All language subtitles for House Of The Dragon (2022) S03E05 Unbowed and Unbent.en

Another crossing burned.

We might never
reach Tumbleton.

So how long will it take you
to build the bloody thing again?

We will have to find
another crossing,

- take the long way round.
- The queen will abhor
this delay.

Lord Piper, take 100
of your fastest riders

and make for Stoney Sept.

Secure the barge
and transit there.

That puts us back by a week,

but we can do no better.

It's our last chance
to ford the river

with an army of this size.

Will we continue
to suffer this Cole

and his band
of hangers-on?

They flit about us
like fucking deer flies,

another thing that we
do not endure in the North.

Better deer flies
than frostbite.

But Criston Cole
I am past enduring,

North or South.

Then loose my wolves
and me on the hunt,

and we will bring him down.

Or we could play
at his game.

Ambush!

We're under attack!

To the next crossing, then?

They'll make for Stoney Sept

and we'll once more
be ahead of them.

Fall back!

If I'd have known
we were expecting guests,

I would have made up the beds.

We're looking for
Aemond Targaryen,

- the Kinslayer.
- Ah, yes.
There's been a horde of you

since the ungrateful queen
announced her bounty.

Well, you won't find
your quarry here.

There's an old man
who churns the butter,

but he's blind in both eyes.

And the boy
who feeds the horses.

And then there are the ghosts.

Seems you have not learned
the history of this place

and the laborers who built it...

who died here in chains...

in service to
Harren the Cruel.

This castle breathes.

She swallows the greedy,
the heedless.

Her founding stones
were watered with
the blood of men.

And she's always thirsty.

Oi! You bloody craven?!

Fuck this place.

Can you hear me?

Stay back! Stay back!

My-- my brother.
Aegon, he was here.

His face was on fire.

I saw him.
He was clutching at me,

dragging me down
into the dark.

- My-- my brother.
- It's just the dream again.
That's all.

It's just the dream again.

She saw it.

She said I would die,
that I ruined everything.

No.

Mother.

None may enter,
save at our queen's direction.

It is a matter
of some delicacy.

I'm not certain how familiar you
are with disorders of the, um...

female persuasion.

Hm?

I must thank you again
for your loyalty, Grand Maester.

I flatter myself to think
that I have ever been

a faithful servant
to Your Grace.

More than that,
you've been a friend.

But we have now
a new queen.

And I find myself
under some scrutiny.

I fear I can
no longer offer you

assistance after today

without making
the proper disclosures.

I understand.

I don't want it.

You must.

It could be a boy.
Do you see?

Aegon's heir,
a rival to Joffrey.

To Rhaenyra herself.

She will kill it.
She will have no choice.

Or if she does not,
she will take it from you.

Aemond still lives,
as far as we know.

He's at Harrenhal.

No, he was there,
but he has fled.

- He's vanished.
- I have seen him.

He burns,
but without fire.

If Aemond threatens
Rhaenyra's rule,

she will use the child
as her shield.

I can't do it.

Helaena, please.
Please.

For your own sake,
do you not wish to be free?

I can't.

- No. No.
- Think of it, think of it
as a cup of tea.

Nothing more.

But it isn't.

No. No, it's not.
Listen to me.

Listen to me,
it is a blessing.

It is a remedy

taught to the masters
of the Citadel.

It has delivered me
from disgrace and ruin.

It has delivered Rhaenyra
herself when she was young.

And it will deliver you, too.

- Helaena. Please, please.
- No.

Listen to me.

Will you bear a child

who will be never more
than a hostage or a pawn?

It's mine!

It's my own, it's mine!

I had hoped
a seat on the council
would suffice

as recompense for
House Frey's loyalty.

But Harrenhal
was to be our recompense,

payment for giving
your Winter Wolves

passage across the Twins,
promised by your own son.

- My son is dead.
- And now, I discover

that you have pledged
our castle as a trophy,

free to any hedge knight
who can bring you the head

- of Aemond Targaryen.
- You, yourself,
are welcome to try.

