Glad news, Lord Ormund!
The war is ended, your allies have scattered,
and your nephews fled.
There is a new queen and she sits her father's throne.
We heard rumor of this.
Though on the road, rumors swarm like flies.
Well, the queen, in her wisdom, offered you clemency,
and your army with you.
Only bend the knee and swear your allegiance,
and you may return to Oldtown and live your lives in...
peace.
Have you any proof of your claim?
Or am I to trust in the reliability and rectitude of the Rogue Prince?
Trust me or don't. You will encounter the truth soon enough.
Your uncle Otto encountered it very recently...
and the Hightower guard soon after him.
And if I am inclined to fight?
That seems obvious enough.
No need to sully the pleasantness of this meeting.
Though I must say, I think Ulf there
would very much enjoy settling into your chambers in the High Tower.
Would you like to be Lord of Oldtown, Ulf?
I am left no choice.
For myself, I would resist.
But I have many other lives to consider.
And so, in the interest of peace...
I will submit.
Delightful.
I, Ormund Hightower,
promise to be faithful
to Rhaenyra Targaryen, the queen.
I pledge my fealty to her.
You have chosen wisely, if reluctantly, Lord Ormund.
Turn around now and lead your army home, and you will be spared.
Our campaign has ended.
We take the Roseroad homeward.
Ah!
I almost forgot.
Your ward...
Daeron Targaryen.
He'll be coming with me.
You would take him hostage?
It would be rather an oversight to allow
one of Prince Aegon's heirs to go prancing about the Reach
with his dragon, no less.
We will treat him kindly, as we would any son of Viserys.
As long as you behave yourself.
Be brave, young prince.
Well met, nephew.
Go home.
The air is thick with ghosts.
Not unhappy ones.
I see myself as a child coming to...
play him a tune I had learned.
He was strong then.
And my mother.
Lord Ormund surrendered.
We have your little prince.
Though I still say we should have incinerated them all.
I must justify my father's faith in me.
Rule as he would have wished.
At any rate, we must begin.
The sooner I'm formally crowned, the better.
Though the preparations are no small undertaking.
To house and feed all those who must attend, to...
organize tourneys.
The grand procession.
Ah.
Daeron Targaryen, Your Grace.
We've not met.
I'm your half-sister and our father's chosen heir.
You've flown in service of your brother, the usurper.
What have you to say?
Open your mouth and speak to your queen.
You are a prisoner in this house.
Your treatment will depend on your conduct and your pliancy.
Look at me.
I wish to know what Ormund knew of the conspiracy to deny me my throne.
What of Aemond, then? Or Aegon?
What do you know of their movements?
Oh, as you wish.
Confine him to a chamber.
Coming down!
He's younger than I imagined.
He's a claimant to the throne.
You're going to have to kill him.
...was Tyland Lannister.
He did not confide in me.
I know only that he spoke of dividing the gold
and sending it out of the city for safekeeping.
-What gold? -It appears, Your Grace,
the crown's wealth has been taken.
-Taken? -Your treasury is depleted.
There is enough to see your court through a week or two.
A little longer if you bring back the gold from Dragonstone.
But to administer all of the Seven Kingdoms--
No. What of my coronation?
Oh, you must know something.
They told me little.
Perhaps because they trusted me little.
Do you trust his word, Lord Corlys?
I do not believe he knows where the gold is.
And I fancy I can sniff a lie.
No one asked you.
It is the duty of my Mistress of Whisperers to advise me.
After the Gullet, we must presume Ser Tyland dead.
But he must have told someone.
If he did, it would have been Lord Jasper.
"Ironrod."
Oh, dear.
Our circumstances are...
unfortunate.
But this remains, I must have a coronation.
Aegon's was done in haste.
Mine must be proper and leave the realm in no doubt
as to who now rules them.
It seems to me, my queen,
that to go to such expense while your people still suffer
might set a bitter taste in their mouths.
It is not mere vanity. It is a matter of legitimacy.
The Triarchy navy is finished,
but the pirates who survived have come ashore.
They are sacking villages.
