All language subtitles for House of the Dragon S02E06 - Smallfolk (Awafim.tv)

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(epic theme playing)

♪

(theme concludes)

(dramatic music playing)

(horse neighs)

♪

(music fades out)

Humfrey Lefford:
The Golden Tooth

is honored to receive you,
my Lord Lannister.

I have 500
fighting men, armed

- and full of spirit.
- I bring a thousand
knights of my own,

and seven times
as many archers
and men-at-arms.

By the time we are finished
with the Riverland scum,

the Red Fork
will have earned its name.

We are ready to march
at your command, my lord.

I suppose you will make
for Harrenhal at once.

I want you to send
a raven to King's Landing.

Tell my brother
we are ready to march

as soon as Prince Aemond
is able to join us...

on Vhagar.

And until the prince
makes his answer,
my lord?

My men have had
a long march.

They are most eager
to embrace the hospitality

- of your keep.
- (horses neighing)

(lion roars)

He dares to summon me!

"With haste"?

Are the Lannisters
so diminished that
they cannot march

from the Tooth
to Harrenhal
without an escort?

There is a large dragon
in the Riverlands,
Your Grace.

- My brother's army is strong,
but it does seem--
- I am the prince regent,

not a dog to be
called to heel.

Tell your brother
that if he does not
deliver his host

to Harrenhal,
"with haste,"

Daemon's dragon will become
the least of his worries.

Your irritations are
justified, Aemond,

- but it does seem--
- Aemond Targaryen:
I have a task for you

as well,
Ser Tyland.

(birds chirping)

We will make an alliance
with the Triarchy.

I've had enough
of this cursed
blockade.

My prince...
you cannot mean to treat
with the Free Cities.

The captains of their ships
are dangerous mercenaries,

- little more than pirates--
- They are a stone's throw away

across the Narrow Sea.

Lannister and Hightower
ships will take months
to arrive.

The Triarchy will delight
in the chance to terrorize
the Sea Snake again.

Let them weaken
his blockade

while our true allies make
their long journey east.

The Triarchy may play
at accepting terms,

but they are not
to be trusted.

Your father
knew this.

What has come
of our letters
to the Greyjoys?

They have been
to no avail.

The Red Kraken waits,

seeking his
best advantage.

Though we may draw
him in with honey,
if it comes to it.

An offer
of marriage,
perhaps,

to the dowager queen?

Out of the question.

Alas.

The dowager queen
speaks wisely, Your Grace.

Even if the blockade
could be broken,

are we to invite
these alien raiders
into our waters,

so close
to King's Landing?

It's time you set out
for Harrenhal, I think.

Your Grace,
if Daemon prevails
in the Riverlands,

I no longer
have the numbers
to challenge him.

We lost much
at Rook's Rest,

as you well know.

The longer we wait,
the more chance
he will prevail.

Lannister will march
from the west.

Take what strength we have
and force Daemon

- and his Riverlords
to fight on two fronts.
- His Grace speaks wisely.

Criston Cole:
We would do better to await
the Hightower host

- and set out in good time.
- Aemond: There is no time.

It's a fortnight's
march to Harrenhal.

We must strike before
his army is raised.

Criston:
And you yourself?

I will fly out to meet you
when the time is ripe.

My uncle is
a challenge I welcome...

if he dares face me.

I see we're all agreed.

Your Grace.

(door opens)

Mother...

a word.

(distant chatter)

(door closes)

I caution you,
Aemond,

- boldness is one thing,
but overconfidence--
- Remind me of your place

on the small council.

You know very well
I represented

your father
during the last
years of his life,

- and I have been
a councilor to Aegon.
- Capably so.

My father's dead

and Aegon is...

Mm.

You served
the realm well...

at a time of need.

That need is ended.
You are no longer
obliged.

It's not a matter
of obligation.

This council has need
of a tempering voice.

We have more than
enough of those,
if you ask me.

