[♪ epic theme music playing]
- [insects chirring] - [birdsong]
[man shouting indistinctly]
Keep going!
Bring it on down!
- That's it! - Come on!
- Keep moving! - Back into it.
[chickens bocking]
Three more in here.
- [crowd shouting] - [banging]
- Three more in there. - [animals bleating]
You, go with them!
Two more in here.
[indistinct chatter continues]
Two more in here.
[giving orders]
You three, in this one.
Oh, please, please.
Our home, it's-- it's already crowded.
There's 15,000 of us.
Be glad you only got three.
- Maybe crowded ain't so bad. - Mind yourself.
You don't like it, go and carp to Lord Ormund.
See what good it does you.
[townsfolk chattering]
It is only regarding the lodging situation, my lord.
You are unhappy with your lodgings, Lord Footly?
It is only that we are very fond of our ancestral home.
You are sleeping in our bedchamber.
You bent the knee to the pretender, Rhaenyra Targaryen,
did you not, Lady Footly?
We did.
Then mayhaps I should remind you
that the wage of treason is death.
We do not seek conflict, my lord.
- [groaning] - Tumbleton has no battlements.
Our people know only trade.
We never thought to see war.
So, you swore to her out of fear.
We swore because she is the queen.
Is she?
Or is she a bitch with a dragon?
[water sloshing]
My purpose is to restore the rightful line
to the Iron Throne.
It follows from that that I must be well rested.
It follows from that that I must have acceptable lodgings.
I will ensure that my men remain on their best behavior
whilst in your town.
Provided, of course... [sighs]
...that you remain on yours.
See them out.
[Lady Footly] Don't.
When dealing with those beneath you,
you must be fair, but firm.
Yes, sire.
My prince.
My lord, a raven from Storm's End
carrying more excuses from Lord Borros Baratheon.
That lackwit sealed a marriage pact between Prince Aemond
and one of his horse-faced daughters.
And yet, where is he now?
Send another raven that he can understand.
This one mayhaps with drawings rather than letters.
What word from Harrenhal?
[Roxton] If Vhagar does not come, our defenses will not hold.
Do not be disheartened, Daeron.
Your brother will join us soon.
[Rhaenyra] Why seize Tumbleton?
It's no stronghold. It's a market town.
Its lord is meek. Its walls are poorly defended.
Hightower may as well paint a rondel on his chest.
Why?
Does he mean to somehow win their support?
He dares me to rain fire down on a seat
that raised my banner.
And the realm would name me "Maegor Returned."
They'd rise up against me.
And the same gods who delivered me to the throne
would rightly cast me down.
[Orwyle] If I may.
Your Grace, Prince Daemon's river host
marches on King's Landing.
Tumbleton is not much further.
If his men were to go there instead...
Mm, it would not be bloodless,
but it would be far more merciful than sending dragons.
We march on the town
and root out the Hightowers house to house.
It's a good scheme.
Send orders to Lord Tully.
Uh, Orwyle?
For as long as you remain loyal and useful...
you may take your place at my council
and retain the title of Grand Maester.
The castle's ravens remain your charge,
but the Lady Mysaria should be kept informed of the comings and goings.
Ah.
Relics of a dead regime.
Mm.
It will take the Rivermen weeks to reach Tumbleton.
Let us send a dragon to keep vigil.
Ormund may have the town under siege,
but he shall not leave except I remove him.
In the meantime, we have, uh, urgent matters at home.
We have secured some small store of oil
- for the markets, but-- - Where is the Hand?
- Gods, this council's thin. - [chalice scraping]
Name a Master of Coin.
The people will soon discover our lacking resources.
They can blame him.
Investigate Ser Torrhen Manderly.
He's intrigued me.
If he's fit, let the gold be his concern as well as Daemon's.
Mine shall be Ormund Hightower.
I know him as well as you.
[chuckles] I-- I doubt that.
Viserys warded your son to him. I've never met the man.
I knew him very little, a long time ago.
After my father took me to court, I rarely saw Oldtown.
Tell me what you do know.
