All language subtitles for ළ්යුධ

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(epic theme playing)

♪

♪

(music fades out)

(ominous music playing)

(door creaking)

(footsteps echoing)

(woman speaking High Valyrian,
voice echoing)

What?

(High Valyrian continues)

I can't understand.

(speaking High Valyrian)

Speak plainly.

Stop.

Stop it.

(tense music playing)

(crown clattering)

(sword falls)

♪

- (distorted)
There's been a raven.
- (door opens)

Simon Strong:
Good morrow, Your Grace.

Slept well,
I trust?

As I said,
there's been
a raven.

Aegon's army
departed King's Landing
a fortnight ago.

The castles of Rosby
and Stokeworth

have both fallen
without siege.

They have raised
Aegon's banner

and added their levies
to Ser Criston Cole's host.

Both houses cited that

sad business
with the usurper's son
in their declarations.

Ser Criston's army,

now tripled in strength,

might have Harrenhal
as its destination.

- (goat bleats)
- Even if you can raise
a host of Rivermen,

they will not be ready
in time to face him.

Let's see what
your Lord Paramount
is made of.

(sighs)

(stammers)
My prince--
Uh, My-My Grace.

Your Grace.

Lord Grover is looking
more hale and healthy
than I expected.

Uh, this is
Ser Oscar Tully,

grandson
to Grover Tully.

He is heir
to Riverrun

and the future
Lord Paramount
of the Riverlands.

His Grace,
the King Consort,
Daemon Targaryen.

- Oscar Tully:
It is an honor, Your Grace.
- Daemon Targaryen: Indeed.

(sword clatters)

How fares
your grandsire?

Sadly, he remains
incapacitated.

He lies in a kind of
waking sleep,

unable to do much more
than take meager drink.

It is barely enough
to sustain him.

So, he's alive?

Yes, gods be good.

Well, my time is short
and I have need of an army.

Perhaps you might
place a feather pillow
over his head

and speed along
your inheritance?

I-I love my grandsire,
like a father.

My own lord father
died suddenly,
himself a young man.

Lord Grover raised me
in his stead.

All very touching.

Are you here to speak
with your grandsire's voice?

For House Tully
and the Riverlands?

While he still lives?

- That is not our way.
- Then you're of no use to me.

I can see why
the Blackwoods
and the Brackens

did not fear
to start a war

beneath the nose
of their liege lords.

House Tully is
a fish with no head.

Remind me which
of your countrymen

claim to fight
in the name of Aegon?

Was it, was it
Bracken or Blackwood?

It was House Bracken
that declared Green,
Your Grace.

Who could remember.

Summon
the Blackwoods here.

I require
men of action

to lead my host
of Rivermen.

(tense music playing)

(indistinct chatter)

(dog barking)

♪

(birds cawing)

M'lady.

"Princess," if we're
holding to formalities.

Apologies.
Princess.

And you are Alyn.

Yes, Princess.

I'm given
to understand
my lord husband

owes you his life.

But I was not told
his savior was so comely.

Your mother must've
been very beautiful.

- Corlys Velaryon: Rhaenys.
- (clears throat)

- Is your work finished?
- No, m'lord.

(indistinct chatter)

I just had a word
with your captains.

He was the sailor
who plucked you from
your watery grave?

(birds cawing)

Yes.

You did not think
to mention it?

I did not think
it relevant.

I know who he is,
Corlys.

Alyn's past is
no fault of his.

He saved
his lord's life.

He should be raised up
and honored,

not hidden
beneath the tides.

Is this why you came?

To subject me
to an inquisition?

I came to tell you
that Baela has called me
to Dragonstone.

Baela?

That council is
going to dine on her
and Jace for supper.

They grow restless
in Rhaenyra's absence.

Still...
Where has that
woman gone?

I suspect to try
and draw us all back
from the abyss.

- (knocks at door)
- (Alicent sighs)

(distant chatter)

- Good morrow, Your Grace.
- Good morrow, Grand Maester.

As requested.

- I brewed it myself.
- Thank you.

I will see it
delivered discreetly.

Do report if the recipient
has need of any remedy.

The tea is known
to disagree with the gut.

I shall observe
the girl closely.

(birds chirping)

Grand Maester.

