All language subtitles for Game of Thrones S04E08 - The Mountain and the Viper

Ready?

"The Rains of Castamere."

You fucking deaf?

Same wrong guess
every fucking time.

Listen, you cunt.

Oh!

"The Bear
and the Maiden Fair."

There's a man with an ear.

Too bad you got
a hangnail for a cock.

First time I saw you
with your breeches down,

I thought you were a eunuch.

You've seen it, girls.

Like a baby snail
peeking out of his shell.

Your baby was crying
this morning.

Woke me up.

You hear me?

Yes.

Well, got anything to say?

I'm sorry he woke you up.

I don't
care if you're sorry.

Keep that baby quiet

or I will.

Don't you ever touch him.

Little wildling bitch.

You should have stayed
with your own kind.

You listening to me?

- Shut your mouth.
- What?

It's just an owl,
you dumb bitch.

No, it's not.

Shh.

I should never
have left her there.

- You couldn't have known.
- Of course I could've known.

They've been raiding
the villages close by.

And we just cower in here while
they slaughter our brothers.

Our brothers had orders
to stay at Castle Black.

So it's all right, then?
Black Jack and Kegs

and Mully chopped to pieces
'cause they broke the rules?

I didn't
say it was all right.

I'm saying they shouldn't
have been there.

We're pledged to guard
the realms of men.

She's dead because of me.

We can't even guard Mole's Town.

We can't go after them.
You know that.

It's what they want.

And little Sam.

As if I cut their thats self.

Maybe she managed
to hide herself.

I thought all of you was dead.

You went north with Mormont
and no one came back.

Not for ages.

But then you did.

She survived Craster

and he was the worst
shit I've ever met.

She survived the long march
to the Wall.

She survived a white walker,
for fuck's sake.

She might have got out.

She might have.

If they hit Mole's Town,

then we're next.

Mance and his army
must be close.

100,000 of them.

And there's what,
105 of us left?

You counting Black Jack,
Kegs, and Mully?

102.

How do 102 men stop 100,000?

Whoever dies last, be a good lad

and burn the rest of us.

Once I'm done with this world,

I don't want to come back.

You think
he was spying on you?

No, not spying.

The Dothraki think
outsiders are ridiculous

taking shame in the naked body.

They make love under the stars
for the whole khalasar to see.

Yes, Your Grace.

But you are not Dothraki.

No.

Well, I don't see
why it matters.

Grey Worm isn't interested.

None of the Unsullied care
what's under our clothes.

He was interested.

What?

I believe he was interested.

When the slavers
castrate the boys,

do they take all of it?

All of it?

The...

the pillar and the stones.

I don't know, Your Grace.

Haven't you ever wondered?

Yes, Your Grace.

Missandei.

The lessons you give I
in common tongue...

these are precious to I.

- To me.
- To me.

I don't remember teaching
you the word precious.

Jorah the Andal,
he teaches I...

he teaches me this word.

Do you remember the name
you were given at birth?

I remember nothing.

Only Unsullied.

When they cut you,

do you remember that?

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry they did that to you.

Why?
Why sorry?

It's a terrible thing
to do to a boy.

If the masters never cut me,

I never am Unsullied.

I never stand in
the Plaza of Pride

when Daenerys Stormborn
to kill the masters.

I never am chosen
to lead the Unsullied.

I never meet Missandei

from the island of Naath.

I am sorry I...

for today.

I am sorry.

Kraken. Mmm.

Strong as long
as they're in the sea.

When you take them
out of the water,

no bones.

They collapse
under their proud weight

and slump into
a heap of nothing.

You'd think they know that.

Unfortunately,
they're not very bright.

What do you tell them?

I'm Theon Greyjoy,

son of Balon,
heir to the Iron Islands.

- And what are you really?
- I'm Reek.

Are you sure?

You do look very much
like a lord.

Formidable, proud.

I'm Reek.

Until when?

Always.

- Forever.
- That's right.

Until you're rotting
in the ground.

Remember what you are
and what you're not.

Bring me Moat Cailin.

No closer.

Who are you?

I'm Kenning,

commander of this garrison.

And you say
you're Theon Greyjoy?

Yes.

And why should I believe that?

I was born on Pyke
to Balon Greyjoy.

His third and last living son.

I am your prince.

I swear it by the Drowned God.

What is dead may never die.

What is dead may never die.

And if you were my prince,

why are you marching
with a Bolton army?

Lord Bolton took me
captive after Winterfell.

He sent me to treat
with you in good faith

as your fellow ironborn.