Cregan Stark's army
has crossed the Trident,

and we expect the crown's
word to be honored,

no matter
if some grubby sellsword

has dubbed himself
Lord of Harrenhal
in the meanwhile.

For now, however,

I would be pleased
to join Your Grace's council.

What could anyone possibly
want in Wendish Town?

Not Wendish Town
itself, Your Grace,

but a small village
at the outskirts.

There were
several farms burned,

and the men we talked to were
certain it was Vhagar herself.

The Sea Snake's bastard,
now a dragonrider.

- That's his brother.
- Lord Darry is our ally.

Aemond may be
provoking us.

By sacking a farm or three?
To what end?

Dragons need to eat.

The White Worm, she was called.

But they are fugitives.
We will root them out
soon enough.

- The whore.
- Mm-hmm.

There was
a skirmish last night
at the Dragon Gate.

Horses were required
to dispel it.

If only the Lady Mysaria
had been there

with her promised bread
and ladlefuls of stew.

Or if, by some miracle,
the king consort's City Watch

had shown a penny's
worth of restraint

pursuing the pettiest of crimes,

- the pettiest of criminals--
- Did anyone see
where Vhagar flew?

We went with all speed
to take up the trail,

but it was two days cold.

Once again,
Aemond is nowhere to be found.

Two of our gold cloaks
were found dead

in the street this morning.

Put to the blade
by an unknown hand.

Where was this?

- Flea Bottom.
- Flea Bottom.

Mm, has ever been
a realm unto itself.

Quite ungovernable,
full of undesirables.

Vhagar appears while
Ormund Hightower

gathers himself at Tumbleton
to some hidden purpose.

We need not waste our sweat
fretting over a fox

gone to ground.
If you will not burn him...

- He is not a f--
- ...then my army

will root him out
soon enough.

As to that,
there is fresh news

from Lord Tully's camp.

Their march has been slowed
by interference

from Ser Criston Cole
and his men.

River crossings are being burned
before the army can reach them.

Go back to the Riverlands.

If Aemond has
shown himself once,
he may do so again.

Take no risk,
but ascertain his path,
his purpose.

If I may, Your Grace.

We arrived back
only this morning.

The Lady Baela has not eaten,
much less slept.

I am more than ready to fly.

It will not serve us
if your eyes are weary

and your beast fatigued.

I will send Daemon.

I will go once I have dealt
with this business in the city.

Our fallen soldiers.
An accounting must be made.

- Do you not agree?
- I am able, Your Grace.

The loss to our City Watch

is a crime, to be sure,
but Ser Luthor will investigate.

- It is not a matter
for the crown.
- They are my men.

And we depend
on those men now
to secure your rule.

Especially since their wages
have been withheld.

- Your Grace.
- Not now.

Is it always like this?

Mm.

Daemon.

Have I somehow found myself
back on Dragonstone?

That my voice must again
compete with yours?

On the contrary.
I have pledged to
fulfill your command.

Just... later.

I'm in no mood to jest.
What does it make of me

if you will obey me
only at a time and place
of your own choosing?

You are the queen.

I act in your interest.

Good.
My interest is Vhagar.

Mine too.
But we have time enough.

Aemond is afraid.

He has fled
once already before you.

- We are in no danger.
- There is treachery somewhere,

and I seek to uncover it.

What you seek is revenge.

And gods know
I do not grudge you that,

but revenge may wait.

At this moment, there is
a disturbance in your city,

and you, yourself,
are its likely cause.

I did not ask Ser Luthor
to be brutal.

You need not have
asked him anything at all.

Will you let yourself
be rattled by vapid taunts,

by the painting of stripes
on tavern walls?

They are more than taunts.
They are an insult to my sons.

A challenge
to my very legitimacy.

You are the Queen of Dragons.

Your strength
is your legitimacy.

Your Grace?

Glad news.

