your brother will join us soon.

[Rhaenyra]
Why seize Tumbleton?

It's no stronghold.
It's a market town.

Its lord is meek.
Its walls are poorly defended.

Hightower may as well
paint a rondel on his chest.

Why?

Does he mean to somehow
win their support?

He dares me
to rain fire down on a seat

that raised my banner.

And the realm would name me
"Maegor Returned."

They'd rise up against me.

And the same gods
who delivered me to the throne

would rightly cast me down.

[Orwyle] If I may.

Your Grace,
Prince Daemon's river host

marches on King's Landing.

Tumbleton is not much further.

If his men were
to go there instead...

Mm, it would not be bloodless,

but it would be far more
merciful than sending dragons.

We march on the town

and root out the Hightowers
house to house.

It's a good scheme.

Send orders to Lord Tully.

Uh, Orwyle?

For as long as you remain
loyal and useful...

you may take your place
at my council

and retain the title
of Grand Maester.

The castle's ravens
remain your charge,

but the Lady Mysaria should be
kept informed of the comings and goings.

Ah.

Relics of a dead regime.

Mm.

It will take the Rivermen weeks
to reach Tumbleton.

Let us send a dragon
to keep vigil.

Ormund may have
the town under siege,

but he shall not leave
except I remove him.

In the meantime, we have,
uh, urgent matters at home.

We have secured
some small store of oil

- for the markets, but...
- Where is the Hand?

- Gods, this council's thin.
- [chalice scraping]

Name a Master of Coin.

The people will soon discover
our lacking resources.

They can blame him.

Investigate
Ser Torrhen Manderly.

He's intrigued me.

If he's fit, let the gold
be his concern as well as Daemon's.

Mine shall be
Ormund Hightower.

I know him as well as you.

[chuckles] I... I doubt that.

Viserys warded your son to him.
I've never met the man.

I knew him very little,
a long time ago.

After my father took me to court,
I rarely saw Oldtown.

Tell me what you do know.

[clicking tongue]

He sees himself as a scholar.

He studies the histories,

he collects tapestries,
writes ballads,

despises the ignorant
and uncouth.

When we were young,
Gwayne thought him cruel,

but Gwayne thought that of many.

How is he with Daeron?

Fatherly, I'm told.

Daeron was only a babe
when he took him to ward.

[Helaena]
What is it?

Oh, look at this.

Did it pain you to have
to send your child away?

It was my choice.

Why?

[sighs]

I bore Viserys
three Targaryens.

But with the last, my last...

I wanted him to be a Hightower.

In truth, I'm glad
I waged that battle,

seeing now what came
of our other sons.

Perhaps sending Daeron away
was my truest act of motherhood.

Though I do not know
now what fate

that choice has consigned him.

You know I would
have spared him.

He has a sensitivity
to odors.

Ormund.

A very strong one.

My Lord Hand,
the queen has requested

your presence
at her small council.

I'm her Hand,
not her mouth.

Leave the talking to those
who relish it.

Shall I return
with this message?

That you refuse the queen?

Rather that I serve
more effectively.

Her strength lies
in dragons now.

She has less need
of a man of the sea.

But my son shall attend her
in my stead.

You certainly look the part.

I am not a creature
of the court.

I don't know what I'm doing.

There is great opportunity
for you there.

I cannot give you legitimacy,

but I can give you the chance
to better yourself.

Anger is not something that can
be ended with a blade, my lord.

[soldier] Move out!

[horses neighing]

[horse neighing]

Come on!

[grunting]

[♪ somber music playing]

[whispering]
My boy.

I'm here.

I'm here.

It's a penny
to touch the dragon.

Nothing's free
in these woods.

He can sit the saddle
for a halfgroat.

Touch will suffice.

- Mm.
- Thank you.

[clearing throat]
We seek shelter.

Which way to Rook's Rest?

He's got both hands on him.

That's two touches.

What's wrong with your leg?

