♪ ♪
Narrator: As the first century of the Targaryen dynasty
came to a close,
the health of the Old King,
Jaehaerys, was failing.
In those days, House Targaryen
stood at the height of its strength
with 10 adult dragons under its yoke.
No power in the world could stand against it.
King Jaehaerys reigned over nearly 60 years
of peace and prosperity.
But tragedy had claimed both his sons,
leaving his succession in doubt.
So, in the year 101,
the Old King called a Great Council
to choose an heir.
Over a thousand lords made the journey to Harrenhal.
Fourteen succession claims were heard
but only two were truly considered:
Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, the King's eldest descendant,
and her younger cousin, Prince Viserys Targaryen,
the King's eldest male descendant.
Jaehaerys Targaryen: It is declared by all lords paramount
and lords vassal of the Seven Kingdoms...
that Prince Viserys Targaryen
be made Prince of Dragonstone.
Narrator: Rhaenys, a woman,
would not inherit the Iron Throne.
The lords instead chose Viserys...
my father.
Jaehaerys called the Great Council
to prevent a war being fought over his succession.
For he knew the cold truth.
The only thing that could tear down
the House of the Dragon...
was itself.
(epic theme playing)
♪ ♪
(wind blowing)
(dragon calls)
(grand music playing)
♪ ♪
(roaring)
♪ ♪
-(dragon roaring) -(birds cawing)
♪ ♪
(roars)
(speaking High Valyrian) Dohaeras, Syrax!
(Syrax rumbling)
Umbas.
Rybas!
(grunts)
(Syrax purring)
Ser Harrold Westerling: Welcome back, Princess.
I trust your ride was pleasant.
Try not to look too relieved, ser.
Westerling: I am relieved.
Every time that golden beast
brings you back unspoiled,
it saves my head from a spike.
Syrax is growing quickly.
She'll soon be as large as Caraxes.
That's almost large enough to saddle two.
I believe I'm quite content as a spectator, thank you.
Dragonkeeper Elder: (speaking High Valyrian) Dohaeras.
(grumbles, roars)
Naejot!
(roars)
(horses neighing)
♪ ♪
(birds cawing)
♪ ♪
(indistinct chatter)
Ah... Rhaenyra.
You know I don't like you to go flying
while I'm in this condition.
You don't like me to go flying while you're in any condition.
-Your Grace. -Queen Aemma: Good morrow, Alicent.
Rhaenyra: Did you sleep?
-I slept. -How long?
I don't need mothering, Rhaenyra.
Well, here you are, surrounded by attendants,
all focused on the babe.
Someone has to attend to you.
You will lie in this bed soon enough, Rhaenyra.
This discomfort is how we serve the realm.
I'd rather serve as a knight and ride to battle and glory.
(laughs)
We have royal wombs, you and I.
The childbed is our battlefield.
We must learn to face it with a stiff lip.
Now take a bath.
You stink of dragon.
So, I said to him, "Well, I believe you might be looking up the wrong end."
(all laughing)
My lords.
The growing alliance among the Free Cities
has taken to styling itself "the Triarchy."
They have massed on Bloodstone
and are presently ridding the Stepstones
of its pirate infestation.
King Viserys: Well, that sounds suspiciously
like good news, Lord Corlys.
A man called Craghas Drahar
has styled himself the prince-admiral of this Triarchy.
They call him "The Crabfeeder"
due to his inventive methods of punishing his enemies.
King Viserys: And are we meant to weep for dead pirates?
-Lord Corlys: No, Your Grace. -Rhaenyra, you're late.
King's cupbearer must not be late.
-Leaves people wanting for cups. -I was visiting Mother.
(sniffs) On dragonback?
Lyman Beesbury: Hey, Your Grace, at Prince Daemon's urging,
the crown has invested significant capital
in the re-training and re-equipping of his City Watch.
I thought you might urge your brother
to fill his seat on the council
and provide an assessment of his progress
as commander of the Watch.
Do you think Daemon is distracted by his present tasks?
And that his thoughts and energies are occupied?
Well, one would hope so, considering the associated costs.
Then let us all consider your gold well-invested, Lord Beesbury.
I would urge that you not allow
this Triarchy much latitude
in the Stepstones, Your Grace.