Young Prince Joffrey
has returned this hour
from the Vale.

I'm told he's asked for you.

I will come to him
when I'm able.

I'm sure he's tired.

It is long past
the nightingale.

I don't care.

Which way is West?

I have no idea.

- If I may say, Your Grace--
- I'm not going back.

- We have nowhere else to go.
- You heard what I did.

Vhagar has been sighted
at Wendish Town.

Two days ago.
Who knows where
she may be now?

Well, Harrenhal, then.
Someone there
will know something.

Look, Aemond must have left
a-- a message or a sign.

- We can pick up his trail.
- It's 100 leagues

to Harrenhal,
Your Grace, and the fields

and woods are teeming
with Rivermen.

This is more than a folly.
It is dangerous.

Fucking seven fucking hells!

What would you do
if you found him, hm?

Your brother
is a coiled viper,

and you are--
you are hungry,

and broken, and spent,
and we are alone.

If we were to be discovered--

Stop telling me
what I can't do!

This is his fault.

Everything.

Every one of my miseries
is of his making,

and I swear
before the Warrior himself,

I'm going to find him
and fucking kill him

or die in the attempt.

Hm.

You know me, I think.

By reputation.

It is my privilege now
to listen

to the whispers
of the Red Keep.

- The guests you receive...
- What is it that you want?

...and the gifts they bring.

Show it to me.

My daughter has been unwell.

As you see, she suffers
terrible headaches.

The maester is kind enough
to tend to her.

And yet the flask is full.

I took a lover after Viserys.

The queen herself
knows the truth of it.

I was careless,
to my shame.

It's a difficult thing,
but I should no longer delay.

Was he a lord or a commoner?

Or perhaps both?

I must appeal to you,
Lady Mysaria.

You of all people
must understand the...

the indignities
we women endure.

There is surely no need for this
to be spoken of again.

You would not, of course,
seek to deceive the queen.

I am her prisoner.

As you were once,
if I'm not mistaken.

As you say.

Have you ever seen
the Hightower

at Oldtown, Ser Criston?

I've heard tell of it.

Ormund and I had a game,

to "run the tower."

You'd start at the base
before dawn

and aim to be the first one
to see the sun rise

from the beacon.

Of course, I let him win.

He was a thin-skinned twat
even then.

Mm.

At that moment,
when the sun rises

over the Seven Kingdoms,

hundreds and hundreds
of miles...

I hope to show it
to you one day.

You could make a home
at Oldtown, Ser Criston.

A knight of your stature
would be most welcome...

to serve our house there.

Halt! Stay back!

Stay clear!

Hold your ground!

Stand your ground!

Crow's feet.

Gods.

Are they ahead of us?

Your hand was heavier
than warranted by the crime.

I was well schooled
in those manners, was I not?

I had the finest of captains.

In any case,
the queen wanted it stopped.

The queen's son is dead.
She must be excused
her impulses.

- Oh, you'd have me refuse her?
- No, rather temper her.

Tend to her humors.
Not every whim

needs to be pursued
with equal vigor.

You know, they cut their bowels
as well as their throat.

Did they tell you that?

Good men dying in agony
in their own shit.

We will pay the villains
back in kind.

What is the mood
among the men?

They complain about their wages,
or lack of them.

I shall address them.

A rousing speech from
the Rogue Prince himself.

I'm not sure
that's gonna make up
for a steady wage anymore.

If I lead them,
they will follow.

It's been a minute

since you were
the Prince of Flea Bottom.

Most of the men were in
swaddling clothes when you--

What is our standing?

Battlements are being raised
with haste, my lord.

But we lack in timber,
and men, and time.

Then levy more conscripts,

and fell every tree
from here to Bitterbridge.

We must secure our walls.

Rhaenyra's host is surely
on the march.

The maester tells me you've been
most assiduous in your lessons.

We are making a study
on my forebears

on the Hightower side.

I mean, their battles,
their enemies.

