All language subtitles for Game of Thrones - 2x03 - What is Dead May Never Die.HDTV.fqm.en

( Theme music playing )

♪ Game of Thrones 2x03 ♪
What Is Dead May Never Die
Original Air Date on April 15, 2012

== sync, corrected by elderman ==

♪

Out, all of you.

Bastard's been meddling
where he shouldn't!

I want you and your men

gone.

And you will make
this right.

Wait outside.

- Lord Commander.
- Now!

- Lord Commander.
- Leave us.

What did you do?

I followed him.

He took the baby
into the woods, the newborn.

What business is that
of yours?

No, you don't understand.

He's killing them,
all the boys.

You know.

The wildlings serve
crueler Gods than you or I.

Those boys
are Craster's offerings.

Offerings?

He's murdering his own children.
He's a monster.

Aye, many a time that monster
has been the difference

between life and death
for our Rangers.

Your Uncle among them.

We have other wars
to fight out there.

Like it or not,
we need men like Craster.

I...

I saw it.

I saw...

Something take
that child.

Yeah.

Whatever it was,

I daresay
you'll see it again.

Now ready my horse.

We leave at dawn.

Don't lose it again.

Gilly.

You're leaving.

I-- I wanted
to give you something.

It belonged
to my mother.

- I can't take it.
- Please.

I want you to.

My mother used it
for sewing.

She'd let me sit with her
in her chamber while she sewed

and I'd read to her.

My father put a stop
to it when he found out.

It's the only thing
I have of hers.

She gave it to me
before I left for the Wall.

You--

you shouldn't
give it away.

I'm not giving it away.

I'm giving it to you.

Keep it safe for me.

Till I come back.

Hodor.

Hodor.

Rouse Bran, will you?
It's time for his lessons.

Every night it's the same.

I'm walking

and running, but...

I'm not--
I'm not me.

I'm running
through the Godswood,

sniffing the dirt,

tasting blood in my mouth when
I've made a fresh kill,

howling.

Old Nan used to
tell me stories

about magical people
who could live

inside stags,
birds, wolves.

That's exactly
what they are, Bran--

- stories.
- So she was lying?

- They don't exist?
- Well, they may have done.

But they're gone
from the world

along with much else.

These are dreams, Bran,

nothing more.

No, my dreams
are different.

Mine are true.

I dreamt of my father dying.

And Rickon had
the same dream.

What about all the dreams
you had that didn't come true?

Hmm?

Right.

This link is made
of Valyrian steel.

Only one Maester in 100
wears it on his chain.

It signifies that I have
studied the higher mysteries.

And all who study these mysteries
try their hand at spells.

I was no different.

I was young.

And what boy doesn't secretly
wish for hidden powers

to lift him out of his
dull life into a special one?

But in the end,
for all my efforts,

I got no more out of it
than 1,000 boys before me.

Come on.

All right.

Maybe magic once was
a mighty force in the world.

But not anymore.

The Dragons are gone.

The Giants are dead.

And the Children
of the Forest forgotten.

Loras!
Highgarden!

Get him!

Oh!

Yield!
I yield.

Well fought.
Approach.

Rise.
Remove your helm.

You are all your father
promised and more, My Lady.

I've seen Ser Loras
bested once or twice,

but never quite
in that fashion.

Now, now, my love. My brother
fought valiantly for you.

That he did, my Queen.

But there can only be
one champion.

Brienne of Tarth,

you may ask anything
of me you desire.

If it is within my power,
it is yours.

Your Grace,

I ask the honor of a place
in your Kingsguard.

What?

I will be one of your seven,
pledge my life to yours,

and keep you safe
from all harm.

Done.

Rise, Brienne
of the Kingsguard.

Your Grace, I have the honor to
bring you Lady Catelyn Stark,

sent as an envoy by her son Robb,
Lord of Winterfell.

Lord of Winterfell
and King in the North.

Lady Catelyn.
I'm pleased to see you.

May I present my wife
Margaery of House Tyrell?

You are very welcome
here, Lady Stark.

I'm so sorry
for your loss.

You are most kind.

My Lady,

I swear to you I will see
the Lannisters answer

for your husband's murder.

When I take King's Landing,

I'll bring you
Joffrey's head.

It will be enough to know that
justice was done, My Lord.

Your Grace.

And you should kneel
when you approach the King.

There's no need for that.
Lady Stark is an honored guest.

Has your son marched against
Tywin Lannister yet?

I do not sit on
my son's war councils.