[clicking tongue]
He sees himself as a scholar.
He studies the histories,
he collects tapestries, writes ballads,
despises the ignorant and uncouth.
When we were young, Gwayne thought him cruel,
but Gwayne thought that of many.
How is he with Daeron?
Fatherly, I'm told.
Daeron was only a babe when he took him to ward.
[Helaena] What is it?
Oh, look at this.
Did it pain you to have to send your child away?
It was my choice.
Why?
[sighs]
I bore Viserys three Targaryens.
But with the last, my last...
I wanted him to be a Hightower.
In truth, I'm glad I waged that battle,
seeing now what came of our other sons.
Perhaps sending Daeron away was my truest act of motherhood.
Though I do not know now what fate
that choice has consigned him.
You know I would have spared him.
He has a sensitivity to odors.
Ormund.
A very strong one.
My Lord Hand, the queen has requested
your presence at her small council.
I'm her Hand, not her mouth.
Leave the talking to those who relish it.
Shall I return with this message?
That you refuse the queen?
Rather that I serve more effectively.
Her strength lies in dragons now.
She has less need of a man of the sea.
But my son shall attend her in my stead.
You certainly look the part.
I am not a creature of the court.
I don't know what I'm doing.
There is great opportunity for you there.
I cannot give you legitimacy,
but I can give you the chance to better yourself.
Anger is not something that can be ended with a blade, my lord.
[soldier] Move out!
[horses neighing]
[horse neighing]
Come on!
[grunting]
[♪ somber music playing]
[whispering] My boy.
I'm here.
It's a penny to touch the dragon.
Nothing's free in these woods.
He can sit the saddle for a halfgroat.
Touch will suffice.
- Mm. - Thank you.
[clearing throat] We seek shelter.
Which way to Rook's Rest?
He's got both hands on him.
That's two touches.
What's wrong with your leg?
You can kill a man of the Faith for a few pennies, if you wish.
Though I doubt the gods would look kindly upon it.
You don't look like a septon.
[Aegon] He's alive.
I know it. He's alive, he must be.
- [whispering] Sunfyre. - There, there, Gregor.
Wake up, Sunfyre. I'm here.
Let us trouble these good folk no further, hm?
Wake up, Sunfyre. I'm here.
Simple.
[speaking High Valyrian]
What's he saying?
[Aegon] Sunfyre, come back to me.
Wake up, I'm here. I know you're in there.
We must tarry no longer. The danger is great.
I am very sorry,
but you must accept what is before you.
[whispering] Wake up.
You wanted to see him, you've seen him.
- He's dead. - No. [sobbing]
Will you stay and rot with him?
[continues sobbing]
Will you get up and live?
- [wind whooshing] - [horse chortling]
[♪ soft, dramatic music playing]
[distant screeching]
[loud rumbling]
[goat bleating]
[Alys] Are you lost?
Where is the castellan?
Slain.
He who succeeds him then.
Slain.
And the one who succeeds him as well.
And who are you?
A steward, of a sort.
It's the best you can do at the moment. [chuckles]
This is the Hand of the King.
We seek the Prince Aemond.
As I'm sure do many.
He was meant to meet us here.
If you know where he is,
I'd advise you to be forthcoming.
[Alys scoffs]
He was here.
He seized the castle after Prince Daemon abandoned it,
but when he learned that Rhaenyra took King's Landing,
- he and his dragon fled. - W-When Rhaenyra took King's Landing?
Oh, my.
Oh, you didn't know.
We've scoured the area, my Lord Hand.
There is sign of a large dragon nest
but it has been abandoned.
Prince Aemond may indeed have fled.
King's Landing has fallen,
Aegon is dead, our queens are both in chains,
and we are here alone
with a meager army and no dragon.
We have the enemy just where we want them.
- [sighs] - Aemond would not desert me.
And yet he's not here, is he?
Let us send a raven to Tumbleton.
Alert my cousin of this news
and our intent to join our strength to his.
Ormund is a stiff-necked windbag,
but he's neither craven nor stupid.
He will have some canny plot afoot.
No.
