04x05 - First of His Name
(theme music playing)
High Septon:May the Warrior grant him courageand protect him in these perilous times. May the Smith grant him strength that he might bear this heavy burden And may the Crone, she that knows the fate of all men, show him the path he must walk and guide him through the dark places that lie ahead. In the light of the Seven, I now proclaim Tommen of the House Baratheon First of His Name King of the Andals and the First Men and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.
Long may he reign!
All: Long may he reign!
(cheering)
Special day.
(crowd chatting)
Your Grace.
Your Grace.
Your Grace.
Your Grace.
Your Grace.
There he is.
Long may he reign.
Long may he reign.
He sits the throne like he was born to it.
Yes. He wasn't, though, was he?
No, he wasn't.
You still mourn for Joffrey?
He was my husband. My king.
He would have been your nightmare.
Your Grace, I feel--
You knew exactly what he was.
I did, too.
You never love anything in the world the way you love your first child.
Doesn't matter what they do.
And what he did, it shocked me.
Do you think I'm easily shocked?
The things he did shocked me.
He's only a boy.
A good boy.
A decent boy.
He always has been.
Who was the lastdecent king, I wonder?
He could be the first man who sits on that throne in 50 years to actually deserve it.
It would be some consolation, wouldn't it?
For all the horror that put him there.
He will need help...
if he's going to rule well.
He has you.
A mother is not enough.
You're still interested in being queen, I take it?
After all that's happened-- it sounds strange, I know, but I am--
I haven't even given any thought to it, what comes next.
It would be a great honor, of course.
But I will have to speak to my father about it.
Yes, speak to your father.
I'll speak to mine.
We may be faced with an alarming number of weddings soon.
(chuckles)
I won't even know what to call you.
Sister?
Or Mother?
King Joffrey Baratheon is dead.
Murdered at his own wedding.
Barristan:And we have taken the Meereenese navy, Your Grace.
The Second Sons took the Meereenese navy.
Who told you to take the navy?
No one.
So why did you do it?
I heard you liked ships.
How many ships?
93 , Your Grace.
How many men can they carry?
93,000, not counting sailors.
Would that be enough to take King's Landing?
The Lannisters have more.
Barristan:They've been fighting Joffrey's wars for years.
They're tired, dispersed.
And now their king is dead.
8,000 Unsullied,
2,000 Second Sons
sailing into Blackwater Bayand storming the gateswithout warning.
It's hard to say.
It could be enough.
But we're not fighting to make you queen of King's Landing.
10,000 men can't conquer Westeros.
The old houses will flock to our queen when she crosses the Narrow Sea.
The old houses will flock to whichever side they think will win, as they always have.
There's other news.
From Yunkai.
Without the Unsullied to enforce your rule,the Wise Masters haveretaken control of the city.
They've reenslaved the freedmen who stayed behindand sworn to take revenge against you.
And in Astapor, the council you installed to rule over the city has been overthrown by a butcher named Cleonwho's declared himself"His Imperial Majesty."
Please leave me.
Not you, Jorah.
It appears my liberation of Slaver's Bay isn't going quite as planned.
You could sail for Westeros and leave it all behind.
A boy sits on the Iron Throne.
A boy many believe to be a b*st*rd with no right to it.
They've never been more vulnerable.
You counseled me against rashness once in Qarth.
I didn't listen.
That all worked out well.
(chuckles)
How can I rule seven kingdoms if I can't control Slaver's Bay?
Why should anyone trust me?
Why should anyone follow me?
You're a Targaryen.
You're the Mother of Dragons.
I need to be more than that.
I will not let those I have freed slide back into chains.
I will not sail for Westeros.
What, then?
I will do what queens do.
I will rule.
Pull up your hood.
A memorable shade.
But how would they know?
You know what kind of stories poor men enjoy the most?
Ones about rich girls they'll never meet.
Is this the only way into the Eyrie?
The mountains are impassable.
If you want to get to the Eyrie, you need to go through the Bloody Gate.
It doesn't matter how large your army is, if you attack this gate, you do it on this road, three men abreast and get slaughtered like goats.
The first Lords of the Vale didn't have much, but they had these mountains and they knew how to use them.
And the fortress they built here has never been overcome.
Not once in 1,000 years.
Know your strengths, use them wisely, and one man can be worth 10,000.
Knight: Who would pass the Bloody Gate?
Lord Petyr Baelish and his niece Alayne.
Stand to.
Stand to!
Stand to!
Welcome back, Lord Baelish.
(gate clanking)
(door opens)
Uncle Petyr!
Littlefinger:My lord.
I have brought you a gift.
Lord Baelish.
My lady.
Look what Uncle Petyr brought me.
A beautiful gift for a beautiful boy.
It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Arryn.
My name is Al--
Oh, do take down that hood, child.
Don't you think I know who you are?