And what does Lord Bolton want?

You are fading from sickness,

you are badly outnumbered,

and you're hundreds
of miles from the sea.

Lord Bolton implores you
to protect your men

and abandon this fortress
you can no longer hold.

Do this, and he will be
just and fair with you

as he has been with me.

The Boltons will give you safe
passage to the Stony Shore.

He wants us to surrender?

My own father, your king,

surrendered years ago
to Robert Baratheon.

I watched him bend the knee.

There was no shame there.

He fought with honor,
as did you.

"No shame."
"Fought with honor."

I'm sorry, I didn't hear.

"No shame."
"Fought with honor."

Only a whipped dog
would speak this way.

Or a woman.

Are you a woman, boy?

You don't know...

The ironborn will not surrender.

Reek. My name is Reek...

You go tell your master that,

Theon Greyjoy,

or whoever the fuck you are.

My name is Reek.

What in the hell
are you muttering?

I'm Reek.

Reek.

If we yield, we live?

Is that what it says
on this paper here?

Yes. Have your men raise the
white flag and open the gates.

You're going home.

You didn't really think
I'd let them go, did you?

It's fallen out
of fashion, flaying.

Sad, but true.

Traditions are important.

Where are we
without our history?

- Eh?
- Yes, my lord.

Will we go home now?

I believe we will.

To our new home.

You have foreign
blood, don't you, Baelish?

A great-grandfather
from Braavos, yes.

I suppose all of our ancestors

came from somewhere
else originally.

Our forebearers
settled the Vale

thousands of years ago.

We've fought off invaders
ever since.

The beauty of the Vale
is matched only

by the nobility
of its great families.

Lady Arryn often told me

that you were her rock,
Lord Royce.

She told me nothing
about you, Baelish.

But I didn't need
to hear from her.

Moneylender.
Whoremonger.

You've been licking Tywin
Lannister's boots so long,

- it's a wonder your tongue's not black.
- My lord...

And when Jon Arryn named you
Master of Coin, no one cared.

Always been a grubby job.

Why not let a grubby man do it?

But when I heard
you were lurking here,

fawning over
the Lady Arryn...

Lady Arryn invited me.

She and I have been
close since childhood.

Yes, we all know
how close you were.

Lady Arryn's predilections
were her own affair.

Her death is our affair.

Of course. Her suicide
shattered us all.

She was an odd fish.

Everyone knew that.
But suicide?

She adored that boy of hers.

I don't see her abandoning him.
Not by choice.

Strange that within
days of your arrival,

you've married Lady Arryn and she's
fallen through the Moon Door.

She was always prone
to melancholy.

My lady wasn't meant for a
world as brutal as ours.

We were told there was a witness.
A girl.

A niece of yours, I believe.

A girl with no learning
and scattered wits.

I assure you,
she would be of no help.

We'd like to speak with her.

- Let me fetch her.
- No need.

We prefer to hear her
testimony unadulterated.

Come closer, child.

You have nothing
to fear from us or him.

Lord Baelish here is your uncle?

Your name is Alayne?

Perhaps you would feel more comfortable
if Lord Baelish left the room.

- My lady...
- I wasn't asking you.

- He can stay.
- Speak up, girl, you're not a damn kitchen mouse.

Tell us what you saw.

I'm sorry, Lord Baelish.

I have to tell the truth.

I'll tell you everything.

Please, Alayne,
leave nothing out.

My name is not Alayne.

It's Sansa Stark,

eldest daughter
of Lord Eddard Stark.

Lord Royce, we met when
you came to Winterfell.

You were escorting your son
Ser Waymar to the Wall.

Sansa Stark?

You tell lies right to my
face, you little worm?

Lord Baelish has told many lies.

All to protect me.

Since my father was executed,

I have been a hostage
in King's Landing.

A plaything for Joffrey
to torture

or Queen Cersei to torment.

They beat me,
they humiliated me,

they married me to the Imp.

I had no friends
in King's Landing...

except one.

He saved me.

Smuggled me away
when he had the chance.

He knew I'd be safe
here in the Eyrie

with my own blood, my Aunt Lysa.

The Lannisters have
friends everywhere.

Even the Vale.

He made me swear not to
tell anyone my true name.

Your secret is safe
with us, my lady.

Your father grew up
right here in these halls.

We hunted together many times.

He was a fine man.

Tell us what happened
to your aunt, Sansa.

You knew her well,
my lords, my lady.

You knew she was
a troubled woman.

She always loved Lord Baelish.