You have
the impetuousness
of youth...

and its arrogance,

neither of which
is to be desired in a king.

I release you
of your seat,

such as it was.

I'm sure you'll be
much pleased to
return to more...

domestic pursuits.

(birds chirping)

Have the indignities
of your childhood

not yet sufficiently
been avenged?

You have
the gratitude
of the crown.

(breathing heavily)

(pensive music playing)

(indistinct chatter)

♪

Your Grace.

(music fades out)

Bring him forth.

guard:
Ser Steffon Darklyn,
Your Grace.

Is aught amiss,
Your Grace?

My lords.

I find myself,
Ser Steffon,

in an impossible
position.

(inhales)
I have lost
Princess Rhaenys

and her dragon.

I hold an island seat
with no land army.

And I must not go
to battle myself...

as I am constantly told,

lest I am slain
or captured,

and... with me,
our hopes of victory.

There is still
Daemon and Caraxes...
and the Rivermen.

That remains
to be seen.

In any case,
I must now proceed
as if I stand alone.

And I see now,
that to do that,

I need more
dragonriders

for Vermithor
and Silverwing,
and for Seasmoke,

who I believe
misses his bond.

But there are no more
in your family,
Your Grace.

- Your younger sons are babes.
- Rhaenyra Targaryen: Mm.

Mm, there is
Princess Rhaena.

She has
attempted it, alas,

but the dragons here
would not take her
as a rider.

- Then who could do it?
- You.

(chuckles)

You are
of noble birth.

And I had
always heard,
as you know,

that the Darklyns
and the Targaryens
had some common blood.

I looked into the history,
and indeed it is true.

Your grandmother's
grandmother, Aeriana,

- was born a Targaryen princess.
- (Bartimos sighs)

And I have been
thinking,

could it be possible?

To even consider
such a thing.

I must protest,
Your Grace,

the risk involved
in such a venture...

I am but a man.

The dragons
are gods.

Your Grace honors me
beyond what I deserve.

You understand
your peril,
Ser Steffon?

I do not compel you
to do this.

It has never been
attempted before.

To claim a dragon,
you must also be
prepared to die.

I well understand
the risk and I accept it
with gladness.

I swore to ward
my queen with all
my strength,

and to give
my blood for hers.

That is my oath,
Your Grace.

Then perhaps
the gods will
favor us.

(unsettling sounds)

(footsteps echoing)

(softly)
Brother?

- (ominous sounds)
- (door closes)

Viserys Targaryen (echoing):
Did you say it?

"The Heir for a Day."

Did you say it?

(softly) You can't possibly
still be angry about this.

My family was
just destroyed.

You should've
been at my side.

But instead you
chose to celebrate
your own rise.

Laughing at me...

laughing with the whores
and lickspittles.

No.

You have no allies
at court but me.

I have only ever
defended you.

And everything I've given you,
you've thrown back in my face!

- I have decided...
- Don't.

...to name
a new heir.

You are to return
to Runestone

and your lady wife
at once,

and you are to do so
without quarrel,

by order of your king.

(Viserys crying quietly)

(door rattles)

(echoes)
No!

Open the door!

(high-pitched ringing)

(heavy breathing)

(softly)
Open the door. Please.

Please.

Please. Ah!

(Daemon panting)

May I be
of assistance,
Your Grace?

- What are you
playing at, old man?
- I do wonder, Your Grace,

if you're getting
enough sleep.

- This old place--
- Are you mocking me?

- No.
- Sit!

(Daemon panting)

Or are you perhaps
the culprit who has been
tampering with my peace?

A friend by day
and a foe by night.

- To what end?
- To mine, perhaps.

Ah!

Perhaps...
you resent
my being here.

Perhaps...

you are an agent

- of the Hightower rabble.
- (Simon whimpering)

Ha. Or are you
still in league

with your
club-footed nephew?