- [sword clattering] - The game is played, Ser Criston, and it is lost.
What possible profit is there in pursuing it?
[scoffs]
You noble ilk conceive this all a great game, don't you?
To win, to lose, go home to a feather bed.
[groaning]
I was a foot soldier. Did you know that?
Steward's son.
All my father had was at the pleasure of Lord Dondarrion.
When his favor failed, all we had melted away.
My father died of sorrow.
There is no home for one like me.
Not while Rhaenyra sits the throne.
Our task is simple.
Keep the river scum from reaching King's Landing.
Give Ormund time to swell his ranks.
Their army is ten times our size.
Twenty.
But let us attack it...
as the scorpion does the ox.
Let us become wraiths with fear as our standard.
Strike from the quiet and the darkness.
Our fight will not be clean, but it will be pure.
We'll be man-to-man.
And it will be free from dragons.
- Ser Edgar! - We'll delay them at most.
- It will not change their course. - Perhaps not.
But it is as you said, Ser Gwayne.
We must cling to our honor, lest we become beasts ourselves.
♪
[rat squeaking]
Who goes there?
Alyn of Hull.
I'll see him. Come.
Your Grace.
Lord Corlys has ridden out by the Dragon Gate
to hunt the Triarchy raiders that plague our trade.
He has able men who could lead that campaign.
While his queen struggles to restore a broken kingdom.
Your Grace, uh, if I may.
My lord father has lost much
and found himself thwarted.
A fight is mayhaps what he needs.
Hm.
Oh.
My father's life's work,
a recreation of the seat of Old Valyria.
A reminder to him, I think, that, um...
even great dynasties fall.
That the crown should never rest easy on his head.
There were those who whispered that my father was weak.
But, um, seeing through his eyes,
I can only marvel
at how he kept it all in balance for so long.
Fathers have a maddening capacity
to at once inspire and incense.
Don't you think?
[rats chittering and scurrying]
Gods, they are incessant.
And thanks to Aegon, all the rat catchers are dead.
On board ship, we kept cats.
- [bird screeching] - [Larys] Steel yourself.
We must guard our intents whilst I quietly
investigate hiring a ship.
This is Cole's garrison. They owe allegiance to me.
This is no garrison.
You must presume these men hold allegiance only to themselves.
[insects buzzing]
[overlapping shouting]
We cannot tarry here long.
[♪ dramatic music playing]
[people chattering]
[chatter continues]
[water sloshing]
Good day, friend. We seek food and shelter.
Like many here gathered, we are the dispossessed of the war.
[Janos] You Riverfolk?
I fucking hate Riverfolk.
We hail from Sharp Point.
Prince Aemond burned it to the ground.
[stammering] W-w-with his d...
- How'd you get out? - We nearly didn't.
As you can see.
Hm.
Well... [spitting]
We're too many.
Fuck off.
I have some coin.
[coins jingling]
You can earn a tent if you're ready to work.
Have you got a trade?
I have some knowledge of herbs,
and, uh, I can read a little.
Mm.
[laughter]
Maybe you'll be useful.
I have the command around here.
Oh, that much is clear, my lord.
Tangletongue works the latrines.
Collects piss for the tanners, shit for the farmers.
This one can help him.
Separate buckets.
Mix it up, they won't pay.
I won't touch the fucking latrines--
J-Just do as they say, Gregor.
- For now, hm? - I can read just as well as he can.
Tangletongue and Mangleface.
[laughter]
- You'll be good together. - I-It's not bad...
- Don't fucking touch me. - ...once you're used to it, brother.
Come on.
Fuck off!
[people chattering]
I think we'll have a nice time here tonight.
We'll make merry tonight. It'll be better than Honeyholt.
- [chuckles] - [door closes]
Wait.
I need to inspect the goods.
Go and fetch some rosemary.
[whispering] Come on.
[nervous breathing]
Don't touch her! Take your hands off of her!
[indistinct shouting]
[screaming]
[grunting]
Get them out of here! Get them out!
Get your hands off my brother, you Hightower--
[high-pitched ringing]
Ser Hugh Hammer, Your Grace.