It has been three days
now spent in the pursuit

of these dry histories.

Dry, did you say?

No. Of course not.

Or rather, they may
seem dry at first glance,

but to learn fr...

To venerate our ancestors,

that is a noble task.

And I'm grateful for it.

Good.

It would please me
to hear you recite.

We have parsed out
the conflicts

between House Greyjoy
and Houses Peake

and Osgrey and Gardener,

House Dayne of Dorne--

And Meria Martell?

The Yellow Toad of Dorne.

I should have a word
with your tutor.

She was the only woman
ever to have been gifted

with a truly military mind.

Though the gods divested her
of beauty in turn.

A blind princess.

Hideous, hairless,
thick of waist.

She does not sound
so formidable.

When Aegon the Conqueror
claimed her lands,

she refused to submit.

She declared him a usurper.

And all those
that marched for him,

traitors to the Seven Kingdoms.

And she swore that Dorne

would ever be unbowed, unbent.

A great host descended
from the Red Mountains,

we Hightowers
regrettably among them.

Meria poisoned her own wells,

hid her soldiers
in the very sand of the desert.

Her castle,
when they found it, was empty.

They thought that
she was vanquished.

But she rose up
out of the darkness

and slaughtered them
in their beds.

Is she a hero, then?
Or a villain?

The Targaryens knew
nothing of our civilization,

the Faith, the Citadel.

What they had,

what they still have,
is strength.

Their armies,
the obscenity of their dragons.

Meria Martell
outwitted her enemy.

A cunning mind can resist
the most savage of beasts.

And Dorne remains
unbroken even today.

I was lucky.

Let us start again.

Never apologize for victory.

I have had these made.

Do you think it
a good likeness?

You are the sign our allies
have been waiting for.

The son of Viserys,
the beacon shining
from the High Tower.

From the lowliest
of the faithful

to Borros Baratheon himself.

Oh. No, you can't touch that.

Helaena?

Do you know why?

They eat the leaves
of the nightshade,

but that would be death
for you or me.

It's a puzzle.

Jaehaera, come with me.

Come.

Listen now, dearest.
We must leave here.

This very evening.

There seems to be
some trouble in the city,

and some of Rhaenyra's soldiers
must go to help the City Watch.

We will have one guard tonight
instead of two.

Your necklace.

I tendered it to a maid.
She will help us.

There is a hidden door that
leads out in Aemond's chamber.

Below the keep
and beyond its walls.

The one the men used
when they came to kill my boy?

The room is Baela's now.

And she will no doubt
be out hunting.

With luck, we may escape

and-- and melt into the streets
of King's Landing.

And Jaehaera?

Her room is guarded.

If she were to cry out,
even once...

- then that would be the end.
- I will not leave her.

The road ahead
will not be safe for her.

Here, she has nursemaids
to care for her,

and-- and Rhaenyra
will-- will not harm her.

Her rivals would never
raise a girl up to rule, and...

and it-- it might be prudent,

in fact, for the queen
to take the child to ward.

We may even be able to--
to send for her one day.

You look away when you lie.

It has been days
since Vhagar was here.

She feeds, then eludes us.

We have traversed the Trident
50 times in the last fortnight.

For now, we must rest.

Could Aemond be crossing
into the Westerlands to hide?

The Lannisters are allies,

and there are caves and crannies
aplenty in those mountains.

And I'll be pleased
to explore them with you

when you've had a sleep
and a meal.

- He may be moving by night--
- Baela!

- My lady.
- It is well enough for you.

The queen sees you
as her talisman,

a sign from the gods, but I--

It wasn't your fault.

She won't look at me.

And I cannot say I blame her.

The truth is, Addam,
I wanted to go.

I saw myself a hero.

Turning the tide
of a great battle and...

proving my worth
to the realm.

I have the same desire,
as do others.

It is pride,
and I am punished for it.

My future was ordained.

I was one day to be queen.

My path lay straight before me,
and now--

Your path has vanished.

