House of the Dragon

Another crossing burned.

We might never reach Tumbleton.

So how long will it take you to build the bloody thing again?

We will have to find another crossing,

- take the long way round. - The queen will abhor this delay.

- - Lord Piper, take 100 of your fastest riders

- and make for Stoney Sept. -

Secure the barge and transit there.

- - That puts us back by a week,

but we can do no better.

It's our last chance to ford the river

with an army of this size.

- - Will we continue to suffer this Cole

and his band of hangers-on?

They flit about us like fucking deer flies,

another thing that we do not endure in the North.

Better deer flies than frostbite.

But Criston Cole I am past enduring,

North or South.

Then loose my wolves and me on the hunt,

and we will bring him down.

Or we could play at his game.

- -

- -

Ambush!

We're under attack!

To the next crossing, then?

They'll make for Stoney Sept

and we'll once more be ahead of them.

- Fall back! -

If I'd have known we were expecting guests,

I would have made up the beds.

We're looking for Aemond Targaryen,

- the Kinslayer. - Ah, yes. There's been a horde of you

since the ungrateful queen announced her bounty.

Well, you won't find your quarry here.

There's an old man who churns the butter,

but he's blind in both eyes.

And the boy who feeds the horses.

- And then there are the ghosts. -

Seems you have not learned the history of this place

and the laborers who built it...

who died here in chains...

in service to Harren the Cruel.

- -

This castle breathes.

She swallows the greedy, the heedless.

Her founding stones were watered with the blood of men.

And she's always thirsty.

- -

Oi! You bloody craven?!

Fuck this place.

Can you hear me?

Stay back! Stay back!

My... my brother. Aegon, he was here.

His face was on fire.

I saw him. He was clutching at me,

dragging me down into the dark.

- My... my brother. - It's just the dream again. That's all.

It's just the dream again.

She saw it.

She said I would die, that I ruined everything.

No.

Mother.

None may enter, save at our queen's direction.

It is a matter of some delicacy.

I'm not certain how familiar you are with disorders of the, um...

female persuasion.

Hm?

I must thank you again for your loyalty, Grand Maester.

I flatter myself to think that I have ever been

a faithful servant to Your Grace.

More than that, you've been a friend.

But we have now a new queen.

And I find myself under some scrutiny.

I fear I can no longer offer you

assistance after today

without making the proper disclosures.

I understand.

I don't want it.

You must.

It could be a boy. Do you see?

Aegon's heir, a rival to Joffrey.

To Rhaenyra herself.

She will kill it. She will have no choice.

Or if she does not, she will take it from you.

Aemond still lives, as far as we know.

He's at Harrenhal.

No, he was there, but he has fled.

- He's vanished. - I have seen him.

He burns, but without fire.

If Aemond threatens Rhaenyra's rule,

she will use the child as her shield.

I can't do it.

Helaena, please. Please.

For your own sake, do you not wish to be free?

I can't.

- No. No. - Think of it, think of it as a cup of tea.

Nothing more.

But it isn't.

No. No, it's not. Listen to me.

Listen to me, it is a blessing.

It is a remedy

taught to the masters of the Citadel.

It has delivered me from disgrace and ruin.

It has delivered Rhaenyra herself when she was young.

And it will deliver you, too.

- Helaena. Please, please. - No.

Listen to me.

Will you bear a child

who will be never more than a hostage or a pawn?

It's mine!

It's my own, it's mine!

I had hoped a seat on the council would suffice

as recompense for House Frey's loyalty.

But Harrenhal was to be our recompense,

payment for giving your Winter Wolves

passage across the Twins, promised by your own son.

- My son is dead. - And now, I discover

that you have pledged our castle as a trophy,

free to any hedge knight who can bring you the head

- of Aemond Targaryen. - You, yourself, are welcome to try.

Cregan Stark's army has crossed the Trident,

and we expect the crown's word to be honored,

no matter if some grubby sellsword

has dubbed himself Lord of Harrenhal in the meanwhile.

For now, however,

I would be pleased to join Your Grace's council.

What could anyone possibly want in Wendish Town?

- - Not Wendish Town itself, Your Grace,

but a small village at the outskirts.

There were several farms burned,

and the men we talked to were certain it was Vhagar herself.

The Sea Snake's bastard, now a dragonrider.

- That's his brother. - Lord Darry is our ally.

Aemond may be provoking us.

By sacking a farm or three? To what end?

Dragons need to eat.

The White Worm, she was called.

But they are fugitives. We will root them out soon enough.

- The whore. - Mm-hmm.

There was a skirmish last night at the Dragon Gate.

Horses were required to dispel it.

If only the Lady Mysaria had been there

with her promised bread and ladlefuls of stew.

Or if, by some miracle, the king consort's City Watch

had shown a penny's worth of restraint

pursuing the pettiest of crimes,

- the pettiest of criminals... - Did anyone see where Vhagar flew?

We went with all speed to take up the trail,

but it was two days cold.

Once again, Aemond is nowhere to be found.

Two of our gold cloaks were found dead

in the street this morning.

Put to the blade by an unknown hand.

Where was this?

- Flea Bottom. - Flea Bottom.

Mm, has ever been a realm unto itself.

Quite ungovernable, full of undesirables.

Vhagar appears while Ormund Hightower

gathers himself at Tumbleton to some hidden purpose.

We need not waste our sweat fretting over a fox

gone to ground. If you will not burn him...

- He is not a f... - ...then my army

will root him out soon enough.

As to that, there is fresh news

from Lord Tully's camp.

Their march has been slowed by interference

from Ser Criston Cole and his men.

River crossings are being burned before the army can reach them.

Go back to the Riverlands.

If Aemond has shown himself once, he may do so again.

Take no risk, but ascertain his path, his purpose.

If I may, Your Grace.

We arrived back only this morning.

The Lady Baela has not eaten, much less slept.

I am more than ready to fly.

It will not serve us if your eyes are weary

and your beast fatigued.

I will send Daemon.

I will go once I have dealt with this business in the city.

Our fallen soldiers. An accounting must be made.

- Do you not agree? - I am able, Your Grace.

The loss to our City Watch

is a crime, to be sure, but Ser Luthor will investigate.

- It is not a matter for the crown. - They are my men.

And we depend on those men now to secure your rule.

Especially since their wages have been withheld.

- Your Grace. - Not now.

Is it always like this?