[Rhaenyra] Ser Hugh, I assure you,
when there is news of a house, you will be sent for.
I understand that Ser Ulf is to be sent to Tumbleton.
- He is. - If it pleases Your Grace,
I offer to take the watch on Vermithor.
Your wife is at Tumbleton, is she not?
Ser Ulf has no stake in the matter.
Send me, because I do.
I will not tire of watching when one I love is below.
Take it in turn between you.
Keep watch on the town and on each other.
You may take the first post.
See that Ulf is alerted to the plan.
Your Grace.
[bell tolling]
[Townsfolk chattering]
[townsperson] Disgusting.
What's it say?
"Queen of Bastards."
Hightower loyalists trying to fight a war they lost.
[♪ fiddle playing]
So, he has returned.
[all cheering]
[laughter]
- Come on! - Come on.
- Ah! Good evening, ser! - Hey!
Ulf, the Dragonlord! Hey, hey.
More god than man.
Hey, will you honor your friends with a round of drinks, my lord?
The price keeps rising, we can't keep up.
- Tell him. - For everyone.
Hear that?
- Drinks for everyone! - [all cheering]
- He broke my arm. - That one broke my nose.
- He attacked my sister. - You call yourself soldiers. This is a disgrace.
- The children are terrified. - What is this?
You said your men were honorable.
This one has sinned.
I was billeted at the smithy, my lord.
But the smith didn't like it.
Mayhaps he resents the imposition.
Or mayhaps he is loyal to Rhaenyra.
But he struck me.
My lord. Now, if it please you,
we bear you no ill will.
But this man went to ravish my sister
and then broke my wife's arm when she tried to stop him.
She is a weaver.
We need what little she earns.
- Is this true? - [Garrick] No, my lord.
- [Kat] Liar! - Look at this woman's arm.
- She attacked me. - Is there no safety
- in our houses anymore? - She called me a cunt!
I will have calm.
- What is your name? - Garrick, my lord,
of Whitegrove.
Garrick of Whitegrove.
You have violated guest right.
You have debauched yourself upon a woman
and injured another.
Your punishment will fit your crime.
You will be gelded.
- [sighs] - And you will have your own arm broken.
You may remain in my service,
but trespass again, and you will hang.
My lord. I have a wife.
Oh! My lord!
- [guard] Come on! - [Garrick] No!
See them home. Have a maester tend to their wounds.
[Garrick] No!
My lord!
We must keep a firm grip. Tensions are high.
Lawlessness and disorder claw at our gates.
Yes, sire.
[Rhaenyra] I wish to see all correspondence
between the Red Keep and Ormund Hightower
since my father's death.
Your Grace.
How much control do the Hightowers
exert over the Faith?
Well, they endowed the building of the Starry Sept
and Oldtown was their seat for,
well, centuries before the Conquest.
The Seven are as intrinsic to the Hightower fabric
as, well, dragons are to House Targaryen.
But control, I think not.
The Faith is too proud to allow such influence.
The, uh, the High Septon has refused to anoint me.
The Faith clings tightly to its separate powers.
If I may be so bold to ask Your Grace...
does it matter?
- Wh... - Your Grace sits the throne.
Your people have welcomed you back as a liberator.
Your dragons rule the skies.
Are these not symbols of power enough?
Perhaps I could remove him.
The monarch has ever had some influence
in the-- the naming of the High Septon,
but to remove him altogether would surely...
incite the Faith, and therefore the faithful.
Unless you were considering a more, uh...
permanent removal.
I never thought you so bloodthirsty, Orwyle.
- Ah. - Rather impressed.
Alas, no.
Bring Ormund's letters once you have collated them.
There's been no word from Prince Daemon on his progress?
None as yet, Your Grace.
[Caraxes bellowing]
[Jeyne Arryn] I had thought never to see you
in the Vale again, Prince Daemon.
What after the tragic death of your first wife.
And yet I receive raven after raven from my bannermen
informing me of your progress throughout my domain.
[Daemon] Hm.