You can kill a man of the Faith
for a few pennies, if you wish.

Though I doubt the gods
would look kindly upon it.

You don't look like a septon.

[Aegon] He's alive.

I know it.
He's alive, he must be.

- [whispering] Sunfyre.
- There, there, Gregor.

Wake up, Sunfyre.
I'm here.

Let us trouble these
good folk no further, hm?

Wake up, Sunfyre.
I'm here.

Simple.

[speaking High Valyrian]

What's he saying?

[Aegon]
Sunfyre, come back to me.

Wake up, I'm here.
I know you're in there.

We must tarry no longer.
The danger is great.

I am very sorry,

but you must accept
what is before you.

[whispering] Wake up.

You wanted to see him,
you've seen him.

- He's dead.
- No. [sobbing]

Will you stay and rot with him?

[continues sobbing]

Will you get up and live?

- [wind whooshing]
- [horse chortling]

[♪ soft, dramatic music playing]

[distant screeching]

[loud rumbling]

[goat bleating]

[Alys] Are you lost?

Where is the castellan?

Slain.

He who succeeds him then.

Slain.

And the one
who succeeds him as well.

And who are you?

A steward, of a sort.

It's the best you can do
at the moment. [chuckles]

This is the Hand of the King.

We seek the Prince Aemond.

As I'm sure do many.

He was meant
to meet us here.

If you know where he is,

I'd advise you
to be forthcoming.

[Alys scoffs]

He was here.

He seized the castle after
Prince Daemon abandoned it,

but when he learned that
Rhaenyra took King's Landing,

- he and his dragon fled.
- W-When Rhaenyra took King's Landing?

Oh, my.

Oh, you didn't know.

We've scoured the area,
my Lord Hand.

There is sign
of a large dragon nest

but it has been abandoned.

Prince Aemond
may indeed have fled.

King's Landing has fallen,

Aegon is dead, our queens
are both in chains,

and we are here alone

with a meager army
and no dragon.

We have the enemy
just where we want them.

- [sighs]
- Aemond would not desert me.

And yet he's not here, is he?

Let us send a raven
to Tumbleton.

Alert my cousin of this news

and our intent
to join our strength to his.

Ormund is a stiff-necked
windbag,

but he's neither
craven nor stupid.

He will have
some canny plot afoot.

No.

[sword clattering] The game is played,
Ser Criston, and it is lost.

What possible profit
is there in pursuing it?

[scoffs]

You noble ilk conceive this
all a great game, don't you?

To win, to lose,
go home to a feather bed.

[groaning]

I was a foot soldier.
Did you know that?

Steward's son.

All my father had was at
the pleasure of Lord Dondarrion.

When his favor failed,
all we had melted away.

My father died of sorrow.

There is no home
for one like me.

Not while Rhaenyra
sits the throne.

Our task is simple.

Keep the river scum
from reaching King's Landing.

Give Ormund time
to swell his ranks.

Their army is ten times
our size.

Twenty.

But let us attack it...

as the scorpion does the ox.

Let us become wraiths
with fear as our standard.

Strike from the quiet
and the darkness.

Our fight will not be clean,
but it will be pure.

We'll be man-to-man.

And it will be free
from dragons.

- Ser Edgar!
- We'll delay them at most.

- It will not change their course.
- Perhaps not.

But it is as you said,
Ser Gwayne.

We must cling to our honor,
lest we become beasts ourselves.

♪

[rat squeaking]

Who goes there?

Alyn of Hull.

I'll see him. Come.

Your Grace.

Lord Corlys has ridden out
by the Dragon Gate

to hunt the Triarchy raiders
that plague our trade.

He has able men who could
lead that campaign.

While his queen struggles
to restore a broken kingdom.

Your Grace, uh, if I may.

My lord father has lost much

and found himself thwarted.

A fight is mayhaps
what he needs.

Hm.

Oh.