- Or is it Rhaenyra herself?!
- I assure you--

I assure you,
Your Grace.

(laughing)

(shushing)

Whatever your game is,
Strong...

I assure you...

- your king is on his guard.
- Yes, Your Grace.

And stop
watching me.

(tense music playing)

(Caraxes calls)

♪

You weren't going
to bid me farewell?

There's something
wrong with me.

Someone poisoned me.
The food, the wine.

Or else it's this
swamp air, or--

The ghost
of Harren the Black

moaning his curses
from Kingspyre Tower.

Drivel!
All of it!

The ghosts, the curses,
the blasted weirwood bed!

- I'm done with it!
- Ah, yes. It is your way,
is it not?

When something
does not please you,
you run.

Dragonstone,
the Stepstones,

Pentos, Harrenhal.

I awake and I do not
know where I've been.

There are older things
in this world

than you or I,
or living memory.

You are not the player,
but a piece on the board.

As am I,
for that matter.

I'm not like you.

- (Caraxes screeches)
- In some ways, no.

You struggle to see
there's an anger
that blinds you.

She never even wanted it.

The crown.
She spared it no thought.

Well, that's perhaps
why your brother gave
the crown to her.

Perhaps those
who strive for it

are the least
suited to wear it.

Don't lecture me!

Viserys never
wanted it himself,
if you recall.

It came to him,
and he did his best.

It's not a prize to be won,
but a burden to bear.

(Caraxes calling)

(wind blowing)

If you have
any counsel for dealing
with the Riverlords,

I'd be glad of it.

Daemon Targaryen
asking for help?

Counsel.

(Caraxes grumbling)

House Tully is not
the largest house
in the Riverlands,

nor is it
the richest,

but it is
the most stable.

The Tullys'
wisdom has kept

the river houses
in line for centuries.

They would
kill each other
to the last man

- if it were not
for their liege lord.
- (chuckles)

That dotard is
of no use to us.

But Grover Tully is
their Lord Paramount.

Without him,
they will never raise
their banners as one.

Rivermen are
made of mud.

They would rather
die stuck in it

than yield one inch
to one another.

Then I can
do nothing.

You... no.

(owl screeching)

I need help, Alys.

Do nothing now.

In three days' time,
the winds will shift.

(Caraxes screeching)

(dragonkeepers chanting hymn)

(chanting continues)

(hymn concludes)

(muttering softly)

(silence)

(unsettling sounds)

(wind blowing)

(dragon grumbling)

(heavy footsteps)

(dragon screeches)

(tense music playing)

(dragonkeepers
shouting commands)

(roars)

♪

(speaking High Valyrian)

Gods.

(dragonkeeper speaks
High Valyrian)

(grumbles)

Seasmoke...

Dohaeras.

(Seasmoke screeches)

(dragonkeeper speaks
High Valyrian)

♪

dragonkeeper:
Do not show fear.

Rybas!

(speaks High Valyrian)

(music fades out)

(grumbling)

(exhales)

(light, suspenseful
music playing)

♪

(Seasmoke screeches)

♪

I've done it.

(screeches)

(dragonkeeper speaks
High Valyrian)

- (screeches)
- No.

(dragonkeepers,
Steffon yelling)

(dramatic music playing)

(Seasmoke screeches)

(shouts in High Valyrian)

(agonized shouting)

Mother!

♪

worker: Up, up, up!

(indistinct chatter)

Corlys Velaryon:
Alyn!

Alyn of Hull:
M'lord.

Corlys: I'm pleased
with our progress.

This ship will sail
in a few days' time.

The blockade
is sure to be
challenged,

be it by Lions
or Krakens.

Your men will be
glad to have you
among 'em.

I wish you
to sail with me.

As my first mate.

I'm grateful
for the offer,
m'lord...

- but--
- We will set course
for Sharp Point.

Lord Bar Emmon wishes
to send his nephew
aboard as a boatswain.