Though it has been replaced, perhaps.

By an adventure.

I'll be married off,
likely enough,

to some ancient,
self-regarding lord in Pyke,

with enough hoarded gold
to pay Rhaenyra's debts.

And then,
I'll come and find you.

And we'll fly to exile.

But only if we eat first.

Vhagar!

She's gone.

No.

No, no, she will not
abandon me.

I know only that she flew
in the night

and I did not see where.

Maybe she was afraid.

Am I a prisoner?

No.

Without her, I'm nothing.

- You are mistaken.
- I must find her.

And how will you do that
if the dragon has fled?

The queen hunts her as well.

The queen?

I told you,
King's Landing has fallen.

I thought I dreamed it.

Aegon?

The queen says he's dead.

And that you killed him.

Though I do not know
how much of that to believe.

He is dead because
he will not let me be.

He...

he tormented me.

My childhood...

I worshiped him.

And yet our mother...

Sometimes...

the child that grieves her...

is the one a mother loves best.

Hm?

Who are you?

One that has been grieved.

Go on.

Say it.

My dragon is dead.

I'm a pathetic cripple.

And there is
no possible scenario

in which I make it
to Wendish Town

to kill my stupid
fucking brother.

Now as you should say,
should we--

should we return to the camp,
Your Grace?

I do not care to be
discovered here unguarded,

and less so
when darkness falls.

He was Cole's little pet,
do you remember?

A prodigy with the sword.

Father withdrew me from
the tournaments, of course.

Can't even remember
the pretext anymore.

Probably just afraid
that I'd fall off my horse.

So, I had to sit
and applaud him.

Aemond the champion.

And such a quick student.

Fucking fluent
in High Valyrian.

I'm sure he thought
I was a terrible king,

but what I could have been
if I was...

...given his fucking advantages.

And Mother indulged him.

She loved him more,
is the truth of it.

Poor darling Aemond
and his scabby little eye.

And now he's killed me,
and the whole fucking
realm knows it.

- I must say, Your Grace.
- What?

All this time
we've been together...

from the moment
you were injured, in fact,

flying drunk into a battle
to which you were not invited...

you've done nothing
but whinge

and self-flagellate
with a tenacity

I find astonishing.

You, who had
every advantage in life.

You, who had every
chance to shine.

Firstborn son,
prince of the realm,

the finest tutors,
the finest knights

instructing you in the sword.

A dragon so beautiful,
they named him
after the sun itself.

You could have risen
to greatness.

But instead, you trampled
your birthright in the mud.

You lazed...

reveling in mediocrity...

fucking anything in sight
and drinking yourself

into oblivion with
your sycophantic friends.

I will tell you the truth.

You were a terrible king.

But worse than that...

you are a terrible man.

Don't.

They said you were here.

I thought there
was some mistake.

They require of me,
perhaps,

just some show
of deference, or regard.

- The people or the Seven?
- Both.

There can be no harm
in it, at the least.
You could try it.

Four of my men lie dead.

Six, if you count the two
from yesterday.

All gold cloaks,
all killed in the same way.

Throats cut.

You are tired.

You hear the wind
in these vaulted towers

and imagine their omens
when there are none.

Hm? These are men only.

- Nothing more.
- Then why can't you find them?

You are more than this.

This costs us precious time.

That is no doubt their goal.

They knew we would
leave the road

when we abandoned
our mounts.

This land may be theirs,
but even they
could not cause thorns

and brambles to spring
from the earth in our path.

And men are talking
of desertion.

Ser Criston. Friend.

They see no sense
in continuing with this plan
and to speak truth,

nor do I. We grow weak.

- Stoney Sept
still lies far ahead.
- Mm.

If we leave the track here...

cut straight
through the lowlands
toward the crossing,

we may yet still
gain a day or two
over Tully's host.

Just hire the fucking ship.

What ship might that be?

Seven hells.

He's gone.
My lady, be quick.

