All language subtitles for House.of.the.Dragon.s02e05.1080p.web.h264

I have thousands of greybeards.

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 relief.

Did he say when?

I've decided to
send Joffrey to ward

with my cousin,
Lady Jeyne Arryn.

Aegon and Viserys
will accompany him.

I need you to be the
mother to them that I cannot.

Guard them as 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've come here after
quarreling with your wife.

I mean, does it please you
that her legitimacy is contested

as you stand here with
a castle and a dragon?

Ser Willem Blackwood of
House Blackwood, Your Grace.

Once you and your dragon

bring the Queen's
justice to the Brackens,

our armies will be yours.

Cole is already
preparing his attack.

The two of you
have been plotting

without my authority.

They don't care what I think.

Do you think simply
wearing the crown

imbues you with wisdom?

Cole marches on Rook's Rest.

- Send me.
- No.

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!

Thank the gods!

Dracarys!

No!

Where is His Grace?

- 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.

Sunfyrewas 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.

It has never been
attempted before.

To claim a dragon,

you must also be
prepared to die.

Perhaps the gods will favor us.

If Daemon prevails
in the Riverlands,

I no longer have the
numbers to challenge him.

My uncle is a
challenge I welcome,

if he dares face me.

You have the arrogance of youth.

Have the indignities
of your childhood

not yet sufficiently
been avenged?

You must see in me a ruler
and the symbols of authority.

The shield and the sword.

We will still never match

the strength of
the Green armies.

We need Daemon.

I must now proceed
as if I stand alone.

It is my fault that you
have forgotten to fear me.

This episode is very much

everybody vying for power,

but also, it's very much about
that happening through grief.

Much of episode five revolves
around how Rhaenys' death

is resonating across all
of the different characters,

and no one as much as it
lands with her husband, Corlys.

This poor guy, over the
course of these two seasons,

has slowly had every
human connection

stripped away from
him, one by one.

He's sitting in
the Hall of Nine,

but it means nothing
to him anymore

because she's gone.

And all of this
stuff, who cares?

Steve is an incredible actor.

He has such deep soul
to all of his performances.

I had no clue that he
was gonna have this tear,

like this silent tear,
roll down his face.

It was incredibly
moving to see it.

Our largest dragon
has been killed.

Duskendale and
Rook's Rest are gone.

I think everybody's reeling.

I mean, Rhaenyra,
not the least of which.

And you hear a
lot of this backbiting

and bickering
going on at the table

because everybody is under a
tremendous amount of stress.

They don't know how to react.

But Rhaenyra
finds herself at sea.

I mean, that was her
last great female advisor.

And that's also
when Rhaenyra sees

this huge power vacuum

and knows she's
got to do something.

Queen Rhaenyra
wishes to name you Hand.

Even the death of my
wife does not content her.

She's playing the role of
the great politician here.

The next best thing, next
to having Daemon back,

is one of the most
respected men in Westeros,

and that's the Sea Snake.

And she doesn't exploit
Rhaenys' death to do it.

She knows that the man is
there, looking for purpose,

probably looking for
a bit of vengeance,

and she probably takes
advantage of that in the moment

to try to get him back on side.

The path I walk
has never been trod.

What you cannot do,
let others do for you.

There is more than
one way to fight a war.

I think Mysaria's power
increases in Rhaenys' absence

because I think
Rhaenyra is desperate

and looking for that sympathetic
female voice in her life.

Mysaria's offering
another way, which is,

"I understand the
will of the people,

and we can manipulate that

and play that to
your advantage."

An element of
what we're watching

is propaganda war.

How to win the
hearts of the people.

And that's all learning that
she receives from Mysaria.

I don't think this is
something that Rhaenyra

had thought of or considered

until Mysaria
brought it to the fore.

And it's a bit of a
modern concept,

this idea of the, quote-unquote,
"power of the people."

I have an errand
for the Lady Mysaria.

In real history, smart
and sometimes cunning

and ruthless medieval sovereigns
did use people and their will

to their advantage.

Behold!

The traitor dragon, Meleys!

It is. Look, they've
killed a dragon.

Mark my words,
this is a black omen.

I think this is very...
this is very Cole.

His expectations are so high.

His expectations are
for people to honor him

and put him up on a pedestal.

If you look like you've won

and you carry yourselves
like you've won,

and the public don't know
what's really happened,

then that's what
everyone's going to believe.

But what happens
is so different.

Don't they realize
we won the battle?

Strange victory, if it was one.

The calculation
that he doesn't make

is how it will land
on the small folk.

I mean, Meleys is
a beloved dragon

that probably flew over
that city hundreds of times

and is seen as one
of these symbols

of the unshakableness,

of the invincibility
of the Targaryens.

I thought the dragons was gods.

You know, as soon
as people can see

you can kill dragons, well,
then anybody can do it.

And that... does that mean
that these people that have...

we've always thought
of as being gods

because of their
ability to ride dragons

is actually all a
bit of a mirage?

This is, at best,
a terrible omen

and at worst, a harbinger
of the things to come.

The King. Ser Criston,
what befell him?

His Grace fought valiantly.

And Aemond? What
was his part in this?

I could not say.

The dramatic tension that
looms over the episode is,

what is the state of Aegon?

And did he survive
the end of episode four?

And will he survive through
the end of this episode?

And I think that's
what's kind of looming

over all these characters,
that big question,

to show the cost of
letting your sovereign

get on his dragon
and ride into battle.

Someone will have
to rule in his stead.

I mean, it's everything
he ever wanted.

With great power comes
great responsibility,

and he's got to be
seen as someone

who knows how to wield it.

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

I mean, this is a
massive power shift,

all of a sudden, at
the Green Council.

It was dramatized by the meeting
where Aemond takes power

in this very kind of banal way,

where he just stands up
from the foot of the table,

takes his ball, and moves
over to the King's seat,

and puts it down, and sits,

and then starts
doling out orders

while everybody,
including Alicent,

especially Alicent,

are reeling from the decision.

And you feel the
shift in that way

and how different the
Red Keep is going to be

with Aemond in charge versus
the way it was with Aegon.

Someone cut down
the fucking ratcatchers.

Our terms are
simple, Lord Bracken.

Renounce the false
King Aegon as a usurper.

Bend the knee to me,

or your house burns.

Daemon approaches life
always trying to hammer

that square peg
into the round hole,

and he's just trying to
force his will upon this place.

I love the image of him in
his full dragon battle armor,

sitting on the rock,

and not understanding
what's happened, and saying...

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

And the Riverlands is just
this unwrangleable place to him.

He's brought his values

and sort of Targaryen
dragon lord values

into a place that is rich

with the old gods
and these old ways.

These people just don't
respect the dragon lords

the way Daemon
is hoping or used to.

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

On the page, I thought,
"Yeah, this is the right territory.

This is where we should be.
This is where his head's at."

It's how mental
his kind of state is.

Is Daemon trying
to usurp Rhaenyra?

It's, like, unfair that he
wasn't given the crown,

that he isn't listened to,

that he doesn't have that power.

We just don't know
what he's going to do

or, ultimately, how
he's going to turn.

And while I don't think that
anybody could ever be asked

to believe that he would
turn against Rhaenyra

and, like, go to
war against her,

I think we could all believe that
maybe Daemon would just go

and claim the throne for himself

and then see what happens.

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?