There are more
experienced men
at your service.

I was younger
than you

when I took
my first command.

You distinguished yourself
in the Stepstones,

and you have
the respect
of the crew.

You are a fine choice
for this post.

Is this an order
or a request?

(chuckles)
I will expect
you to report

for your duties
on the morrow.

As my lordship commands.

(indistinct chatter)

(quiet chatter)

- Bit thin, isn't it?
- Dyana: It's either
that or the fish.

Nothing but fish
in this damn city.

patron:
An ale here.

Dyana:
Aught to eat with it?

patron: Don't think
I can stomach it, lass.

Yeah, you've made
the right choice there,
I'll tell you that.

Makes you sick,
doesn't it?

Knowing they're
banqueting every night
at the castle,

- while we go without.
- Dyana: That can't be true.

Madam Sylvi: My girls
were taken to the Red Keep
a few nights ago.

Feasting and merriment
for the new Prince Regent.

Dyana (hushed):
No! And him always
acting so correct.

Sylvi: I'll tell you,
he's no penny pincher.

- They were well-paid,
and well-fed too.
- Dyana: Hm.

On what?
Fish with more fish
on the side?

Racks of lamb,
my love.

Mince pies,
honey cakes,

beef and gravy.

And what do you think?

There is to be another revel
on the morrow with dancing.

That ain't right.

Apologies,
my good man.

I should not have
spoken so free.

The royals
would never
countenance me

speaking about
their bounty,
even if it's true.

King Viserys
loved his feasts
and his wine,

but never while
our smallfolk
went without.

Mm, aye.
But he's gone now...

and his rightful heir
denied her seat.

Well...
no use wondering
what might have been.

(muffled speaking)

Bartimos Celtigar:
...I am far from alone
among your councilors

in holding this to be
a truly unfortunate
result, Your Grace.

Seasmoke has
fled Dragonstone,

and Ser Steffon
was a valiant knight.

Most regrettable,

if, perhaps, foreseeable.

I myself,
if you recall,

was in favor
of treating
with Lord Mooton

to march
on Rook's Rest.

A more
conventional
approach,

true, not
as sensational.

And, uh, his--
his numbers were few,

but we may
yet retake--

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

(tense music playing)

♪

♪

Mysaria:
It was worth the risk,
no matter the outcome.

More good men killed?

- That's my fault.
- Ser Steffon went willingly.

It was
a reckless thought.

That an ancient
Valyrian beast

would suffer
a Darklyn to ride it.

Surely he was
not the only
possibility.

Might there
not be others

among the highborn
of the Seven Kingdoms?

And who will be
so foolish as to try,

after hearing what
befell Ser Steffon?

(nearby dragon grumbles)

I will
look again.

But Darklyn had
the most likely
claim.

There is good news
to be had.

The smallfolk
of King's Landing
are listening.

They were ready
enough to hear.

The usurpers have
abandoned them.

They are hungry,
and they need
someone to blame.

Will it
be enough?

We have laid
the kindling only.

Tonight we
will light it,

and watch it
begin to flare.

And when it does,
Aemond will put it
down with force.

That will make it
rise the hotter.

He cannot destroy
his own city.

Neither can they
overthrow him.

Maybe not,
but it is harder
to wage war abroad

when you must also
keep peace at home.

Then let us see
to our plan.

If I may,
Your Grace...

this becomes you.

(pensive music playing)

(street chatter)

(dog barking)

- That's the last one.
- Thank you.

- What? They haven't
run out, have they?
- Nothing.

There ain't
nothing left.

I've been waiting all day.
I'll take anything. Scraps?

(horse neighs)

(sheep bleating)

(light, tense music playing)

Got enough sheep
for your dragons then,
but none for us.

Where's our meat?
We want meat!

(smallfolk shouting)

Jasper "Ironrod" Wylde:
It seems, Your Grace,

that the smallfolk
have become restless.

