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Does Ser Hugh have any family in the capital?

No.

I stood vigil for him myself last night.

He had no one else.

He'd never worn this armor before.

Bad luck for him - going against the Mountain.

Who determines the draw?

All the knights draw straws, Lord Stark.

Aye.

But who holds the straws?

You've done good work, Sisters.

Life is strange.

Not so many years ago we fought as enemies at the Trident.

I'm glad we never met on the field, Ser Barristan.

As is my wife. I don't think the widow's life would suit her.

You're too modest.

I've seen you cut down a dozen great knights.

My father once told me you were the best he'd ever seen.

I never knew the man to be wrong about matters of combat.

He was a fine man, your father.

What the Mad King did to him was a terrible crime.

And that lad -

he was a squire until a few months ago.

How could he afford a new suit of armor?

Perhaps Lord Arryn left him some money?

I hear the king wants to joust today. - Yes, that will never happen.

Robert tends to do what he wants.

If the king got what he wanted all the time,

he'd still be fighting a damned rebellion.

It's made too small, Your Grace. It won't go.

Your mother was a dumb whore with a fat arse.

Did you know that?

Look at this idiot! One ball and no brains.

He can't even put a man's armor on him properly.

You're too fat for your armor. - Fat?

Fat, is it?

Is that how you speak to your king?

Oh, it's funny, is it?

No, Your Grace. - No?

You don't like the Hand's joke?

You're torturing the poor boy.

You heard the Hand. The king's too fat for his armor.

Go find the breastplate stretcher - now!

"The breastplate stretcher"?

How long before he figures it out?

Maybe you should have one invented. - All right, all right.

You watch me out there. I still know how to point a lance.

You've no business jousting. Leave that for the young men.

Why, because I'm king? Piss on that. I want to hit somebody!

And who's going to hit you back? - Anybody who can.

And the last man in his saddle... - Will be you.

There's not a man in the Seven Kingdoms would risk hurting you.

Are you telling me those cowards would let me win?

Aye.

Drink. - I'm not thirsty.

Drink. Your king commands it.

Gods,

too fat for my armor.

Your squire - a Lannister boy?

Mm. A bloody idiot,

but Cersei insisted.

I have Jon Arryn to thank for her.

"Cersei Lannister will make a good match," he told me.

"You'll need her father on your side."

I thought being king meant I could do whatever I wanted.

Enough of this. Let's go watch 'em ride.

At least I can smell someone else's blood.

Robert. - What?

Oh.

An inspiring sight for the people, eh?

Come, bow before your king! Bow, you shits!

Where's Arya? - At her dancing lessons.

The Knight of the Flowers.

Thank you, Ser Loras.

Don't let Ser Gregor hurt him.

Hey. - I can't watch.

A hundred gold dragons on the Mountain.

I'll take that bet. - Now what will I buy with 100 gold dragons?

A dozen barrels of Dornish wine?

Or a girl from the pleasure houses of Lys?

Or you could even buy a friend. - He's going to die.

Ser Loras rides well.

Such a shame, Littlefinger.

It would have been so nice for you to have a friend.

And tell me, Lord Renly,

when will you be having your friend?

Loras knew his mare was in heat. Quite crafty, really.

Ser Loras would never do that.

There's no honor in tricks. - No honor and quite a bit of gold.

Sword!

Leave him be!

Stop this madness in the name of your king!

Let him go!

I owe you my life, ser.

I'm no ser.

Remove his hood.

♪ On that eve, the captive Imp

♪ Downwards from his horse did limp

♪ No more would he preen and primp

♪ In garb of red and gold ♪

This isn't the Kingsroad.

You said we were riding for Winterfell. - I did... Often and loudly.

Very wise. They'll be out in droves,

looking for me in the wrong place.

Word's probably gotten to my father by now.

He'll be offering a handsome reward.

Everyone knows a Lannister always pays his debts.

Would you be so good as to untie me?

And why would I do that? - Why not?

Am I going to run? The hill tribes would kill me for my boots.

Unless a shadowcat ate me first.

Shadowcats and hill tribes are the least of your concerns.

Ah, the eastern road.

We're going to the Vale.

You're taking me to your sister's to answer for my imagined crimes.

Tell me, Lady Stark, when was the last time you saw your sister?

Five years ago. - She's changed.

She was always a bit touched, but now... You might as well kill me here.

I am not a murderer, Lannister. - Neither am I.

I had nothing to do with the attempt on your son's life.

The dagger found... - What sort of imbecile

arms an assassin with his own blade?

Should I gag him? - Why?

Am I starting to make sense?

Rodrik!

My lady, this way.

Untie me.

If I die, what's the point?

Ah!

Rodrik? - I'll be fine, my lady.

There's no need to bloody yourself.

Your first?

You need a woman.

Nothing like a woman after a fight.

I'm willing if she is.

Bran.

The Iron Islands. Sigil - a kraken.

Words - "We do not sow."

Lords? - The Greyjoys.

Famed for their skills at archery, navigation and lovemaking.

And failed rebellions.

Sigil - a stag, a crowned stag now that Robert's king.

Good. - Words - "Ours is the fury."

Lords - the Baratheons. - Mm-hm.

The Westerlands.

Sigil - a lion. - Mmm.