And if I did, I would not share his
strategies with you.

If Robb Stark wants a pact with us,
he should come himself,

not hide behind
his mother's skirts.

My son is fighting a war,

not playing at one.

Don't worry, My Lady.

Our war is just beginning.

- Your Grace.
- Gerard.

- How's your foot?
- Better, Your Grace.

They don't know
their own size is all.

Good man.

I have 100,000 men
at my command.

All the might of the Stormlands
and the Reach.

And all of them young and bold
like your Knight of Flowers?

It's a game to you,
isn't it?

- I pity them.
- Why?

Because it won't last.

Because they are the Knights of summer
and winter is coming.

Brienne, escort
Lady Catelyn to her tent.

- She's tired from her journey.
- At once, Your Grace.

- Shall I return after?
- That won't be necessary.

I would pray awhile.
Alone.

If you'll follow me,
My Lady.

You fought bravely today,
Lady Brienne.

I fought for my King.

Soon I'll fight for him
on the battlefield.

Die for him
if I must.

And, if it please you,
Brienne's enough.

I'm no lady.

What are you doing here?

I live here.

- Are you angry with me, brother?
- You lying bitch.

It's not my fault
you didn't recognize me.

Recognize you?
How could I?

The last time I saw you...

You looked like
a fat little boy.

You were a fat
little boy, too,

but I recognized you.

Why didn't you tell me?

I wanted to see
who you were first.

And I did.

The plans are made.
It's time you heard them.

- Father.
- Father.

The wolf pup
has gone south

with the entirety of the northern
army at his back.

While he's tangling with
the lion in the Westerlands,

the north is ripe
for the taking.

The Ironborn will reave and
pillage as it was in the old days

all along the northern coast.

We'll spread our dominion
across the green lands,

securing the Neck
and everything above.

Every stronghold will yield
to us one by one.

Winterfell may defy us
for a year, but what of it?

The rest shall be ours--

forest, field and hall.

Yara, my daughter,
you'll take 30 longships

to attack Deepwood Motte.

I've always wanted
a castle.

And what's my role
in all this?

You'll take a ship to raid the
fishing villages on the Stoney Shore.

A ship?

You give her 30
and I get one?

The sea bitch. We thought
she'd be perfect for you.

I'm to fight fishermen?

Be careful
of their nets.

Father, I fought with Robb Stark.
I know his men.

He won't give up
the North so easily.

They won't even know we're
there until it's too late.

What do you
know of it, woman?

I'm a proven warrior.

Your brothers were warriors,
both of them dead

at the hands of those
you seem so eager to protect.

I'm not protecting anyone.

I just wonder
if it's not wiser to wait.

Why risk going against the North
if they would be our allies?

Rise up against them
and they could destroy us.

But if we pledge
fealty to them,

they'll give us
Casterly Rock.

What are our words?

Our words?

- "We do not sow."
- "We do not sow."

We are Ironborn.

We're not subjects.
We're not slaves.

We do not plow the fields
or toil in the mine.

We take what is ours.

Your time with the wolves
has made you weak.

You act as if
I volunteered to go.

You gave me away,
if you remember.

The day you bent the knee
to Robert Baratheon.

After he crushed you.

Did you take
what was yours then?

You gave me away!

Your boy!

Your last boy!

You gave me away like I was some dog
you didn't want anymore.

And now you curse me
because I've come home.

You'd have our father bow
down to your other family?

I have no other family.

Don't you?

Make your choice, Theon,
and do it quickly.

Our ships sail
with or without you.

You won't let me
leave this room.

- You won't let me--
- Shh, shh, keep your voice down.

Why? You think your father
can hear me?

He's 300 miles away!

I don't intend for you
to stay here.

I might be able to bring you into
the castle kitchens.

Again, only temporary.

Every man who has
tasted my cooking

has told me what
a good whore I am.

But you wouldn't
be a cook.

You'd pose
as a scullion.

Scullion?
What is a scullion?

Kitchen wench.

- A kitchen wench?
- Yes, but--

Cleaning pots?

Is that how my lion
wants to see me?

Your lion wants
to see you alive.

We've come to
a dangerous place.

My sister wants to hurt me.

She'll look for any
weakness she can find.

She can't know about you.

I'm the weakness?

It's a compliment,
My Lady.

How is being a weakness
a compliment?

Language can be
a bit tricky here.

Oh, I'm too stupid
to understand.

The stupid foreign girl.

I am not
a kitchen wench.

When will Joffrey
and Sansa be married?