If those shipping lanes should fall,
it will beggar our ports.
The crown has heard your report, Lord Corlys,
and takes it under advisement.
Shall we discuss the Heir's Tournament, Your Grace?
I would be delighted.
Will the maesters' name day prediction hold, Mellos?
You must understand that these things
are mere estimations, my King,
but we have all been
poring over the moon charts,
and we feel that our forecast
is as accurate as it can be.
Lyman: The cost of the tournament is not negligible.
Perhaps we might delay until the child is in hand?
Ugh, most of the lords and knights
are certainly on their way to King's Landing already. To turn them back now--
King Viserys: The tourney will take the better part of a week.
Before the games are over, my son will be born,
and the whole realm will celebrate.
Grand Maester Mellos: We have no way of predicting
the sex of the child.
Of course, no maester's capable
of rendering an opinion
free of conditions, are they now?
There's a boy in the Queen's belly.
I know it.
And my heir will soon put all of this damnable
hand-wringing to rest himself.
He passed through the Red Keep's gates at first light.
Does my father know he's here?
-No. -Good.
(birds chirping)
Gods be good.
It's all right, ser.
(speaking High Valyrian)
Aye...
Mm...
I bought you something.
Do you know what it is?
It's Valyrian steel.
Like Dark Sister.
Turn around.
Now...
you and I both own a small piece of our ancestry.
(speaks High Valyrian)
Alicent: Did you read it?
Rhaenyra: Of course, I read it.
Alicent: When Princess Nymeria arrived in Dorne,
who did she take to husband?
Rhaenyra: A man.
Alicent: What was his name?
Rhaenyra: Lord Something.
Alicent: If you answer with "Lord Something,"
Septa Marlow will be furious.
She's funny when she's furious.
You're always like this when you're worried.
Like what?
Disagreeable.
You're worried your father is about to overshadow you
with a son.
I only worry for my mother.
I hope for my father that he gets a son.
As long as I can recall, it's all he's wanted.
You want him to have a son?
I want to fly with you on dragonback,
see the great wonders across the Narrow Sea, and eat only cake.
-I'm being serious. -I never jest about cake.
You aren't worried about your position?
I like this position. It's quite comfortable.
-Where are you going? -Home. The hour has grown late.
Princess Nymeria led her Rhoynar
across the Narrow Sea on 10,000 ships
to flee their Valyrian pursuers.
She took Lord Mors Martell of Dorne to husband
and burned her own fleet off Sunspear
to show her people that they were finished running.
-What are you doing? -So you remember.
-If-if the Septa sees this book, then-- -Fuck the Septa.
Alicent: Rhaenyra!
-(both laughing) -(bell tolling)
(birds cawing)
Is it healing?
Mellos: It has grown slightly, Your Grace.
Otto Hightower: Can you say yet what it is?
We've sent enquiries to the Citadel.
They are searching the texts for similar cases.
It's a small cut from sitting the throne.
It's nothing.
The King has been under heavy stresses
preparing for the birth.
Bad humors of the mind
can adversely affect the body.
Whatever it is, it needs to be kept quiet.
We should leech it again, maester.
It's a wound that refuses to heal, Grand Maester.
Might I suggest cauterization?
Cauterization would be a wise
course of treatment, Your Grace.
-It will be painful-- -King Viserys: Fine.
Fine.
(seabirds cawing)
(door opens)
(door closes)
You spend more time in that bath than I do on the throne.
(sighs) This is the only place
I can find comfort these days.
It's tepid.
It's as warm as the maesters will allow.
-Don't they know dragons prefer heat? -Hm.
After this miserable pregnancy...
I wouldn't be surprised if I hatched an actual dragon.
(laughs) Then he will be loved and cherished.
Rhaenyra has already declared that she is to have a sister.
Really?
-She even named her. -Dare I ask?
-Visenya. -(chuckles)
She chose a dragon's egg for the cradle
that she said reminded her of Vhagar.
Gods be good.
This family already has its Visenya.
Has there been any word from your dear brother?
Not since I named him Commander of the City Watch.
I'm sure he will reemerge for the tourney.
He could never stay away from the lists.
