All language subtitles for House of the Dragon S02E06 1080p AMZN WEB-DL DDP5 1 Atmos H 264-FLUX

Humfrey Lefford:
The Golden Tooth

is honored to receive you,
my Lord Lannister.

I have 500 fighting men, armed

- and full of spirit.
- I bring a thousand knights of my own,

and seven times as many
archers and men-at-arms.

By the time we are finished
with the Riverland scum,

the Red Fork will
have earned its name.

We are ready to march
at your command, my lord.

I suppose you will make
for Harrenhal at once.

I want you to send a
raven to King's Landing.

Tell my brother we
are ready to march

as soon as Prince
Aemond is able to join us...

on Vhagar.

And until the prince
makes his answer, my lord?

My men have had a long march.

They are most eager to
embrace the hospitality

- of your keep.

He dares to summon me!

"With haste"?

Are the Lannisters so
diminished that they cannot march

from the Tooth to
Harrenhal without an escort?

There is a large dragon in
the Riverlands, Your Grace.

- My brother's army is strong, but it
does seem... - I am the prince regent,

not a dog to be called to heel.

Tell your brother that if
he does not deliver his host

to Harrenhal, "with haste,"

Daemon's dragon will
become the least of his worries.

Your irritations are
justified, Aemond,

- but it does seem... - Aemond
Targaryen: I have a task for you

as well, Ser Tyland.

We will make an
alliance with the Triarchy.

I've had enough of
this cursed blockade.

My prince... you cannot mean
to treat with the Free Cities.

The captains of their ships
are dangerous mercenaries,

- little more than pirates... -
They are a stone's throw away

across the Narrow Sea.

Lannister and Hightower
ships will take months to arrive.

The Triarchy will delight in the
chance to terrorize the Sea Snake again.

Let them weaken his blockade

while our true allies make
their long journey east.

The Triarchy may
play at accepting terms,

but they are not to be trusted.

Your father knew this.

What has come of our
letters to the Greyjoys?

They have been to no avail.

The Red Kraken waits,

seeking his best advantage.

Though we may draw him
in with honey, if it comes to it.

An offer of marriage, perhaps,

to the dowager queen?

Out of the question.

Alas.

The dowager queen
speaks wisely, Your Grace.

Even if the blockade
could be broken,

are we to invite these
alien raiders into our waters,

so close to King's Landing?

It's time you set out
for Harrenhal, I think.

Your Grace, if Daemon
prevails in the Riverlands,

I no longer have the
numbers to challenge him.

We lost much at Rook's Rest,

as you well know.

The longer we wait, the
more chance he will prevail.

Lannister will
march from the west.

Take what strength we
have and force Daemon

- and his Riverlords to fight on two fronts.
- His Grace speaks wisely.

Criston Cole: We would do
better to await the Hightower host

- and set out in good time.
- There is no time.

It's a fortnight's
march to Harrenhal.

We must strike before
his army is raised.

And you yourself?

I will fly out to meet
you when the time is ripe.

My uncle is a
challenge I welcome...

if he dares face me.

I see we're all agreed.

Your Grace.

Mother...

a word.

I caution you, Aemond,

- boldness is one thing, but
overconfidence... - Remind me of your place

on the small council.

You know very well I represented

your father during the
last years of his life,

- and I have been a councilor to Aegon.
- Capably so.

My father's dead

and Aegon is...

Mm.

You served the realm well...

at a time of need.

That need is ended.
You are no longer obliged.

It's not a matter of obligation.

This council has need
of a tempering voice.

We have more than enough
of those, if you ask me.

You have the
impetuousness of youth...

and its arrogance,

neither of which is to
be desired in a king.

I release you of your seat,

such as it was.

I'm sure you'll be much
pleased to return to more...

domestic pursuits.

Have the indignities
of your childhood

not yet sufficiently
been avenged?

You have the
gratitude of the crown.

Your Grace.

Bring him forth.

Guard: Ser Steffon
Darklyn, Your Grace.

Is aught amiss, Your Grace?

My lords.

I find myself, Ser Steffon,

in an impossible position.