Words - "A Lannister always pays his debts." - No.

A common saying, but not their official motto.

Lords - the Lannisters.

We're still on their words. - I don't know them.

You do know them. Think.

"Unbowed, unbent, unbroken."

That's House Martell. - "Righteous in wrath."

House Hornwood. - "Family, duty, honor."

Those are Tully words - your mother's.

Are we playing a game? - Family, duty, honor...

Is that the right order? - You know it is.

Family comes first?

Your mother had to leave Winterfell to protect the family.

How can she protect the family

if she's not with her family?

Your mother sat by your bed

for three weeks while you slept.

And then she left!

When you were born, I was the one who pulled you from your mother.

I placed you in her arms.

From that moment until the moment she dies,

she will love you.

Absolutely.

Fiercely. - Why did she leave?

I still can't tell you,

but she will be home soon. - Do you know where she is now?

Today?

No, I don't. - Then how can you promise me

she'll be home soon?

Sometimes I worry you're too smart for your own good.

I'll never shoot another arrow.

And where is that written?

You need legs to work a bow. - Hmm.

If the saddle Lord Tyrion designed actually works,

you could learn to shoot a bow from horseback.

Really?

Dothraki boys learn when they're four years old.

Why shouldn't you?

Shh, keep it down.

You're not supposed to be inside the castle walls.

I thought you were supposed to be an important person around here.

Important enough for the likes of you.

You're not the only nobleman in my life, you know.

Who, the Imp? I'd call him half a nobleman.

Jealous?

Why should I be jealous?

Anyone with a few coppers in his pocket can own you for the night.

What's a dwarf like down below?

I've always wondered.

Might surprise you. - Hmm?

He's good with his fingers too. And his tongue.

Generous tipper.

I guess gold is cheap for a Lannister.

You are jealous.

I'm a Greyjoy.

We've been lords of the Iron Islands for 300 years.

There's not a family in Westeros that can look down on us,

not even the Lannisters.

And what about the Starks?

I've been Lord Stark's ward since I was eight years old.

A ward - that's a nice word for it.

Your father rebelled against King Robert and if he does it again...

My father fought for the freedom of his people.

What did your father do? Fucked a cook and whelped a whore.

You're a very serious boy.

I'm not a boy. - Oh, yes, you are.

A serious boy with a serious cock.

I don't want to pay for it.

Then get yourself a wife.

Come on.

I'm not gonna hurt you.

How is your son, my lord?

He'll never walk again.

But his mind is sound?

So they say.

A blessing, then.

I suffered an early mutilation myself.

Some doors close forever...

others open in most unexpected places.

May I?

If the wrong ears heard what I'm about to tell you,

off comes my head.

And who would mourn poor Varys then?

North or South, they sing no songs for spiders.

But there are things you must know.

You are the King's Hand and the king is a fool -

your friend, I know, but a fool - and doomed unless you save him.

I've been in the capital a month.

Why have you waited so long to tell me this?

I didn't trust you.

So why do you trust me now?

The queen is not the only one who has been watching you closely.

There are few men of honor in the capital.

You are one of them.

I would like to believe I am another, strange as that may seem.

What sort of doom does the king face?

The same sort as Jon Arryn.

The tears of lys, they call it.

A rare and costly thing,

as clear and tasteless as water. It leaves no trace.

Who gave it to him?

Some dear friend, no doubt. But which one?

There were many. Lord Arryn was a kind and trusting man.

There was one boy.

All he was he owed to Jon Arryn.

The squire, Ser Hugh?

Pity, what happened to him,

just when his life seemed to be going so nicely.

If Ser Hugh poisoned him...

who paid Ser Hugh?

Someone who could afford it. - Jon was a man of peace.

He was Hand for 17 years - 17 good years.

Why kill him?

He started asking questions.

He's found one bastard already.

He has the book.

The rest will come.

And when he knows the truth, what will he do?

The gods alone know.

The fools tried to kill his son.

What's worse - they botched it.

The wolf and the lion will be at each other's throats.

We will be at war soon, my friend. - What good is war now?

We're not ready.

If one Hand can die, why not a second?

This Hand is not the other.

We need time.

Khal Drogo will not make his move until his son is born.

You know what these savages are. - "Delay," you say.

"Move fast," I reply.

This is no longer a game for two players.

It never was.

The first to arrive and the last to leave.

I admire your industry.

You do move quietly.

We all have our qualities.

You look a bit lonely today.

You should pay a visit to my brothel this evening.

First boy is on the house. - I think you're mistaking

business with pleasure. - Am I?

All those birds that whisper in your ear - such pretty little things.

Trust me,

we accommodate all inclinations.

Oh, I'm sure. Lord Redwyne likes his boys very young, I hear.

I'm a purveyor of beauty and discretion - both equally important.

Though I suppose beauty is a subjective quality, no?

Is it true that Ser Marlon of Tumblestone prefers amputees?

All desires are valid to a man with a full purse.

And I heard the most awful rumor about a certain lord

with a taste for fresh cadavers.

Must be enormously difficult to accommodate that inclination.

The logistics alone...

to find beautiful corpses before they rot.

Strictly speaking, such a thing would not be in accordance with the king's laws.

Strictly speaking.

Tell me. Does someone somewhere keep your balls in a little box?

I've often wondered.