All language subtitles for House.of.the.Dragon.S02E05.2160p.WEB.H265-NHTFS

Man: I have thousands
of grey beards.

If your greybeards can fight
the queen will have them.

They will fight hard,
like northerners.

♪

Our victory depends on the
efforts of the small folk.

The King has
promised us some money.

Did he say when?

I've decided to
send Joffrey to Ward

with my cousin Lady Jane Eryn.

Aegon and Viserys
will accompany him.

I need you to be the mother
to them that I can not.

Guard them like a
dragon guards her eggs.

Do you accept me as your queen
and ruler or do you cling even

now to what you think you lost?

You didn't come here after
quarrelling with your wife.

Does it please you that her
legitimacy is contested as you

stand here with a
castle and a dragon?

Ser Winter Blackwood of
House Blackwood, Your Grace.

Once you and your dragon brings
the queen's justice to

the Brackens our armies
will be yours.

♪

Aemond: Cole is already
preparing his attack.

Aemon: The two of you have been
plotting without my authority.

They don't care what I think.

Do you think that simply wearing
the crown gives you wisdom?

♪

Cole marches on Rook's Rest.

Send me.

No.

Rhaenys: You must
send me, Your Grace.

This was your secret plot, Cole?

For the King himself
to lay ambush

and mayhaps die in the attempt?

No!

(Dragon screeches)

Aemon: Thanks the Gods!

Dracarus!

(Yelling)

♪

(Dragon screeching)

♪

Where's his Grace?

(Dragon groaning softly)

(Ser Criston sighs)

(epic theme playing)

♪

(music fades out)

(tense, solemn music playing)

(footsteps approach)

♪

(inhales)

♪

- (bell tolling) -
(street chatter)

- Only one.
- That's enough, stand back.

- (chatter continues) -
(distant horn blowing)

(bell tolling)

knight: Behold!

The traitor dragon Meleys!

- (crowd clamoring)
- Slain at Rook's Rest

by your king!

To Aegon!

(tense music playing)

(crowd murmuring)

- It can't be...
- They killed a dragon!

Townsperson 1: Mark my
words, this is a black omen.

♪

- (bell tolling) -
(horse neighs)

townsperson 2:
Rhaenyra will answer this.

'Tis an abomination.

Don't they realize
we won the battle?

Strange victory...

if it was one.

♪

(crowd chattering)

- (horn blowing)
- knight: Behold!

The traitor dragon Meleys!

I thought the dragons was gods.

Knight: Slain at Rook's
Rest by your king!

♪

It's just meat.

♪

(bell tolling)

♪

(solemn music playing)

♪

(music softens)

♪

(quiet chattering)

Is he alive?

His Grace...

remains with us, for the moment.

(music fades out)

(quiet chattering)

- (Aegon breathing
heavily) - (tools clinking)

(pus squelching)

(pus squelching)

(grunting)

(quiet chattering)

Is my son going to die?

I'm afraid I cannot say.

Now, if you'll excuse me, Your
Grace, these next hours are most critical.

Of course.

(solemn music playing)

(quiet chattering)

(bone cracks)

Grand Maester Orwyle:
Easy as you can.

♪

(strained breathing)

Someone will have
to rule in his stead.

(music softens)

(footsteps approach)

(birds chirping)

- What happened?
- We took the castle.

At the cost of some 900 men.

So I've heard.

I left a meager garrison
behind to protect it

and the king's dragon.

Sunfyre was long in the dying.

The king, Ser Criston,
what befell him?

His Grace fought valiantly.

(Criston polishing sword)

And Aemond?

- (silence)
- (birds chirping)

What was his part in this?

I could not say.

Alfred Broome: Our largest
dragon has been killed.

Criston Cole marches about
the Crownlands unchallenged.

Duskendale and
Rook's Rest are gone.

We still have no ground army

but the one we hope
that Daemon will raise.

He who has left us...
after some marital spat.

(quiet groans)

Do you take issue
with me, Ser Alfred?

My loyalty to you is
proven, my queen.

Your loyalty, perhaps,

but your willingness to give
me deference in a time of war.

I could never doubt
your capability,

or your quickness of mind.

It is merely that
the gentler sex,

heretofore, has
not been much privy

to the strategies of battle,

or their execution.

There has been
peace in our lifetime.