I have lost Princess Rhaenys

and her dragon.

I hold an island seat
with no land army.

And I must not go
to battle myself...

as I am constantly told,

lest I am slain or captured,

and... with me,
our hopes of victory.

There is still Daemon and
Caraxes... and the Rivermen.

That remains to be seen.

In any case, I must now
proceed as if I stand alone.

And I see now, that to do that,

I need more dragonriders

for Vermithor and
Silverwing, and for Seasmoke,

who I believe misses his bond.

But there are no more in
your family, Your Grace.

- Your younger sons are babes.
- Rhaenyra Targaryen: Mm.

Mm, there is Princess Rhaena.

She has attempted it, alas,

but the dragons here
would not take her as a rider.

- Then who could do it?
- You.

You are of noble birth.

And I had always
heard, as you know,

that the Darklyns and the
Targaryens had some common blood.

I looked into the history,
and indeed it is true.

Your grandmother's
grandmother, Aeriana,

- was born a Targaryen princess.

And I have been thinking,

could it be possible?

To even consider such a thing.

I must protest, Your Grace,

the risk involved
in such a venture...

I am but a man.

The dragons are gods.

Your Grace honors me
beyond what I deserve.

You understand your
peril, Ser Steffon?

I do not compel you to do this.

It has never been
attempted before.

To claim a dragon, you
must also be prepared to die.

I well understand the risk
and I accept it with gladness.

I swore to ward my
queen with all my strength,

and to give my blood for hers.

That is my oath, Your Grace.

Then perhaps the
gods will favor us.

Brother?

Viserys Targaryen
Did you say it?

"The Heir for a Day."

Did you say it?

You can't possibly
still be angry about this.

My family was just destroyed.

You should've been at my side.

But instead you chose
to celebrate your own rise.

Laughing at me...

laughing with the
whores and lickspittles.

No.

You have no allies
at court but me.

I have only ever defended you.

And everything I've given you,
you've thrown back in my face!

- I have decided...
- Don't.

To name a new heir.

You are to return to Runestone

and your lady wife at once,

and you are to do
so without quarrel,

by order of your king.

No!

Open the door!

Open the door. Please.

Please.

Please. Ah!

May I be of
assistance, Your Grace?

- What are you playing at, old man?
- I do wonder, Your Grace,

if you're getting enough sleep.

- This old place... -
Are you mocking me?

- No.
- Sit!

Or are you perhaps the culprit who
has been tampering with my peace?

A friend by day
and a foe by night.

- To what end?
- To mine, perhaps.

Ah!

Perhaps... you
resent my being here.

Perhaps...

you are an agent

- of the Hightower rabble.

Ha. Or are you still in league

with your club-footed nephew?

- Or is it Rhaenyra herself?!
- I assure you...

I assure you, Your Grace.

Whatever your game is, Strong...

I assure you...

- your king is on his guard.
- Yes, Your Grace.

And stop watching me.

You weren't going
to bid me farewell?

There's something wrong with me.

Someone poisoned
me. The food, the wine.

Or else it's this
swamp air, or...

The ghost of Harren the Black

moaning his curses
from Kingspyre Tower.

Drivel! All of it!

The ghosts, the curses,
the blasted weirwood bed!

- I'm done with it!
- Ah, yes. It is your way, is it not?

When something does
not please you, you run.

Dragonstone, the Stepstones,

Pentos, Harrenhal.

I awake and I do not
know where I've been.

There are older
things in this world

than you or I, or living memory.

You are not the player,
but a piece on the board.

As am I, for that matter.

I'm not like you.

- In some ways, no.

You struggle to see there's
an anger that blinds you.

She never even wanted it.

The crown. She
spared it no thought.

Well, that's perhaps why your
brother gave the crown to her.

Perhaps those who strive for it

are the least suited to wear it.

Don't lecture me!

Viserys never wanted
it himself, if you recall.

It came to him,
and he did his best.

It's not a prize to be
won, but a burden to bear.

If you have any counsel for
dealing with the Riverlords,

I'd be glad of it.

