01x06 - The Princess and the Queen

[bunniefuu]

(epic theme playing)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(heavy breathing)

(groaning)

Older Midwife:
Keep breathing.

(rapid breathing)

And push.

(groaning)

And again.

I c-- I can't.

- Push!
- (groaning)

- Younger Midwife: The head!
- (moaning)

(groaning)

(younger midwife chuckles)

A boy, Princess.

Younger Midwife:
Praise the Mother!

- (baby crying)
- (chuckling)

Ahh.

Healthy?

Kicking like a goat, Princess.

(heavy breathing)

(door opens)

(chuckling)

Elinda: Princess...

the Queen has requested that
the child be brought to her...

immediately.

Why?

(groans)

I'll take him myself.

You should remain abed, Princess--

Yes, I should!
Help me dress.

(heavy breathing)

Ooh...

Mmm...

Princess...

your dress?

(baby crying)

(Rhaenyra shushing)

(baby crying)

(shushing)

- Mm, mm, mm, mm, mm.
- Younger Midwife: Princess?

- Oh, it's coming.
- The afterbirth!

(groaning)

(yells)

A boy. I've just heard.

- Yes.
- Well done.

- Where are you going?
- She wants to see him.

Now?

I'm coming with you.

- I should hope so.
- Let me take him.

No, she'll get no such
satisfaction from me.

Just take my arm, at the least.

Was it terribly painful?

Oh gods.

(indistinct chatter)

I took a lance through
the shoulder once.

My deepest sympathies.

Servants: The Princess...
The Princess...

I am glad I am not a woman.

- Servant: My Princess...
- Servant: My Lord...

(Rhaenyra groaning)

- What is it?
- (bell tolling)

What is it?
What is it?

f*ck.

Walk... Walk!

What could she possibly want?

I thought we were past this.

Princess, Ser Laenor, it is a privilege

to be amongst the first
to congratulate you.

Thank you, Lord Caswell.

If I may be of any service.

The day may yet come, my Lord.

(groaning)

We are turning back, all right?

She can come to us, all right?

No. Not unless you wish to carry
me down those f*cking stairs.

(Laenor sighs)

♪ ♪

This is absurd.

Mm...

Princess.

Rhaenyra! You should be
resting after your labors.

I have no doubt that you
would prefer that, Your Grace.

You must sit.

Talya, fetch a cushion
for the Princess.

- There's no need.
- Queen Alicent: Nonsense.

We'll finish this later.

Talya: Your Grace.

- (groans)
- What happy news this morning.

Prince Laenor:
Indeed, Your Grace.

Where is he?

Where is my grandson?
There.

There he is.

Oh.

A fine Prince.

Sturdy.

You will make a fearsome knight.

(softly) Yes, you will.

Does the babe have a name yet?

- We haven't spoken--
- Joffrey.

He'll be called Joffrey.

That's an unusual name for a Velaryon.

I do believe he has his father's nose.

(chuckles)

(softly)
Don't you?

(clears throat) If you don't
mind, Your Grace,

your daughter has exerted herself
heroically and should rest.

Of course.

There.

Well done, my girl.

I do hope the labor was easy.

I think I called the midwife a c**t.

Oh.

Do keep trying, Ser Laenor.

Soon or late,
you may get one who looks like you.

♪ ♪

You don't...
think to consult me

before you name my child?

He's our child, is he not?

Only one of us is bleeding.

I deserve some say in the
affairs of my own family.

You haven't seemed so interested
in our affairs of late.

♪ ♪

Child:
And he sees a big, scary dragon!

Mother...

look.

- We chose an egg for the baby.
- Princess Rhaenyra: Ahh.

That looks like the perfect one.

- Jacaerys: I let Luke choose.
- Lucerys: Thank you, Jace.

Not every day an egg
leaves the Dragonpit, Princess.

I thought it best to escort the lads.

Laenor and I thank you, Commander.

Another boy, I heard.

{an }What a fine knight you
are going to make, eh?

Might I?

Ser Harwin wishes to be
introduced to Joffrey.

Of course.

- Harwin Strong: Joffrey, is it?
- Mm-hm.

Mm.

Lucerys: Father,
please may I hold Joffrey?

- No, no. No.
- Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.

Back to the Dragonpit for you two.

- Lucerys: Come on!
- Laenor: Before they send out a search party.