The tourney...
to celebrate the firstborn son
that we presently do not have.
You do understand
nothing will cause the babe to grow a cock
if it does not already possess one?
-This child is a boy, Aemma. -(scoffs)
I'm certain of it.
I've never been more certain of anything.
The dream.
It was clearer than a memory.
Our son was born wearing Aegon's iron crown.
And I heard the sound of thundering hooves,
splintering shields, and ringing swords,
and I placed our son upon the Iron Throne...
as the bells of the Grand Sept tolled
and all the dragons roared as one.
Born wearing a crown?
Gods spare me...
birth is unpleasant enough as it is.
This is the last time,
Viserys.
I've lost one babe in the cradle,
had two stillbirths, and two pregnancies
ended well before their term.
That's five... in twice as many years.
I know it is my duty to provide you an heir,
and I'm sorry if I have failed you in that. I am.
But I've mourned all the dead children I can.
(somber music playing)
(muffled thumping)
(thumping grows louder)
Captain Randyll Barret: Commander on the floor!
When I took command of the Watch, you were stray mongrels...
starving and undisciplined.
Now...
you're a pack of hounds.
You're sated and honed for the hunt.
(all howling)
My brother's city has fallen into squalor.
Crime of every breed has been allowed to thrive.
No longer.
Beginning tonight, King's Landing will learn
to fear the color gold.
(war cry erupts)
(indistinct shouting)
(tense music playing)
(indistinct yelling)
-(punches landing) -(people grunting)
(horse neighs)
♪ ♪
City Watchman: Get up!
-(grunting) -(screaming)
♪ ♪
(grunts)
(screams)
Raper!
No! No! No! No! No!
-(slashing) -(screaming)
Captain Barret: Thief!
No! (screaming)
♪ ♪
Murderer!
(yelling)
-(screams) -(slices)
(horse neighs)
Otto: It was an unprecedented
roundup of criminals of every ilk.
Your brother made a public show of it,
meting out the summary judgments himself.
I'm told they needed a two-horse cart
to haul away the resulting dismemberments
when it was done.
King Viserys: (sighs) Gods be good.
The Prince cannot be allowed to act
with this kind of unchecked impunity.
-Brother. -Daemon.
Carry on. You were saying something about my impunity.
You are to explain your doings with the City Watch.
Your new "gold cloaks" made quite the impression last night, didn't they?
Prince Daemon Targaryen: Did they?
The City Watch is not a sword
to be wielded at your whim.
They're an extension of the crown.
The Watch was enforcing the crown's laws.
Wouldn't you agree, Lord Strong?
-My Prince, I don't think-- -Making a public spectacle of wanton brutality
is hardly in line with our laws.
Nobles from every corner of the realm
are right now descending upon King's Landing
for my brother's tourney.
Do you want them mugged, raped, murdered?
You mightn't know this unless you left the safety of the Red Keep,
but much of King's Landing is seen by the smallfolk
as lawless and terrifying.
Our city should be safe for all its people.
I agree.
I just hope you don't have to maim
half of my city to achieve this.
Time will tell.
We installed Prince Daemon as commander to promote law and order.
The criminal element should fear the City Watch.
Thank you for your support, Lord Corlys.
If only the Prince would show the same devotion
to his lady wife as he does his work, Your Grace.
You've not been seen in the Vale
or at Runestone for quite some time.
I think my bronze bitch is happier for my absence.
Otto: Lady Rhea is your wife,
a good and honorable lady of the Vale.
In the Vale, men are said to fuck sheep instead of women.
I can assure you, the sheep are prettier.
Dear me.
You made a vow before the Seven
to honor your wife in marriage.
Well, I'd gladly give Lady Rhea to you,
Lord Hightower, if you're in want
of a woman to warm your bed.
Your own lady wife passed recently.
Did she not?
Otto.
Perhaps you aren't ready to move on just yet.
You know how my brother makes sport of provoking you.
Must you indulge him?
My apologies, Your Grace.
King Viserys: This council has, at great expense,
bettered the City Watch to your exacting standards.
Enforce my laws, but understand...
any further performances like last night's
will be answered.
Understood, Your Grace.
King's Landing has been in decline since my grandmother passed.