Soon, darling,
when the war is over.

Mother says I'll have
a new gown for the ceremony

and another for the feast.

But yours will be ivory
since you're the bride.

The Princess
just spoke to you.

Pardon, Your Grace.

I'm sure your dress will
be beautiful, Myrcella.

I'm counting the days
until the fighting is done

and I can pledge my love to
the King in sight of the Gods.

Is Joffrey going to kill
Sansa's brother?

He might.

Would you like that?

No.
I don't think so.

Even if he does,
Sansa will do her duty.

Won't you, little dove?

Come in.

Who are you?

I'm Shae, My Lady.
Your new handmaiden.

I didn't know I needed
a new handmaiden.

- You're not from here.
- No.

What are you doing?

Waiting for you
to tell me what to do.

I shouldn't have to tell
you to do things.

You should just do them.

What things?

Change my linens,
wash my clothing,

scrub the floor, empty my chamber pot,
brush my hair.

- No.
- You said to brush--

Not now.

Your chamber pot
is empty.

Clean the table.

Have you ever been
a handmaiden before?

- Yes.
- For whom?

- Lady Zuriff.
- Lady Zuriff?

Lady Zuriff.

There is no Lady Zuriff
in this city.

She wasn't in
this city.

Well, I don't know how
they did things in that city,

but in this city,
handmaidens wait on ladies,

not the other way around.

And I don't have time
to answer 1,000 questions

and teach you
how to do your job.

Do you want me to leave?

Just brush my hair.

Oh, thank the Gods.

I haven't had
a proper shit in six days.

I've encountered this
problem before, My Lord.

The stresses of power
often have this

insalubrious effect.

Two drops
with water daily.

Right. I'm so grateful
to have a man

of your vast knowledge
and wisdom on my side.

- Please.
- Thank you, My Lord.

I can trust you,
Pycelle, can I not?

Why, yes, of course,
My Lord.

These are perilous times.

And the crown must forge
new alliances.

And these alliances must often
be sealed in matrimony.

Matrimony, huh?

Yes.

I'm trusting the council
with these plans,

but the queen mustn't know.

We can't have her
meddling in affairs

that could determine
the future of the realm.

There's too much at stake.

Oh, yes, yes.
Indeed, yes.

I shall be silent
as the grave.

I'm brokering an alliance
with House Martell of Dorne.

Princess Myrcella will wed
their youngest son

when she comes of age,
ensuring their loyalty

and their army
should we need it.

Myrcella sent away
to Dorne?

But remember,
the queen mustn't know.

Ooh, "the queen
mustn't know."

I love conversations
that begin this way.

I plan to marry
Princess Myrcella off

to Theon Greyjoy.

Theon Greyjoy?

Forgive me, My Lord,?

He grew up a ward
of Winterfell.

He fights
for Robb Stark.

Precisely. Theon's father
loathes the Starks

and will convince the boy
to come to our side.

Greyjoy can destroy
the northern army from within

and we can have
his father's ships.

But remember,
you must tell no one.

Tell no one what?

I plan to wed Princess Myrcella to
Robin Arryn of the Vale.

Lysa is not fond of me.

But perhaps the promise
of a royal match

will convince her
to let bygones be bygones.

She imprisoned you.

She tried
to execute you.

And you offer
her son a princess?

For men in our position,
holding grudges can be

an encumbrance,
don't you think?

And I suppose you want me
to broker this agreement?

Who better?

Yes, I could sing
this song to Lysa,

if I cared to.

What's in it
for me?

The gratitude of
the people of Westeros

for helping to end
this war,

the adoration of the King for
bringing the Vale back into the fold...

and Harrenhal.

Harrenhal is cursed.

Never took you
for a superstitious man.

By all means,
tear it down and rebuild.

You'll be able
to afford it.

I plan to make you
Lord of the Riverlands.

With a single stroke,
you'd make me one of the

greatest lords in the realm.

You served my family well
in the matter of the succession.

So did Janos Slynt, and he
was given Harrenhal, too.

Until you snatched it away.

I need you to
deliver Lysa Arryn.

I didn't need
Janos Slynt.

It's settled, then?

Good.

Oh, and remember--

the queen mustn't know.

That must hurt.

What?

What is it?

A member of the Kingsguard?

As if I wasn't humiliated
enough already.

Brienne is a very
capable warrior.

And she's devoted to me.

You're jealous.

Jealous?

Of Brienne the beauty?

Don't make me laugh.