My father's life's work,

a recreation of the seat
of Old Valyria.

A reminder to him,
I think, that, um...

even great dynasties fall.

That the crown should
never rest easy on his head.

There were those who whispered
that my father was weak.

But, um,
seeing through his eyes,

I can only marvel

at how he kept it
all in balance for so long.

Fathers have
a maddening capacity

to at once inspire and incense.

Don't you think?

[rats chittering and scurrying]

Gods, they are incessant.

And thanks to Aegon,
all the rat catchers are dead.

On board ship, we kept cats.

- [bird screeching]
- [Larys] Steel yourself.

We must guard our intents
whilst I quietly

investigate hiring a ship.

This is Cole's garrison.
They owe allegiance to me.

This is no garrison.

You must presume these men hold
allegiance only to themselves.

[insects buzzing]

[overlapping shouting]

We cannot tarry here long.

[♪ dramatic music playing]

[people chattering]

[chatter continues]

[water sloshing]

Good day, friend.
We seek food and shelter.

Like many here gathered,
we are the dispossessed of the war.

[Janos] You Riverfolk?

I fucking hate Riverfolk.

We hail from Sharp Point.

Prince Aemond burned it
to the ground.

[stammering]
W-w-with his d...

- How'd you get out?
- We nearly didn't.

As you can see.

Hm.

Well... [spitting]

We're too many.

Fuck off.

I have some coin.

[coins jingling]

You can earn a tent
if you're ready to work.

Have you got a trade?

I have some knowledge
of herbs,

and, uh, I can read a little.

Mm.

[laughter]

Maybe you'll be useful.

I have the command
around here.

Oh, that much
is clear, my lord.

Tangletongue
works the latrines.

Collects piss for the tanners,
shit for the farmers.

This one can help him.

Separate buckets.

Mix it up, they won't pay.

I won't touch
the fucking latrines...

J-Just do as they say,
Gregor.

- For now, hm?
- I can read just as well as he can.

Tangletongue and Mangleface.

[laughter]

- You'll be good together.
- I-It's not bad...

- Don't fucking touch me.
- ...once you're used to it, brother.

Come on.

Come on.

Fuck off!

[people chattering]

I think we'll have
a nice time here tonight.

We'll make merry tonight.
It'll be better than Honeyholt.

- [chuckles]
- [door closes]

Wait.

I need to inspect the goods.

Go and fetch
some rosemary.

[whispering] Come on.

[nervous breathing]

Don't touch her!
Take your hands off of her!

[indistinct shouting]

[screaming]

[grunting]

Get them out of here!
Get them out!

Get your hands off my brother,
you Hightower...

[high-pitched ringing]

Ser Hugh Hammer, Your Grace.

[Rhaenyra]
Ser Hugh, I assure you,

when there is news of a house,
you will be sent for.

I understand that Ser Ulf
is to be sent to Tumbleton.

- He is.
- If it pleases Your Grace,

I offer to take the watch
on Vermithor.

Your wife is at Tumbleton,
is she not?

Ser Ulf has no stake
in the matter.

Send me, because I do.

I will not tire of watching
when one I love is below.

Take it in turn between you.

Keep watch on the town
and on each other.

You may take the first post.

See that Ulf is alerted
to the plan.

Your Grace.

[bell tolling]

[Townsfolk chattering]

[townsperson]
Disgusting.

What's it say?

"Queen of Bastards."

Hightower loyalists trying
to fight a war they lost.

[♪ fiddle playing]

So, he has returned.

[all cheering]

[laughter]

- Come on!
- Come on.

- Ah! Good evening, ser!
- Hey!

Ulf, the Dragonlord!
Hey, hey.

More god than man.

Hey, will you honor your friends
with a round of drinks, my lord?

The price keeps rising,
we can't keep up.

- Tell him.
- For everyone.

Hear that?

- Drinks for everyone!
- [all cheering]

- He broke my arm.
- That one broke my nose.