-(door closes) -In the end...
this new City Watch
might be a good thing.
-(moaning) -(people laughing)
♪ ♪
(moaning continues)
(moaning)
(distant cheering)
-(heavy breathing) -(Prince Daemon groans)
♪ ♪
Mysaria: What troubles you, my Prince?
I could bring in another.
Perhaps a maiden.
I have several.
I could even arrange one with silver hair.
(drums, music playing outside)
You are Daemon Targaryen.
Rider of Caraxes. Wielder of Dark Sister.
The King cannot replace you.
(dog barking)
(crowd cheering)
(intense music playing)
King Viserys: Be welcome!
I know many of you have traveled long leagues
to be at these games.
But I promise, you will not be disappointed.
When I look at the fine knights in these lists,
I see a group without equal in our histories.
And this great day
has been made more auspicious
by the news...
that I am happy to share:
Queen Aemma has begun her labors!
(all cheering)
(applause)
May the luck of the Seven shine upon all combatants!
(cheering)
(horses neighing, galloping)
(neighs)
(crowd cheering, applauding)
(knight grunts)
(crowd exclaims)
Rhaenyra: A mystery knight?
No, a Cole, of the Stormlands.
I've never heard of House Cole.
Lord Boremund Baratheon: Princess Rhaenys Targaryen!
I would humbly ask for the favor
of "The Queen Who Never Was."
(crowd cheering)
Good fortune to you, cousin.
I would gladly take it if I thought I needed it.
You could have Baratheon's tongue for that.
Tongues will not change the succession.
Let them wag.
(drumming)
Lord Stokeworth's daughter
is promised to that young Tarly squire.
-Lord Massey's son? -Mm-hm.
They're to be married as soon as he wins his knighthood.
-Best get on with it. -(horse neighs)
I heard that Lady Elinor is hiding a swollen belly beneath her dress.
-(knight yells) -(horse neighs)
(crowd exclaims)
(laughs)
(groaning)
(horses neighing)
What do you know about this Ser Criston Cole, Ser Harrold?
Ser Harrold: I'm told Ser Criston is common-born,
son of Lord Dondarrion's steward.
But other than that, and the fact that he's just unhorsed
both of the Baratheon lads,
I really couldn't say.
(drumming)
(cheering)
(cheering intensifies)
Master of Revels: Prince Daemon of House Targaryen,
Prince of the City,
will now choose his first opponent!
(cheering)
(cheering intensifies)
-(horse neighs) -For his first challenge,
Prince Daemon Targaryen chooses
Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown,
eldest son of the Hand of the King.
(drumming)
Five dragons on Daemon.
(horse neighs)
(horse snorting)
-Ya! -(horse squeals)
(horse shrieks)
(crowd exclaims)
(horse snorting)
(scattered cheers, applause)
(horse neighs)
(crowd cheering)
-Nicely done, Uncle. -Thank you, Princess.
Now, I'm fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent.
Having your favor would all but assure it.
Good luck, my Prince.
(whispering)
-(crowd cheering) -(horse galloping)
(Queen Aemma screaming)
(indistinct shouting)
(Queen Aemma wailing)
-What's happening? -The infant is in breech, Your Grace.
All attempts to turn the babe have failed.
(screaming)
-Do something for her! -We've given her as much
milk of the poppy as we can
without risking the child.
Your Queen is a strong woman.
She's fighting with all her might,
but it may not be enough.
Queen Aemma: No! (grunting)
King Viserys: Aemma.
Aemma... I'm here.
-I'm here. -(Queen Aemma muttering) Help me, please...
I'm here. It's all right.
-It's all right. -I don't wanna do this.
-(muttering continues) -You're going to be all right.
You're going to be all right.
-(wailing) -(horses galloping)
(horse neighs)
(grunting)
-(yells) -(horse neighs)
(grunts)
(gasps)
-(strikes metal) -(shouts)
Kill him!
And the day grows ugly.
I wonder if this is how we should
celebrate the birth of our future king.
-Hm. -With wanton violence.
Princess Rhaenys: It's been 70 years since King Maegor's end.
These knights are as green as summer grass.
None have known real war.
Their lords sent them to the tourney field
with fists full of steel and balls full of seed,
and we expect them to act with honor and grace.
