Original subtitles

MEERA REED: Years ago, in the height of summer,

my father told my brother and me a story.

He only told it once, and he refused to speak of it ever again.

When he was a young man, in the Year of the False Spring,

a great southern lord held the largest tourney Westeros had ever seen,

in the largest castle Westeros had ever seen.

Knights and lords from across the Seven Kingdoms made their way,

drawn by the spectacle, and the size of the champion's purse.

Even the King was rumored to be attending.

Though none had seen him in years.

Ours is a small house, and my father had come only to be part of the magnificence,

whose like he'd never see again.

One afternoon, he was walking across the field, enjoying the warm spring day,

when he was set upon by three squires.

None were older than 15, yet all were bigger than him.

This was their world as they saw it, and he had no right to be there.

They snatched away his spear, and knocked him to the ground,

cursing him for a frog-eater.

Every time he tried to rise,

-they shoved him down, -(MAN GROANlNG)

and kicked him when he curled up on the ground.

But then, they heard a shout.

"That's my father's man you're kicking !"

howled the she-wolf.

Lyanna Stark, the young daughter of Lord Rickard Stark,

Warden of the North, and my father's liege lord.

Lyanna laid into the squires with a tourney sword, scattering them all.

My father was bruised and bloodied.

So she took him back to her tent to clean his cuts and bind them up with linen.

There he met her brothers.

Wild Brandon, who led them. The quiet Eddard.

And Benjen, who was the youngest of the four.

That evening there was to be a feast in Harrenhal,

to mark the opening of the tourney.

And Lyanna insisted that my father attend.

As he was of high birth with as much a right to a place on the bench as any other man.

She was not easy to refuse, this wolf maid.

So my father borrowed suitable clothes from Benjen

and went up to the great castle.

Under Harren's great roof, my father ate and drank with his fellow Northmen.

A black brother beseeched the knights to join the Night's Watch,

to snickers and smiles.

Prince Rhaegar sang a song so sad that it brought tears to Lyanna's eyes.

But when Benjen teased her for it she poured wine over his head.

Lord Baratheon drank down a knight of skulls and kisses in a wine cup war.

My father remembered a beautiful woman with purple eyes,

who danced with Ser Barristan Selmy and several others.

As the end of the evening approached,

Brandon Stark asked her for one more dance on his shy brother's behalf.

And so, Eddard Stark shared the last dance of the celebration

with Lady Ashara Dayne.

Abruptly, the hall went quiet.

The Mad King had come after all,

and was now entering the hall with his Kingsguard.

He hadn't left the Red Keep in years, and none could believe the state of him.

His long yellow fingernails, tangled beard, and ropes of unwashed matted hair

made his madness plain to all.

Nor was his behavior that of a sane man.

For in the blink of an eye he could go from hysterical laughter to weeping to rage.

But when he commanded Ser Jaime Lannister to kneel before him

and swear the oath of the Kingsguard before half the lords of the realm,

a cheer burst from the crowd.

For Ser Jaime was much admired for his courage, gallantry

and skill with a sword.

Amidst all this merriment,

my father spied the three squires who'd attacked him, attending their knights.

Lyanna saw them, too, and pointed them out to her brothers.

"l could find you a horse and some armor that might fit," Benjen offered.

My father thanked him, but gave no answer.

Our people sit a boat more often than a horse,

and our hands are made for oars, not lances.

Much as he wished to have his vengeance,

he feared he would only make a fool of himself and shame his people.

Eddard had offered my father a place in his tent that night.

But before my father slept,

he knelt on the lakeshore, looking across the water to the lsle of Faces

and said a prayer to the Old Gods.

The next day in the tourney, the three knights whose squires had beaten my father

unseated their opponents and earned a place among the champions.

But late in the afternoon, as the shadows grew long,

a mystery knight appeared in the lists.

He was short, and clad in ill-fitting armor cobbled together from different suits.

On his shield was painted a heart tree of the Old Gods.

A white weirwood with a laughing red face.

The mystery knight dipped his lance before the King,

and rode to the end of the lists, where the five champions had their pavilions.

You can guess the three he challenged.

Whoever the mystery knight was, the Old Gods gave strength to his arm.

-All three knights fell before him. -(HORSE WHlNNYlNG)

None were well-loved,

so the common folk cheered the "Knight of the Laughing Tree,"

-as the new champion was soon called. -(MEN CHEERlNG)

When his fallen foes sought to ransom their horses and armor,

the Knight of the Laughing Tree's voice boomed through his helm, and told them,

"Teach your squires honor. That shall be ransom enough."

Once the defeated knights chastised their squires sharply,

their horses and armor were returned.

And so, my father's prayer was answered.

The King was furious.

ln his madness he suspected a traitor in his midst.

Perhaps even the newly made Ser Jaime Lannister,

whom he had already sent back to the Red Keep.

That night, the King asked Lord Robert Baratheon to take to the lists

and unmask the mystery knight, declaring him no friend of his.

But the next morning, when the heralds blew their trumpets

and the King took his seat,

the Knight of the Laughing Tree had vanished.

All they ever found was his painted shield, hanging abandoned in a tree.

My father's tale ended here.

He never spoke more of Harrenhal.

Though he must have seen Prince Rhaegar's victory.

Some whispered that Prince Rhaegar himself had arranged the entire tourney in secret,

as a way to gather the great lords and address his father's apparent madness.

Perhaps even remove him from the lron Throne.

But when l asked my father about this,

he only shrugged sadly.

What Rhaegar intended, none can say.

But all know what he did.