- He attacked my sister.
- You call yourself soldiers. This is a disgrace.

- The children are terrified.
- What is this?

You said your men
were honorable.

This one has sinned.

I was billeted
at the smithy, my lord.

But the smith didn't like it.

Mayhaps he resents
the imposition.

Or mayhaps he is loyal
to Rhaenyra.

But he struck me.

My lord.
Now, if it please you,

we bear you no ill will.

But this man went
to ravish my sister

and then broke my wife's arm
when she tried to stop him.

She is a weaver.

We need what little she earns.

- Is this true?
- [Garrick] No, my lord.

- [Kat] Liar!
- Look at this woman's arm.

- She attacked me.
- Is there no safety

- in our houses anymore?
- She called me a cunt!

I will have calm.

- What is your name?
- Garrick, my lord,

of Whitegrove.

Garrick of Whitegrove.

You have violated guest right.

You have debauched yourself
upon a woman

and injured another.

Your punishment
will fit your crime.

You will be gelded.

[sighs] And you will have
your own arm broken.

You may remain in my service,

but trespass again,
and you will hang.

My lord. I have a wife.

Oh! My lord!

- [guard] Come on!
- [Garrick] No!

See them home.
Have a maester tend to their wounds.

[Garrick] No!

My lord!

We must keep a firm grip.
Tensions are high.

Lawlessness and disorder
claw at our gates.

Yes, sire.

[Rhaenyra] I wish to see
all correspondence

between the Red Keep
and Ormund Hightower

since my father's death.

Your Grace.

How much control
do the Hightowers

exert over the Faith?

Well, they endowed the building
of the Starry Sept

and Oldtown was their seat for,

well, centuries before
the Conquest.

The Seven are as intrinsic
to the Hightower fabric

as, well, dragons are
to House Targaryen.

But control, I think not.

The Faith is too proud
to allow such influence.

The, uh, the High Septon
has refused to anoint me.

The Faith clings tightly
to its separate powers.

If I may be so bold
to ask Your Grace...

does it matter?

- Wh...
- Your Grace sits the throne.

Your people have welcomed
you back as a liberator.

Your dragons rule the skies.

Are these not symbols
of power enough?

Perhaps I could remove him.

The monarch has ever had
some influence

in the... the naming
of the High Septon,

but to remove him altogether
would surely...

incite the Faith,
and therefore the faithful.

Unless you were
considering a more, uh...

permanent removal.

I never thought you
so bloodthirsty, Orwyle.

- Ah.
- Rather impressed.

Alas, no.

Bring Ormund's letters
once you have collated them.

There's been no word from
Prince Daemon on his progress?

None as yet, Your Grace.

[Caraxes bellowing]

[Jeyne Arryn]
I had thought never to see you

in the Vale again,
Prince Daemon.

What after the tragic death
of your first wife.

And yet I receive raven after raven
from my bannermen

informing me of your progress
throughout my domain.

[Daemon] Hm.

Time heals even
the deepest of wounds.

I am most delighted
to return, my lady.

And who could ever fail to be
charmed by your... warmth.

But I mustn't tarry.

You promised the crown men
in return for a dragon.

Now, you had your dragon,
yet we have no men.

I should send babes.

Prince Joffrey's dragon
was years away

from being large enough
to defend the Vale,

and Rhaenyra took
even that away.

A less forbearing person

might have seen
the crown's offering as an insult.

- A pledge is a pledge.
- It was my understanding

that the war was won,
my prince.

What need does she have
of more soldiers?

In truth...

I have not come for men.
I've come for gold.

Huh, so your coffers are empty?

The work of Hightower treachery.

But perhaps a generous
offering of coin

would demonstrate your...

fealty to the crown.

Prince Daemon Targaryen,
standing in my high hall,

- a beggar with a tin cup.
- [Daemon chuckles]

I never thought I'd live
to see such a sight.