She told me herself.

From the moment he arrived
at the gates of Riverrun,

a boy of eight carrying everything
he owned in a little sack.

She confessed to me
she never loved Lord Arryn.

She did as her father commanded,
as so many of us have.

When the gods finally allowed
her to be with Lord Baelish,

she was so happy.

For a time.

My aunt was a jealous lady.

She was terrified
that Lord Baelish

didn't love her anymore.

That he would abandon
her for a younger woman.

And then...

one day she saw him kiss me.

Lady Sansa.

It was a peck on the cheek,
Lord Royce, nothing more.

Lord Baelish is my uncle
now, in truth, by marriage.

He's always been so kind to me.

I was so happy to be here,
to be free.

All because of him.

But my aunt turned on me.

She cursed me.
Called me a whore.

Promised to throw me
through the Moon Door.

When Lord Baelish tried
to calm her,

she struck him.

She said she didn't want
to live anymore.

She stood on the edge
of that Moon Door.

He tried to reason with her.

Promised her she was the
only one he had ever loved,

but she stepped through
those doors and she was...

Shh.

Shh, it's not your fault,
sweet girl.

It's not your fault.

You could see it in the
way she raised that boy.

Feeding him from her own teats
when he was 10 years old.

Lord Royce!
This is hardly the time.

Apologies, my lady.

And to you as well, Baelish.

We treated you a bit harshly.

You want justice, Lord Royce.

I can hardly
complain about that.

I want the same.

Not much justice to be meted
out in suicide, is there?

For Lysa, no.
But for her son?

Only 20 years ago,
the knights of the Vale

rode behind Jon Arryn,
Ned Stark, Robert Baratheon.

They fought together
to overcome the Mad King.

And since then, Arryn and Royce,

Corbray, Waynwood,

all the great houses of the
Vale watched from the corner.

A timid boy at a tavern brawl.

Are you questioning our courage?

I want to know
which side you're on.

Do you support the Lannisters,

the house that executed
your friend Ned Stark?

Of course we don't support
the damn Lannisters.

No? Catelyn Stark begged her sister
for support and Lysa refused.

By staying out of the fray,
you've allowed Tywin Lannister

to destroy his rivals
on every compass point.

Who stands against him now?

Who would you have
us back, Lord Baelish?

Robb Stark is dead.

I'd have you back Robin Arryn,

Lord of the Vale.

Robin Arryn is
a sickly little boy.

And sickly little boys
sometimes become powerful men.

More often they die young.

I adored Lysa with all my heart.

But she loved her son so much,
she became overprotective.

He needs to learn
how to swing a sword.

How to ride a horse.

- Aye, it's time.
- Yes, it's time.

Time for him to tour the Vale,

to visit all the castles
in his domain.

Time for Robin
to leave the nest.

Ser Barristan.

Yes?

Who sent you?

- Ser Barristan.
- Ser Jorah.

Have I forgotten
a council meeting?

No.

What's this?

A royal pardon

signed by Robert Baratheon.

You spied on her.

Who gave you this?

Does it matter?

Have you told her?

I wanted to tell you
first, man-to-man

rather than go behind your back.

Let me speak
with her in private.

You'll never be alone
with her again.

Why did the usurper pardon you?

If we could speak alone.

No, speak to me here.

Explain it to me.

Who do you think
sent this to Meereen?

Who profits?

This is the work
of Tywin Lannister.

He wants to divide us.

If we're fighting each other,
we're not fighting him.

The pardon was signed
the year we met.

Why were you pardoned?

Unless you're saying
this document was forged.

It is not forged.

Why, then?

I sent letters to Varys,

the spymaster of King's Landing.

What was the content
of these letters?

- Information.
- What information?

When you and Viserys
arrived in Pentos.

His plan to marry you
to Khal Drogo.

When you were married.

When your brother died.

You told him I was
carrying Drogo's child?

- I...
- Yes or no?

- Khaleesi.
- Don't call me that.

Did you tell him I was
carrying Drogo's child?

Yes.

That wine merchant
tried to poison me

because of your information.

I stopped you
from drinking his wine.

Because you knew it was poisoned.

I suspected.

You betrayed me

from the first.

Forgive me.

I never meant...

please, Khaleesi, forgive me.

You sold my secrets to
the man who killed my father

- and stole my brother's throne...
- I have protected you.

Fought for you.
Killed for you.

And you want me
to forgive you?

I have loved you.

Love?

Love? How can you
say that to me?

Any other man, and I
would have you executed.