(door closes)

(humming)

You're asleep in front of the
Commander of the City Watch.

Terrible lack of respect.

A certain insolence runs
in the family, I'm afraid.

(chains rattling)

(dragon grumbling)

_

_

(grumbling, screeching)

(yawns)

(grumbling)

{an }Dragonkeeper: Call Vermax to
heel, Prince Jacaerys.

{an }_

(roars)

_

_

(sheep bleats)

(grumbling)

- (bleats)
- (grumbles)

Vermax!

(louder) Vermax!

_

(screeches)

(speaking High Valyrian) Zaldrizo
aoho syt aeksio sagon ao bevilza,

darilaros nuhys--

You must hold mastery over your
dragon, my young Princes.

...hae Darilarot
Aegot Vvsperzomy.

Dragonkeeper: As Prince
Aegon has with Sunfyre.

Zijosy aot tetiri ozlettosy,

toli rybagon zirylo vindilza.

Once they're fully bound to you,
they will refuse

to take instruction from any other.

(screeches)

- Can I say it?
- Mm-hm.

(sheep bleating)

(speaks High Valyrian)
Dracarys, Vermax!

(screeches)

(sheep squealing)

(vocalizes)

Aemond, we have a surprise for you.

- What is it?
- Something very special.

You're the only one
of us without a dragon.

Indeed.

And we felt badly about it,

so we found one for you.

A dragon? How?

The gods provide.

(pig grunting)

- Behold--
- Both: The Pink Dread!

(both laughing)

Be sure to mount her carefully.

First flight's always rough.

- (snorting)
- (laughing)

(laughter continues)

(eerie music playing)

(indistinct vocalizing)

♪ ♪

(animal growls)

(strong winds blowing)

(intense music swells)

(grunts)

Child:
This one has rings...

and two pairs of legs on each.

That's .

Yes, it is.

It has eyes...

though...

I don't believe it can see.

And why is that so, do you think?

It is beyond our understanding.

I suppose you're right.
Some things just are.

(door opens)

Kingsguard:
Your Grace.

Aemond.

- What have you done?
- He did it again.

Alicent: After how many
times you've been warned,

must I have you confined
to your chambers?!

- They made me do it!
- As if you needed encouragement.

Your obsession with those beasts

goes beyond understanding.

They gave me a pig!

A what?

They said they found a dragon for me.

The last ring has no legs at all.

But it was a pig.

You will have a dragon one day.

- He'll have to close an eye.
- Alicent: I know it.

They all laughed.

Alicent: They made wings for
it, apparently, and a tail.

King Viserys: The lad shouldn't
have been so credulous.

He's a child.

He thought they'd happened upon

some wild unnamed dragon

and lured it to the Dragonpit?

Your grandsons are a menace.

They're more children than he is.

Th-They're savages.
And it's not surprising.

Are you sure it wasn't our
Aegon who put them up to it?

It's a wonder to me
their eggs ever hatched.

- And why is that?
- You know why.

- I'm afraid I don't.
- Don't! (inhales)

(exhales) Viserys.

We shall continue
this afternoon, Eddard.

I have raised this matter before

and you forbade me to speak of
it, so I held my tongue.

To have one child
like that is a mistake,

to have three is an insult,

to the throne, to you,

to House Velaryon and the match you
battled so hard to make for her.

Not to mention decency itself.

I had a black mare once.

Black like a raven.

One day, she escaped her pasture

and the neighboring stallion
sired a foal on her.

The stallion was as silver as
the moon on a winter's night

and the foal, when it was born,

chestnut.
(chuckles)

Just the most unremarkable
brown horse you ever saw.

Nature is a thing of mysterious works.

How do you know?

The silver stallion.

How do you know it was him?

Did you witness the act itself?

(bangs table)

{an }The consequences

{an }of an allegation
like the one you toy at

would be dire.

(Viserys sighs)

Do not speak of this again.

Alicent: Have I lost my
sanity, Ser Criston?

Do my senses lead me astray?

Or is everyone else asleep,

dreaming the same woolly dream?

Sometimes seems so, Your Grace.

She flaunts the privilege of
her inheritance without shame.

She expects everyone in the
Red Keep to deny the truth

our eyes can all plainly see.

- And the King, her father--
- He knows.

Of course, he knows.
Or did once,

but has convinced himself otherwise.