You've seen no more
battles than I have.

(light, tense music playing)

Send to Maidenpool
and to Crackclaw Point.

Let them man their garrisons

and give them stores or weapons

if they find them wanting.

If Cole pursues his campaign,

- our allies must be ready.
- We must answer Rook's Rest,

- and Duskendale.
- Bartimos Celtigar: They are lost already.

But Vhagar is
depleted after such

a hard-fought battle.

Lorent Marbrand:
If Aegon is dead...

Steffon Darklyn:
We will soon know it.

Gormon Massey: 'Twould
be a victory in name only.

They will soon prop
up another in his stead.

Bartimos: The time is ripe.

If we can strike King's Landing

before their dragon
is recovered...

Then I myself must do it.

My queen, you are the
crown. It is out of the question.

What would you have me do?

♪

♪

Baela Targaryen: Jace?

Where are you going?

To Harrenhal. To
treat with Daemon.

Rhaenys is fallen.

He must affirm his
loyalty to my mother

and report his standing.

And you think
you will tame him...

when the queen
herself could not?

My mother gladly sends you away

to scout, to fight,

whilst I'm here being forced
to play the coddled princeling.

- It's humiliating, Baela.
- She only protects you.

You are the succession.

Then I must be seen to
act for her claim and mine.

I can sit still no longer.

I must act.

The Freys.

They control the
crossing at the Twins.

Cregan Stark's graybeards
are marching south.

If his men had a direct
route into the Riverlands,

we would not have to
wait for Daemon to act.

I will treat with The
Freys to secure it.

She will not like it.

Then don't tell her.
Not until I'm away.

(Caraxes calls)

Daemon Targaryen: The hour
is late and my dragon is hungry.

- (horses neighing) - You
have no choice but to submit.

Our terms are
simple, Lord Bracken.

Renounce the false
king Aegon as a usurper

and bend the knee to me

or your house burns.

I would sooner be the
Lord of Bones and Cinders

than bend my knee before
some heathen Blackwood cunt...

and his hired dragon.

The Brackens were
a people hatched out

of the deepest of the
Seven Hells, Your Grace.

It would be a
kindness to oblige them

and send them back
whence they came.

Did your brother's head

keep on its way
back to you, Willem?

I heard the maggots got to it.

That is quite the
impression, Lord Bracken.

But alas, not an answer.

(horses grunting)

(horse neighs)

We choose fire.

- (horse neighs) -
(Caraxes grumbling)

I did not think they
would be so eager to die.

They made their choice.

- You should've indulged them.
- I need them alive.

I came here to raise
swords, not corpses.

But now you see what my
house has known for generations.

They are pigheaded,
intransigent...

They would rather
burn than succumb.

Exactly the kind of men I need.

It may yet be possible, I think,

for both of us to
achieve our ends.

We have fought them
for an age and more.

Then perhaps you could try

less fighting and more...

persuading.

They are unyielding in battle.

(wind blowing)

But every man has a weakness.

You take my meaning, then.

There are things the crown
itself must not been seen to do.

Show them your worst.

I am your servant, Your Grace.

(tense music playing)

(music intensifies)

Jeyne Arryn: Over the
centuries, many and more armies

have broken themselves
against my bloody gate.

(music fades out)

Are you listening?

My lady.

The Eyrie itself is impregnable.

Unless, of course, we're
descended upon from the sky.

You promised the Queen
Rhaenyra 15,000 swords...

In return for
protection. A dragon.

Then she has
exceeded your terms.

She sent two.

Both still wet from the egg.

(scoffs)

I have hunting hounds
that are more fearsome.

They are dragons nonetheless.

I do not recall you specifying

the size of the
beast in your request.

Will you goad me, child?

When your bread and shelter
now depend on my pleasure?

The dragons will grow...

- in time.
- I don't have time.

I mislike feeling powerless.

So do I.

This will be your chamber.

I'll expect you at
supper this evening?

My sympathies for the
death of your grandmother.

(wind blowing)

The way they spoke at
my small council today.

Mysaria: Do they hold you
responsible for Rhaenys and her dragon?

I would rather they had.

They speak around me, not to me.

(sighs) They would
make me queen,

but they wish to keep
me here, confined.

They betray their own smallness.

In truth, I cannot fault them.