A gift of gold
would offer you the benefit

of my speedy departure.

Very well.

[Caraxes bellowing
and chittering]

- [bellowing]
- Hey!

[speaking High Valyrian]

Hey!

[continues bellowing]

[bellowing]

[rumbling and chittering]

[chittering continues]

[squealing]

Reveal yourself!

[dragon bellowing loudly]

[footsteps approaching]

[bellowing continues]

[whispering] Rhaena.

[dragon chittering]

[sword sheathing]

[loud bellowing]

- Lykiri!
- Daor.

Lykiri.

[dragon chittering]

[whispering]
What have you done to yourself?

How?

I fed him sheep.

[dragon bellowing]

Rhaenyra believes this dragon
and his rider are the reason...

Jace is dead.

- I wanted only to help.
- [sighs] No.

To show her... to show you
I... I never intended...

- Does she suffer?
- [speaking High Valyrian]

Jeyne Arryn knows you're here.

You were meant to accompany
my sons to Pentos.

They are well attended.
They will be safe.

- You swore to be their guardian.
- And do what?

[dragons bellowing
and chittering]

Teach them to be ladies
of the realm?

I would be of no use there.

Just as I was of no use here.

If you go now to where
you are meant to be,

Rhaenyra need not know.

We will find a ship.
Leave the dragon behind.

- [dragons roaring and screeching]
- I will not leave him.

He's not like the others,
Rhaena.

He is wild.
He cannot be trusted.

He is mine.
He is a part of me.

I have been alone all my life.

A Targaryen without a dragon.

Disregarded, or... or worse.

Pitied.

Can you yourself
say you ever gave me

more than a passing thought?

Rhaena, the unfortunate.

Rhaena, the least
among your children.

Come back with me, then,
to King's Landing.

- No.
- We will...

speak to her together.
We will tell her it was a mistake.

How can I ever stand
before her again

after what I have done?

No, I can never return.

I will remain here,
alone and in exile.

- That is my penance.
- She will hunt you down.

Is hunting now.

Let them grieve me
and think me lost to sea.

Unless you betray me.

You ask me to deceive her.
That is betrayal.

I have asked you nothing,
Father, in all my life.

I ask this one thing
of you now.

Rhaena, Rhaena.

Rhaena!

Rhaena!

[Sheepstealer bellowing]

[screeching]

- [continues screeching]
- Shh!

[dragon roaring]

[dragon rumbling]

- [sheep bleating]
- [goatherd chattering indistinctly]

[dragon bellowing]

[faint bellowing continues]

[metal tinging softly]

[inhales deeply]

[sighs]

[Roxton] A raven just arrived
from Harrenhal, my lord.

- It bears the Hightower seal.
- [church bell ringing]

[whispering] Get out.

My prince?

[whispering] Out. Now.

[growling]
Useless craven coward!

- Cunt!
- [items clattering]

[growling loudly]

Cunt! Cunt!

Cunt!

[sighs]

[sighs]

[sighs]

[sword sheathing]

- [chair scraping]
- [sighs]

Your Uncle Gwayne
has sent word.

It seems your brother Aemond

will not be joining us
after all.

Is...

Gwayne coming to Tumbleton?

We must alter our scheme.

[Orwyle] Ser Otto wrote
diligently to Ormund. [inhaling deeply]

Naught was returned.

Are you sure
there's been no error?

Nothing?

What am I to make of this?

I suppose only
that Lord Ormund

ruled Oldtown
as a kingdom unto itself.

Mm.

[sighs]

Ser Ulf White is still
without, Your Grace.

Oh, uh...

Come.

Your Grace.

I'm honored
to be in your service

and to have sworn my life
to your cause.

Yes. I'm sure.

- What is it, then?
- Oh, I... I wondered

whether, as Your Grace's
humble servant,

I might petition
for your favor... er, favors.

Speak them.

For a man named Mujja,

a smallholding outside Rosby

and exemption from taxes,
thanking Your Grace.