You've ever been
a practical man,

an honorable servant
to the crown.

And you served
my lord husband
in his darkest hours.

Such was my duty,
Your Grace.

Tell me.

Do you believe
Viserys wanted Aegon
to succeed him?

(birds chirping)

I could not know.

His Grace never raised
the matter with me.

(distant chatter)

(door closes)

(tense music playing)

♪

(groans)

(groans)

(coughs)

Baela Targaryen:
Ser Criston Cole's host

has taken to exploiting
the tree cover

to conceal
its movements.

He now only
travels by night

to confound
our dragons.

Bartimos Celtigar:
And what is Cole's heading?

It is difficult to say,
but there were signs

of an army moving
northwest, I believe.

Gormon Massey:
(laughs) She believes.

You should've burned them
when you had the chance.

Perhaps you can,
Ser Alfred,

when you next sight
them on your dragon.

- (slight chuckle)
- The only reason
we know any of this

is because
of Baela's efforts.

Bartimos:
What do we know, my prince?

If you ask me,
it is little and less.

We know that Cole
possesses a host that
is growing in strength

and that it
is a problem.

Gormon:
Can Daemon
hope to meet it

with his own
in time?

And if I know
the Riverlands,

he has more
disentangling
ahead of him

than the end
of a Lyseni orgy.

Have you heard word
from your father?

- No.
- Maester Gerardys:
Ravens were sent to Harrenhal

seeking news
of Daemon's progress
with the Riverlords.

None have,
as yet, returned.

Alfred Broome:
Just so.

An enemy host,
growing in constitution,

marches somewhere
in the vastness
of the Crownlands.

We could, perhaps,
act if only we had a host
of our own.

Or someone here to lead us.

Mind your tongue,
Ser Alfred.

Does it
speak falsely,
my prince?

This council
is rudderless.

I'm doing my best
to steer it, Ser Alfred.

Why should your voice
be any louder than ours,
Princess?

The queen did not
name you Hand.

It is her voice,
and that of
the king consort,

that we need
to raise alliances
and command our vassals.

- But they are gone.
- Corlys: What has come
of this council?

(soft gasp)

My lord.

Our enemy
is on the march.

Is there naught to be done
in the absence of the queen,

but to grouse
and claw for power?

(Bartimos sighs)

We do not know
the queen's doings.

But we must trust
that she seeks the same

as each of us
at this table.

An end to this conflict.

- (rain pattering)
- (tense music playing)

(birds cawing)

(indistinct shouting)

(distant yell)

Criston Cole:
Men of House Darklyn.

All who bend the knee
to the true king, Aegon,
will be spared.

You can earn back
your honor by
raising his banner

and fighting
in his name

against the
Whore of Dragonstone.

All who refuse...

will have their death.

♪

Good morrow,
Lord Darklyn.

Is there no honor left
in this world, Cole?

Sacking your
queen's own castles

and putting
her people to the sword?

"Kingmaker."

You are not fit
for the white cloak.

♪

This is a better death
than a traitor deserves.

You should
thank me for it.

Yours will come in kind.

(grunts)

(horse neighs)

♪

Lord Hand.

We'll lead
the van northeast,

follow the coastline.

(horse neighs)

I realize you were
neither born nor bred

anywhere near
the Crownlands,
my good Lord Hand,

but Harrenhal
is to the west.

Indeed it is.

Fuck you.
I told you we should've
sent our dragons.

And now look
what's happened.

Daemon, of all people,
has taken Harrenhal.

I give you a job,
and now you just
sit there.

It's your
fucking castle!

Well, that castle is
more crippled than I am,
Your Grace.

(scoffs)

It's like to drive
Daemon to madness

as he attempts
to make use of it.

It is beyond
his faculties.

It is also penniless,
as I happily control
all of its gold.

So, as Harrenhal saps
Daemon's resolve,

the false queen remains
trapped on her island,

and Ser Criston
continues felling castles
in the Crownlands.

(stammers)
Wh--

I need to be informed
of these things

if I am to make
informed rulings.

I will not be made
to look a fool in front of

- my allies and enemies.
- Aemond Targaryen:
Harrenhal must wait.

Ser Criston is marching
on Rook's Rest.