I am now the sovereign.
I cannot do as I please.

And war has ever
been for men to make.

You are your father's
chosen successor.

He did not prepare me to fight.

If I had been a son,

a sword thrust into my hand
the moment I could walk.

Instead, I was given
my father's cup...

taught the name of
every lord and castle

between Storm's
End and the Twins,

but not the difference
between hilt and foible.

And they know it.

- And Daemon as well...
- Shall your evening meal be served here, Your Grace?

(sharply) Not now.

(distant dragons grumbling)

Will you send to him?

For too long, I have
looked to him for strength.

If I must be supplicant
to my own husband,

what does that make me?

I do not know my part, Mysaria.

The path I walk
has never been trod.

Criston Cole made a mistake.

Parading a dragon's head through
the streets like a prize of war,

but the people see an ill omen.

(scoffs) Yes, as do I.

They are afraid,
bread is scarce,

the king has fallen,

they whisper to each other
that when Viserys lived,

- there was peace.
- (sighs)

But will whispers
tear down stone...

or break shields?

Do not underestimate
your subjects.

They are a thousand-thousand

living in the shadow
of the Red Keep

and forgotten for too long.

And you think
they will turn to me.

To the discontented,
rumors are feed.

(light, tense music playing)

Your Grace.

What you cannot do,
let others do for you.

There is more than
one way to fight a war.

(music intensifies)

♪

(music fades out)

Baela: The thought
of her lying in a field,

broken amongst her enemies.

Did your grandmother ever tell
you of the night she claimed Meleys?

She snuck into the Dragonpit.

She knew that place
better than any Elder.

They say she could
see in the dark.

My father was furious.

His own mother's dragon,

the fastest beast ever known,

- and she'd have none of him.
- (Rhaenyra chuckles)

But bent her neck to Rhaenys.

She was fierce...

in love and in anger.

She did not always
care for me, but...

for what she gave me
in the end, I'm grateful.

I wished I had known
her when she was young.

- (chuckles) You are very like her in some ways.
- (Baela chuckles)

And with her gone... I
must rely on you, I think.

Your Grace? (sniffles)

Would you give this
to your grandsire?

I do not wish to stand alone.

(eerie rumbling)

female voice: Daemon.

Daemon.

You were always the strong one.

The finest swordsman...

the fearless dragonrider.

Your brother had
great love in his heart...

(heavy breathing)

but he lacked your constitution.

Viserys was unsuited
for the crown...

but you... Daemon, you
were made to wear it.

(heavy breathing)

If only you'd been born first.

My favorite son.

(echoing) Is the duck not
to your liking, Your Grace?

(normal) There's also
goose, if you'd prefer it.

I like the goose, myself.

(dinnerware clattering)

(Alys pouring wine)

Uh, I'm not hungry.

Simon Strong: I was saying,
given the rather dire news

from Rook's Rest...

it appears the winds have shifted
and each side has suffered great loss,

and will be unsure
of what is to follow.

A good time, then,
for a show of strength.

I believe Willem Blackwood

is bringing House
Bracken to heel.

We must ready the castle
to receive a great host.

You seem sure of this.

All men may be led, Ser Simon.

Even Rivermen.

'Tis a matter of showing them
whom it behooves them to follow.

How does the work here progress?

Oh, um... we're drawing
water for the kitchens

- and lighting the forges.
- Very well.

That is merely the
beginning, of course.

The roof alone
has needed tending

since the reign of Aenys.

And the storerooms.

And...

and the Wailing
Tower. (chuckles)

The bats have made the
corridors almost impassable

with the quantity of their...

Their shit.

I venture there are
smiths and armorers

to be found near
Nutton and Riverbend.

Well, send for them,
and levy the farmers

from Antlers to High Heart.

Task their huntsmen to
bring us meat and wood.

Um, there is, of course,
the matter of payment.

(clattering stops)

After the, the tragedy
that befell his father...

Larys transferred his family's
wealth to King's Landing.

Is there any gold
left in your coffers?

Enough to keep this small
establishment you see fed and warm.

Relatively.

I... I rather thought,
Your Grace, as

emissary to the Queen

that p-perhaps she could
provide the necessary coin

- if you could only write to her.
- No.

Harrenhal is my command.

I shall guarantee
the payment myself.