And for a fellow named Cley,

a pardon for various
small crimes.

We don't have to go into that,
and passage to Lys...

These favors
are not in your name.

No, no, Your Grace.

They're for allies...

from a tavern
I frequent... ed,

- frequented previously.
- A tavern.

And if an agent
of the Hightowers

knifes you in your belly
as you fill it with ale?

No, it's not that sort of place.
Besides...

- It's my belly.
- Oh, but it's not.

No, you belong now
to the crown.

Should something
befall you or your belly,

I suffer the loss of a dragon

and the unity of the realm
is threatened.

No, you shall frequent
taverns no longer.

What?

Well, I'm afraid you'll
have to find your...

your beer within the walls
of the Red Keep,

where you will remain...

except when you are escorted
to the Dragonpit

for duty at Tumbleton.

If that is all, you may go.

They protest you.

You know,
out there in the city.

I've seen vile words
painted on walls.

They say...

"Queen of Bastards."

The work, I am sure,

of some of your
misguided subjects

who mistakenly believe
their queen to be unkind.

Your Grace.

[♪ dramatic music playing]

Can you send word
to Ser Luthor?

Have his gold cloaks look
for any seditious markings

on the streets of the city,
remove them...

and find those responsible.

And bring them to you,
Your Grace?

Just make it cease, please.

[insects buzzing]

[groaning]

[groaning]

There's a Braavosi cog sailing
from Duskendale in a few days.

- I think I can find us fresh horses.
- I'm the fucking king.

- If they knew I walked among them.
- [shushing]

Even were you to be believed,
Rhaenyra sits the throne.

And you have no dragon.

She did us a favor
by declaring you dead.

I'm dead?

Slain by your brother Aemond.

Is that what they say?

Mm.

I'll fucking kill him.

- I'll fucking kill her, the s...
- In time.

There's much to be learned
from the chatter in this camp.

Anonymity is a boon for us.

It will ensure that your
eventual resurrection...

becomes the stuff
of song and legend.

Have something to eat.

None left for us.

Happens sometimes, but...

[stammering]
We'll get some tomorrow.

Tomorrow?

I'll not stand for this.

- [dish clattering]
- Outrage!

Is this how you rule?
Running out of food?

Answer me!

Sit down
before I make you.

Who do you think
you're talking to?

I'll have your fucking tongue,
you insolent ape.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
- Please.

And I'll gut you
like a fish, cunt.

Let's... let's not be hasty.

On your knees,

if you want to live.

[grunting]

Kiss my feet.

- I take it back.
- Or die.

I don't care which.

But you will call me...

- "my lord."
- [Tom] Janos.

[Janos] You as well?

[grunting softly]

- [retching softly]
- [insects buzzing]

[Torrhen Manderly]
The inquisitions were thorough.

We should be assured
that wherever they might be,

- the crown's holdings...
- [door opens]

- are no longer in...
- I bring justice.

I bring vengeance.

I also bring gold.

- What is this?
- The one who rode Sheepstealer.

Along with 10,000 golden dragons
from Lady Jeyne Arryn.

[Manderly] Anything from
her bannermen in the Vale?

We still await some response
from the great houses.

And the Iron Bank has not
answered our request for a loan.

Would you please explain
who that is?

[Manderly] Ser Torrhen Manderly, my prince,
the new Master of Coin.

What little there is
to be a master of.

Well, I'll wager you think you're clever,
don't you, Manderly?

- [chuckles] Well...
- You should know

I'm the clever one around here.

- Say no more.
- [Mysaria] What small quantity

of gold Daemon has found
must go to ease the deprivations

- of the smallfolk.
- The City Watch is stretched far too thin.

Our soldiers need to be paid

and more recruited besides,
else there will be bedlam.

- Your Grace...
- [Mysaria] Bedlam is assured

if the people feel the crown
ignores their anger.

Has anyone considered a tax?