Daemon Targaryen
asking for help?

Counsel.

House Tully is not the
largest house in the Riverlands,

nor is it the richest,

but it is the most stable.

The Tullys' wisdom has kept

the river houses
in line for centuries.

They would kill each
other to the last man

- if it were not
for their liege lord.

That dotard is of no use to us.

But Grover Tully is
their Lord Paramount.

Without him, they will never
raise their banners as one.

Rivermen are made of mud.

They would
rather die stuck in it

than yield one
inch to one another.

Then I can do nothing.

You... no.

I need help, Alys.

Do nothing now.

In three days' time,
the winds will shift.

Gods.

Seasmoke...

Dohaeras.

Dragonkeeper: Do not show fear.

Rybas!

I've done it.

- No.

Mother!

Worker: Up, up, up!

Corlys Velaryon: Alyn!

Alyn of Hull: M'lord.

I'm pleased with our progress.

This ship will sail
in a few days' time.

The blockade is
sure to be challenged,

be it by Lions or Krakens.

Your men will be glad
to have you among 'em.

I wish you to sail with me.

As my first mate.

I'm grateful for
the offer, m'lord...

- but... - We will set
course for Sharp Point.

Lord Bar Emmon wishes to send
his nephew aboard as a boatswain.

There are more experienced
men at your service.

I was younger than you

when I took my first command.

You distinguished
yourself in the Stepstones,

and you have the
respect of the crew.

You are a fine
choice for this post.

Is this an order or a request?

I will expect you to report

for your duties on the morrow.

As my lordship commands.

- Bit thin, isn't it?
- It's either that or the fish.

Nothing but fish
in this damn city.

Patron: An ale here.

Aught to eat with it?

Patron: Don't think I
can stomach it, lass.

Yeah, you've made the right
choice there, I'll tell you that.

Makes you sick, doesn't it?

Knowing they're banqueting
every night at the castle,

- while we go without.
- That can't be true.

Madam Sylvi: My girls were taken
to the Red Keep a few nights ago.

Feasting and merriment
for the new Prince Regent.

Dyana No! And him
always acting so correct.

I'll tell you, he's
no penny pincher.

- They were well-paid, and well-fed too.
- Hm.

On what? Fish with
more fish on the side?

Racks of lamb, my love.

Mince pies, honey cakes,

beef and gravy.

And what do you think?

There is to be another revel
on the morrow with dancing.

That ain't right.

Apologies, my good man.

I should not have
spoken so free.

The royals would
never countenance me

speaking about their
bounty, even if it's true.

King Viserys loved
his feasts and his wine,

but never while our
smallfolk went without.

Mm, aye. But he's gone now...

and his rightful
heir denied her seat.

Well... no use wondering
what might have been.

Bartimos Celtigar: I am far
from alone among your councilors

in holding this to be a truly
unfortunate result, Your Grace.

Seasmoke has fled Dragonstone,

and Ser Steffon
was a valiant knight.

Most regrettable,

if, perhaps, foreseeable.

I myself, if you recall,

was in favor of treating
with Lord Mooton

to march on Rook's Rest.

A more conventional approach,

true, not as sensational.

And, uh, his... his
numbers were few,

but we may yet retake...

It is my fault, I think, that
you have forgotten to fear me.

It was worth the risk,
no matter the outcome.

More good men killed?

- That's my fault.
- Ser Steffon went willingly.

It was a reckless thought.

That an ancient Valyrian beast

would suffer a
Darklyn to ride it.

Surely he was not
the only possibility.

Might there not be others

among the highborn
of the Seven Kingdoms?

And who will be
so foolish as to try,

after hearing what
befell Ser Steffon?

I will look again.

But Darklyn had
the most likely claim.

There is good news to be had.

The smallfolk of King's
Landing are listening.

They were ready enough to hear.

The usurpers have
abandoned them.

They are hungry, and they
need someone to blame.

Will it be enough?

We have laid the kindling only.

Tonight we will light it,

and watch it begin to flare.

And when it does, Aemond
will put it down with force.

That will make
it rise the hotter.