Rook's Re--
A pathetic prize.

- I gave no such command--
- The castle is small,

weakly defended,

and Lord Staunton sits
on Rhaenyra's council.

After Cole smashes it,

we'll have Dragonstone
effectively cut off by land.

This war will not be won
with dragons alone,

but with dragons flying
behind armies of men.

No! Have him turn about.
I want Harrenhal back.

Cole is already
preparing his attack.

Uh, how-how do
you know this?

Aemond:
He sent word to me.

To you?

The two of you
have been

plotting...
without my authority?

(sighs)

(speaking High Valyrian)

Mm.

(birds cawing)

(speaking High Valyrian)

Mm.

(councilmember clears throat)

Harrenhal is
a useful morass.

It will keep Daemon
well-occupied while
we strengthen our host

and weaken Rhaenyra's
support on the mainland.

We will deal with it
in the Riverlands in time.

But right now.
Rook's Rest is
an easy target

and a worthy effort.

Don't you agree,
my king?

(tense music playing)

(knocks on door)

- (heavy breathing)
- Come.

Lord Larys.

I thought I'd look in
on you, Your Grace,

after your absence
from the small council.

I feared something
was amiss.

(sighs) You're kind
to do so, my lord,

but indulgence
was my sin.

I... ventured
into the lamprey pie
at last night's supper.

Too far, I fear.

(heavy breathing)

Larys Strong:
Mm.

That is a rich indulgence.

But I believe
it is a sin to deny
your appetites.

They are what
make us fully alive
as mortal men.

Was anything of note
discussed at the council?

Daemon having
seized Harrenhal

and His Grace's
resulting displeasure.

I would've thought
you would be the most
aggrieved, my lord.

I see it as a loss
for our greater good.

Dragonstone's attentions
are greatly divided.

First in the Riverlands
and the Gullet,
and now the Crownlands.

Ser Criston wins
every challenge
he faces there.

That truth alone
is like to incite
Rhaenyra's fury.

He's covered himself
in glory, to be sure.

And you must
worry for him?

Your sworn sword...

on the march,

ever exposed
to dragons?

It is a perilous road.

Ser Criston is
the Hand of the King.

We should all pray
for his victory
and safe return.

Indeed.

(sighs, inhales)

- (Larys grunts)
- (Alicent sighs)

If I may be so bold,
my queen...

you have not seemed
yourself of late.

Only weeks ago,
my lord husband
was alive

and the realm
was at peace.

Now, I've...
barely had the hours
to grieve one tragedy

before suffering
the next.

I regret
if I have not
been myself.

Hm.

I did not know you shared
your lord husband's love...

for the histories.

If not his love,
then certainly an--
an abiding interest.

The voices
of history
guided Viserys.

He knew that
his wisdom alone

could only
reach so far.

Do you think that is why
he changed his mind...

in the end?

No matter how
suited he thought
Rhaenyra for the crown,

the, uh,
voices of history,
as you say,

would have told him
how the realm would react

- to her succession.
- It was impossible to know
what steered his thoughts

in those final hours.

Do you now doubt
his intentions?

(sniffles)

(light, tense music playing)

Rhaenyra's supporters
will believe what
they wish.

And so will Aegon's.

The war will be fought,
many will die...

and the victor
will eventually
ascend the throne.

The significance
of Viserys's intentions
died with him.

♪

Yes, it did.

(rain pattering)

(water dripping)

- (indistinct shouting)
- (footsteps)

- (sword unsheathes)
- (grunts)

(heavy breathing)

(footsteps)

(ominous music playing)

(footsteps)

(rain pattering)

(torch clatters)

(eerie sounds)

(heavy breathing)

(frog ribbits)

It's a touch late
to be stalkin' about
a strange castle,

putting its people
to the sword.

You.

I'm called Alys.

Daemon: Strong?

Rivers.

A bastard.

Once you get to know me,
you'll find I'm not so bad.

- So what are you then?
Some kind of maester?
- In a manner of speaking.

I inherited the duties
after the last one
fled in the night.

- Fled? Why?
- Just never settled in.

(chuckles)

How are you
settling in?

I've come to know
the face of tortured
rest well enough.

Sleep can be...
thin in this place.