(mouths) Up, up.

Very well, Your Grace.

You should address
me as "my king."

But you're the prince.

What would you call the
husband of the queen?

- Well, the king...
- Daemon: There it is, then.

consort.

That last bit seems
unnecessary, don't you think?

(sighing)

Orwyle: The armor
was Valyrian steel,

but His Grace suffered grievous
burns over much of his body.

He has many broken bones.

I fear there are
more injuries within,

injuries we cannot see.

(inhales) We are
grateful for your works,

Grand Maester.

- Has he woken?
- No.

I must admit, I'm not
sure he will ever wake.

I have plied my crafts
to their fullest extents.

Our king's fate lies
with the gods now.

A king cannot rule in his sleep.

The realm will have
noticed his absence.

Let them hear of his
great deeds at Rook's Rest.

But now we must name
a regent to take his place

until he recovers...

or does not.

A wise strategy, Your Grace.

A regency will assure the people

of the stability of the crown.

Did you have a candidate
in mind, Your Grace?

I myself served in this
role for my husband.

I am well-prepared
to do it again.

You played your part admirably

in a time of peace, Your Grace,

but circumstances have changed.

(sarcastically) And
here I had forgotten.

Ironrod: The king
does not lack for heirs.

The obvious choice is his
immediate successor, Prince Aemond.

Tyland Lannister: Agreed.

Aemond is young.

And his lack of restraint
has already cost us dearly.

Orwyle: It is experience that
offers the surest path to security.

Queen Alicent ably shouldered
the duties of the realm

when her husband's
health failed him.

Experience is valuable, yes,

but the dowager
queen is a woman.

I am no stranger to rule
or to sitting at this council.

Aemond is a
fearsome dragonrider.

His skill is best
employed in the field,

but my experience is
needed here, at this table.

No offense was meant,
Your Grace, but...

- at a time when we must show strength.
- Lord Larys?

I agree, Your Grace. It
must be Prince Aemond.

What would it say if, in
response to Rhaenyra's crowning,

we raised up a woman of our own?

But, um...

but the Hand speaks
for the king's voice.

Ser Criston, what say you?

Aemond is the next in line.

It must be him.

Aemond Targaryen:
It's agreed then.

What is our standing
in the Riverlands?

Tyland: Uh, the
banners of House Tully

are in disarray, Your Grace.

Prince Daemon has little hope

of fielding an army
of any size, for now.

(voices fading)

Larys Strong: We would do well
to send word to young Oscar Tully.

- (Alicent breathing heavily)
- It's only a matter of time

before he inherits
his grandsire's mantle.

Aemond: Tell me, Lord Strong,

how I can trust the
counsel of a man

who leaves the
jewel of the Riverlands

to be plucked by our enemy?

Your brother's host
can meet Daemon.

He should quicken its pace

and check the Rivermen

while their banners
are in disarray.

Tyland: I shall send Lord
Jason encouragement.

- Aemond: What else?
- Orwyle: We might turn our attention

to the smallfolk here
in King's Landing.

They have grown weary of
the Sea Snake's blockade.

Aemond: So have we all.

Orwyle: Many
are fleeing the city,

spreading word of
their fear and unrest.

Aemond: Mm, then
let the gates be closed.

♪

No one is to leave or
enter, save with our consent.

Merchants, so forth.

(heavy breathing)

(clearly) Go to your tasks.

We shall meet
again at first light.

Oh, and someone cut
down the fucking ratcatchers.

(coughs)

- (outside street
chatter) - (baby crying)

Kat: The city's safe no longer.

There is no food.

Our neighbors are
stealing from each other.

We must get out.

And where would you have us go?

North, maybe? South?

For all we know, every road
leads into the dragons' teeth.

Like the one they carted
through the streets?

You think Rhaenyra will let
such an affront go unchallenged?

We should make for Tumbleton.

My brother will have room.

You would have me turn beggar?

(daughter groans)

Are we not beggars already?

Have you been paid
for those machines

you were forced to build?

The king has promised payment.

(hushed) The king has lied!

(coughs)

By all means...

stay and wait for his
empty promises, husband.

With them, you can
feed the mouths of ghosts.

(dog whimpering)

(indistinct chatter)

(body thuds)

Presumed you'd be here.

Seeing faithfully to the
Prince Regent's commands.