You said the nurse
would meet us with Jaehaera.

And so she will,
at the other end.

- Where?
- Come, now. Quickly.

Did you imagine
I wouldn't be watching?

So it is she

who is with child.

An inconvenient heir.

There is no need
for Rhaenyra to hear
of what transpired tonight.

I will keep no more secrets
from the queen.

And what will be the result
if you tell her?

We are already at her mercy.

In but a short time,
Helaena's condition
will make itself known,

as these things
cannot help but do.

It is not for me to decide.

I heard tell of the White Worm.

Years ago.

She dealt in secrets
and extortion,

and I knew men
who feared her.

She had the cunning
to play all sides,

not just lapdog to the queen.

These are rich words
in the mouth of a Hightower.

I simply urge you
to think of yourself.

There is good
in Rhaenyra, but...

the crown is a weight
that crushes.

Rhaenyra will do in the end
what she has to do,

and what she has to do
will be dire.

There is only one who can walk
that path with her,

and she chose him long ago.

She knows what Daemon is.

They have ever been
two sides of a coin...

as much as she may deny it.

Her attentions
may be on you now,

that you bathe in the warm light
of her gaze, but...

will you stake so high a wager

on the whims
of a dragonrider?

I want to go out.

- Not now, dearest.
- Yes.

I need to see the moon.

The window will have to do.

Speak,
and you serve no one,

you gain the queen
no advantage.

But if you say nothing,
no harm is done.

You earn yourself favor
with the Hightowers...

if a time should come
when you have need of it.

He tried to stay awake
for you, Your Grace.

Come on, keep moving!

Keep moving now!

Forward.

Leave him!
Leave him where he fell.

Where is he?

Aemond One-Eye.
We know he's been here.

Good ser,
this has become tiresome.

I'm of a mind to send a message
to the queen myself.

He's not here.

- He has never been here.
- She's lying.

I've heard about you, witch.

She's no witch.
She's an imbecile.

Cast out and wandering.
Touched in the head.

Though not in the cunny
for too long, I think.

Will you speak to me thus

in the very shadow
of my fortress?

It's been weeks
since I've had a woman.

I'm going to fuck you
and make you my salt wife.

Ah!

Seems you've taken a turn
for the better.

In Essos, we can
secrete His Grace

until the time is right
for his return.

But we are watched now.
We can linger here no longer.

- You risk his safety
merely by speaking--
- An ocean passage beset

by pirates, and dragons,
and storms, and then what?

Eating dates and incense
while Westeros

- is reduced to ash?
- His Grace is in
no state to fight.

Neither would he tolerate
the Braavosi heat.

- The monkeys alone--
- You surprise me, Lannister.

Such a distaste
for the foreign.

I have lived
with these people.

Do you forget?
I've eaten with them,

fought with them,
shared everything
with them, even their...

Yes?

I know what they are.

In Braavos, I have prepared
the means for us

to live in a manner
as befits His Grace.

- We can ascertain--
- He is the king, Larys.

Not some chip for you to hold
until such time as benefits you.

- I have men riding with me--
- Sellswords.

Cheaply bought,
by the look of them.

We need only bring him
to Lannisport,

where he will be sheltered.

From there, we may summon
and command what strength

- remains to us.
- Yes, no doubt it would be
the making of the Lannisters

to declare Casterly Rock
the new seat of the king.

Do you think even now
of your own advancement?

Oh, begging your pardon,
most selfless of servants.

I was only risking my life
at sea for our common cause.

Gregor, is it?

It seems I missed
the salient moment when
His Grace made you Hand.

You may call me "Your Grace."

There is an evil spirit afoot.
This is no man, I tell you.

Do not shame yourself, Ned.
We're knights, not infants.

But we will find these cravens

and make a grim example
of them.

We are hunters.
Not prey.

- Hunters get paid.
- It's not safe out there!

Enough.

You and I are the protectors
and keepers

of the greatest Citadel
in all of Westeros.