What would you know
of my sleep?

Harrenhal's
been cursed since its
first stone was laid.

Black Harren felled
the grove of weirwood trees

that grew on these lands.

Heart trees, imbued
with the spirits of those

who lived long
before he came.

- It's said their whispers
can still be heard sometimes.
- A midwife's tale.

Mm, the very bed
you sleep in was made
from such a heart tree.

Have you experienced
anything... of note?

You are a strange
kind of woman.

I'm no woman at all.
I'm a barn owl.

Cursed to live
in human form.

(chuckles) So, you've
come here after quarreling
with your wife?

What?

You arrive here alone
to claim the castle

and yet,
send no ravens.

Do you now plan
to make your own claim?

- Perhaps to prove
yourself to her.
- Do not try me

with your insolence, witch.

It's a hard thing,
I imagine, to give

obeisance to one
who replaced you
as heir.

And a woman too.
A...

girl child you
bounced on your knee.

I mean, does it please
you that her legitimacy
is contested?

As you stand here...

with a castle
and a dragon...

attempting to draw
an army of men.

Here. Drink this.

You'll need your sleep
if you're to win
this place to your side.

♪

(swallows)

Willem Blackwood: (muffled)
I now rule my house as regent

until my nephew Benjicot
comes of age.

The Brackens
are venal cravens,

and they must pay
for their treachery

against the laws
of gods and men.

(normal)
And against the crown.

Who are you?

Simon:
Ser Willem Blackwood
of House Blackwood,

Your Grace,
as I said.

Well met.

What might
I do for you?

It was you
who summoned me,
Your Grace.

I was given
to understand

that you
wanted an army.

Well,
who doesn't
these days?

You Blackwoods
certainly never
miss a chance

to bloody
your swords...
do you?

Some 20 years ago,

my lord bent the knee
to King Viserys

and acknowledged
the Princess Rhaenyra
as his rightful heir.

Daemon:
So you fight
for this old oath?

Not, of course,
for your thousand-year-old
feud with the Brackens.

I once vied
for Queen Rhaenyra's
hand...

before she wed
Ser Laenor.

I always liked
her spirit.

She had
the true blood
of the dragon.

And you're prepared
to march without
the leave of your lord...

(ominous music playing)

(eerie sounds)

(pouring wine)

Willem:
Your Grace?

And once you
and your dragon

bring the queen's justice
to the Brackens...

our armies will be yours.

Larys:
Our lords in the Crownlands
are grousing.

Their herds of livestock
struggle to keep pace

with the dragons'
relentless appetites.

- Vhagar's in particular.
- Ironrod:
They can either provide

the crown what it needs,
or we can claim their holdings.

Tyland Lannister:
Oh, that would be a relief,

as we have no more coin
to lend to the effort.

Resources are certainly
growing no more plentiful

in the face
of the blockade.

Tyland:
The demand on the blacksmiths,
armorers and tanners

for equipment has
only grown apace

with Ser Criston's army.

Ironrod:
Well, Cole's done
splendidly, at the least,

turning every castle
and army he's faced,

- including Duskendale,
gods bless him.
- (Aegon spinning marker)

The Kingmaker,
they're calling him.

And with Aemond
and Vhagar also
at the ready,

- we are a formidable opponent.
- (slams marker)

You bore me.

You all bore me.

(door opens)

- (door closes)
- Perhaps Ser Criston
will be able to procure

more livestock
through his campaign.

Any coin we
can save will be
a welcome bounty.

What are you
doing here?

Where are your
father's books?

- Aegon Targaryen:
I ordered them removed.
- (Alicent sighs)

With no thought
to the centuries

of knowledge
in those pages.

(birds chirping)

Your Grace.

I removed them,
I didn't burn them.

What is it?

- They don't care what I think.
- (pouring wine)

(sighs)

- Who, Aegon?
- My council.

Cole. Aemond.
They pursue
their campaign

without seeking my aid,
or even my thoughts.

What thoughts
would you have?

Wh-- I'm the king.

Do you think simply
wearing the crown
imbues you with wisdom?

Those men at your
council table...

earned their seats.

It was my hope
that (chuckles)
once enthroned,

you would honor
the burden of your
new duties,

be silent,

and strive to learn
from the more studied
minds around you.