They are taking women and demanding ransoms none can pay.
And difficulties abound in the city, Your Grace.
It seems the granaries are near empty.
The fields lie fallow and the planting season is moons away.
If we could find some trade--
It will take time for the routes to be reestablished.
And we have not enough ships now
to ensure the safety of goods on the high sea.
Well, in the meantime, we must find grain for bread
or have the people go hungry again.
It is a never-ending inconvenience, this insistence of the people being fed.
And yet, a hungry population is a dangerous one,
as the queen and I well know.
How much time will we squander here on trifles?
The war is won.
Send another raven to Casterly Rock.
If Tyland secreted gold there, we will have an answer from Lady Johanna.
Send to all the great houses. In fact, tell them...
their queen demands tribute.
Remind them who now commands the realm.
Will you not bring your small council here from Dragonstone?
There is much to take in hand.
They betrayed me in their silence, if not in deed.
I have done with them.
Where is Aemond?
He burned Daemon's garrison at Harrenhal
and slew the castellan and his sons.
And then, he disappeared.
It is days now since Vhagar was last seen.
There was a woman there, a maester of sorts.
I have not heard tell of her.
Aemond would not dare challenge you here.
No. But I want him found.
And Sheepstealer as well.
They are the dangers. Let Baela fly as a scout.
Start at Harrenhal and report when there are sightings.
I will, in addition, offer a bounty for the capture of their riders.
We don't have a bounty, it seems.
We will find one.
Ah, better yet,
to the slayer of Aemond One-Eye, I will grant Harrenhal itself.
I have no need of it now. All the Riverlands are mine.
Ah, yes, Aegon hanged all the rat catchers.
As honored as I am to act as your protector,
my place is with my men in the city.
I would counsel you to appoint a Queensguard as a matter of urgency.
Daemon will be useful in identifying candidates.
-We'll put the matter to him. -My queen, a moment.
It seems rats have eaten through a large store of candles.
Tallow is short, we must requisition a new supply
or sit in darkness.
-Then requisition it. -Of course. There is none yet
-to control the royal purse. -Begging your pardon, good ser.
In the matter of the bed chamber,
-I didn't know who to ask. -It's a matter for later.
Hightower bannerman control the Arbor.
-My lady, the price of good wine... -Move back!
...has tripled, if not more.
Enough, enough!
There is time aplenty in the coming days to discuss the royal tipple.
Where is my gold?
-Your gold? -The crown's gold, the treasury.
-Oh, you cannot claim ignorance. -I'm of no help to you.
It was the Master of Coin who removed it.
And the queen knew nothing of it?
They hated me from the start.
Resented my influence, my mere presence.
My own father kept their plot from me.
Is that so?
I would refer you to the man himself, but you slew him without ceremony.
Did it make you feel better?
About losing Jace?
I would rather have slain Aegon as your mother and I had agreed.
But here we are. He is gone.
And I cannot believe you had no hand in that either.
He did that to himself.
Aegon was fled when I returned from Dragonstone.
Has Orwyle not given you his account?
His account, or yours? Do not treat me as a fool.
If you require me to foresee
every duplicitous scheme devised by Larys Strong,
I confess I cannot help but fall short.
Where is Vhagar?
-Who rides Sheepstealer? -I do not know!
Is Aemond not flown away as I promised?
Did the guards on the parapets not suffer you to pass?
I have done all I could.
Will you blame me only for what men have done?
You promised we could go. We told the guards. We ran.
No one knows what he looks like.
Aegon.
He's scarred and burned.
His dragon is dead. Declare him dead as well.
He cannot fight, and if Larys tries to raise him up...
you can dismiss him as an impostor.
You argue still for his life?
You killed my father.
When...
Aemond has been found...
and the challenge to me...
removed, you will go free.
But until then, I cannot be seen to favor Hightowers.
I don't want to stay in this room.
I will not treat you unkindly.
You will be fed and clothed and...
and have a maid to suit your needs.
You may walk under guard in the Godswood
and I will have Jaehaera brought to you for an hour every few days or so.