He cannot destroy his own city.

Neither can they overthrow him.

Maybe not, but it is
harder to wage war abroad

when you must also
keep peace at home.

Then let us see to our plan.

If I may, Your Grace...

this becomes you.

- That's the last one.
- Thank you.

- What? They haven't run out, have they?
- Nothing.

There ain't nothing left.

I've been waiting all day.
I'll take anything. Scraps?

Got enough sheep for your
dragons then, but none for us.

Where's our meat? We want meat!

Jasper "Ironrod" Wylde:
It seems, Your Grace,

that the smallfolk
have become restless.

So?

There is not food
enough in the city.

Those with means have
bought more than their share.

All the more reason Ser
Tyland must break the blockade.

In the meantime, the
people are hungry,

and their anger is rising.

The enemy without may
be fought with swords.

The enemy within
is more insidious.

Why is this anger
directed at us?

It is Rhaenyra the Pretender

who ordered the Gullet closed

and left them all to starve.

They still look to you to
ensure their well-being.

That is the burden of authority.

But you should not go it alone.

It does occur to me that Your
Grace has yet to name a Hand.

Ser Criston, of course,
served your brother,

but you need one who
may advance your cause...

with shrewdness and subtlety.

Do you take me for a fool?

- On the contrary, my prince.
- I've little patience

for the self-important,
Lord Larys,

and even less for
flatterers and lickspittles.

But you are, as it
happens, correct.

Every king needs a Hand.

I'll make it your
responsibility.

My prince, it is an honor
I'd never considered

- for myself.
- No, not to serve as Hand, you toad.

To fetch him. Send
word to Otto Hightower.

My grandsire may
be overcautious,

but his devotion to his family
has never been in doubt.

Mm, you'll see it done.

Your Grace.

- You're late.

I am happy to report
that His Grace the king

has regained
consciousness this morning,

if only for a few moments.

You said there was little hope.

Grand Maester Orwyle:
He is stronger than I thought.

This morning his
breath comes easier.

He may yet live, thank the gods.

What happy news.

I'll see my brother.

Alone.

What do you remember?

Nothing.

You challenged Meleys.

It was foolish.

I remember... nothing.

- My prince?
- You're in the most capable hands, Your Grace.

It seems my brother has a long
recovery ahead of him, Grand Maester.

See that he is made
to rest comfortably.

Rhaena Targaryen: And
I've decided there is nothing

to be gained with fretfulness.

Not all of us, I suppose,
are called to great deeds.

Some of us must
serve in smaller ways...

even if they are not what we
would choose for ourselves.

Meaning no offense, hm?

None of this is your fault.

I want Mother.

Yes... well...

I know it's difficult, but...

Jeyne Arryn: I bring
good news, Rhaena.

Prince Reggio has
answered your letter.

He'll be most pleased
to shelter Rhaenyra's

youngest sons in Pentos.

And their half-sister.

Thought you'd be happy.

Or at least less morose.

- You hate it here.

You misled me, my lady.

I did what?

There is a large
dragon in the Vale.

Rumor of it began
shortly after the war.

Ranging more broadly for food...

my maesters surmise.

It is large and
formidable, but alas, wild.

Alas.

A merchant cog, the Gay Abandon,

will take you to Pentos.

I'll send six good men to
protect you on the crossing.

You know you're
not fooling anyone.

Lord Corlys has
chosen to raise you up

to serve alongside him

and yet, you still
continue this subterfuge.

Don't want my men
to get the wrong idea.

About what?

- You're just like him.

Oh, you make an
art of provoking me.

Addam of Hull: You
saved his life, brother.

Do you never think
about what could be ours?

Or yours, anyway.

The riches... servants...

the Driftwood Throne.

We spent the whole of our lives

in the shadow of the
Sea Snake's great castle.

I do not wish to
dwell in it any longer.

Hm, and so you belittle
your great opportunity.

While me he ignores...

as he always has.

The Sea Snake would
sooner have High Tide

claimed by the sea
than call us his sons.

Stop wasting your life waiting
for something that'll never come.

It was a bold attempt.

