All language subtitles for house.of.the.dragon.s02e06.internal.1080p.web.h264-nhtfs-hi

(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)

♪