All language subtitles for House Of The Dragon S02E06-eng

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What he has somehow become.

Queen Rhaenyra wishes
to name you Hand.

To serve with a sea snake
is to make your fortune.

Brother, he owes
you. He owes us.

The Brackens had their
chance to do as I required.

Dragon or no, we shall not
raise our banners for a tyrant.

It breaks my heart
to send my boys away.

Go with them.

Make this sacrifice
willingly for all of us.

There is no food.

The city's safe no longer.

The people see an ill omen.

And you think they
will turn to me?

There is more than one
way to fight a war.

I have an errand for
the Lady Mysaria.

Jason Lannister is
marshalling to the west.

We need to check him
before he reaches Riverrun.

Aemond will not wait long
to press his advantage.

I need dragons.

We have Vermithor
and Silverwing.

If only they had riders,
none could stand against me.

There are those of our
line who never ruled.

It's a mad thought.

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...
- 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.

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.

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 dragon riders

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.
- 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!

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.

Do not show fear.

Rybas!

I've done it.

No.

Mother!

Up, up, up!

Alyn!

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.

An ale here.

Aught to eat with it?

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.

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

Feasting and merriment
for the new Prince Regent.

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.

...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!

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.

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.

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...

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.

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...

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.

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!

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!

Keep moving!

Long live Queen Rhaenyra!

Get to the wheelhouse!

Long live Queen Rhaenyra!

Helaena!

Your Grace!

- My queen!
- 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!

Estermont!

My Queens! This way, inside!

Long live Queen Rhaenyra!

Long live Queen Rhaenyra!

Run them down if you must.

Ride! Ride!

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 dragon fire.

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.

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.

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?

Mother!

You stand with a dragon
of House Targaryen!

What do you want?

All my life,

I have endeavored to serve
both my house and the realm.

And somehow, none of it matters.

It does seem to me that you've
made rather a mess here.

Whose side are you on?

The old ways call for justice.

Prince Daeron's dragon
has taken to wing.

The Hightower host
will be unstoppable.

House Targaryen is the
blood of the dragon.

If any may lay claim to
it, what are we then?

Thousands will die.

With these dragons,
peace will be restored.

Episode 206 is
entitled "Small Folk."

The camera is constantly
circling characters

to give the sense that
this world is turning

very slowly amidst this battle

between the Blacks
and the Greens.

In a way, it's a boiling
over of all of these things

that have been
simmering for so long.

He dares to summon
me with haste?

I find Aemond to be one of the
most interesting characters.

He's driven by a very
cold rationality.

Aegon makes choices
out of fear or anger,

whereas Aemond's revenge
will always be served cold.

Aegon has so many people

constantly trying
to puppeteer him.

It's Larys, or it's
Alicent, or it was Otto.

Whereas now, we've got Aemond.

He's very difficult
to manipulate.

In a state of war,
he's going to fight,

just like Daemon.

My uncle is a
challenge I welcome,

if he dares face me.

I think Aemond is obsessed
with Daemon, in a way.

I think he grew up
in Daemon's shadow

and hearing about
the mystique of him.

Aemond has spun Daemon up
into being this rival of his

and also somebody that
he wants to emulate,

and then probably kill one day.

Mother? A word.

I think Aemond
genuinely sees Alicent

as no more than his
mother and a woman.

So, why would she be
on the small council?

Aemond sees the world in a
very black and white way.

We've always talked
about Aemond as being

the ultimate pragmatist.

So, he is not banishing
his mother from the council

out of cruelty.

It's very simply
like, "I'm sorry,

what is it that you do
here, and what's your role?"

You served the realm well...

at a time of need.

That need has ended.

So long as he's seen
as this indestructible,

horror icon-esque,
Terminator-like figure,

he'll be forever all-powerful.

Have the indignities
of your childhood

not yet sufficiently
been avenged?

She tries to penetrate
whatever heart he has left,

but it's to no avail.

Ser Steffon Darklyn, Your Grace.

- I - need more dragon riders.

- Who could do it?
- You.

I think it's an act out of
desperation of Rhaenyra's

because she realizes

she's never going to
have the ground army.

She doesn't know how
Daemon is going to break.

And even if the
Riverlanders do go her way,

they're still weeks
away by March.

She takes another one of
these pretty outlandish,

but understandable
risks in trying to put

Steffon Darklyn on a dragon.

Perhaps the gods will favor us.

The first part of this journey

is kind of an act
of magical thinking.

And I don't think
it's that pragmatic.