In the hope that you
might be half the king
your father was.

- Tread carefully.
- Or what?

You'll hang me,
as you did
your ratcatchers?

Or have me banished,
as you did your Hand?

I ruled

in your father's absence
throughout his long illness,

and Otto Hightower was
as cunning a statesman
as ever lived.

You should humbly be
seeking our opinions
and counsel.

You have no idea
the sacrifices
that were made

to put you on that throne.

(tense music playing)

Wha--

What would you
have me do, Mother?

Do simply what
is needed of you:

nothing.

♪

(ambient nature sounds)

(axe striking)

(tree crackling)

(indistinct chatter, shouting)

Criston:
On your feet!

To Rook's Rest!

To battle!

Gwayne Hightower:
It's broad daylight.

We must hold here
and ready ourselves
to lay siege at nightfall.

We shall move now
and strike by day.

They will not expect it.

They will not expect it

because it is
fucking madness.

Did you forget
the little encounter

we had on the road
to Rosby?

I did not.

Dragonstone
and their dragons
are just across the bay.

What? Grown tired
of living, have you?

Are you afraid, Ser?

Worse. I'm rational.

We advance.

(tense music playing)

♪

Jacaerys Velaryon:
I see no other choice.

- We need to send a dragon.
- Rhaenyra Targaryen: Where?

(clears throat)
To support the war

that your vassals
have been fighting
in your absence...

Your Grace.

Cole's host has grown
since riding abroad.

He raised
the levies of both
Rosby and Stokeworth

and, with their
combined strength,
sacked Duskendale.

Duskendale?

The city has fallen.

Many Darklyn men
declared for Aegon.

Those who refused
were put to the sword.

What of my father?

He kept his oath.

Cole took
his head for it.

Where have you been,
these last days?

You vanished without
so much as a word.

Well, I apologize
for my absence
and the secrecy,

but such
was necessary.

I went
to King's Landing.

To what possible end?

To meet Queen Alicent
and sue for peace.

- You saw Alicent?
- Rhaenyra: Yes, I did.

You could've been taken
or slain!

I inherited
80 years of peace
from my father.

Before I was
to end it,

I needed to know
that there was
no other path.

And now I do.

Only one choice
remains to me:

either I win my claim
or die.

We stand
at the ready.

Rhaenys Targaryen:
Cole's victories have
only emboldened him.

He marches
on Rook's Rest.

His host was
just hours away

- when Lord Staunton's
ravens took wing.
- Why Rook's Rest?

After Duskendale?

It is but a small
coastal keep.

Alfred:
'Cause Lord Staunton is
a member of this council.

And because his castle
is small and vulnerable
and there for the taking.

Cole knows
we have no army
on the mainland.

- Bartimos: He is brazen.
- He is daring us to act.

We need to send
a dragon.

(quiet, tense music playing)

There are those
who have mistaken
my caution for weakness.

Let that be
their undoing.

- I will go.
- My queen--

- You cannot.
- I will not lose
dragons to war

whilst I hide here
in my castle.

Our allies
raise their banners
for you, Mother.

Rhaenyra:
Yes, they do.

If you die,
all is lost.

- Send me.
- No.

I will burn Cole's lines
and withdraw before
King's Landing

- could even raise the alarm.
- You lack the experience.

You must send me,
Your Grace.

Meleys is your
largest dragon

and no stranger
to battle.

I will meet Cole.

(sighs)

♪

♪

(flagon shatters)

♪

Jacaerys:
I wish only to fight for you,

for your claim
and mine.

I--

There's something
I need to tell you,
Jace.

Something...
I should've told you

when you first became
heir to the throne.

It's a secret
that Viserys told me

when he named
me his successor.

And it has passed
from king to heir...

since Aegon
the Conqueror's time.

(exhales)

♪

I never told you
because I was unsure

that I believed it myself.

The Targaryen who sits
the Iron Throne

is not just
a king or a queen.

They are a Protector.

(speaking High Valyrian)

Rhaenyra:
Ordained to lead
the Seven Kingdoms,

to strengthen them...

(indistinct shouting)

...and to unite them
against a common foe.

Viserys chose me
to succeed him.