Time heals even the deepest of wounds.
I am most delighted to return, my lady.
And who could ever fail to be charmed by your... warmth.
But I mustn't tarry.
You promised the crown men in return for a dragon.
Now, you had your dragon, yet we have no men.
I should send babes.
Prince Joffrey's dragon was years away
from being large enough to defend the Vale,
and Rhaenyra took even that away.
A less forbearing person
might have seen the crown's offering as an insult.
- A pledge is a pledge. - It was my understanding
that the war was won, my prince.
What need does she have of more soldiers?
In truth...
I have not come for men. I've come for gold.
Huh, so your coffers are empty?
The work of Hightower treachery.
But perhaps a generous offering of coin
would demonstrate your...
fealty to the crown.
Prince Daemon Targaryen, standing in my high hall,
- a beggar with a tin cup. - [Daemon chuckles]
I never thought I'd live to see such a sight.
A gift of gold would offer you the benefit
of my speedy departure.
Very well.
[Caraxes bellowing and chittering]
- [bellowing] - Hey!
[speaking High Valyrian]
Hey!
[continues bellowing]
[bellowing]
[rumbling and chittering]
[chittering continues]
[squealing]
Reveal yourself!
[dragon bellowing loudly]
[footsteps approaching]
[bellowing continues]
[whispering] Rhaena.
[dragon chittering]
[sword sheathing]
[loud bellowing]
- Lykiri! - Daor.
Lykiri.
[dragon chittering]
[whispering] What have you done to yourself?
How?
I fed him sheep.
[dragon bellowing]
Rhaenyra believes this dragon and his rider are the reason...
Jace is dead.
- I wanted only to help. - [sighs] No.
To show her-- to show you I-- I never intended...
- Does she suffer? - [speaking High Valyrian]
Jeyne Arryn knows you're here.
You were meant to accompany my sons to Pentos.
They are well attended. They will be safe.
- You swore to be their guardian. - And do what?
[dragons bellowing and chittering]
Teach them to be ladies of the realm?
I would be of no use there.
Just as I was of no use here.
If you go now to where you are meant to be,
Rhaenyra need not know.
We will find a ship. Leave the dragon behind.
- [dragons roaring and screeching] - I will not leave him.
He's not like the others, Rhaena.
He is wild. He cannot be trusted.
He is mine. He is a part of me.
I have been alone all my life.
A Targaryen without a dragon.
Disregarded, or-- or worse.
Pitied.
Can you yourself say you ever gave me
more than a passing thought?
Rhaena, the unfortunate.
Rhaena, the least among your children.
Come back with me, then, to King's Landing.
- No. - We will...
speak to her together. We will tell her it was a mistake.
How can I ever stand before her again
after what I have done?
No, I can never return.
I will remain here, alone and in exile.
- That is my penance. - She will hunt you down.
Is hunting now.
Let them grieve me and think me lost to sea.
Unless you betray me.
You ask me to deceive her. That is betrayal.
I have asked you nothing, Father, in all my life.
I ask this one thing of you now.
Rhaena, Rhaena.
Rhaena!
[Sheepstealer bellowing]
[screeching]
- [continues screeching] - Shh!
[dragon roaring]
[dragon rumbling]
- [sheep bleating] - [goatherd chattering indistinctly]
[dragon bellowing]
[faint bellowing continues]
[metal tinging softly]
[inhales deeply]
[sighs]
[Roxton] A raven just arrived from Harrenhal, my lord.
- It bears the Hightower seal. - [church bell ringing]
[whispering] Get out.
My prince?
[whispering] Out. Now.
[growling] Useless craven coward!
- Cunt! - [items clattering]
[growling loudly]
Cunt! Cunt!
Cunt!
[sighs]
[sword sheathing]
- [chair scraping] - [sighs]
Your Uncle Gwayne has sent word.
It seems your brother Aemond
will not be joining us after all.
Is...
Gwayne coming to Tumbleton?
We must alter our scheme.
- [Orwyle] Ser Otto wrote diligently to Ormund. - [inhaling deeply]
Naught was returned.