- I'll make it up to you.
- No, Your Grace.

Not tonight.

There's another Tyrell
who requires your attention.

You didn't win
my father's support

or his army
on charm alone.

Your vassals are starting
to snigger behind your back.

Brides aren't usually virgins
two weeks after their wedding night.

And Margaery's a virgin?

Officially.

Shall I bring her
to you?

I should warn you,

I've had quite
a bit of wine.

As is your right.
You are a King.

You look
very beautiful.

Thank you,
Your Grace.

- It's a lovely gown.
- You think so?

I can't decide
how I like it better.

This way...

or this way.

You certainly don't need it.

Although...

some say that
beauty most desired

is the beauty concealed.

Must be the wine.

Here, let me.

I'm sorry.

Do you want my brother
to come in and help?

- What?
- He could get you started.

I know he wouldn't mind.

Or I can turn over and you
can pretend I'm him.

I don't know what
you're talking about.

There's no need
for us to play games.

Save your lies for court.
You're going to need a lot of them.

Your enemies
aren't happy about us.

They want to tear
us apart.

And the best way
to stop them

is to put your baby

in my belly.

We can try again later.

You decide how
you want to do it--

with me,
with me and Loras.

However else you like.

Whatever you need to do.

You are a King.

You monster.

Myrcella is my only daughter.

Do you really think I'll let you
sell her like a common whore?

Myrcella's a Princess.

Some would say
she was born for this.

I will not let you
ship her off to Dorne

as I was shipped off
to Robert Baratheon.

Dorne is the safest place
or her.

Are you mad?
The Martells loathe us.

That's why we need
to seduce them.

We're going to need
their support in the war

your son started.

- She'll be a hostage.
- A guest.

You won't get away
with this.

You think the piece of paper father
gave you keeps you safe.

Ned Stark had a piece
of paper, too.

- It's done, Cersei.
- No.

- You cannot stop it.
- No!

Just how safe do you think
Myrcella is if this city falls?

Do you want to see her raped,
butchered like the Targaryen children?

Make no mistake.

They'll mount her pretty little head
on a spike right beside yours.

Get out!
Get out!

Theon of
the House Greyjoy,

you would this day consecrate
your faith to the drowned God?

- I would.
- Kneel.

Let Theon,
your servant,

be born again from
the sea as you were.

Bless him with salt.

Bless him with stone.

Bless him with steel.

What is dead
may never die.

What is dead
may never die...

But rises again
harder and stronger.

Stand.

I don't appreciate being
made a fool of, dwarf.

If Myrcella marries
the Martell boy,

she can't very well
marry Robin Arryn, can she?

No, afraid not.
Sorry about that.

And Harrenhal--

I suppose that's
off the table as well.

Yes, I fear so.
Sorry about that, too.

Leave me out of your
next deception.

Oh, that's a shame.

You were to be the centerpiece of
my next deception.

My brother Jaime rots
in a Northern stockade.

I would see him released.

That's where you come in.

Robb Stark will never
release the Kingslayer.

No, he won't.
But his mother might.

How would you like to see
your beloved Cat again?

- Find him?
- Oh, aye.

And he has company.

Filthy old stoat.
Almost hate to interrupt.

- No, you don't.
- No, I don't.

What is the meaning
of this?

No, please, please.

You disappoint me,
Grand Maester.

I am your loyal servant.

So loyal that you told
the Queen about my plans

to send Myrcella to Dorne.

No! Never!

It's a falsehood.
I swear it.

It wasn't me.

Ah, Varys.

It was Varys
the spider.

See, I told Varys that I was giving
the Princess to the Greyjoys.

I told Littlefinger that I planned
to wed her to Robin Arryn.

I told no one that I was
offering her to the Dornish.

No one but you.

The eunuch has
spies everywhere.

Cut off his manhood
and feed it to the goats.

- No, no, no.
- There are no goats, halfman.

Well, make do.

How long have you
been spying for my sister?

All I did, I did
for House Lannister.

Always. Your lord father,
ask him.

I've always been
his servant

since the days
of the Mad King.

- I don't like his beard.
- What?

What?
Oh, no. No.

How many hands have you
betrayed, Pycelle?

Eddard Stark?
Jon Arryn?

Lord Arryn,
he knew.

He knew the truth
about the queen.

And, well,
he planned to act,

to tell King Robert.

So you poisoned him?

No. Never.

But you let him die,
made sure he succumbed.

Lannister--
I always served Lannister.

Get him out of my sight.
Throw him in one of the black cells.