He'll do naught
but make excuses for her.

The Princess Rhaenyra
is brazen and relentless.

A spider who stings
and sucks her prey dry.

A spoiled c**t.

That was beneath me,
Your Grace. I apologize.

I have to believe,

that in the end,
honor and decency will prevail.

We need to hew to that
and to each other.

(bell tolling)

(grunting)

(grunting)

- Alicent: Whose idea was it?
- Oh!

(Aegon grunts)

The pig.

- Was it your plot?
- No...

it was Jace

and... uh...

it-it was the two of them.

I couldn't be sure.

Aemond is your brother.

- Well, he's a twat.
- We are family.

You may cuff him about
as you wish at home,

but in the world...
we must defend our own.

It was funny.

Do you think Rhaenyra's sons

will be your playthings forever?

As things stand...

Rhaenyra will ascend the throne

and Jacaerys Targaryen
will be her heir.

- So?
- Ugh! You are nearly a man-grown.

How is it that you can be
so shortsighted?

If Rhaenyra comes into power...

your very life could be forfeit.

Aemond's as well.

She could move to cut off any
challenge to her succession.

- Then I won't challenge--
- (yells) You are the challenge!

You are the challenge, Aegon!

Simply by living and breathing!

You are the King's firstborn son...

and what they know,
what everyone in the realm knows

in their blood and in their bones...

is that one day, you will be our King.

Get dressed.

(footsteps retreating)

(tense music playing)

(all cheering)

(screeches)

(grumbles)

♪ ♪

(dragon squeals)

(speaks High Valyrian)
Dracarys!

(roars)

♪ ♪

(hisses, roars)

Prince Reggio Haratis:
The lamb hearts are excellent.

We are fortunate in our
cook, Your Excellence.

There's a plum-cake yet to be served,

which will have us
fighting over the crumbs.

Then before we come to blows...

{an }(taps on table)

{an }a toast to Aegon the Conqueror,
your exalted forebear,

who joined our cause against Volantis

in the Century of Blood.

On the great dragon Balerion,
he flew to our aid in Lys

and b*rned a fleet of enemy ships,

thus turning the tide.

- Aegon the Conqueror.
- All: To Aegon.

Reggio: This brings
me to some business.

A proposal I wish to make

in the spirit of honoring
our storied alliance.

If your aim is to marry one of
our daughters, Your Excellence,

you might have said so and
spared us the history lesson.

- What?
- (Prince Reggio chuckling)

I would not count myself
so deserving, my Lady Laena.

(chuckling)

I wish to offer you a permanent
residence here in Pentos.

This manse I would
gift to you, outright,

along with its farms and lands,

the vineyard and the wood.

The tenants would pay
their tributes annually

to their new Targaryen lord.

You would have your freedom
of the city and the harbor,

as befits your royal station.

Continue.

Reggio:
Lys and its allies rise again.

The Triarchy has made common cause

with Qoren Martell of Dorne.

At any moment, they may
turn their sights north.

Your family has dragons.

Three now...
mayhaps four in the future.

My aim is to protect Pentos

from the lustful eye of the Triarchy.

Aid Pentos in this,
as Aegon once did...

and my gratitude will fill
your cup and overflow it.

Your Excellence, we are travelers.

We've already extended our visit here.

♪ ♪

Prince Daemon:
It's a most generous offer.

And one we will certainly entertain.

(conversing in High Valyrian)

(light music playing)

You are considering
Prince Reggio's offer.

We have a good life here.

We're free to do as we please,

welcomed and feted.

- And eternally guests.
- Precisely.

We are without responsibility.
The political scheming,

the endless shifting
of loyalties and succession

is none of ours.

- They are using us.
- It's refreshing, isn't it?

A simple transaction.

We have dragons, they have gold.

We are more than this, Daemon.

We are not minstrels or mummers

who play at the pleasure
of an alien prince.

We are the blood of Old Valyria.

We don't belong here.

Valyria is gone.
We don't belong anywhere.

I want my child to be born

where I was born, on Driftmark,

in my lord father's castle.

I want my daughters to be
raised in their homeland

with their family

according to their birthright.

{an }And at my end, I want to die
a dragonrider's death.

{an }Not that of some fat country lord.

(horses nickering)

(trainees grunting)

(grunting)

- (grunts)
- Soften your knees.

Feet light.

Keep your feet light
and your hands heavy.