Aemond:
So?

Ironrod: There is not
food enough in the city.

Those with means
have bought more
than their share.

All the more reason
Ser Tyland must break
the blockade.

In the meantime,
the people are hungry,

and their anger
is rising.

The enemy without
may be fought with swords.

The enemy within
is more insidious.

Why is this anger
directed at us?

It is Rhaenyra
the Pretender

who ordered
the Gullet closed

and left them
all to starve.

They still look
to you to ensure
their well-being.

That is the burden
of authority.

But you should not
go it alone.

It does occur to me
that Your Grace has yet
to name a Hand.

Ser Criston, of course,
served your brother,

but you need one
who may advance
your cause...

with shrewdness
and subtlety.

Do you take me
for a fool?

- On the contrary, my prince.
- Aemond: I've little patience

for the self-important,
Lord Larys,

and even less
for flatterers
and lickspittles.

But you are,
as it happens, correct.

Every king
needs a Hand.

I'll make it
your responsibility.

(clears throat)
My prince, it is an honor
I'd never considered

- for myself.
- No, not to serve
as Hand, you toad.

To fetch him.
Send word
to Otto Hightower.

My grandsire may
be overcautious,

but his devotion
to his family has
never been in doubt.

Mm, you'll
see it done.

(whispers)
Your Grace.

- (door closes)
- You're late.

I am happy to report
that His Grace the king

has regained
consciousness
this morning,

if only
for a few moments.

Ironrod:
You said there was
little hope.

Grand Maester Orwyle:
He is stronger than I thought.

This morning
his breath
comes easier.

He may yet live,
thank the gods.

What happy news.

(Aegon whimpering)

(groaning)

- (labored breathing)
- (door opens)

Aemond:
I'll see my brother.

Alone.

(Aegon groaning)

(bell tolling)

(shallow breathing)

(panicked groaning)

(shushing)

What do you
remember?

(hoarsely)
Nothing.

(grunting)

You challenged
Meleys.

It was foolish.

I remember... nothing.

(groaning)

(door opens)

- My prince?
- You're in the most
capable hands, Your Grace.

It seems my brother has
a long recovery ahead of him,
Grand Maester.

See that he is made
to rest comfortably.

Rhaena Targaryen:
And I've decided
there is nothing

to be gained
with fretfulness.

Not all of us, I suppose,
are called to great deeds.

Some of us must serve
in smaller ways...

even if they are
not what we would
choose for ourselves.

(sighs)
Meaning no
offense, hm?

None of this
is your fault.

(Rhaena sighs)

I want Mother.

Yes... well...

I know
it's difficult, but--

(sheep bleating)

(unsettling music playing)

(dragon screeches)

♪

(screeches)

- (footsteps approach)
- (music fades out)

Jeyne Arryn:
I bring good news, Rhaena.

Prince Reggio
has answered
your letter.

He'll be most pleased
to shelter Rhaenyra's

youngest sons
in Pentos.

And their
half-sister.

(Jeyne chuckles)

Thought you'd
be happy.

Or at least
less morose.

- (Rhaena chuckles slightly)
- You hate it here.

You misled me, my lady.

I did what?

There is a large
dragon in the Vale.

(dragon screeches)

Rumor of it
began shortly
after the war.

Ranging more broadly
for food...

my maesters
surmise.

It is large
and formidable,
but alas, wild.

Alas.

A merchant cog,
the Gay Abandon,

will take you to Pentos.

I'll send six good men
to protect you on the crossing.

(dragon screeches)

- (birds cawing)
- (bell ringing)

(indistinct chatter)

You know you're
not fooling anyone.

Lord Corlys has chosen
to raise you up

to serve alongside him

and yet,
you still continue
this subterfuge.

Don't want my men
to get the wrong idea.

About what?

- You're just like him.
- (laughs)

Oh, you make an art
of provoking me.

Addam of Hull:
You saved his life, brother.