Are you sure there's been no error?
Nothing?
What am I to make of this?
I suppose only that Lord Ormund
ruled Oldtown as a kingdom unto itself.
Mm.
[sighs]
Ser Ulf White is still without, Your Grace.
Oh, uh...
Come.
Your Grace.
I'm honored to be in your service
and to have sworn my life to your cause.
Yes. I'm sure.
- What is it, then? - Oh, I-- I wondered
whether, as Your Grace's humble servant,
I might petition for your favor-- er, favors.
Speak them.
For a man named Mujja,
a smallholding outside Rosby
and exemption from taxes, thanking Your Grace.
And for a fellow named Cley,
a pardon for various small crimes.
We don't have to go into that, and passage to Lys--
These favors are not in your name.
No, no, Your Grace.
They're for allies...
from a tavern I frequent... ed,
- frequented previously. - A tavern.
And if an agent of the Hightowers
knifes you in your belly as you fill it with ale?
No, it's not that sort of place. Besides...
- It's my belly. - Oh, but it's not.
No, you belong now to the crown.
Should something befall you or your belly,
I suffer the loss of a dragon
and the unity of the realm is threatened.
No, you shall frequent taverns no longer.
What?
Well, I'm afraid you'll have to find your--
your beer within the walls of the Red Keep,
where you will remain...
except when you are escorted to the Dragonpit
for duty at Tumbleton.
If that is all, you may go.
They protest you.
You know, out there in the city.
I've seen vile words painted on walls.
They say...
"Queen of Bastards."
The work, I am sure,
of some of your misguided subjects
who mistakenly believe their queen to be unkind.
Your Grace.
[♪ dramatic music playing]
Can you send word to Ser Luthor?
Have his gold cloaks look for any seditious markings
on the streets of the city, remove them...
and find those responsible.
And bring them to you, Your Grace?
Just make it cease, please.
[insects buzzing]
[groaning]
There's a Braavosi cog sailing from Duskendale in a few days.
- I think I can find us fresh horses. - I'm the fucking king.
- If they knew I walked among them. - [shushing]
Even were you to be believed, Rhaenyra sits the throne.
And you have no dragon.
She did us a favor by declaring you dead.
I'm dead?
Slain by your brother Aemond.
Is that what they say?
Mm.
I'll fucking kill him.
- I'll fucking kill her, the s-- - In time.
There's much to be learned from the chatter in this camp.
Anonymity is a boon for us.
It will ensure that your eventual resurrection...
becomes the stuff of song and legend.
Have something to eat.
None left for us.
Happens sometimes, but...
[stammering] We'll get some tomorrow.
Tomorrow?
I'll not stand for this.
- [dish clattering] - Outrage!
Is this how you rule? Running out of food?
Answer me!
Sit down before I make you.
Who do you think you're talking to?
I'll have your fucking tongue, you insolent ape.
- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. - Please.
And I'll gut you like a fish, cunt.
Let's-- let's not be hasty.
On your knees,
if you want to live.
[grunting]
Kiss my feet.
- I take it back. - Or die.
I don't care which.
But you will call me...
- "my lord." - [Tom] Janos.
[Janos] You as well?
[grunting softly]
- [retching softly] - [insects buzzing]
[Torrhen Manderly] The inquisitions were thorough.
We should be assured that wherever they might be,
- the crown's holdings... - [door opens]
- are no longer in... - I bring justice.
I bring vengeance.
I also bring gold.
- What is this? - The one who rode Sheepstealer.
Along with 10,000 golden dragons from Lady Jeyne Arryn.
[Manderly] Anything from her bannermen in the Vale?
We still await some response from the great houses.
And the Iron Bank has not answered our request for a loan.
Would you please explain who that is?
[Manderly] Ser Torrhen Manderly, my prince, the new Master of Coin.
What little there is to be a master of.
Well, I'll wager you think you're clever, don't you, Manderly?
- [chuckles] Well... - You should know
I'm the clever one around here.
- Say no more. - [Mysaria] What small quantity
of gold Daemon has found must go to ease the deprivations
- of the smallfolk. - The City Watch is stretched far too thin.