This is the stuff, Lyonel.

Lads that learn together,

train together...

knock each other down,
pick each other up.

They will certainly form a lifelong
bond, wouldn't you agree?

That is the hope, Your Grace.

Don't stand too upright, my Prince.

You'll get knocked down.

(grunting)

Aegon.

I've won my first bout, Ser Criston.

My opponent sues for mercy.

Well, you'll have a new opponent
then, My Lord of the Straw.

Let's see if you can touch me.

You and your brother.

(Viserys sighs)

(grunting)

(yelling)

You're gonna have
to do better than that.

(grunting)

Ah.

Weapons up, boys.

Give your enemies no quarter.

It seems the younger boys
could do better with a bit

of your attention...
Ser Criston.

You question my method
of instruction, ser?

Oh, I merely suggest that method
be applied to all your pupils.

Very well.

Jacaerys... come here.

- (grunts)
- You spar with Aegon.

(chuckling)

Eldest son against eldest son.

- It's hardly a fair match.
- I know you've never seen true battle, ser,

but when steel is drawn, a fair match
isn't something anyone should expect.

Blades up.

- Engage.
- (grunting)

(yells)

Ow. (grunts)

(chuckles)

(shouts)

(grunting)

- Foul play.
- Criston: I'll deal with him.

Plant your feet. You have a height
advantage. Use it. Advance on him...

(continues quietly)

(shouts) You!

- (grunting)
- Close with him.

Press him backward!

Close with him!

Stay on the att*ck!
Use your feet!

- (yells)
- (grunts)

Don't let him get up.

(yelling)

Stay on the att*ck!

Harwin: Enough!

(Aegon yells)

- Aegon: (yells) You dare put hands on me?
- Aegon!

You forget yourself, Strong.
That is the Prince.

This is what you teach, Cole?

Cruelty...

to the weaker opponent?

Criston: Your interest in
the princeling's training

is quite unusual, Commander.

Most men would only
have that kind of devotion

toward a cousin...

or a brother...

or a son.

(grunting)

(yells)

Kingsguard: Get back!

(yells) Say it again!

Say it again!

(chuckles) Thought as much.

Rhaenyra:
Let him be bathed with a cloth,

and see to it the cook

gives you a good, clear wine to drink.

Princess...

there's been an incident in the yard.

(tense music playing)

Lyonel Strong: It fills
me with unrelenting shame.

Harwin: So that's what
this is about then?

- Your shame.
- Lyonel: (shouts) Our shame, Harwin!

Shame on the whole of House Strong.

Harwin: Because I laid my hands
on that insufferable Cole,

- the son of a steward?
- He is a Knight of the Kingsguard now,

- a defender of the crown.
- Harwin: He assailed Prince Jacaerys,

- the future heir to the throne.
- (both shouting)

Lyonel: You have laid
us open to accusations

of an uglier treachery.

And what treachery is that?

Don't play the fool with me, boy.

Your intimacy with
the Princess Rhaenyra

is an offense that would
mean exile and death...

for you, for her, for the children!

Harwin:
It is rumor only...

spun by the Princess's rivals.

People have eyes, boy.

Yet His Grace the King, it seems,
will not accept what his eyes see.

This flimsy shield alone

stands between you and the headsman.

The willful blindness of a
father towards his child.

I wish my father affected
a similar blindness.

Lyonel:
Have I not these many years?

And yet today, you publicly assaulted

a Knight of the Kingsguard in
the, in the defense of your--

♪ ♪

Harwin: You have your
honor and I have mine.

(door closes)

To ease the pain, Princess.

(Laenor and Qarl singing)

- Thank you.
- You'll feel better in a day or two,

when the milk dries up.

(singing grows louder)

- (singing stops)
- (laughing)

Laenor:
My dear wife. (chuckles)

Qarl Correy: Princess.

Oh... I fell down.

- Where have you been?
- Out with Qarl. Didn't I mention it?

Are you in very much pain?

The milk...

- swells the breasts--
- Would you mind, Ser Qarl?

I would like to speak with my husband.

Of course, Princess.

- (Laenor sighs)
- (door closes)

w*r... is afoot again

in the Stepstones, Rhaenyra.

The Triarchy takes new life

from its alliance with Dorne.

They're waylaying ships and cargo.