The governing seat
of a mighty realm.

Without the City Watch,
without us...

these streets would echo
with the cries of insurrection.

The alleys of King's Landing
would boil

with corruption and depravity.

I look to you now
to uphold your vows

to the city and to the throne.

Trust in your queen,
and I pledge you,

you will be repaid twice over

for the sacrifices
you make now.

And in the years to come,

as Dorne finally
bends the knee...

...as Rhaenyra's
great empire grows

and the Seven Kingdoms
become Nine,

become Twelve,
become the new Valyria.

When I return with wagons

spilling over with silks
and silver,

who will be the first...

...to celebrate in the spoils
of conquest?

We will!

Groups of three and four!

No man walks alone.

Woodgard, Owtram,
you oversee the market square.

It seems
the Lord of Flea Bottom

has not been
altogether forgotten.

We've apprehended someone,
Your Grace.

At River Row.

Then he will be the first
to be repaid.

Fall in!

Stoney Sept beyond the rise!

What is it?

The Rivermen have crossed.

And burned the bridge
behind them.

We can no longer delay
their march.

So we failed.

How many others?

Who was with you?

I was the only one.
I swear it.

- I acted alone.
- Under whose instruction?

I never saw his face,
I told you.

The tongue or the eye?

The eye.

It was the king, he said!
Please!

He said it was the king's work
I was to be about.

It was Aegon then.

No.

L-Look.

In my boot.

Compliments of King
Daeron Targaryen, he said.

For killing traitors
to his throne.

No! No! Please!

There's none who
may say that you did not give

your best effort.

Perhaps this is the best
we could have hoped for.

We've made our mark
and returned alive...

...to Tumbleton, perhaps...

to find out what Ormund
has planned.

I thank you for your offer,
Ser Gwayne.

But my path is set before me.

And what is--
what is that path?

We'll raft the river.

Or swim it.

It was one thing
to obstruct them,
Ser Criston, but...

you must see they've gained
the advantage.

What more can we do?

We will join them...

in battle.

Face them head on.

We have half the men
that we set out with.

There are 200 Rivermen
for every one of us.

That-- you...

It would march us
towards certain death.

This was your goal,
wasn't it?

All along.

Our fate was always assured,
Ser Gwayne.

When we set out,
we were doomed...

to death and defeat.

I have offered you sanctuary.

Or at least the hope of one.

You have offered me
service to your house.

I am grateful.

But I have-- I have been
a servant all my life.

To green or to black.

I have defined myself
by oaths...

through unyielding devotion.

And the highborn
have made much of me

while it pleased them to do so.

But I will not let them
diminish me now.

I will not return spurned...

rejected.

I am the realm's
greatest warrior.

And I will die as such.

Clear-eyed.

Unbent.

Glorious in battle.

And not in their service, finally.

But in my own.

And they will sing songs of it.

And Queen Alicent herself
will hear them.

The plan is to rebuild
the fleet at Driftmark,

but it will take time.

The Velaryon resources
are diminished.

A condition with which
I am all too familiar.

The king consort, Your Grace.

My prince.

The price
of our humiliation.

- What is this?
- Who is this.

Young Daeron Targaryen.

Ormund has declared him king.

We should have burned them
when we had the chance.

We have endured much.

Suffered much.

This I know.

And though we languish now...

in the darkness...

we will not lose heart.

Come to bed.

She hears something.

The Seven
watch over us even now.

Look.

Let the Maiden
grant us vision.

For the way ahead
is blessed.

Let the Warrior
lend us his sword

that we do not falter
in our resolve.

And the Smith...

Let's go.

Let the Smith bless us
with his strength.

The Crone lights our way.

Ours is the path
of righteousness.

Ser Luthor?

Careful.

The Mother gives her comfort.

The Father, his protection.

No. No, it's blocked.

We have to go back.

There is no way back,
the door is shut!

No, no, no, no, no! No!

And the Stranger...

The Stranger offers us rest.