Our soldiers need to be paid
and more recruited besides, else there will be bedlam.
- Your Grace-- - [Mysaria] Bedlam is assured
if the people feel the crown ignores their anger.
Has anyone considered a tax?
Clear the room.
[door closes]
What is this?
The queen's justice.
Who is he?
And how did he come to claim a wild dragon?
Was he alone, or is--
is he allied to Aemond or to Ormund?
I desired the very same answers,
but a dragon is not a precise instrument.
[scoffs] What of Sheepstealer?
Fled. Riderless.
It is an act of madness to claim a wild dragon.
We are not like to see it again.
I wanted to see him.
I wanted to look on the one who killed my son.
To punish him yourself?
But do you think that would end your grief?
I have served your interest.
The gold you brought will provide alms for the smallfolk.
The City Watch trusts you. You will entreat them to be patient.
The crown will honor its debt...
a little longer.
I suppose...
I should thank you.
When what you've wrought comes falling down about her ears,
she'll return to her senses.
Whose head is that?
[♪ dramatic music playing]
I have dispatched good men to see your father's remains
delivered to Oldtown.
Viserys would have wished it.
Thank you.
[whispering] Here.
Helaena.
- [bell ringing] - Clear the streets.
Clear the streets!
- [bell continues ringing] - Observe the curfew!
[people chattering and shouting]
All indoors!
Clear the street!
Stay home or hang!
- Dragon! - [dragon bellowing]
Dragon!
[bellowing]
- Open your doors by order of the queen. - [person shouting indistinctly]
Here! Here!
- With me. - Up here.
Get them out of their home!
Who did this?
Which traitor stained these walls?
Find the hand that stained these walls.
Scrub. Scrub!
[Soldiers shouting]
Bring them out!
- [person screaming] - [child crying]
- Has he confessed? - Not yet.
I haven't done anything. Please.
- Patience, my girl. - [Tessarion purring]
It won't be long before we can fly again.
[Tessarion grunting]
I have warned you against indulging in affection
for that beast.
[Tessarion bellowing]
Lykiri.
[Tessarion chittering]
I know.
You are a good boy.
You speak kindly and you say your prayers.
I have raised you in the light of the Seven,
and the Father smiles upon you.
But there is a taint in your blood.
The Targaryens are a savage race,
poor in intellect, but rich in cunning.
With dark spells, they created abominations
to subdue what was rightly ours.
We are the superior men.
But against that...
[Tessarion growling]
...we could not stand.
[Tessarion growling, grunting]
The gods have put you to divine purpose, my boy.
What purpose, sire?
The brutes raise a woman to the Iron Throne.
A desecration!
Where is reason? Where is propriety?
It was a blessing that you came to ward in Oldtown.
Your brothers are lost, but you...
remain a Hightower,
raised in the shadow of the Citadel,
in the light of the Starry Sept.
Now...
you must be king.
You would not wish, surely,
for me to turn cloak against my brothers.
You will restore our ancient order.
Victory will be ours. It is the will of the gods.
I thought you let him go.
A righteous king must demonstrate
he upholds many virtues.
Honor, wisdom.
- Justice. - He only acted when our man attacked a woman.
He laid hands on a Hightower.
That soldier is an extension of you, of the crown.
Justice must be done.
Is not mercy a kingly virtue?
That sounds like something your father would say.
[Tessarion chittering]
I'm sorry.
[Tessarion chittering]
I have risked much and more to raise you up.
Surely, you do not wish to disappoint me.
[♪ tense music playing]
My lord.
My lord, please. Please.
No, please, I beg you.
My lord.
Please. I beg you.
I have a family, my lord.
I have a family. Please.
Please, please. [whimpering]
- [screaming] - [Tessarion screeching]
[exclaiming]
[♪ tense music continues playing]
[♪ dramatic music playing]
[Tessarion snarling]
[screeching]
[flames whooshing]
And now we begin.
[Tessarion snarling]
[crunching]
[♪ dramatic music playing]