Qarl's been fighting there.
He showed me a--

(laughing)

He showed me a sack of
sapphires big as walnuts

he took from the pirate he slew.

Ahh... after all this time,

this is just what I need,

a little adventure.

A good, honest battle
to enliven my blood again.

He says there is
a Tyroshi general there,

a giant, they say,

who dyes his beard purple
and wears women's frocks.

(Laenor laughing)

A few months, maybe... Hm.

To be back at sea.

Are you mad?

Do you know what's happened...

while you've been guzzling
all the ale in Flea Bottom?

Gods know what besides?

Dark rumors are hunting us, Laenor.

They nip at our heels.

Questions... about
our sons' parentage.

Vile, disgusting insinuations.

Insinuations, are they?

They are our sons!

Yours and mine.

And their true father
will not abandon them now

to go carousing through the Narrow Sea,

waggling his sword
and winking at his sailors.

I am a knight...

and a warrior.

And I have played
my part here, faithfully...

for years.

- I am owed some--
- You are owed nothing!

For years,
you have indulged yourself at court,

bought the finest horses,

drunk the rarest of wines,

f*cked the lustiest boys.

This was our agreement.
I have not begrudged you.

But...

you do not desert your post
when the storm lashes.

The wise sailor flees
the storm as it gathers.

Very well then.
I command you.

As your Princess
and the heir to the throne,

you are commanded to remain

in King's Landing and at my side.

(child humming)

(door opens)

(humming continues)

It's been eight years, sweetling.

- Half of them never do, you know?
- What?

Hatch.

{an }Will they let me stay?

{an }Will who let you stay?

{an }The Prince of Pentos.

{an }I don't understand.

{an }He wants you and father...

{an }and Baela...

{an }'cause you have dragons.

There is more than one way
to bind yourself to a dragon.

I was without one
until I was years old

and now I ride Vhagar,
the largest in the world.

You have a harder road.

Baela's dragon was born to her.

But if you wish to be a rider,

you must claim that right.

Your father would tell you the same.

Father ignores me.

(solemn music playing)

He's doing his best.

(animals howling)

♪ ♪

Laenor has written.

Rhaenyra has delivered another son.

Does your brother mention if this one

also bears a marked
but entirely coincidental

resemblance to the
Commander of the City Watch?

-(chuckles)
- He seems to have left that detail out.

Mm.

I miss my brother, Daemon.

As I think do you.

I miss Westerosi strongwine.

It could be depended on for a
few hours of peaceful oblivion.

This amber sh*t that they drink here.

Lady Laena:
Do you never long for home?

No.

- I don't believe you.
- Believe what you please.

You laud the virtues of Pentos,

but you have no interest in it.

If you did,
you would venture into the city,

but instead, you spend your time here,

in the library, reading accounts

of the same dead dragonlords
whose legacy you claim

has no hold on you.

Didn't know I was being
so minutely observed.

You do not sleep.

Well, how can I with you
haunting my every move?

- Life has, I know, disappointed you.
-(Daemon chuckles)

Perhaps, I too, am not the wife
you would've wished for yourself.

Laena.

It does not pain me.

I have made my peace.

But you are more than this, Daemon.

The man I married was more than this.

♪ ♪

Lyonel: It is Lord Blackwood's
contention, therefore,

that the Brackens moved
the boundary stones

in the dead of the night

and put their horses
to graze in his field.

Alicent: Why was this issue
not brought before Lord Grover?

Has he grown so feeble he cannot
settle a quarrel over rocks?

Jasper Wylde: I've heard
tale that Lord Grover's son

now rules Riverrun in all but name.

Well, he is also a Tully

and this remains a Tully problem.

I would agree.

- If we may move on, my lords--
- Rhaenyra: And yet,

the Brackens and the Blackwoods

will use any excuse
to spill each other's blood.

So... this dispute
bears looking into.

There will be countryfolk who know where
the lines have been drawn for generations.

That is easy enough.

(softly) Of course.

Ser Tyland.

Tyland Lannister: (clears throat)
Uh, we should address

the latest developments
in the Stepstones, my lords.

(sighs) Will we ever be
shut of that blasted place?

If you ask me, I think
the Blackwoods have

- the upper hand.
- Alicent: No.

We've moved on to the
Stepstones, Lord Beesbury.

(louder) And the Triarchy's
new alliance with Dorne.