But you, I do not want you
in my city dead or alive.

Go back to your masters
in King's Landing.

Collect your pardon if you can.

Daenerys, please.

Don't ever presume
to touch me again

or speak my name.

You have until dusk
to collect your things

and leave this city.

If you're found in Meereen
past break of day,

I'll have your head
thrown into Slaver's Bay.

Go.

Now.

Moat Cailin is yours, Father.

Walk with me.

Has there been
any word from Locke?

No.

Unimportant.

A cripple, a young boy.

None of the northern
lords have seen them.

Dead most likely.

Most of the ironborn
have fled the North.

Now more will follow,
thanks to you.

Tell me what you see.

Moors, fields, hills.

Tell me what you see.

Nothing.

Not nothing.

The North.

Ride 700 miles that way,
you're still in the North.

400 miles that way.

300 miles that way.

The North is larger than the
other six kingdoms combined.

And I am the Warden
of the North.

The North is mine.

Now tell me, what is your name?

Ramsay Snow.

No, not Ramsay Snow.

Open it.

From this day
until your last day,

you are Ramsay Bolton,

son of Roose Bolton,
Warden of the North.

You honor me.

I swear I will uphold your name

and your tradition.

I will be worthy of you, Father,

I promise.

Come, Reek, I'll
be needing a bath.

Yes?

First time I saw you,
you were just a child.

A girl from the North come to
the capital for the first time.

Not a child any longer.

Why did you help me?

They would have thrown you
through the Moon Door

if they found you guilty.

That's not an answer.

If they'd have executed you,

what would they
have done with me?

I don't know.

Neither do I.

Better to gamble
on the man you know

than the strangers you don't?

And you think you know me?

I know what you want.

Do you?

I thought
it'd make me happy,

but it doesn't.
Not really.

Nothing makes you happy.

- Lots of things make me happy.
- Like what?

Killing Polliver, killing Rorge.

So you're sad because you didn't
get to kill Joffrey yourself.

Is that it?

At least I could
have been there to watch.

I wanted to see the look in his
eyes when he knew it was over.

Aye, nothing in the world
beats that look.

You protected him
for most of his life.

You think you
could have saved him?

I wasn't the damn wine taster.

Little shit deserved
to die, but poison...

poison's a woman's weapon.

Men kill with steel.

That's your stupid
pride talking.

It's why you'll never
be a great killer.

I'd have killed Joffrey with
a chicken bone if I had to.

I'd pay good money to see that.

You should have let me burn it.

It's a fleabite.

That fleabite's got you walking
a lot slower than you used to.

Well, we won't have to
walk too much further.

You really think my
aunt will pay for me?

Aye, she'll pay.

I've never even met her.

Doesn't matter.
You're her blood.

Family, honor,
all that horseshit.

It's all you lords
and ladies ever talk about.

I'm not a lady.

Who would
pass the Bloody Gate?

The bloody Hound,
Sandor Clegane.

And his...

traveling companion Arya Stark,

niece of your lady Lysa Arryn.

Then I offer my condolences.

Lady Arryn died.

Three days ago.

I've never left home
before, Uncle Petyr.

- I'm afraid to leave.
- You shouldn't be.

The Lord of the Vale belongs
in the Eyrie, Mother said.

She said it's not safe outside.

It wasn't safe for her inside.

People die
at their dinner tables.

They die in their beds.

They die squatting
over their chamber pots.

Everybody dies sooner or later.

Don't worry about your death.

Worry about your life.

Take charge of your life

for as long as it lasts.

That is what it means
to be Lord of the Vale.

Shall we go?

Wine always helps.

I thank you for it.

Trial by combat.

Deciding a man's guilt
or innocence

in the eyes of the gods

by having two other men
hack each other to pieces.

Tells you something
about the gods.

How much longer?

Soon.

Do you think
Oberyn has a chance?

The Red Viper of Dorne.

You don't get a name like that
unless you're deadly, right?

I've never seen him fight.

Oh, he's going to die.
I'm going to die.

Oberyn believes in himself.

That's putting it mildly.

What's the punishment
for regicide?

Drawing and quartering?
Hanging?

- Breaking at the wheel?
- Beheading.

Seems rather ordinary.

And he was my nephew
as well, so what is that?

Fratricide is brothers.

Filicide is sons.

Nepoticide.
That's the one.

Matricide, patricide,

infanticide, suicide.

There's no kind of killing that
doesn't have its own word.

Cousins.

Cousins, you're right.

There is no word
for cousin killing.

Well done.