Do you never
think about what
could be ours?

Or yours, anyway.

The riches...
servants...

the Driftwood Throne.

We spent the whole
of our lives

in the shadow
of the Sea Snake's
great castle.

I do not wish
to dwell in it
any longer.

Hm, and so you belittle
your great opportunity.

While me (sucks teeth)
he ignores...

as he always has.

The Sea Snake
would sooner have
High Tide

claimed by the sea
than call us his sons.

Stop wasting your life
waiting for something
that'll never come.

- (bell ringing)
- (outside chatter)

(birds cawing)

- (wind blowing)
- (footsteps)

It was
a bold attempt.

I admire
you for it.

They say you struck
Lord Bartimos today

in view
of the staff
and guard.

The household
is abuzz with it.

He's lucky I did not
have his tongue.

And what did he say
that was so

deserving?

I have tired
of being protected...

Jace.

I bring to mind
too much their mothers

or their daughters.

They must see
in me a ruler.

And the symbols
of authority are not
jewels and gowns,

but the shield
and the sword.

My ruler is
my mother.

And I do not wish
it otherwise.

Will you lead us
to war yourself?

Well, for a certainty
I cannot remain here,

pacing the floors,
waiting for defeat
and despair to visit me.

- Oh, don't be ridiculous.
- I'm doing all I can.

I have directed
Lord Mooton to march
on Rook's Rest,

and sent another raven
to the Vale to persuade--

We may marshal
the strength
of the Vale,

Maidenpool, and all
our allies besides.

We will still never
match the strength
of the Green armies.

We need Daemon
and his dragon.

May I be free
for even one hour

of the constant
refrain of Daemon,
Daemon, Daemon--

Lorent Marbrand:
Your Grace.

The lady Mysaria.

My queen,
our gift is sent.

What gift?

Let us hope
for clouds over
the Blackwater tonight.

(light, tense music playing)

(wind blowing)

(music intensifies)

(birds cawing)

(music softens)

♪

♪

(music intensifies)

(music fades out)

- (sighs)
- (birds cawing)

(Aegon snoring lightly)

(door opens)

(footsteps approach)

You said he'd improved.

His Grace
sleeps nine hours
of every 10...

but he did open
his eyes and speak,
however briefly.

His mending may be
long and painful,

but it is
my sincere hope

that His Grace
will be spared.

And what will he
be if he lives?

(birds chirping)

My letters (sniffles)
to my father...

I have sent ravens,
again, to Highgarden
and to Oldtown.

And now, to all
the great houses
in the Reach.

There has
been no word
from Ser Otto,

as of yet.

There is war
in the Reach now,
Your Grace.

House Beesbury has
raised arms against
the Hightower host.

Retribution for
their lord's demise.

(Alicent sniffles)

(crying)
I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

(deep breath)

(birds chirping)

(deep breath)

(indistinct chatter)

(horses neighing)

Gwayne Hightower:
Sister.

Gwayne.

'Tis well that
I found you.

I wish to give you
my blessing.

Well...

my thanks
to the queen dowager.

I wondered if you've
heard from father?

I've sent ravens
to Highgarden
and Oldtown,

but have
had no reply.

I've heard nothing

but neither have
I sent any message.

If he wrote letters,
it would be to you.

You were always
his favorite.

Strange there
has been no word.

Otto Hightower is
ever-resourceful.

He will send news
when there is news
to send.

I often wonder what
life could've been

if he had brought
you to court instead.

I'm the eldest son.

It was right
that I was raised
at Oldtown.

But you were
eight years of age
and motherless.

It must've
been difficult.

(sighs)
You get on with it,
don't you?

When there
isn't any choice.

My son, Daeron...

what's he like?

- Does he not write to you?
- Less and less these days.

Ten-and-six now.

Letters, perhaps,
hold less of his interest.

He's stalwart.

Clever.