I was hoping our negotiations with
Sunspear might persuade them to see reason.

(coughs) To trust a Martell
is to be disappointed.

Jasper: And where, I wonder,
is our Prince Daemon?

Or I suppose I should call him
King, as he styled himself

when he won a battle there...

- once.
- Alicent: That was a decade ago

and he has since left
the region undefended.

Rhaenyra: We have left it undefended.

There should've been
fortifications built,

watchtowers, a fleet of ships,

a garrison of soldiers
sent to hold our ground.

We cannot afford it.

Our coffers are great,
but not infinite.

We must consider
the cost to our subjects.

- I must agree.
- The cost of w*r is greater.

But we have been lax and the
old monster now lifts its head.

Let us be finished.

(sighs) Yes.

Wait.

I wish to speak.

Be seated.

I have felt the...

strife...

between our families of late, my Queen.

And for any offense given
by mine, I apologize.

But we are one house.

And long before that,

we were friends.

My son Jacaerys will inherit
the Iron Throne after me.

I propose we betroth him
to your daughter, Helaena.

Ally ourselves...

once and for all.

Let them rule together.

A most judicious proposition.

Additionally, if Syrax brings
forth another clutch of eggs,

your son Aemond will have
his choice of them, uh...

a symbol of our goodwill.

Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra:
Oh, Seven Hells, um.

My dear...

a dragon's egg is a handsome gift.

The King and I thank you for your offer

and we will consider it duly.

You must rest now, husband.

Yes.

Alicent:
How sweetly the fox speaks

when it's been cornered by the hounds.

- She is sincere.
- She is desperate.

She feels the earth
washing away beneath her feet

and now she expects us
to ignore her transgressions

and for me to marry my only daughter

to one of her...

plain-featured sons.

The proposal is a good one, my Queen.

We're a family.

Let us put aside
these childish quarrels.

Join hands and be stronger for it.

You may do as you wish, husband...

when I am cold in my grave.

Alicent.

Alicent!

(coughs)

(exhales)

(groans)

I do not need the blanket--

Criston:
The Hand, Your Grace.

- The King is resting.
- I will see him.

Lean forward.

(fluffing pillow)

(exhales)

I'm being endlessly
fussed over, Lyonel.

It's a wonder I can
visit the privy alone.

Your Grace.

What might this errand
be about, Lord Lyonel?

Your Grace, I feel...

I have come to resign my
position as Hand of the King.

The episode in the yard this morning.

My son Harwin has disgraced himself

and every fishwife in King's Landing
will soon be telling the tale.

Young Harwin's outburst
was unfortunate,

it's true.

But he's been expelled
from the City Watch.

That seems punishment enough.

Forgive me, Your Grace, it is not.

You have served me
faithfully for many years,

as Hand.

Your advice has been sage,

unmarked by self-interest...

which stands in contrast to all others.

Lyonel:
You speak kind words...

but there is a shadow over my house

and it grows... ever darker.

I can no longer serve you
with integrity.

What is this shadow?

Name it, if it casts such a gloom.

Yes... we must have your
reasoning in plain language.

I cannot.

Then I cannot accept this.

- My dear husband--
- Viserys: I said no!

- If you insist, my King.
- I do.

You will continue in your
service to the crown.

(deep breath)

I would then ask leave
to take my son from court

and escort him back to the
family seat at Harrenhal.

He is my heir

and will be lord of
Harren's castle one day.

It is time he assumed his duties there.

Do it.

Aren't you gonna help me?

(distant chatter)

(deep breath)

(door opens, closes)

Larys Strong:
I took the liberty of beginning

without you, Your Grace.

It seemed a sin to let
such a pie grow cold.

You did wisely, Lord Larys.

Though you had no such worry
about the wine, surely.

- Meat without wine is also a sin.
- Mm.

It's been my duty to tell you
of happenings about the castle,

but tonight you know, and I do not.

The King had an audience
with my father.

He attempted to resign his post.

I thought as much.

His honor's always been a millstone

about his esteemed neck.

Interesting you said "attempted"?

My lord husband refused to accept.

Then he fell short of confessing
my brother's... transgressions.

With his eruption in the yard,
your brother

all but confessed the truth himself.

Truth has many flavors, Your Grace.

Do you expect the King to doom
his dear daughter to exile,

- or even--
- (door opens)

Talya, not now.

