House of the Dragon

Duty is sacrifice.

It eclipses all things, even blood.

All men of honor must pay its price.

The North owes a great duty to the Seven Kingdoms.

One older than any oath.

Since the days of the First Men, we have stood as guardians

against the cold and the dark.

Through its long tradition

the Night's Watch cultivated its strength from doomed men

who had their life as their only possession.

But my ancestor, Torrhen Stark

began a tradition by making an offering at the onset of winter...

one in ten men from our household

was to be chosen to fortify the Watch.

This is not a sentence

but an honor.

A duty embraced by all who serve the North.

Even by mine own kin.

The North must stand ready.

Winter is coming.

Coming? What is this then

that falls from the skies and shivers my bones?

This is only a late summer snow, my prince.

In winter, it will cover all you see

and all memories of warmth will be forgotten.

It pleases me to think that over a century ago

our ancestors treated in this very place.

The Conqueror and the King in the North.

You, at least, had the mercy not to threaten me with your dragon.

My prince.

- My lord. - My lord.

M'lord.

Surely, the great Torrhen Stark

would've sooner died than bent the knee.

Unless he believed the Conqueror

could bring unity to the Seven Kingdoms.

You are right in that.

That unity is now threatened.

The realm will soon tear itself apart

if men do not remember the oath sworn to King Viserys

and to his rightful heir.

Starks do not forget their oaths, my prince.

But you must know

that my gaze is forever torn between north and south.

In winter, my duty to the Wall is even more dire

than the one I owe to King's Landing.

I need my men here.

Whilst your men guard against wildlings and weather

the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne.

If my mother is to defend her claim to hold the realm united

she needs an army.

War is coming

to the whole of the realm, my lord.

We cannot wage it without the support of the North.

My father brought King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne to see the Wall.

His Grace stood at this very outlook and watched as their dragons

the greatest power in the world, refused to cross it.

Do you think my ancestors built a 700-foot wall of ice

to keep out snow and savages?

What does it keep out?

Death.

I have thousands of graybeards who've already seen too many winters.

They are well-honed.

So they're old?

I can ready them to march at once.

If your graybeards can fight, the queen will have them.

They will fight hard.

Like Northerners.

My lord?

A raven's arrived.

Urgent news from Dragonstone.

Good, Meleys.

Sit!

Wait.

Take your mount again. We're flying out.

I alone patrol over a hundred miles of open sea

endlessly, to hold the blockade.

Meleys must gorge and rest, as must I.

- We're going to King's Landing. - To what end?

Killing Vhagar.

I cannot face that hoary old bitch alone.

With my dragon and yours together, we can kill Vhagar and her rider.

Make it a son for a son.

- Was this the queen's command? - The queen remains absent.

I should be at Harrenhal bending knees

but I must instead remain here to wage her war.

Or perhaps, more simply, to await her return.

She has been gone for days. Too long. She is exposed.

She is grieving.

The mother grieves as the queen shirks her duties.

It was a raven that brought me news of Laena's death.

I existed for weeks in torment

refusing to believe what I'd been told.

It was only when I saw my daughter's mortal remains

that I could begin to mourn her.

A raven has told Rhaenyra that her son is dead.

She needs to know it for certain.

She was a fool to go alone.

What if Aemond were to happen upon her?

Then I would pity Aemond.

The queen was wise to recuse herself.

She has not acted on the vengeful impulse

that others might have.

If you'd have acted when you had the chance

Aegon's line would be extinguished.

And Luke would be alive.

Fly with me.

It is a command.

Would that you were the king.

- M'lord. - M'lord.

- M'lord. - M'lord.

M'lord.

M'lord.

M'lord.

It's a marvel she was able to return from the Stepstones at all.

Barely done, but done.

Seven more ships put out to sea this morn'

to fortify the blockade.

The Gullet is vast

and we're not like to have the numbers

to cover all that open water.

I must have my ship back at sea to lead the effort.

It'll be many weeks yet, I'd wager.

But I'll have a word with my brother

to see what reinforcements the shipwrights can muster.

The smithy delivered this earlier.

M'lord?

I had this commissioned for Prince Lucerys.

I was very sorry to hear about your heir's death.

'Twas the blackest of treacheries.

Pardon, m'lord, if it'll please you, much to do.

They tell me that you are the one that dragged my body out of the sea.

It was only my duty.

I am indebted to you, Alyn.

- To attention, men! - On your feet!

- Hurry up! - Mind your posts!

Yes, Ser!

To your stations! Hey, get back here!

- Keep your focus, men! - Yes, Ser!

- Dragon! - Dragon!

Arm the scorpion!

Arm the scorpion!

Approaching from the southeast!

Get around!

Scorpion ready!

- Halt! - Halt!

Stand down, it's Vhagar!

Stand down!

Standing down!

Where is Jaehaerys?

Attending his lessons.

And those are where?

What do you need of him?

Taking him to the small council.

He'll be king one day. He must begin his instruction.

What if he does not want to be king?

Where is he?

The library.

You must not interrupt his custom.

I'm afraid.

Don't be.

They'd be fools to come with Vhagar protecting the city.

Not the dragons.

The rats.

The queen is an enduring mystery...

is she not?

There's a chill in the air.

Summer is well and truly through.

We are expected at the small council, Your Grace.

We cannot.

Again.

Yes, Your Grace.

If you wouldn't mind?

- Your Grace. - Good day.

Hello! Jaehaerys must learn the ways of the court

if he is to rule one day.

Up we go.

Good morrow, my lords.

Mother.

What news?

Our letters to the Vale and to the North

continue to go unanswered.

Cunts.

The Stormlands should be ours after Prince Aemond's marriage pact

to the Lady Floris Baratheon.

I anticipate their sworn declaration.

My brother is raising the strength of the West

to mass at the Golden Tooth but we...

Yeah, thank you, my prince. That's very helpful.

My nephew, Lord Ormund

musters his forces to sally forth from Oldtown.

They expect to march quickly

meeting little resistance, until they reach the Riverlands.

My letters to Rhaenyra. Has there been any answer?

An apology for her dead son?

None, Your Grace.

Between that and their blockade of the Gullet

we must presume that the princess has refused

the offered terms

and that war is now inevitable.