Aemond is the next in line.

- It is the order of things.
- You know what he is...

what he has somehow become.

Has your loyalty faded?

Or does it flourish
only at night

and flee the
sunrise like a moth?

What I saw at Rook's Rest...

What? What did you see?

Their armor melted.

There were men
walking. They were on fire.

We have given the
war to the dragons.

A dragonrider should lead us.

And what of justice,
of temperance?

Or is strength now
to be our only god?

So you cast me aside.

Have I not spared you?

What we must do
now is... terrible.

Will you preside over it?

- Is this who you are, Alicent?
- I did not ask to be spared.

And I did not give you
leave to speak my name.

(loud chattering)

gold cloak: Halt!

(crowd shouting)

Stay back!

Townsperson:
We've got to get out!

Gold cloak: Somebody get him!

Stay back! No!

Holdfast, holdfast!

- (shouting, fighting)
- Stay back! Hold!

Back!

Disperse, disperse!

By order of Aemond Targaryen,

Prince Regent and
Protector of the Realm...

- Aemond?
- Does he mean the king?

- I don't know.
- You cannot keep us here!

- You are ordered to return to your homes!
- We want meat!

- Meat!
- Meat!

(shouting)

(crowd, gold cloaks clamoring)

gold cloak: Stay back!

(grumbles)

Forrest Frey: Our Lord Grover
Tully has not declared for Rhaenyra.

It means death to bare
steel against your liege,

as I'm sure my prince is aware.

And against your queen?

Hm?

(sighs) Jason Lannister
is marshaling to the west.

We need to check him
before he reaches Riverrun.

That requires passage.

And if Stark's army is too slow?

The wind's rising.

Winter is nigh upon us.

Our hesitance does not lie

in Rhaenyra as Queen,

nor in the ruminations
of Lord Tully, the oaf.

Our fear lies in Vhagar.

You fear a dragon leagues away

when mine own sits
outside your walls?

(wind blowing)

- Do you offer us your protection?
- I do.

And the protection of my uncle.

And Daemon, I'm sure,
has consented to this?

He will do as his
queen commands.

That does lend us some comfort.

Though it occurs
to me that dragons

- cannot be in two places at once.
- Or three.

What do you want?

Larys Strong has been
relieved of his castle.

Does the queen intend
to raise up a new lord?

You want Harrenhal.

(light, tense music playing)

For that... my mother will
want more than your crossing.

What does Her Grace desire?

Bent knees.

(music intensifies)

(music fades out)

(indistinct chatter)

(screams echoing)

(screaming subsides)

(indistinct chatter)

Daemon: Up.

Alys Rivers: You were
born to wield a sword,

but not so much an axe, perhaps.

Daemon: There are
others who would sit idle

and wait for their claims
to be brought to them.

- That is not my way.
- Does splitting firewood justify what's followed you here?

Let it not be said that
Daemon Targaryen

failed to dirty his
hands in this war.

Oh, let me see them.

- Sit.
- Daemon: Ah.

Sit!

(sighs) I hear strange
things from Bracken land,

from Stone Hedge and
Lambswold and Mory.

There's news, then?

News?

No.

What I hear, I hear in the wind.

- (screams echoing)
- Cries of anguish.

Children being taken
from their mothers,

men coming home to
find their doors unlatched...

their wives carried away.

(screaming subsides)

War is a terrible thing.

This is not war.

These are crimes
against the innocent,

that any upright
man would repudiate.

Surely you haven't mistaken
me for an upright man.

(Alys chuckles)

The Brackens had their
chance to do as I required.

They will perhaps think
better of their decision

if their children's
lives are staked on it.

Is that the kind of
army you would raise?

Men who hate you...

who serve you under duress?

Well, once they agree to
serve me, I'll treat them fairly.

Set an example for the rest

of the Riverlands to follow.

And once again, in
the name of power,

it's the weak and the
women who must endure.

That fool, Aegon,
is unlike to survive.

The realm will suffer if
Aemond One-Eye rules.

You should pray
you never meet him.

He will cut you down
soon as wish you good-day.

I'd heard the same
thing about you.

But I'll cross you no further.

I'm sure your
tactics are, after all,

approved by the queen.

(tense music playing)

She cannot succeed, Alys.