It's a marvel that war didn't break out at first blood.
(screams)
(all gasping)
(retching)
(crowd cheering)
(Mellos muttering)
Mellos.
Your Grace.
If you would.
During a difficult birth,
it sometimes becomes necessary for the father...
to make an impossible choice.
Well, speak it.
To sacrifice one...
or to lose them both.
There is a chance that we can save the child.
A technique is taught at the Citadel,
which involves cutting directly into the womb
to free the infant.
-But the resulting blood loss-- -Seven Hells, Mellos.
(tense music playing)
You can save the child?
We must either act now or leave it with the gods.
(sighs)
♪ ♪
Ser Criston Cole will now tilt against
Ser Daemon Targaryen, Prince of the City!
(cheering)
♪ ♪
(intense music playing)
♪ ♪
(horses neighing)
♪ ♪
(grunts)
(yelling)
♪ ♪
-Viserys. -Yes?
They're going to bring the babe out now.
Mm.
I love you.
Ooh.
-What is happening? -No, it's all right.
No... what is happening?
-Viserys, what-- -King Viserys: No, it's all right.
-Wh-what are you doing? -They're going to bring the babe out.
How are they--
-It's all right. -Viserys, please.
-It's all right. -No, I'm scared. Not in--
-King Viserys: Don't be scared. -What is happening?
Don't be scared. They're going to bring the babe out.
-Queen Aemma: Oh no. -It's all right.
They're going to bring the babe out.
(yells) No! No! No!
-I'm making the first incision. -(screams) No, no, no!
Viserys, no! Please!
-No, no, no! -Don't be scared.
(screaming)
(cheering)
(lances crashing)
(armor scraping)
(cheering)
(grunting)
(grunts)
Prince Daemon: Sword!
Master of Revels: Prince Daemon Targaryen
wishes to continue in a contest of arms!
(grunting)
(blows landing)
(tense music playing)
(muffled screaming)
(cheering)
(grunting)
♪ ♪
(grunting)
♪ ♪
(Prince Daemon shouting)
(baby crying)
(shouting continues)
♪ ♪
(grunting)
(crowd cheering)
Ser Criston Cole: Yield.
Yield.
(Prince Daemon chuckles)
(cheering)
(somber music playing)
Gods. He's Dornish.
I was hoping to ask for the Princess's favor.
I wish you luck, Ser Criston.
Princess.
♪ ♪
Mellos: Congratulations, Your Grace.
You have a son.
-(baby crying) -It's a boy?
Mellos: A new heir, Your Grace.
Had you and the Queen chosen a name?
Baelon.
♪ ♪
(tense music playing)
♪ ♪
(wind blowing)
(somber music playing)
♪ ♪
(softly) They're waiting for you.
(waves crashing)
♪ ♪
(speaking High Valyrian)
♪ ♪
(Syrax vocalizes)
D--
(low growl)
♪ ♪
(speaking High Valyrian) Dracarys.
(vocalizes)
♪ ♪
(roars)
-(bell tolling) -(door closes)
(sighs)
-Where's Rhaenyra? -Otto: Your Grace.
This is the last thing any of us wish to discuss
at this dark hour,
but I consider the matter urgent.
What matter?
That of your succession.
These recent tragedies have left you without an obvious heir.
The King has an heir, my Lord Hand.
Otto: Despite how difficult this time is, Your Grace,
I feel it important
the succession be firmly in place
for the stability of the realm.
Lyonel Strong: The succession is already set...
by precedent and by law.
Shall we say his name?
Daemon Targaryen.
If Daemon were to remain the uncontested heir,
it could destabilize the realm.
The realm? Or this council?
No one here can know what Daemon would do were he king,
but no one can doubt his ambition.
Look at what he did with the gold cloaks.
The City Watch is fiercely loyal to him.
-An army 2,000 strong. -An army you gave him, Otto.
I named Daemon Master of Laws,
but you said he was a tyrant.
As Master of Coin, you said he was a spendthrift
that would beggar the realm.
Putting Daemon in command of the City Watch
was your solution!
A half-measure, Your Grace.
The truth is, Daemon should be far away from this court.
Daemon is my brother.