I think it's based on faith.

This is part of the
sort of fanaticism

that we start to
see her exhibit.

It's a very
dangerous thing to do

because you suddenly
take the idea

of Targaryen superiority
as dragon riders,

and you give it to anyone
that has Targaryen blood.

So, you sort of democratize
riding a dragon.

Gods.

It is a risk to life and limb,
but on the other side of it,

it means being written
into the history books.

Darklyn gets intoxicated
by that idea,

and doesn't think about
the possible consequences,

which, sadly, are
quickly visited upon him.

Rhaenyra's last-ditch idea
literally goes up in flames.

There is not food
enough in the city.

The people are hungry,
and their anger is rising.

I think Larys is smart enough

to try and warn Aemond
that people are hungry.

And when people are hungry,
they become desperate.

When people become
desperate, things happen.

I think Larys is suggesting this

in an effort to become the Hand.

And he wants to show Aemond
that he has an understanding

of what's happening.

Send word to Otto Hightower.

Your Grace.

His Grace, the King,

has regained consciousness
this morning.

What happy news.

Aemond has had to
accept the fact

that his brother survived,

and he now has to
deal with that,

but I don't think Aemond is
looking to give up his regency

any time soon either.

Ad hoc, he's the King.

And of course, you'd
want to hold on to that.

Aegon is in grave danger,

now Aemond's, you know,
prowling around the castle.

He's always had these
suspicions of Aemond,

but never really taken
them too seriously.

He wants to be in that position
more than Aegon ever did.

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

Grand Maester.

If Aegon was to fully recover,

and he was to tell
people what Aemond did,

that puts Aemond's newfound
position in jeopardy.

And so, he's a major
threat, at this point.

It's getting pretty restless

in the streets of
King's Landing,

and I think all the
sympathy that they gained

after Jaehaerys' death, a
lot of that has been spent.

And you have people who are
scared and sick and hungry.

And when the masses
get restless,

they point at the person in
the highest levels of power,

and they blame them.

You, where'd you get that food?

Gifts from the Queen. She
thinks of us even now!

I think the people
of King's Landing

have learned by now,

the people in charge are
only going to give them

what they have to.

I don't think they're stupid,
and I think that's what happens.

I think the aristocracy
undermine people

as a collective.

Whoever's gonna supply them
and save them from the famine

is the person they're gonna
choose to be in charge.

Aemond's downfall is that
he doesn't understand

the power of the small folk.

Rhaenyra, through Mysaria,
comes to understand this.

She knows what makes them tick.

She's one of them.

And not just how to
win their hearts,

but actually what
they really need.

Mysaria is giving
Rhaenyra that layer

that she's not getting from
anybody else in their council,

which is, how do I,
from so far away,

on this literal
island of Dragonstone,

touch and affect King's Landing?

And in this war,

that psychological
battle is very important.

Your Graces, we must leave.

Alicent goes through this whole
experience in this episode

of having all these
layers of her family

slowly stripped away from her.

Her father has gone missing,

and her son might not
survive his wounds.

Cole is off on the march,
Aemond is a monster,

and she goes to the
Sept to find comfort.

And even that is not
a sanctuary for her.

There's the Queen of Fishes!

There's a blockade.

There's no food.

The small folk are starving,

and so there's no wonder
that they see the royals

come in their cart
and all their finery,

and it's such a slap
in the face to them.

It's very Marie Antoinette,
"Let them eat cake."

It's cause for revolt.

The effects of Aegon
and now Aemond's reign

have bubbled over

and nearly taken her
and Helaena's life.

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

that you have strength
beyond what they accredited.

It's been such an interesting
part of this series for me,

understanding that relationship.

You watch two people who
are deeply suspicious

of one another develop
a form of trust.

Their relationship
has found a dynamic

which is not dissimilar
to how they first met,

which was this kind of
open frankness and honesty,

and really taking each
other at face value.

In many ways, she is the
off-council Hand of Rhaenyra.

I think Mysaria's power
increases in Rhaenys' absence

because I think
Rhaenyra is desperate

and looking for that sympathetic
female voice in her life.

Within a patriarchal structure,

they underestimate
both of us, really.

I believe you are
meant to be Queen.

And to what extent is
there a degree of threat

in watching two women begin
to guide the path to war?

Your Grace.

The dragon Seasmoke
has been sighted.

He has a rider.

Seasmoke has been claimed,

and she needs to
go find out who,

leaving the audience wondering
what's going to happen next.