As adept with his lute
as he is with his sword.

And a feature
in the fancies
of many

a young lady,
I'll wager.

He's kind.

That's good.

- Kindness is a quality I've
found lacking in his brothers.
- Mm.

You did well
to send him to ward.

Yes, it seems
the Red Keep,

for all its
privileges,

may, in fact, be a less
than salubrious environment

for the forming
of young men.

Was it the court
or was it their mother?

I'm sure you
did your best.

I must join
Ser Criston.

Wish us luck, sister.

I shall pray
to the Warrior
for your safe return.

(Gwayne chuckles)

Mm...

Farewell.

(solemn music playing)

♪

(crickets chirping)

(music fades out)

Your Grace.

This one stopped singing.

Isn't that strange?

(inhales)
I thought we might
light a candle.

For Aegon...

and all our
lost souls.

(street chatter)

(light, tense music playing)

(dog whimpers)

(smallfolk shouting)

Hugh:
You, where'd you
get that food?!

- Rhaenyra's ships.
- Ships?

They came ashore
in the middle
of the night

with gifts
from the queen.

She thinks of us,
even now!

(dramatic music playing)

(shouting)

Give me that!

- (fighting, grunting)
- Give it to me!

(horse neighs)

knight:
Get out of the way!

♪

(panting)

♪

(smallfolk shouting in streets)

(music quiets)

(smallfolk shouting nearby)

Your Graces...
we must leave, now.

(bell tolling)

(smallfolk shouting)

Get the queens
to the wheelhouse!

Mind your flanks.
Protect your corners.

Keep moving.
This way, Your Grace.

'Tis the Queen
of Fishes!

- (Alicent grunts)
- (Helaena gasps)

Rickard Thorne:
Keep moving!

- (Helaena gasps)
- Long live Queen Rhaenyra!

Alicent Hightower:
Get to the wheelhouse!

smallfolk:
Long live Queen Rhaenyra!

Helaena!
(grunts)

Your Grace!

(shouting)

- My queen!
- Leon Estermont: Get off!

- No! No!
- (yelling)

- (crowd gasps)
- Alicent: Sheathe your swords!

Sheathe your swords!

- (crowd yelling)
- (knight shouting)

Rickard:
You heard the queen!

Sheathe those swords!

- No!
- (Helaena panicking)

- Get back!
- Go, Helaena, go!

Rickard:
Out of my way!
Out of my way!

(grunting, fighting)

- (Leon yelling)
- knight: Estermont!

Rickard: My Queens!
This way, inside!

(Leon yelling)

(tense music playing)

(both panting)

(music stops)

- (bell tolling)
- smallfolk: Long live
Queen Rhaenyra!

Long live Queen Rhaenyra!

(shouting)

Rickard:
Run them down if you must.

Ride! Ride!

(tense music resumes)

(horse neighs)

(music intensifies)

(birds cawing)

(music fades out)

- (Aegon groaning)
- (footsteps approach)

Larys Strong:
No more.

- My lord. Only...
- (Aegon wincing)

...the Grand Maester
instructed me to.

The king will
be most eager
for his draught,

in an hour.

(Aegon grunting)

(door opens)

(door closes)

The drink takes
the pain away,

- but it dulls your mind.
- (Aegon grunting)

Oh, take heart,
Your Grace,

you've already written
yourself into legend.

You survived
dragonfire.

But I'm afraid you
will never be whole.

Orwyle has exhausted
his abilities.

He's bound
your leg...

but you will
never run again.

(shallow breathing)

Your mind...

is all that
remains to you.

I do not
say that gladly.

I came screaming
into the world

in the bowels of one
of Harren's great towers.

My lungs were strong,
but my foot

so twisted that...

my father named
it sorcery.

Accusing a member
of our household

of casting...
maligned spells.

(softly)
Well.

People will
pity you

either behind
your back...

or in your
presence.