(door closes)

It's a willful blindness, the King.

I mean, you'd surely
suffer the same affliction,

- if it came to it.
- I would not.

Lord Lyonel is to escort
Ser Harwin back to Harrenhal

to watch over his seat whilst
he continues to serve as Hand.

But the Hand is compromised
by the acts of his son.

My father... cannot give
unbiased counsel to the King.

It is now that I most rue
the absence of my own father.

He wouldn't hesitate
to speak the truth to the King.

If Otto Hightower were still Hand--

You cannot say, my Queen,
that your father would be

impartial in this matter.

No, but he would be partial to me!

(exhales)

(Alicent breathes deeply)

In all of King's Landing, is
there no one to take my side?

(prisoners wailing)

♪ ♪

Larys: What a collection
of heroes I have before me.

A m*rder*r...

a deviant...

a traitor to the crown.

For your crimes,
you've been sentenced to death by hanging.

What do you want with us?

I am prepared to offer you mercy...

if you're prepared
to pay a little price.

(breathing heavily)

(tense music playing)

(panicked groans)

(yells, screams)

(wailing)

- (Laena screaming)
- Surgeon: Push, my Lady.

Handmaiden:
Push! Push!

- (screaming)
- Push!

- Surgeon: You must push!
- Handmaiden: Push!

- Surgeon: It needs to come now!
- (screaming)

Handmaiden: Push!

All: Push!

Surgeon:
You must push now, my Lady!

- (screaming)
- Handmaiden: Push!

(crying)

♪ ♪

I've reached the limit of my art.

The child will not come.

Ah, my brave girl.

- (crying)
- (breathing heavily)

Surgeon:
I am very sorry, my Prince.

We could lay open the womb...

try to remove the infant

by way of the blade.

But I cannot say
for a surety whether it lives.

Would the mother survive it?

- No.
- (grunting)

♪ ♪

(breathing heavily)

(wincing)

(speaks High Valyrian)
Vhagar, dracarys.

Agh!

(shouts) Dracarys!

Dracarys!

(cries) Dracarys.

Dracarys!

(Laena grunts)

Dracarys.

(Vhagar wailing)

(solemn music playing)

♪ ♪

Laena!

♪ ♪

Harwin:
Be good to your mother, lads.

I'll visit when I can.

But that may be some time.

Jace.

I will return...

I promise.

I will be a stranger
when we meet again.

(solemn music playing)

Princess.

♪ ♪

(door opens)

We will exchange letters by raven.

- Won't that be fun?
- Is Harwin Strong my father?

Am I a bastard?

You are a Targaryen.

That's all that matters.

(grunting)

(swords clanging)

A word?

I take it he's gone.

We're finished here.
We're leaving.

What of your offer?
Jace and Helaena?

I have been undermined...

and made a spectacle.
They whisper about me in the corridors.

Well, I leave them to it.

To Dragonstone then?

We should've left years ago.

What of your position?

You've always said if you
were absent from court,

she would pour her honey
in your father's ear.

The wise sailor flees
the storm as it gathers.

- (chuckles)
- Laenor...

bring him.

We'll need every sword we can muster.

(horse neighs)

(apprehensive music playing)

♪ ♪

(coughing)

- (banging on door)
- (Harwin yelling)

(shouts) Fire! I will burn!

Harwin!
Ah! Harwin!

(banging)

(yelling)

(both yelling)

♪ ♪

Larys: What are
children, but a weakness?

A folly?

A futility?

Through them, you imagine you cheat

the great darkness of its victory.

(rat squeaking)

You will persist forever,
in some form or another.

As if they will keep you from the dust.

(indistinct yelling)

But for them...

you surrender what you should not.

You may know what is
the right thing to be done,

but... love stays the hand.

♪ ♪

(sniffles)

Love...

is a downfall.

Best to make your way
through life unencumbered...

if you ask me.

They're dead.

You've heard the stories
of Harrenhal, Your Grace.

It was built in hubris
by Harren the Black

as a monument to his own greatness.

Blood mixed into the mortar.

It is said to be a cursed place.

That it passes judgment on all
who pass beneath its gates.

Alicent:
You--

You passed judgment.

The Queen makes a wish.

What servant of the realm
would not strive to fulfill it?

I assume you will write
to your father now?

Larys...

I did not wish for this.

I feel certain you will reward me...

when the time is right.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