My blood.
And he will have his place at my court.
Mellos: Let him keep his place at court, Your Grace,
but if the gods should visit
some further tragedy on you,
-either by design or by accident-- -"Design"?
What are you saying?
My brother would murder me, take my crown?
Are you?!
Please.
Daemon has ambition, yes,
-but not for the throne. -(soft chuckle)
He lacks the patience for it.
The gods have yet to make a man who
lacks the patience for absolute power, Your Grace.
Mellos: Under such circumstances,
it would not be an aberration
for the King to name a successor.
Well, who else would have a claim?
The King's firstborn child.
Lyonel: Rhaenyra? A girl?
No queen has ever sat the Iron Throne.
That is only by tradition and precedent, Lord Strong.
If order and stability so concerns this council,
then perhaps we shouldn't break 100 years of it by naming a girl heir.
Daemon would be a second Maegor, or worse.
He is impulsive and violent.
It is the duty of this council
to protect the King and the realm from him.
I'm sorry, Your Grace, but that is the truth as I see it,
and I know that others here agree.
I will not be made to choose
between my brother and my daughter.
Lord Corlys: You wouldn't have to, Your Grace.
There are others who would have a claim.
(laughs) Such as your wife, Lord Corlys?
-"The Queen Who Never Was"? -Rhaenys was the only child
of Jaehaerys' eldest son.
She had a strong claim at the Great Council,
and she already has a male heir.
Just moments ago, you announced your support for Daemon!
If we cannot agree on an heir, then how can we expect--
(shouts) My wife and son are dead!
I will not sit here and suffer crows that come to feast on their corpses!
(sighs)
(birds chirping)
(blows)
Send a raven to Oldtown. Straight away.
My Lady.
My darling.
How's Rhaenyra?
She lost her mother.
The Queen was well-loved by all.
I found myself thinking of your own mother today.
-How is His Grace? -Very low.
Which is why I sent for you.
I thought you might go to him...
offer him comfort.
In his chambers?
I wouldn't know what to say.
Stop that.
He'll be glad of a visitor.
You might wear one of your mother's dresses.
(sighs)
(knocking on door)
(door opens)
The Lady Alicent Hightower, Your Grace.
King Viserys: What is it, Alicent?
I thought I might come and look in on you, Your Grace.
I brought a book.
That's very kind, thank you.
It's a favorite of mine.
I do know how passionate you are for the histories.
Yes... I am.
When my mother died...
people only ever spoke to me in riddles.
All I wanted was for someone to say that they were sorry
for what happened to me.
I'm very sorry, Your Grace.
(solemn music playing)
(muffled moaning)
(muffled laughter)
♪ ♪
(chatter, laughter continue)
♪ ♪
Thank you.
The King's sole heir once again.
Might we drink to our future?
-(bangs) -(shouts) Quiet!
Your Prince will speak!
Silence!
(music stops)
(scattered shouts)
Otto: Before we begin, Your Grace,
I have a report I feel compelled to share.
Last night...
Prince Daemon bought out one of the pleasure houses
on the Street of Silk...
to entertain officers of the City Watch
and other friends of his.
King and Council have long rued my position
as next in line for the throne.
(scattered jeers)
But dream and pray as they all might,
it seems I'm not so easily replaced.
The gods give just as the gods take away.
Otto: He toasted Prince Baelon.
To the King's son.
Otto: Styling him...
"The Heir for a Day."
(tense music playing)
(door opens)
I corroborated this report
with three separate witnesses.
The evening was, by all accounts a... celebration.
(door closes)
Prince Daemon: You cut the image of the conqueror, brother.
Did you say it?
I don't know what you mean.
You will address me as "Your Grace,"
or I will have my Kingsguard cut out your tongue.
"The Heir for a Day." Did you say it?
We must all mourn in our own way, Your Grace.
My family has just been destroyed.
But instead of being by my side, or Rhaenyra's,
(shouting) you chose to celebrate your own rise!
Laughing with your whores and your lickspittles!
You have no allies at court but me!
I have only ever defended you!
Yet everything I've given you, you've thrown back in my face.
You've only ever tried to send me away.
To the Vale, to the City Watch,
anywhere but by your side.