(cries)

And they will stare...

at you, at you...

or turn away.

And they will
underestimate you.

And this will be
your advantage.

No, n-- No.

(Aegon coughs)

Your brother rules
in your place now,

which means that
your life is in danger.

But I think
you know that.

(struggling)
Help me.

(shudders)

(eerie sounds)

(person crying)

Brother.

(crying)
Daemon, she's gone.

I'm sorry.

You needed me.

I'm here now.

(Viserys weeping)

I'm here now.

Simon Strong:
Your Grace.

Sorrowful news
from Riverrun,
my king.

Lord Grover is dead.

Uhh... the old man.

Indeed.

Young Oscar Tully
is now Lord Paramount
of the Riverlands.

What was the manner
of Lord Grover's passing?

- Well, he'd been ill,
of course.
- Mm-hmm.

Riverrun's
maesters...

have been
at their wits' end.

Our own healer,
Alys Rivers,

volunteered her
renowned skills.

She plied
her craft, but...

there was naught
more to be done.

(crying)

(birds cawing)

- (indistinct chatter)
- (dragon roars)

worker:
Hey, look!

(Seasmoke screeches)

Get inside! Hurry!

(all yelling)

(roars)

(grunts)

(panting)

(tense music playing)

(Seasmoke screeches)

(roars)

♪

(screeches)

- (grunting)
- (music stops)

(panting)

(birds cawing)

- (tense music resumes)
- (gasps)

(roars)

(grumbling)

♪

(heavy breathing)

(music fades out)

Mysaria:
Your banners were carried
from the ship into the city.

They went as far
as the gates
of the Red Keep

before they
were turned away.

It is, as we hoped,
a warning to the usurpers

that you have strength
beyond what they accredited.

I thought
you'd be pleased.

I do not think
I can win this war.

I think you
are tired.

My own son questions
my capabilities.

He thinks I need
Daemon at my side.

- And Daemon himself.
- He has ever done
what suits Daemon.

He was everything
I wanted to be.

Carefree.

And dangerous.

A man.

And I was what
he wanted.

Cherished by
my father,

and made
my father's heir.

We were halves
of a whole.

(whispers)
He's never
been at peace.

(normal)
He wished
to possess me,

but not to be
possessed

and to see me
take hold, finally,

of what he always
believed to be his.

I fear what
he may now do.

I fear he may have
turned against me.

It is more his way
to disappear.

In either case,
I have lost him...

and Caraxes with him.

Rhaenys
and her dragon
are dead.

I have Syrax
and two young beasts.

We cannot take
on Vhagar alone.

- And I have no army.
- You have the Velaryon fleet
and the men who fight in it.

It's not enough.

And even if we
somehow prevailed,

how will I rule
a kingdom

when my own
son doubts me?

You have me.

You have my thanks...
Truly.

It was my father.

I was still a child.

He...
had his pleasure
with me.

And when,
after many months
of this,

it became evident
that his seed had
taken root.

There is a scar
here as well.

I cannot
bear children.

He left me
for dead...

but I lived.

- (softly) I'm so sorry.
- Swore to myself I would
never trust another.

And... that oath
has stood me well.

This world is
cold and cruel,

and there are
few in it who
are steadfast.

You, I think,
are steadfast.

You have seen
me as worthy,
as an equal, even.

Because of that,
I will serve you.

I believe you are
meant to be queen.

(both breathing heavily)

(light music playing)

- (knocks at door)
- (door opens)

Begging your pardon,
Your Grace.

The dragon Seasmoke
has been sighted
flying over Spicetown.

Yes, he does that.

From what
we have heard...

he has a rider.

- Mysaria: Who?
- Impossible to tell
from the ground.

- The Greens?
- I don't know who
else it could be.

Shall I summon
your counsel?

(tense music playing)

(Syrax roars)

Jacaerys Velaryon:
Mother!

♪

(roars)

(light, curious music playing)

♪

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