All language subtitles for House.of.the.Dragon.S02E05.1080p.MAX.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.x264-NTb

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

Behold!

The traitor
dragon Meleys!

Slain at Rook's Rest

by your king!

To Aegon!

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

Mark my words,
this is a black omen.

Rhaenyra will answer this.

'Tis an abomination.

Don't they realize
we won the battle?

Strange victory...

if it was one.

Behold!

The traitor dragon Meleys!

I thought
the dragons was gods.

Slain at Rook's Rest
by your king!

It's just meat.

Is he alive?

His Grace...

remains with us,
for the moment.

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.

Easy as you can.

Someone will have
to rule in his stead.

- 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.

And Aemond?

What was
his part in this?

I could not say.

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.

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.

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.
- They are lost already.

But Vhagar
is depleted after such

a hard-fought battle.

If Aegon is dead...

We will soon know it.

'Twould be a victory
in name only.

They will soon prop up another
in his stead.

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?

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.

The hour is late
and my dragon is hungry.

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.

We choose fire.

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.

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.

Over the centuries,
many and more armies

have broken themselves
against my bloody gate.

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.

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.

The way they spoke
at my small council today.

Do they hold you responsible
for Rhaenys and her dragon?

I would rather
they had.

They speak around me,
not to me.

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?

Not now.

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.

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.

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.

Your Grace.

What you cannot do,
let others do for you.

There is more than one way
to fight a war.

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.

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.

You are very like her in some ways.

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

Your Grace?

Would you give this
to your grandsire?

I do not wish to stand alone.

Daemon.

Daemon.

You were always
the strong one.

The finest swordsman...

the fearless dragonrider.

Your brother had great
love in his heart...

...but he lacked
your constitution.

Viserys was unsuited
for the crown...

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

If only you'd
been born first.

My favorite son.

Is the duck not to your liking,
Your Grace?

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

I like the goose, myself.

Uh, I'm not hungry.

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.

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.

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.

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...
- There it is, then.

...consort.

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

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.

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.

And here I had forgotten.

The king does not
lack for heirs.

The obvious choice is his immediate successor,
Prince Aemond.

Agreed.

Aemond is young.

And his lack of restraint
has already cost us dearly.

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.

It's agreed then.

What is our standing
in the Riverlands?

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.

We would do well to send
word to young Oscar Tully.

It's only a matter of time

before he inherits
his grandsire's mantle.

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.

I shall send
Lord Jason encouragement.

- What else?
- We might turn our attention

to the smallfolk here
in King's Landing.

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

So have we all.

Many are fleeing the city,

spreading word
of their fear and unrest.

Mm, then let
the gates be closed.

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

Merchants,
so forth.

Go to your tasks.

We shall meet again
at first light.

Oh, and someone
cut down the fucking ratcatchers.

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?

Are we not
beggars already?

Have you been paid
for those machines

you were forced
to build?

The king has
promised payment.

The king has lied!

By all means...

stay and wait for his
empty promises, husband.

With them, you can feed
the mouths of ghosts.

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.

Halt!

Stay back!

We've got to get out!

Somebody get him!

Stay back! No!

Holdfast, holdfast!

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!

Stay back!

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?

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?

- 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.

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

What does
Her Grace desire?

Bent knees.

Up.

You were born to wield a sword,

but not so much
an axe, perhaps.

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.
- Ah.

Sit!

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.

Cries of anguish.

Children being taken
from their mothers,

men coming home
to find their doors unlatched...

their wives
carried away.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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...

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.

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.

Your Grace.

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.

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.
- 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.
- 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.

A terrible war is being
fought in these lands.

Have you looked
after our girls?

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.

- 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.

Elinda.

Was it worth
the price?

Mummy.

Prince Jacaerys,
Your Grace.

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?

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.

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.

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.

- Or so say the histories.
- Valyrian histories.

Written to gild us
in glory.

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.

There could be
scores of them.

It's a mad thought.