Oh, no. No, no, no.
No, please.

Don't!
You can't do this to me!

For your trouble.

You'll be pleased to know
our mutual friend

is doing quite well
in Lady Sansa's service.

Good.
One of my better ideas.

And it seems
the Grand Maester

has found his way
into a black cell.

Well played,
My Lord Hand.

But should I be worried?

Janos Slynt,
Pycelle--

the small council
grows smaller every day.

The council has a reputation
for serving past Hands poorly.

I don't mean to follow
Ned Stark to the grave.

Power is a curious thing,
My Lord.

Are you fond of riddles?

Why, am I about
to hear one?

Three great men
sit in a room.

A king, a priest
and a rich man.

Between them stands
a common Sellsword.

Each great man bids the
Sellsword kill the other two.

Who lives, who dies?

Depends on the Sellsword.

Does it?
He has neither crown

nor gold nor favor
with the Gods.

He has a sword,
the power of life and death.

But if it's swordsmen
who rule,

why do we pretend
Kings hold all the power?

When Ned Stark
lost his head,

who was truly responsible?

Joffrey?
The executioner?

Or something else?

I've decided
I don't like riddles.

Power resides where
men believe it resides.

It's a trick,

a shadow on the wall.

And a very small man

can cast a very large shadow.

You should be sleeping.

Tomorrow's a long march.

30 miles if it
don't piss on us.

I can't sleep.

I don't like the taste.

Well...

You don't drink it
for the flavor, to be honest.

What?

How do you sleep?

Same as most men,
I think.

But you've seen things,

horrible things.

Aye.

I've seen some
pretty things, too,

but not nearly so many.

How do you sleep
when you--

when you have those
things in your head?

You didn't see that.

I made damn sure.

I close my eyes
and I see them up there.

All of them

standing there--

Joffrey,

the Queen,

and--

and my sister.

You know, we've got something
in common, me and you.

You know that?

I must have been

a couple of years
older than you.

I saw my brother stabbed
through the heart

right on our doorstep.

He weren't much of a villain
what skewered him.

Willem, the lad's name was.

He ran off before
anyone could spit.

And I just stood there,

watching my brother die.

But here's the funny part.

I can't picture
my brother's face anymore.

But Willem--

oh, he was
a nice-looking boy.

He had good white teeth,

blue eyes,

one of those dimpled chins
all the girls like.

I would think about him
when I was working,

when I was drinking,
when I was having a shit.

It got to the point

where I would say his name
every night before I went to bed.

Willem. Willem.

Willem.

A prayer almost.

Well, one day...

Willem came riding
back into town.

I buried an ax so deep
into Willem's skull,

they had to bury
him with it.

Willem's horse
got me to the Wall

and I've been wearing
black ever since.

Well...

that'll help you sleep, eh?

Ho!

Get up, you lazy
sons of whores!

Arm yourselves.

- Get up.
- Get up.

Keep out of sight,
both of you.

- No, I'm not afraid.
- I can fight.

Keep out of sight.

If things go wrong,
you run.

Do you hear me?

You run along North
and don't look back.

Hey, there's men
out there

who want to fuck
your corpses.

Outside, now!

Come on, move, move!

Gold Cloaks!

Everyone out!

Hey, you!
Open the damn cage!

Where's the bastard, Crow?

Got more than a few bastards here.
Who's asking?

Ser Amory Lorch, sworn Bannerman
to Lord Tywin Lannister.

These men from the capital
requested our assistance.

Drop your weapons
in the name of the King.

Now, which King
would that be?

This is your last chance.

In the name
of King Joffrey,

drop your weapons.

I don't think I will.

So be it.

I always hated crossbows.
Take too long to load.

Boy, come here.
Boy!

- Sweet boy, help us.
- Come back here!

Help us, boy!

A man can fight!
Free us!

Quick, give it to me.

Give me the ax.
Give me that.

Put 'em on the wagon!

There's more here.
Come on.

What do we have here?

No!

That's a fine
little blade.

Maybe I'll pick
my teeth with it.

I yield!
I yield!

Round up any survivors.

We'll take them back
to Harrenhal.

You heard him.
You're coming with us.

I yield!

Help!

Help me!

Something wrong
with your leg, boy?

Look at it.

Can you walk?

No.
You got to carry me.

All right.

Carry him, he says.

We're looking for
a bastard named Gendry.

Give him up

or I'll start
taking eyeballs.

You want Gendry?

You already got him.

He loved that helmet.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==