Even if I willed it to be so.

The people who support
her will not be led by her.

They look to a man for strength.

Who's better suited to it?

The Hightowers
with their scheming?

Or Viserys's first true heir?

When I take King's Landing...

Rhaenyra is welcome
to join me there

and take her place by my side.

King and queen...
ruling together.

- And if you lose?
- Then I'll be dead,

and none of this
will be my problem.

It's a pity, don't you think, that
you never knew your mother?

♪

Simon: A message, Your Grace.

Uh...

uh, fresh news from Stone Hedge.

The Blackwoods have
overwhelmed the Brackens,

and, uh, Lord Amos has
pledged his banner to you.

House Bracken is yours.

Call Ser Willem here so
that I might congratulate him.

The Blackwoods will
be feted in these halls.

- (bird cawing)
- (dog barking)

(waves crashing)

I sought you at High Tide.

I was surprised when
they said you were here.

My castle is a tomb.

Empty. Haunted.

I am sad to have
missed its highest days.

I imagine your Hall of Nine

filled with lords and kings,

all eager to treat with the
legendary Lord of the Tides.

The wealth you brought back

from Yi Ti and Asshai,

inspiring awe and envy.

I wonder if any of them
knew it was all for her.

Queen Rhaenyra
wishes to name you Hand.

(Corlys sighs)

Even the death of my
wife does not content her.

Has she not asked
enough of my house?

It is a sign of
her great esteem.

Or does she think the
position will compensate me

for my loss?

Pledge your peace to
King's Landing, then.

They will accept
it most gleefully.

Rather I would sail into
the West and be lost.

You have done so before,

at great cost to yourself
and those who loved you.

Rhaenys was not
only your wife...

not a thing to be
taken from you.

She was a Targaryen princess.

The Queen Who Never Was.

And she flew to Rook's
Rest of her own will.

- In defense of her kin.
- And she died.

She died as she would
have wished to die...

with honor, in dragonfire.

The way my mother chose...

and the way I myself
wish to meet my end.

(solemn music playing)

I grieve my grandmother
who loved me

but I carry her on with me.

I will see Rhaenyra ascend the
Iron Throne, as Rhaenys wished.

As Rhaenys herself should have.

You yourself may
do as you see fit.

Granddaughter.

♪

I would make you my heir.

I am blood and fire.

Driftmark must
pass to salt and sea.

(music fades out)

Your Grace.

You were correct...

in saying our best hope
of an army is with Daemon.

And I have, perhaps, erred in
waiting for him to prove himself.

I wish you to go to Harrenhal.

Are you removing
me from your council?

Ser Alfred...

I-I-I will not deny you have
tried my patience of late,

or that I would prefer a council

more inclined to
champion their queen,

but... (inhales)

you and your house
served my father well,

and I know you will never
accept the Hightower claim.

Not while I live, Your Grace.

We cannot challenge King's
Landing without the Riverlands

but I will not send a message
by raven for Daemon to disregard.

I ask you to... reason with him.

Find out his state of
mind and his intentions.

Intentions?

Whether he means to raise
a host for me or for himself.

He would not dare.

(scoffs) Have you known
Daemon to lack in daring?

Go now with haste.

I'll send good men
to see to your safety.

Have you any message for him?

Tell him I would much like
to finish our last conversation.

Your Grace.

- (rumbling)
- (water dripping)

(eerie warbling)

(footsteps approach)

(knocking on door)

Simon: Your Grace.

(panting)

What is it, Ser Simon? Is
the pudding now served?

The Riverlords have
come, Your Grace.

- They wish an audience.
- Now?

- What godless hour is it?
- The wolf.

They are demanding
to speak presently.

(tense music playing)

♪

I see I must begin here
with a lesson in etiquette.

Or failing that, in proper fear

of your Targaryen master.

Is there some reason you feel
free to wake a king in his bed?

Or shall I now begin
your education?

House Bracken

have been brought to heel at
the hands of Willem Blackwood.

- That news is stale.
- (chuckles) Yes.

There have been,
um, complications.

The sacred septs
on Bracken lands

- were looted and burned.
- As were the fields and farms.

The livestock was stolen

and our peasants
put to the sword.

They pursued the
women and the children.

There were works of barbarity.

Punishing Bracken for his
own treasons is one thing, aye.