You cannot mean this, Rhaenyra, please.
None of this pleases me.
So my position is such that I must hope...
for the capture and death of my son.
I can only imagine.
I want it proclaimed that we discovered Aegon here, dead.
-A shrewd gambit, Your Grace. -And let Joffrey
be brought back from the Vale.
He is next in line. He must now be raised as my heir.
I know much about this place, but never seen it before today.
Is it as you imagined?
It is both larger and smaller.
I will guess that Alicent had no confidence to give you
as to the whereabouts of the gold.
She did not.
And you trust her yet?
She is a Hightower.
True.
But would I not be simple to think that in a house
as big as this one, there were only one rat?
I am much troubled about her son Daeron,
-whom we now hold captive. -Does she know?
By rights, I should have his head for a traitor.
He is an heir to Aegon and a threat to you.
Yet he is also my half-brother and has not committed the crimes
that Aegon and Aemond have, and yet is...
Why should I not kill him? Why should I not...
strike him as my own sons were stricken?
There is none to stop you.
There are mountains to be dealt with, and I have none yet to trust with them.
My lady-in-waiting, Elinda?
Elinda Massey is now in the city,
-having served us well there. -Better send to her.
And Mysaria, let the staff be questioned.
Quietly, as only you can.
Those who cleave to the Hightowers must be replaced.
Immediately, Your Grace.
Good morrow, Your Grace.
A blessing in the name of the Seven Who Are One.
I thank you for your swift attendance here.
Much has changed in the last few days.
These are turbulent times.
I must for the time being forego a right and proper coronation,
but I still wish at least to be anointed,
by you, in full sight of the people.
Alas, that it cannot be done.
For what reason?
Some months ago I anointed your brother Aegon
and declared him the rightful king before gods and men.
Yes, Aegon is dead, and I now sit the throne.
So you now say.
Is it your contention that I am a liar?
We have not seen his remains.
Nor have the Silent Sisters been summoned to tend to them.
You understand
that if there has been some kind of error.
Oh, there has been no error.
I am my father's heir.
And the gods themselves
decree that I must rule the Seven Kingdoms.
Have they not raised me up
and cast the usurper into ruin?
That has happened. It is true.
How has it happened if they did not will it?
A dragon appeared to me in my greatest need.
My gods do not deal in dragons.
They are a profane magic
created in darkness and pride and lust
for power, for impunity.
They destroy, but they do not create.
There is no good that can come of them.
You have made your position exceedingly clear.
With respect, I advise you, do not make an enemy of the Faith.
It exhorts and comforts and binds together your people.
Underestimate it at your peril.
I must confess to you now a thing you may have guessed before.
Alyn of Hull and his brother Addam are my sons.
They are born of a woman, a shipwright I met on my earlier travels.
I did not claim them as mine.
I was ashamed.
And I dreaded grieving Rhaenys, my wife.
And I am grateful she showed me grace before she died.
I did not guess.
Though I believe I see it now.
You need fear no reproach from me.
It is many a lord who has mixed noble and common blood.
Their sons are no less stout of heart.
Each has shown himself worthy of more than was given him before now.
Indeed, we owe Alyn a great debt
for his valiance in both the Stepstones, and lately in the Gullet.
You have shown yourself a leader of men.
I was only doing my duty, Your Grace.
And Addam has been my assurance that the gods favor me.
When my hope had waned, they sent me you.
It is my great honor to serve you, Your Grace.
To that end, my queen...
I have acknowledged my sons.
Mm.
And more than that, I would name Alyn my heir.
I ask that you legitimize them.
Let them now be Velaryons.
Lords of the realm.
For without them,
my line is ended...
and my name erased.
It is well that you have found an heir.
We have both of us suffered greatly and I...
I cannot begrudge you a new way forward,
-but Lord Corlys-- -A word from the throne.
It is simple enough.
Are your nerves steady, Your Grace?
As steady as they may be.
I have courted the smallfolk from afar,
but I have not yet come before them as their queen.
You have been much anticipated.
Then, there will be much expected.
And our resources are few.