You think I'd let my intendedleave the Eyrie on urgent business without knowing what that business was?
I let him go so he could bring you here to me.
My flesh and blood.
It's wonderful to meet you, Aunt Lysa.
You mustn't call me that in front of anyone else.
Of course.
I understand.
No one can know you're here.
It would put us in a very precarious position.
I would never say a thing.
The Lannisters want to destroy us.
They've been trying for years.
Now they knowwhat it feels like.
Mummy said they killed your mother and they chopped off your brother's head.
They did, and my father's.
They killed my father, too, with poison.
I wanted to make the little Lannister baby man fly, but Mother said I couldn't.
Make him fly?
Through the Moon Door.
(giggles)
Lysa:And on top of everything else,they made you marry that filthy troll.
They did.
They made us both.
Lord Tyrion didn't want to.
Lysa:I don't believe that for a moment.
Did he force himself on you?
We never--
Lysa:Good.
Robin, this is your cousin Sansa.
But you're not to call her Sansa in front of anyone but Uncle Petyr and myself.
Do you understand?
Sansa, this is my son Robin.
It's a pleasure to meet you, Robin.
Robin, show Sansa to her chamber.
Take the back stairs.
We'll speak soon.
What took you so long?
Arranging for the ascension of King Tommen I, extricating Sansa, getting her here alive.
She's here. We've spent more than enough time on her for one evening.
Let's get married tonight.
Ought we not... inform the Lords of the Vale about the ceremony?
There's only one Lord of the Vale.
The others can all hang.
Lurking and simpering on the stairs like buzzards the moment my husband died, trying to get their claws in me.
I do think that we could wait until--
I'm done waiting, Petyr.
We had our wedding night many years ago.
Or don't you remember?
Like it was yesterday.
What wife would do for you the things I've done for you?
What wife would trust you the way I've trusted you?
When you gave me those drops and told me to pour them into Jon's wine, my husband's wine-- when you told me to write a letter to Cat telling her it was the Lannisters--
(moans)
The deed is done.
Faded into nothing.
Only speaking of it can make it real.
Tonight it is, then.
(laughs)
Let me bathe and dress for the occasion.
Once I'm presentable, I'll call on the septon immediately.
I'm warning you.
I'm going to scream when my husband makes love to me.
I'm going to scream so loud, they'll hear me clear across the Narrow Sea.
(Lysa screaming)
(grunting, moaning)
(screaming)
(moaning, screaming continues)
When will the wedding take place in your mind?
As soon as decency permits.
After we've allowed Tommen the appropriate time to mourn his brother and Margaery to mourn her husband.
A fortnight?
That seems reasonable.
No jugglers, no jousting dwarves, no 77-course meals.
And your wedding to Loras?
Shortly after Tommen's.
Shortly?
A fortnight.
I know you don't like them.
I didn't like your husband.
Used to pat me on the back a lot.
I didn't trust him.
We had that in common.
You don't need to make formal alliances with people you trust.
Then whom can we trust?
Ourselves alone.
The Tyrells are our only true rivals in terms of resources and we need them on our side.
Robert wasn't particularly rich.
Robert had me funding him.
Wars swallow gold like a pit in the earth.
I suppose that explains why we did so well in the last one.
Do you know how much gold was mined in the Westerlands this past year?
Haven't a clue.
Go on, your best guess.
Pounds, tons, ounces?
Doesn't matter.
The answer is the same.
That can't be.
Our last working mine ran dry three years ago.
Then how do we pay for anything?
The crown owes the Iron Bank of Braavos a tremendous amount of money.
How much?
A tremendous amount.
There must be someone at the Iron Bank you can speak to, come to some arrangement.
The Iron Bank is the Iron Bank.
There is no someone.
Someone does work there.
It is comprised of people.
And a temple is comprised of stones.
One stone crumbles and another takes its place.
And the temple holds its form for 1,000 years or more.
That's what the Iron Bank is-- a temple.
We all live in its shadow and almost none of us know it.
You can't run from them.
You can't cheat them.
You can't sway them with excuses.
If you owe them money and you don't want to crumble yourself, you pay it back.
Vesting the Tyrells in the crown will help a great deal in this respect.
It's for the good of the family, I understand that.
I'm not sure my brothers do.
I know you're building a strong case against Tyrion.
And as a mother,that is your right.
But as a judge, I cannot discuss the trial with you.
I respect that.
We don't need to discuss it.
The Lannister legacy is the only thing that matters.
You've started wars to protect this family.
Turned your back on Jaime for refusing to contribute to its future.
What does Tyrion deserve for lighting that future on fire?
Arya:Joffrey.
Cersei.
Walder Frey.
Meryn Trant.
Tywin Lannister.
The Red Woman.
Beric Dondarrion.
Thoros of Myr.
Ilyn Payne.
The Mountain.
Would you shut up?
I can't sleep until I say the names.