I admire you for it.

They say you struck
Lord Bartimos today

in view of the staff and guard.

The household is abuzz with it.

He's lucky I did
not have his tongue.

And what did he say that was so

deserving?

I have tired of
being protected...

Jace.

I bring to mind too
much their mothers

or their daughters.

They must see in me a ruler.

And the symbols of authority
are not jewels and gowns,

but the shield and the sword.

My ruler is my mother.

And I do not wish it otherwise.

Will you lead us
to war yourself?

Well, for a certainty
I cannot remain here,

pacing the floors, waiting for
defeat and despair to visit me.

- Oh, don't be ridiculous.
- I'm doing all I can.

I have directed Lord Mooton
to march on Rook's Rest,

and sent another raven
to the Vale to persuade...

We may marshal the
strength of the Vale,

Maidenpool, and
all our allies besides.

We will still never match the
strength of the Green armies.

We need Daemon and his dragon.

May I be free for even one hour

of the constant refrain of
Daemon, Daemon, Daemon...

Lorent Marbrand: Your Grace.

The lady Mysaria.

My queen, our gift is sent.

What gift?

Let us hope for clouds
over the Blackwater tonight.

You said he'd improved.

His Grace sleeps
nine hours of every 10...

but he did open his eyes
and speak, however briefly.

His mending may
be long and painful,

but it is my sincere hope

that His Grace will be spared.

And what will he be if he lives?

My letters to my father...

I have sent ravens, again, to
Highgarden and to Oldtown.

And now, to all the great
houses in the Reach.

There has been no
word from Ser Otto,

as of yet.

There is war in the
Reach now, Your Grace.

House Beesbury has raised
arms against the Hightower host.

Retribution for
their lord's demise.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Gwayne Hightower: Sister.

Gwayne.

'Tis well that I found you.

I wish to give you my blessing.

Well...

my thanks to the queen dowager.

I wondered if you've
heard from father?

I've sent ravens to
Highgarden and Oldtown,

but have had no reply.

I've heard nothing

but neither have I
sent any message.

If he wrote letters,
it would be to you.

You were always his favorite.

Strange there has been no word.

Otto Hightower is
ever-resourceful.

He will send news when
there is news to send.

I often wonder what
life could've been

if he had brought
you to court instead.

I'm the eldest son.

It was right that I
was raised at Oldtown.

But you were eight years
of age and motherless.

It must've been difficult.

You get on with it, don't you?

When there isn't any choice.

My son, Daeron...

what's he like?

- Does he not write to you?
- Less and less these days.

Ten-and-six now.

Letters, perhaps,
hold less of his interest.

He's stalwart.

Clever.

As adept with his lute
as he is with his sword.

And a feature in
the fancies of many

a young lady, I'll wager.

He's kind.

That's good.

- Kindness is a quality I've found lacking in his brothers.
- Mm.

You did well to
send him to ward.

Yes, it seems the Red Keep,

for all its privileges,

may, in fact, be a less
than salubrious environment

for the forming of young men.

Was it the court or
was it their mother?

I'm sure you did your best.

I must join Ser Criston.

Wish us luck, sister.

I shall pray to the Warrior
for your safe return.

Mm...

Farewell.

Your Grace.

This one stopped singing.

Isn't that strange?

I thought we might
light a candle.

For Aegon...

and all our lost souls.

You, where'd you get that food?!

- Rhaenyra's ships.
- Ships?

They came ashore in
the middle of the night

with gifts from the queen.

She thinks of us, even now!

Give me that!

- Give it to me!

Knight: Get out of the way!

Your Graces... we
must leave, now.

Get the queens
to the wheelhouse!

Mind your flanks.
Protect your corners.

Keep moving. This
way, Your Grace.

'Tis the Queen of Fishes!

Rickard Thorne: Keep moving!

- Long live Queen Rhaenyra!

Alicent Hightower:
Get to the wheelhouse!

Smallfolk: Long live
Queen Rhaenyra!

Helaena!

Your Grace!

- My queen!
- Leon Estermont: Get off!

- No! No!