I do not know what satisfaction I can give.
For some, it will be enough to say they have looked on a queen.
Will I bring your jewels?
I will wear no needless ornament.
I must show strength, readiness.
But the sword perhaps.
Might that not contradict what you wish to convey
to petitioners in need?
Fair point.
Still.
A chain, I think. For gravity.
One of these.
Fuck.
Your Grace?
I'm bleeding.
-You're sure? -Yes.
Fuck!
Of course.
I'll fetch some cloths.
Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name.
Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men.
Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.
Your Grace, I am a weaver and my trade is in wool.
We have a great shortage now in fleece,
and such sheep as there are have been taken by dragons.
Might not the fleece be harvested before the animal is consumed?
That seems easy enough.
It would be a help, surely, but there are many in our guild.
To restore our resources, we would need an investment.
Five hundred golden dragons.
With regards to the sheep, my queen...
such an outcome does nothing to supply us with meat.
-We butchers have no trade. -Is there no game to be had?
Oh, not for miles.
And all the hunters have been taken for archers.
If we could but receive some expenditure
-from the crown-- -Might we consider the Kingswood?
That would be a bold gesture, Your Grace.
One that would have offended your royal forebears.
Neither stags nor boars,
but rabbits, perhaps.
It bears discussion in a forum other than this one.
Let the next petitioner come.
I am Sylvi, Your Grace.
I was privileged to be of assistance
to the Lady Mysaria in her campaign against the usurper.
I thank you, and all here who kept the faith.
My appeal is not for coin
but for justice for what the commonfolk have suffered these long months.
The blockade is lifted. It will not be long now
-before trade routes are reestablished-- -It was not only the blockade
that drove us to want, Your Grace.
It was the rich. The noble lords.
They bought up everything they could for their storehouses
and left the poorer folk with nothing.
Is this true?
I am no innocent, my queen.
It is the way of the world.
But when the highborn take even what little remains
and put it aside, while the lowborn starve...
then that is a matter I would put before my queen...
who came to power as a champion of her people.
It is a dangerous element that seeks to blame the wealthy
for the city's woes.
In a war, all suffer.
-Some more than others. -That has ever been so.
And yet, in times like these, it is a cudgel
in irresponsible hands used to strike up unrest and rebellion.
-Do the commonfolk... -For the cramps.
...not deserve the providence and protection of their ruler?
It is a covenant broken
at our peril.
They look to us for order and security.
They look to us for meat and fuel for their fires.
And who is us, in your telling?
I have earned my seat at this table, though I was not born to it.
I will leave others to judge which path most has merit.
Has Baela returned?
What news of Vhagar and Sheepstealer?
The only dragon she saw was Sunfyre.
Long dead and decaying.
She flies again this evening.
Let us send Addam with her.
They cannot hide for long.
You will have justice.
I will never have justice.
But what crumbs of it may be snatched, I will devour.
In the meantime, Your Grace,
I urge you, turn your mind to the issue before us--
There is no issue. There are bellyachers
bleating their dissatisfaction at the order of things.
Lord Corlys.
I defer to the queen.
Useless.
What would your father do?
A banquet, I think.
Great day for the three of you.
We are much honored, Your Grace.
Ulf, how will you style yourself?
Oh...
Targaryen, Your Grace.
Oh, absolutely not.
Then, I have no style.
So fashion one.
White, then?
Good, and you?
I'm a blacksmith by trade, Your Grace.
I go by Hammer.
Hugh the Hammer.
Ulf the White.
And Addam of Hull.
Kneel.
In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave.
In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just.
In the name of the Mother,
I charge you to defend the young and the innocent.
-Is that it? -Ser Ulf.
Ser Hugh. Ser Addam.
Knights in your queen's service.
Will you swear fealty to your ruler and her cause?
To be servants and agents of the crown for all of your days?
I swear it, Your Grace.
As do I.
Until death.
Ser Luthor, I wish to consult with you about a notion I have.
A dinner for various nobles whom you may identify--
Your Grace.
I was wondering what sort of living I may expect,
now that we're in King's Landing.