Ten years you've been king,
and yet not once have you asked me to be your Hand!
-Why would I do that? -Because I'm your brother.
And the blood of the dragon runs thick.
Then why do you cut me so deeply?
I've only ever spoken the truth.
I see Otto Hightower for what he is.
-An unwavering and loyal Hand? -A cunt.
A second son who stands to inherit nothing
he doesn't seize for himself.
Otto Hightower is a more honorable man
-than you could ever be. -He doesn't protect you.
-I would. -From what?
Yourself.
You're weak... Viserys.
And that council of leeches knows it.
They all prey on you for their own ends.
I have decided to name a new heir.
-I'm your heir. -Not anymore.
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.
-(swords unsheathing) -(tense music playing)
Your Grace.
♪ ♪
(door opens)
♪ ♪
Rhaenyra: Father.
Balerion was the last living creature to have seen Old Valyria before the Doom.
Its greatness and its flaws.
When you look at the dragons, what do you see?
What?
You haven't spoken a word to me since
mother's funeral,
-and now you send your Kingsguard down-- -Answer me.
It's important.
What do you see?
-I suppose I see us. -Tell me.
Everyone says Targaryens are closer to gods than to men,
but they say that because of our dragons.
Without them, we're just like everyone else.
The idea that we control the dragons...
is an illusion.
They're a power man should never have trifled with.
One that brought Valyria its doom.
If we don't mind our own histories, it will do the same to us.
Targaryen must understand this to be King...
or Queen.
(light music playing)
I'm sorry, Rhaenyra.
I have wasted the years since you were born...
wanting for a son.
♪ ♪
You are the very best of your mother.
And I believe it, I know she did,
that you could be a great ruling queen.
Daemon is your heir.
King Viserys: Daemon was not made to wear the crown.
But I believe that you were.
Mellos: Corlys of House Velaryon,
Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark.
I, Corlys Velaryon,
Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark,
promise to be faithful to King Viserys
and his named heir, the Princess Rhaenyra.
I pledge fealty to them
and shall defend them against all enemies
in good faith and without deceit.
♪ ♪
I swear this by the old gods and the new.
King Viserys: This is no trivial gesture, Rhaenyra.
A dragon's saddle is one thing,
but the Iron Throne is the most dangerous seat in the realm.
I, Lord Hobert Hightower,
Beacon of the South, Defender of the Citadel,
and Voice of Oldtown,
promise to be faithful to King Viserys
and his named heir, the Princess Rhaenyra.
I pledge fealty to them
and shall defend them against all enemies
in good faith and without deceit.
I swear this by the old gods and the new.
(Caraxes grumbles)
Give me your hand.
(grumbling)
♪ ♪
I, Boremund Baratheon...
promise to be faithful to King Viserys...
King Viserys: There's something else that I need to tell you.
It might be difficult for you to understand,
but you must hear it.
Our histories...
they tell us that Aegon looked across
the Blackwater from Dragonstone,
and saw a rich land ripe for the capture.
But ambition alone is not what drove him to conquest.
It was a dream.
And just as Daenys foresaw the end of Valyria,
Aegon foresaw the end of the world of men.
(sighs) 'Tis to begin with a terrible winter
gusting out of the distant north.
I, Rickon Stark,
Lord of Winterfell...
King Viserys: Aegon saw absolute darkness
riding on those winds.
And whatever dwells within
will destroy the world of the living.
When this Great Winter comes, Rhaenyra...
all of Westeros must stand against it.
And if the world of men is to survive,
a Targaryen must be seated on the Iron Throne.
A king or queen,
strong enough to unite the realm
against the cold and the dark.
Aegon called his dream "The Song of Ice and Fire."
This secret...
it's been passed from king to heir since Aegon's time.
Now you must promise to carry it...
and protect it.
Promise me this, Rhaenyra.
Promise me.
(intense music playing)
I, Viserys Targaryen, first of his name...
King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar,
and the First Men,
Lord of the Seven Kingdoms,
and Protector of the Realm,
do hereby name...
Rhaenyra Targaryen
Princess of Dragonstone
and heir to the Iron Throne.
♪ ♪
(breathing heavily)
(dragon roars)
♪ ♪