-Sheathe your swords!

Sheathe your swords!

You heard the queen!

Sheathe those swords!

- No!

- Get back!
- Go, Helaena, go!

Out of my way! Out of my way!

- knight: Estermont!

My Queens! This way, inside!

- smallfolk: Long
live Queen Rhaenyra!

Long live Queen Rhaenyra!

Run them down if you must.

Ride! Ride!

Larys Strong: No more.

- My lord. Only...

the Grand Maester
instructed me to.

The king will be most
eager for his draught,

in an hour.

The drink takes the pain away,

- but it dulls your mind.

Oh, take heart, Your Grace,

you've already written
yourself into legend.

You survived dragonfire.

But I'm afraid you
will never be whole.

Orwyle has
exhausted his abilities.

He's bound your leg...

but you will never run again.

Your mind...

is all that remains to you.

I do not say that gladly.

I came screaming into the world

in the bowels of one of
Harren's great towers.

My lungs were
strong, but my foot

so twisted that...

my father named it sorcery.

Accusing a member
of our household

of casting... maligned spells.

Well.

People will pity you

either behind your back...

or in your presence.

And they will stare...

at you, at you...

or turn away.

And they will underestimate you.

And this will be your advantage.

No, n... No.

Your brother rules
in your place now,

which means that
your life is in danger.

But I think you know that.

Help me.

Brother.

Daemon, she's gone.

I'm sorry.

You needed me.

I'm here now.

I'm here now.

Simon Strong: Your Grace.

Sorrowful news from
Riverrun, my king.

Lord Grover is dead.

Uhh... the old man.

Indeed.

Young Oscar Tully is now Lord
Paramount of the Riverlands.

What was the manner
of Lord Grover's passing?

- Well, he'd been ill, of course.
- Mm-hmm.

Riverrun's maesters...

have been at their wits' end.

Our own healer, Alys Rivers,

volunteered her renowned skills.

She plied her craft, but...

there was naught
more to be done.

Worker: Hey, look!

Get inside! Hurry!

Your banners were carried
from the ship into the city.

They went as far as the
gates of the Red Keep

before they were turned away.

It is, as we hoped, a
warning to the usurpers

that you have strength
beyond what they accredited.

I thought you'd be pleased.

I do not think I
can win this war.

I think you are tired.

My own son questions
my capabilities.

He thinks I need
Daemon at my side.

- And Daemon himself.
- He has ever done what suits Daemon.

He was everything
I wanted to be.

Carefree.

And dangerous.

A man.

And I was what he wanted.

Cherished by my father,

and made my father's heir.

We were halves of a whole.

He's never been at peace.

He wished to possess me,

but not to be possessed

and to see me
take hold, finally,

of what he always
believed to be his.

I fear what he may now do.

I fear he may have
turned against me.

It is more his way to disappear.

In either case, I
have lost him...

and Caraxes with him.

Rhaenys and her dragon are dead.

I have Syrax and
two young beasts.

We cannot take on Vhagar alone.

- And I have no army.
- You have the Velaryon fleet and the men who fight in it.

It's not enough.

And even if we
somehow prevailed,

how will I rule a kingdom

when my own son doubts me?

You have me.

You have my thanks... Truly.

It was my father.

I was still a child.

He... had his pleasure with me.

And when, after
many months of this,

it became evident that
his seed had taken root.

There is a scar here as well.

I cannot bear children.

He left me for dead...

but I lived.

- I'm so sorry.
- Swore to myself I would never trust another.

And... that oath
has stood me well.

This world is cold and cruel,

and there are few in
it who are steadfast.

You, I think, are steadfast.

You have seen me as
worthy, as an equal, even.

Because of that,
I will serve you.

I believe you are
meant to be queen.

Begging your pardon, Your Grace.

The dragon Seasmoke has
been sighted flying over Spicetown.

Yes, he does that.

From what we have heard...

he has a rider.

- Who?
- Impossible to tell from the ground.

- The Greens?
- I don't know who else it could be.

Shall I summon your counsel?

Jacaerys Velaryon:
Mother!

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