Yes, of course.
I did promise to provide for you and your wife.
She's gone. I went into the city to find her,
only to hear that she's gone to live with her brother in Tumbleton.
There was nothing for her here.
Send to her, and we will set aside a house for you on Visenya's Hill.
And when might that be, Your Grace?
As soon as I am able.
I have no small council at present.
Nor a Queensguard to serve me.
I am awash in dilemmas and deficiencies.
Let me find my footing, and I will attend to your requests.
The queen dowager, Your Grace.
Very well.
With thanks.
Your Grace.
I'm sorry I was sharp when we spoke.
I have a small request only.
We'll hear it.
Only that my father's remains be sent to Oldtown...
where they may lie beside my mother's.
As you say.
Thank you.
It is odd to be here with you.
Alicent.
You ruled this realm in all but name while my father lay ill.
I did.
I heard...
petitions today.
There are many of them.
And their needs are many more. It's a...
heavy weight.
How did you bear it?
In truth?
You may not rule and remain yourself.
There are choices to be made and you may, on occasion,
have to turn your face away while people suffer and die.
There is in you a door that must shut.
You will do things that your heart would have recoiled from
before you came to the throne.
I acknowledge the struggle.
But I dispute that I must become what I am not.
Time will tell.
My father remained himself.
Your father lived in a world of his own construction.
You and I have never set foot there.
Be welcome.
You have all heard, I'm sure,
that our ascension is proclaimed throughout the realm.
Already the Hightowers have bent the knee before me,
and, likewise, those in this room have pledged their loyalty.
Later than I would have liked.
But I come before you as a conciliator.
It is our privilege, Your Grace,
to attend you here at last.
I avow, which all here know,
that I mistrusted the Hightower claim from the beginning.
I'm sure that's true,
even if I heard no tale of you rising up to protest it.
Ah. I see our feast is served.
What is this?
This is what the commonfolk of my city ate,
this and worse, while you and those like you
hid provisions away in your storehouses.
Your Grace, we were afraid.
Will you have had us starve and our families with us?
I would have no one starve.
I would have those with much
exercise stewardship and tend to those with little,
as a shepherd tends to their sheep.
The poor, like rats, overrun the city.
They thieve and fight for every crumb.
And would you not do the same if your children were hungry?
No, I would not.
Admirable restraint.
You would lie genteel in your grave.
As you sit here, my Gold Cloaks are entering each of your houses.
They are searching your storerooms for all that you hoarded away.
And they will bring what they find back to me
for distribution to those in my city who need it.
-This is unconscionable. -We're being robbed!
What the crown demands of you is not plunder, but a duty.
And tonight, will serve as a lesson
in what I will require of you now and henceforth.
Good evening.
Your Grace.
House Manderly, is it?
Ser Torrhen Manderly, Your Grace, your humble servant.
Is it humility that causes you to smile so, Ser Torrhen?
It is admiration only for a hand well played.
My Gold Cloaks will be visitors to your household as well.
And no doubt I am as deserving as any here.
It is a bold move, and the smallfolk will cheer it.
It may even make them forget that it was your blockade
that made bread scarce in the first place.
Well, rest assured, Ser Torrhen...
my memory is long.
They'll resent you for this.
They are merchants and minor nobles.
They've been in error and they know it.
I do admit, I find it amusing.
It will help a certain number of people for a certain number of weeks
and do nothing for the rest of them.
-It is a gesture only. -Yes, and gestures matter.
But you say rightly that this is not a lasting solution.
For that, I will need you to fly.
Go to the Vale.
Lady Jeyne never sent the swords she promised.
She may pay her debt in coin.
This is an errand I will relish.
The other great houses I will summon here.
In the meantime, return with gold
or pledges of gold, else we are hobbled before we begin.
You have come so far,
and yet you still don't know who you are.
If I fail to administer my city, how will I be trusted to govern a realm?
Aegon the Conqueror had three dragons.
You now have six. It is a power beyond imagining.
Why scrabble here for gold when the world lies before us?
Dorne could be ours.