- But these other acts.
- The Brackens were given their chance.

- They would not see reason.
- The Blackwoods have exploited

the war for the
crown to visit atrocities

- upon their old rivals.
- Piper: I have seen my fair share of their quarrels,

and I tell you, there
is no honor in a fight

- such as this.
- Honor? What of common decency?

These beasts proudly carried

the banner of House Targaryen.

Red dragon on black.

(eerie warbling)

female voice: A terrible war
is being fought in these lands.

Have you looked after our girls?

(ominous music playing)

Darry: We should've expected
nothing more from a man

who ordered the
slaughter of a child

in his mother's arms.

That is a lie. And I will have the
man who told it brought before me.

Well, your man is half
the kingdom, my prince.

Know this, interloper:

the Riverlands are
an ancient place,

watched closely by the
eyes of old gods and new.

And dragon or no,

we shall not raise our
banners for a tyrant.

(tense music playing)

♪

(indistinct chatter)

♪

♪

- Move along, lass.
- I have an errand... for the lady Mysaria.

I thought she was dead.

Would she die without
collecting her due?

I must see an old friend.

Most people want out these days.

♪

♪

(rain pattering)

- (indistinct chatter)
- (thunder rumbling)

(music softens)

Elinda.

(wind blowing)

(pensive music playing)

(deep breathing)

(thunder rumbling)

(tense music playing)

(unsettling vocalizing)

♪

Was it worth the price?

(shallow breathing)

(thunder continues)

(solemn music playing)

♪

(door opens)

(hoarsely) Mummy.

♪

(footstep approach)

(music fades out)

Prince Jacaerys, Your Grace.

(distant dragon grumbles)

Visenya.

Vhagar's first rider, and the
first wielder of Dark Sister.

I hope you do not mean
to use her as an example.

Why shouldn't I?

W... It was a long time ago.

What is the mood at the Twins?

Did his lordship quibble?

He wishes for the Freys
to be granted Harrenhal.

At war's end. Assuming.

I'm proud of you, Jace.

You have done our
cause a great service.

Then, why do you look angry?

(sighs)

You chafed at being
prevented from action.

Imagine my lot. I'm
a dragonrider as well,

with a war being fought
over my ascension.

And yet, I must wait here...

always prudent...

sending others to fight

and be felled in my name.

Even you have
managed to do your part.

Jacaerys Velaryon:
You are the queen...

the tie that binds us.

- No harm can come to you.
- And you are my son,

and I did not give
you leave to go.

You do not give me
leave to go to anything.

But who else is there?
Rhaenys is dead,

and Baela cannot
bear the burden alone.

And when Aemond
comes hunting for you?

Your dragon is young.

Will you fly before
Vhagar as Luke did?

Perhaps Daemon could...

Daemon is not here.

And Aemond now
rules in King's Landing.

- Is Aegon dead?
- Dead or alive, we have no answer for Vhagar.

Aemond will not wait long to
press his advantage. And then what?

I have done all I can from here,

sent my messages,
invoked my alliances.

But if all else fails,
it is I who must fight.

Vhagar is big, but
Syrax is quicker.

- So was Meleys.
- Meleys fought two dragons and one of them is slain.

Shall I fight for my birthright?

Or shall I wait here until
we are all destroyed?

I need dragons.

We have no dearth of dragons.

We have two large enough
to stand against Vhagar.

They are called
Vermithor and Silverwing

and they sleep just
beneath our feet.

Yes, and if only
they had riders,

none could stand against me.

I would go forth in strength
and not from necessity.

There is Rhaena.

(scoffs) Who nearly lost
her life in her last attempt.

I would not risk it again.

There are those of our
line who never ruled.

Those who married
into other noble houses,

their children born
with other names.

A generation ago, or more.
Their blood would be thin.

And yet...

A dragon will only accept a
dragonlord to ride it. (sighs)

- Or so say the histories.
- (chuckles) Valyrian histories.

Written to gild us in glory.

(chuckles)

Are you suggesting we
put a Mallister on a dragon?

- A Tarly?
- It's better than death and defeat.

There are records
here, surely, of our line

and of those who fell out of it.

(intense music playing)

There could be scores of them.

(exhales)

It's a mad thought.

♪

(music fades out)

♪

♪

(music fades out)

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