The names of every f*cking person in Westeros?
Only the ones I'm going to kill.
(chuckles)
Hate's as good a thing as any to keep a person going.
Better than most.
We come across my brother, maybe we can both cross a name off our list.
If he were here right now, what would you do?
I'd tell him to shut the f*ck up so I can get some sleep.
Go on, get it over with, your list of doomed men.
I'm almost done.
Only one name left.
Go on.
The Hound.
Thank you.
Your mother always had a sweet tooth, you know?
Really?
Oh, yes.
At suppertime, she would go straight for honey cakes, candied almonds, custard.
Anything sweet.
Eventually, your grandfather had to assign a septa to watch her at meals.
Cat was the firstborn daughter after all.
It was important that she remain desirable so Father could arrange a good match for her and she was starting to get fat.
My mother fat?
She never let me have my pudding until I'd finished all my proper food.
This is before she married your father and moved to the North.
By the time you were born, your father's austerity had become hers.
Marriage changes people.
I didn't mean for you to stop.
Go on, enjoy them.
How do you like them?
They're delicious.
Where did you get the lemons?
You can't grow them up here.
Oh, gods, no.
Petyr had three crates brought all the way from King's Landing.
He knew you liked lemon cakes.
He's so kind.
He really cares for you.
Think where you'd be without him.
In their clutches and tried for murder.
I'm very lucky.
He feels responsible for you.
Oh, I know he does.
I'm so grateful.
Why does he feel responsible for you?
Well, I'm half Tully.
He loved your family so much.
Loved your mother.
That's what you wanted to say.
He loves you, Aunt Lysa.
He's married to you.
Your mother never loved him. Never.
Cat always went straight for the sweetest thing.
The most obvious thing. Your Uncle Brandon.
Your handsome, arrogant, cruel Uncle Brandon.
He almost killed Petyr in a duel.
And your mother loved him anyway.
And now Petyr is risking his life to save you, the daughter of a woman who didn't love him no more than those whores in his brothels.
Has he told you about them?
He hasn't told you about the vile things they do with their bodies?
The vile things they let him do with their bodies?
No, never.
Are you pregnant?
What? No, I told you. Lord Tyrion and I never--
I wasn't asking about Tyrion.
What have you let Petyr do with your body?
Aunt Lysa, no, I--
Your young, pretty body.
Nothing. I'm a virgin.
Don't lie to me.
You're hurting me.
I'll know if you lie.
I'm a virgin, I swear it.
He loves you, Aunt Lysa.
All he says is that I'm stupid.
I'm a stupid little girl with stupid dreams who never learns and I'm a terrible liar, so I should always tell the truth.
And I swear to you that he has never touched me.
Not once, not ever.
Shh. Shh. Shh.
It's all right.
It will all be all right.
You'll be a widow soon.
They'll execute that dwarf for murdering the king and you'll be free to marry Robin.
You'll be the Lady of the Vale.
(horse whinnies)
(grunting)
Didn't they teach you how to ride a horse?
Yes, my lady, when I was young.
There wasn't much call for it with Lord Tyrion, though.
He preferred litters.
Perhaps you should have stayed with him.
It's not going to be a pleasant journey for you.
It could take weeks to get to the Wall, depending on the weather.
That's a long way off.
Well, Lady Sansa's brother's at Castle Black.
If I were her, that's where I'd go.
Feel free to stop at any point.
Never, my lady. I'm your squire.
I've made it this far in the world without a squire.
I don't see why I need one now.
All knights have squires, my lady.
I'm not a knight.
And I'm not a slaver, either. I don't own you.
I swore an oath, my lady.
I am releasing you from that oath.
That means you could leave.
I know.
What do you think will happen if you leave?
They'll say I wasn't a very good squire.
(horse nickers)
(whinnies)
The hell you doing?
Practicing.
What, ways to die?
No one's going to kill me.
They will if you nance around like that.
That's no way to fight.
It's not fighting.
It's water dancing.
Dancing?
Maybe you ought to put on a dress.
Who taught you that shite?
The greatest swordsman who ever lived.
Syrio Forel, the First Sword to the Sealord of Braavos.
Braavos.
(scoffs)
Greasy-haired little b*st*rd, I bet.
They all are.
What do you know about anything?
I bet his hair is greasier than Joffrey's c**t.
It was not.
Was? He dead?
He was killed.
Who by?
Meryn Trant.
That's why Ser Meryn--
Meryn Trant?
The greatest swordsman who ever lived killed by Meryn f*cking Trant?
He was outnumbered.
Any boy whore with a sword could beat three Meryn Trants.
Syrio didn't have a sword. Or armor. Just a stick.
The greatest swordsman who ever lived didn't have a sword?
(laughs)
All right.
You have a sword.
Let's see what he taught you.
Go on, do it for your Braavosi friend.
Dead like all the rest of your friends.