House of the Dragon (2022) s01e01 Episode Script

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 ten 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.
It is declared by all lords paramount
and lords vassal of the Seven Kingdoms
that Prince Viserys Targaryen
be made Prince of Dragonstone!
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.
Dohaeras, Syrax!
Umbas.
Rybas!
Welcome back, Princess. I
trust your ride was pleasant.
Try not to look too relieved, ser.
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.
Dohaeras.
Naejot!
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.
- Good morrow, Alicent.
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.
We have royal wombs, you and I.
The child bed 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."
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 Step stones
of its pirate infestation.
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.
And are we meant to
weep for dead pirates?
- No, Your Grace.
- Rhaenyra, you're late.
The King's cupbearer must not be late.
- Leaves people wanting for cups.
- I was visiting Mother.
On dragon back?
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 Step stones, 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.
The cost of the tournament
is not negligible.
Perhaps we might delay
until the child is in hand?
Most of the lords and knights
are certainly on their way
to King's Landing already.
- To turn them back now
- 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.
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.
Gods be good.
It's all right, ser.
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.
- Did you read it?
- Of course, I read it.
When Princess Nymeria arrived in Dorne
who did she take to husband?
A man.
What was his name?
Lord Something.
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 dragon back
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 Sun spear
to show her people that
they were finished running.
- What are you doing?
- So you remember.
- If the Septa sees this book then
- Fuck the Septa.
Rhaenyra!
Is it healing?
It has grown slightly, Your Grace.
Can you say yet what it is?
We've sent inquiries 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
- Fine.
Fine.
You spend more time in that
bath than I do on the throne.
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?
After this miserable pregnancy
I wouldn't be surprised if
I hatched an actual dragon.
And 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.
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.
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.
When 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.
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.
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.
Get up!
Raper!
No! No no!
Thief!
No!
Murderer!
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.
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?
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.
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.
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.
In the end
this new City Watch
might be a good thing.
What troubles you, my Prince?
I could bring in another.
Perhaps a maiden.
I have several.
I could even arrange
one with silver hair.
You are Daemon Targaryen.
Rider of Caraxes.
Wielder of Dark Sister.
The King cannot replace you.
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!
May the luck of the Seven
shine upon all combatants!
A mystery knight?
No, a Cole, of the Storm lands.
I've never heard of House Cole.
Princess Rhaenys Targaryen!
I would humbly ask for the
favor of The Queen Who Never Was.
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.
Lord Stokeworth's daughter
is promised to that young Tarly squire.
Lord Massey's son?
They're to be married as soon
as he wins his knighthood.
Best get on with it.
I heard that Lady Elinor
is hiding a swollen
belly beneath her dress.
What do you know about this
Ser Criston Cole, 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.
Prince Daemon of House Targaryen!
Prince of the City will now
choose his first opponent!
For his first challenge,
Prince Daemon Targaryen chooses
Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown,
eldest son of the Hand of the King.
Five dragons on Daemon.
- 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.
What's happening?
The infant is in breech, Your Grace.
All attempts to turn
the babe have failed.
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.
No!
Aemma.
Aemma, I'm here.
I'm here.
I'm here. It's all right.
- It's all right.
- I don't wanna do this.
You're going to be all right.
Kill him!
And the day grows ugly.
I wonder if this is
how we should celebrate
the birth of our future king.
With wanton violence.
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.
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.
You can save the child?
We must either act now
or leave it with the gods.
Ser Criston Cole will now tilt
against Ser Daemon
Targaryen, Prince of the City!
- Viserys.
- Yes?
They're going to bring the babe out now.
I love you.
- What is happening?
- No, it's all right.
No, what is happening?
- Viserys, what
- No, it's all right.
- 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.
- Don't be scared.
- What is happening?
Don't be scared. They're
going to bring the babe out.
- Oh no.
- It's all right.
They're going to bring the babe out.
No no!
I'm making the first incision.
No no!
Viserys, no! Please!
- No no!
- Don't be scared.
Sword!
Prince Daemon Targaryen
wishes to continue in a contest of arms!
Yield.
Yield.
Gods. He's Dornish.
I was hoping to ask for
the Princess's favor.
I wish you luck, Ser Criston.
Princess.
Congratulations, Your Grace.
You have a son.
It's a boy?
A new heir, Your Grace.
Had you and the Queen chosen a name?
Baelon.
They're waiting for you.
Dr
Dracarys.
- Where's Rhaenyra?
- 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.
Despite how difficult
this time is, Your Grace
I feel it important the
succession be firmly in place
for the stability of the realm.
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.
Let him keep his place
at court, Your Grace
but if the gods should visit
some further tragedy on you
- either by design or 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.
He lacks the patience for it.
The gods have yet to make a man
who lacks the patience for
absolute power, Your Grace.
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.
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.
You wouldn't have to, Your Grace.
There are others who would have a claim.
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
My wife and son are dead!
I will not sit here and suffer crows
that come to feast on their corpses!
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.
The Lady Alicent Hightower, Your Grace.
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.
Thank you.
The King's sole heir once again.
Might we drink to our future?
Quiet!
Your Prince will speak!
Silence!
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.
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.
He toasted Prince Baelon.
To the King's son.
Styling him
the Heir for a Day.
I corroborated this report
with three separate witnesses.
The evening was, by all
accounts, a celebration.
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 Kings
guard 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
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.
Your Grace.
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
Kings guard 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.
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.
Daemon was not made to wear the crown.
But I believe that you were.
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.
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.
Give me your hand.
I, Boremund Baratheon
promise to be faithful to 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
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.
'Tis to begin with a terrible winter
gusting out of the distant north.
I, Rick on Stark, Lord of Winterfell
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.
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.