Do you remember cousin Orson?
Orson Lannister?

Of course. Wet-nurse
dropped him on his head.

- Left him simple.
- Simple?

Used to sit all day
in the garden.

Crushing beetles with a rock.

Nothing made him happier.

Nothing made you happier.

You'd think being
tormented from birth

would have given you some
affinity for the afflicted.

On the contrary. Laughing
at another person's misery

was the only thing that made
me feel like everyone else.

The joke wore thin, though.

For you.
You drifted away.

I had other interests.

Yes, other interests.

But I stayed with Orson.

Why?

I was curious.

Why was he smashing
all those beetles?

What did he get out of it?

First thing I did was ask him.

"Orson, why are you smashing
all those beetles?"

He gave me an answer.
"Smash the beetles.

Smash 'em."

I wasn't deterred.

I was the smartest
person I knew.

Certainly I had the wherewithal
to unravel the mysteries

that lay at the heart
of a moron.

So I went to
Maester Volarik's library.

Volarik.
Tried to touch me once.

Turns out, far too much has
been written about great men

and not nearly enough
about morons.

Doesn't seem right.

In any case, I found nothing

that illuminated the nature
of Orson's affliction

or the reason behind his
relentless beetle slaughter.

So I went back to the source.

I may not have been able
to speak with Orson,

but I could observe him,
watch him

the way men watch animals

to come to a deeper understanding
of their behavior.

And as I watched,

I became more and more
sure of it.

There was something
happening there.

His face was like
the page of a book

written in a language
I didn't understand.

But he wasn't mindless.
He had his reasons.

And I became possessed
with knowing what they were.

I began to spend inordinate
amounts of time watching him.

I would eat my lunch
in the garden,

chewing my mutton
to the music of...

And when I wasn't watching
him, I was thinking about him.

Father droned on about
the family legacy

and I thought about
Orson's beetles.

I read the histories
of Targaryen conquests.

Did I hear dragon wings?
No.

I heard...

And I still couldn't figure
out why he was doing it.

And I had to know,
because it was horrible

that all these beetles should
be dying for no reason.

Every day around the world,

men, women, and children
are murdered by the score.

Who gives a dusty fuck
about a bunch of beetles?

I know, I know. But still,
it filled me with dread.

Piles and piles of them,
years and years of them.

How many countless living
crawling things

smashed and dried out
and returned to the dirt?

In my dreams I found myself

standing on a beach
made of beetle husks

stretching as far
as the eye could see.

I woke up crying,

weeping for their
shattered little bodies.

I tried to stop Orson once.

He was twice your size.

He just pushed me
aside with a "kuuh"

and kept on smashing.

Every day until that mule

kicked him in the chest
and killed him.

So what do you think?

Why did he do it?

What was it all about?

I don't know.

Good luck today.

Looks like very light armor.

I like to move around.

You could at least
wear a helmet.

You shouldn't drink
before a fight.

You learn this during your
years in the fighting pits?

I always drink before a fight.

It could get you killed.
It could get me killed.

Today is not the day I die.

You're going to fight that?

I'm going to kill that.

He is the biggest man
I've ever seen.

Size does not matter when
you are flat on your back.

Thank the gods.

In the sight of gods and men,

we gather to ascertain

the guilt or innocence
of this...

man Tyrion Lannister.

May the Mother grant them mercy.

May the Father give them
such justice as they deserve.

And may the Warrior
guide the hand...

of our champion...

Don't leave me
alone in this world.

Never.

Have they told you who I am?

Some dead man.

I am the brother
of Elia Martell.

Do you know why I have come
all the way to this stinking

shit-pile of a city?

For you.

I'm going to hear you
confess before you die.

You raped my sister.

You murdered her.

You killed her children.

Say it now and we can
make this quick.

Say it.
You raped her.

You murdered her.

You killed her children.

You raped her!

You murdered her!

You killed her children!

You raped her!

You murdered her!

You killed her children!

Wait.
Are you dying?

No, no, no.

You can't die yet.
You haven't confessed.

Say it.

Say her name.
Elia Martell.

You raped her.
You killed her children.

Elia Martell.

Who gave you the order?

Who gave you the order?!

Say her name!

You raped her!
You murdered her!

You killed her children.

Say it.
Say her name.

Say it!

Elia Martell.

I killed her children.

Then I raped her.

Then I smashed her head
in like this!

The gods have made
their will known.

Tyrion Lannister,

in the name of King Tommen
of the House Baratheon,

First of His Name,

you are hereby
sentenced to death.