And then Essos and the Free Cities,
Yi Ti and its riches.
They say there is a city at the edge of the world
where men have wings.
I remember wishing to go there to see them for myself.
Those men will serve us. They will serve you.
You will have an empire unassailable.
And our children will rule it forever and a day.
You style us commandeers and marauders like the pirates that plague us.
I style us gods, Rhaenyra.
As we were always meant to be.
And I've made my peace with him.
But he renounced his dragon.
Your Grace.
You still have to kill Daeron.
You are tired today.
I cannot sleep in that bed.
Mm, a new mattress, perhaps.
Perhaps.
You have buried your grief.
I feel no grief, I feel nothing.
Well, no. There is rage.
A rage that billows beyond my grasp.
I have known such rage.
I will look on those who killed my sons, Mysaria.
I will.
Let the Septon deny you.
This will be your anointing.
Rhaenyra! Rhaenyra!
I have been away too long.
But we are at last reunited.
The usurpers are vanquished,
and I have taken my rightful throne...
from which I shall rule judiciously...
with strength, but also mercy...
as befits a true queen.
In token of which I bring you gifts for your relief.
And in honor of my father who came before me.
Gods be with you.
Your Grace.
-A word. -Walk with me.
You made Addam a knight,
but it seems you styled him Hull rather than Velaryon.
We had agreed, I thought,
that he and Alyn would be legitimized.
Now, if it is a matter of ceremony or...
I'm sorry, Corlys, but in this moment I cannot do as you ask.
I have given all I had, everything, in service to you.
My castle lies in ashes,
and I have asked no favor in return but this.
You know very well the rumors that have dogged my sons from the first.
My reign has just begun.
I cannot in this moment be seen to raise up those...
born outside of noble troth, I...
And so you will insult my house...
so that you may be seen to be something you are not.
I have Joffrey to think of.
I was staunch in my defense when your own troth was...
doubted.
Yes, and I thank you for this, among many other things.
But all eyes look to me now.
Perhaps one day when there is not so much scrutiny--
You are ashamed.
Well...
-It is a matter of legitimacy. -Your son Joffrey...
is a bastard.
Your son, Lucerys,
whom I accepted as my heir...
-was a bastard. -Lord Corlys.
Your son Jacaerys lived and died a bastard!
Say aloud to me the reason your children deserve what mine are denied.
Helaena has gone to the Godswood, with thanks.
I have your son Daeron here within these walls.
Here since when?
He was delivered to me two days ago
as part of the terms under which your cousin surrendered.
And what do you...
what do you plan to do with him?
By rights, I should have his head, but...
he had no part in his brothers' treachery.
He did only what was expected of him by his elders.
Therefore, I will send him north to the Wall.
He will take the Black and he will not return,
but he will keep his life.
Do you wish me to thank you?
I see you have been merciful.
And yet I grieve for what could have been.
He was sent to ward as an infant.
I've seen him once in the last five years.
I hardly know the boy.
And yet...
From all accounts, he has borne his lot very bravely.
I wish to see him.
You will join the Night's Watch and serve out your days there.
It's a hard road, but there is honor in it.
I see that nothing moves you. It's a pity.
Your mother is here.
I would counsel you to unguard yourself.
One time at least, before you take your long journey.
The queen dowager, ser.
Here she is. Look at her.
You don't know this boy.
He is not Daeron.
Who are you then?
Speak!
He compelled me.
-I begged him. -Who compelled you?
Lord Ormund Hightower.
He blenched my hair,
told me I must play the part of the prince.
Even if she burned me with dragons.
I must stay silent, or he would have my mother hanged.
My real mother.
She isn't a queen, Your Grace.
She's only a lady, and our people are merchants.
Ormund...
has deceived me.
Your real son, he keeps with him, no doubt.
Did he think I would not discover it?
What game does he play?
Your Grace.
I'm sent to tell you our work here is all but complete.
The Hightower colors have been removed throughout these walls.
Burn all of it.
Your Grace.
There's a dragonkeeper at the gate.
What is it?
-What? -Yeah.