Clear the room.

[door closes]

What is this?

The queen's justice.

Who is he?

And how did he come
to claim a wild dragon?

Was he alone, or is...

is he allied to Aemond
or to Ormund?

I desired
the very same answers,

but a dragon is not
a precise instrument.

[scoffs]
What of Sheepstealer?

Fled. Riderless.

It is an act of madness
to claim a wild dragon.

We are not like to see it again.

I wanted to see him.

I wanted to look on the one
who killed my son.

To punish him yourself?

But do you think
that would end your grief?

I have served your interest.

The gold you brought will
provide alms for the smallfolk.

The City Watch trusts you.
You will entreat them to be patient.

The crown will honor its debt...

a little longer.

I suppose...

I should thank you.

When what you've wrought
comes falling down about her ears,

she'll return to her senses.

Whose head is that?

[♪ dramatic music playing]

I have dispatched good men
to see your father's remains

delivered to Oldtown.

Viserys would have wished it.

Thank you.

[whispering] Here.

Helaena.

- [bell ringing]
- Clear the streets.

Clear the streets!

- [bell continues ringing]
- Observe the curfew!

[people chattering
and shouting]

All indoors!

Clear the street!

Stay home or hang!

- Dragon!
- [dragon bellowing]

Dragon!

[bellowing]

- Open your doors by order of the queen.
- [person shouting indistinctly]

Here! Here!

- With me.
- Up here.

Get them out of their home!

Who did this?

Which traitor
stained these walls?

Find the hand that
stained these walls.

Scrub. Scrub!

[Soldiers shouting]

Bring them out!

- [person screaming]
- [child crying]

- Has he confessed?
- Not yet.

I haven't done anything.
Please.

Please.

- Patience, my girl.
- [Tessarion purring]

It won't be long before
we can fly again.

[Tessarion grunting]

I have warned you
against indulging in affection

for that beast.

[Tessarion bellowing]

Lykiri.

[Tessarion chittering]

I know.

You are a good boy.

You speak kindly
and you say your prayers.

I have raised you
in the light of the Seven,

and the Father smiles upon you.

But there is a taint
in your blood.

The Targaryens
are a savage race,

poor in intellect,
but rich in cunning.

With dark spells,
they created abominations

to subdue what was rightly ours.

We are the superior men.

But against that...

[Tessarion growling]

...we could not stand.

[Tessarion growling, grunting]

The gods have put you
to divine purpose, my boy.

What purpose, sire?

The brutes raise a woman
to the Iron Throne.

A desecration!

Where is reason?
Where is propriety?

It was a blessing that you
came to ward in Oldtown.

Your brothers are lost,
but you...

remain a Hightower,

raised in the shadow
of the Citadel,

in the light of the Starry Sept.

Now...

you must be king.

You would not wish, surely,

for me to turn cloak
against my brothers.

You will restore
our ancient order.

Victory will be ours.
It is the will of the gods.

I thought you let him go.

A righteous king
must demonstrate

he upholds many virtues.

Honor, wisdom.

- Justice. - He only acted when
our man attacked a woman.

He laid hands on a Hightower.

That soldier is an extension
of you, of the crown.

Justice must be done.

Is not mercy a kingly virtue?

That sounds like something
your father would say.

[Tessarion chittering]

I'm sorry.

[Tessarion chittering]

I have risked much
and more to raise you up.

Surely, you do not wish
to disappoint me.

[♪ tense music playing]

My lord.

My lord, please. Please.

No, please, I beg you.

My lord.

Please. I beg you.

I have a family, my lord.

I have a family.
Please.

Please, please.
[whimpering]

- [screaming]
- [Tessarion screeching]

[exclaiming]

[♪ tense music
continues playing]

[♪ dramatic music playing]

[Tessarion snarling]

[screeching]

[flames whooshing]

And now we begin.

[Tessarion snarling]

[crunching]

[♪ dramatic music playing]