He held to this
the whole of his life.

(shouting)

My father believed
that I, alone,

was meant to be
this Protector.

They're 1,400-,
1,500-strong
at least, my lord.

(roars)

Rhaenyra:
But to unite the realm,

I had to send
the dragons to war.

(roars)

♪

The horrors I have
just loosed cannot be
for a crown alone.

That is why I must believe

what Viserys told me
when he named me his heir.

What Jaehaerys had told him.

And what I will now
tell you.

(Sunfyre calls)

What is it?

♪

Aegon the Conqueror's Dream.

He called it
"The Song of Ice and Fire."

- (dramatic music playing)
- (arrows whizzing by)

(grunting, shouting)

captain:
Loose! New rank!

Loose! New rank!

Loose! New rank!

♪

Push it!

guards (shouting):
Dragon!

Dragon!

(all yelling)

Gwayne:
To the Seven Hells
with you, Cole!

You may as well
have sounded horns
to announce our coming!

Criston:
Order the Darklyn levies
to break off and move ahead.

We must keep the dragon's
attention divided.

- Make the signal.
- What signal?

Criston:
All is going to plan.

♪

(blows horn)

(growling)

(indistinct shouting)

(all yelling)

(horn blowing in distance)

(blows horn)

(growling)

♪

(Sunfyre calls)

(groans)

(speaking High Valyrian)

(exhales)

♪

(screeches)

(grumbles)

(all yelling)

♪

Forward, Sunfyre!

- (Sunfyre roars)
- Faster!

guards (shouting):
Dragon!

Whose dragon
is that?

His Grace,
the king's.

This was your
secret plot, Cole?

For the king himself
to lay ambush

- and mayhaps die
in the attempt?!
- Criston: No!

Loose more
signal arrows!

Stalwart men
of House Targaryen,

your king
has joined you!

Hold to your courage!
Hold to your wits!

For the Seven have
blessed and shielded

this host
with divine purpose!

For the one true king,
Aegon!

- Advance!
- (soldiers shouting)

♪

Where are you,
Aemond?

(roars)

♪

(speaks High Valyrian)

Dracarys!

(grunts)

(grumbles, screeches)

- (screeching, roaring)
- (Aegon panicking)

(yelling)

(all yelling)

(high-pitched calling)

(screeching)

captain:
Another one there!

Send a volley
to those Rosby men!

Give them no quarter!

- (indistinct shouting)
- (distant bellowing)

We'd best get you
to cover, my lord.

♪

(grumbles)

♪

(screeching)

♪

(distant screeching)

Aegon:
Thank the gods!

Dracarys!

Ah!

♪

No! (yells)

- (roaring)
- (Sunfyre screeching)

(screeching)

(soldiers yelling)

Criston:
Your Grace!

(music softens)

(heavy breathing)

(speaks High Valyrian)

- (music intensifies)
- (Meleys screeches)

(grunts)

(nearby growling)

♪

(roars)

- (dragons screeching)
- (music stops)

(grunts)

(grunting)

(music resumes)

(indistinct shouting)

(all yelling)

(grunting, yelling)

- (horse neighs)
- (loud thud)

(silence)

- (slow-motion yelling)
- (slow, tense music playing)

(loud footsteps)

♪

(grumbling)

(Meleys grumbling, groaning)

(singers vocalizing)

(roars)

(indistinct chatter, shouting)

♪

(vocalizing continues)

(screeches)

- (screeches)
- (all yelling)

(screeching)

(grunting)

(screeching)

(music slows)

(grumbling)

(somber music playing)

(explosion booms)

(triumphant music playing)

(music fades out)

(muffled yelling)

(muffled roaring, rumbling)

(gasps for air)

(gasping)

(labored breathing)

(quiet, tense music playing)

Gwayne:
Fall in behind me!

Into the breach!

(indistinct shouting)

♪

(heavy breathing)

♪

(breathy)
The king has fallen.
We must find him.

(armor clatters)

♪

(indistinct shouting)

♪

Criston: Aemond!

(Sunfyre grumbles)

♪

Where's His Grace?

(Sunfyre grumbling)

(suspenseful,
solemn music playing)

(helmet clatters)

(music fades out)

(light, tense music playing)

♪

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