Mm?
Been a wonderful tournament.
Shame it's all over.
Home is...
Ah, it's brutally dull.
Hey.
You could come with me.
Yeah, we'll hunt and hawk and...
sail, make merry.
I'll sharpen that iron of yours so you don't make
such a grand fool of yourself next time.
Have you ever been to Tarth?
- The man is dying, my lord. - Huh? What?
His wounds, they have mortified. It's beyond my abilities.
Oh, the Others fucking geld me.
Beyond your-- an itchy arsehole is beyond your abilities, my friend.
Begone, witch!
- Fuck off with you. - Yes, my lord. At once.
Cunt. It's fine. You're fine. He's a terrible maester.
Look.
Come with me to Storm's End, and I will love you like a brother.
Oh, cunt.
And if not...
well, fuck you, I'll hate you like a brother.
It's a fine offer, Lyonel.
But all I do is bring pain and suffering to those around me.
You've done the realm a kindness. You'll see that one day.
The only good dragon is a dead dragon.
Fucking gods!
Baelor fought for me.
He gave his fucking life.
Can you speak of him with a little respect, please?
Fuck that, and fuck you!
I fought for you.
Hardyng, Beesbury,
the fucking apple boy, we fought for you.
Your prince fought for you against men sworn to protect him.
He risked nothing!
And the gods don't favor a fraud.
Then why have they favored me?
This is not favor, this...
This is mockery.
There's a war coming.
We could be a force, you and I.
You'll consider it?
Good! Caravan departs after the roast.
Baelor of House Targaryen.
Prince of Dragonstone.
Heir apparent to the Iron Throne.
Hand of King Daeron the Good.
Lord of the Seven Kingdoms
and Protector of the Realm.
May the gods keep him.
My prince.
Your father, he was...
He was a great man.
He died in my armor.
Plenty of sons have died in their father's armor.
How many fathers have died in their son's?
I could not say.
He was still young.
He had it in him to be a great king.
The greatest since Aegon the Dragon.
Why would the gods take him and leave you?
I've wondered the same.
Be gone with you, Ser Duncan.
Ser Duncan. Dunk!
I went by your camp, but you weren't there.
I started getting worried.
You've come from Baelor's funeral?
I can't believe you went.
I thought I owed it to him.
Everybody...
everybody blames me for his death, don't they?
I don't.
Okay.
Steffon took my tent.
Said I betrayed the family by abandoning him.
Can you believe that?
Left with little else.
I'm sorry, Raymun.
No, don't be. He's just mad that he lost.
First trial of seven in 100 years,
and Lord Steffon Fossoway got beat by his little cousin.
Besides, it's better to be an unripe green apple
than a wormy red one.
Suits you.
I think I broke one of my cousin's ribs.
Morning.
Good morning.
Ser Duncan, this is Rowan...
of the Green Apple Fossoways.
- Huh? - My wife.
Pleased to meet you, Ser Duncan.
Oh! Right.
Pleased to meet you too, Lady Rowan.
She come and watched the trial.
- Said I fought like a wild bull. - Mm.
And with all the grace of one.
Ah.
I had no squire to see to my wounds,
and she offered to help me out my armor and...
Anyway, she said I've got her with child now,
so I figured we ought to get married.
Feels like a boy.
You hear that, Ser Duncan? A boy.
That's...
Ser Duncan.
Prince Maekar demands a word.
- You're to come with us. - He's not going anywhere.
- He's been through enough. - It's fine.
I'll be fine.
Congratulations.
I'm sending Aerion to the East.
A few years in the Free Cities may change him for the better.
Some men will say I meant to kill my brother.
The gods know it is a lie, but I will hear the whispers
till the day I die.
You swung the mace, m'lord.
But it was for me Prince Baelor died.
You will hear them whisper as well.
The king is old.
When he dies, each time a battle is lost or a crop fails,
the fools will say Baelor would not have let it happen.
But the hedge knight killed him.
If I had not fought,
you would have had my hand and foot.
I sat under the tree this morning
and I asked, could I have spared one?
I mean, how can a foot be worth a prince's life?
And what answer does your tree give you?
Every day at evenfall,
Ser Arlan would say, "I wonder what the morrow will bring."
Mightn't it be that some morrow will come when I'll have need of that foot,
when the realm will need that foot even more than a prince's life?
Not bloody likely.
The realm has as many hedge knights as hedges.
My youngest son seems to have grown fond of you, ser.
It is time he was a squire.
But he tells me he will serve no knight but you.
He is an unruly boy, as you will have noticed.
He's a good lad.
Just needs a stern hand, that's all.
Will you have him?
Me?
There is a place for you at Summerhall.
You'll swear your sword to me, and Aegon can squire for you.
While you train him,
my master-at-arms will finish your own training.
Your Ser Arlan did all he could for you, I have no doubt.
But you still have much to learn.
I beg your pardon, m'lord, I do.
But I think I'm done with princes.
Yeah.
Were you spying?
No.
Are you in a lot of pain?
- Ser? - I can't, Egg.
I'm sorry.
Maybe you're not the knight I thought you were.
Have you heard this story before?
Many times.
From where?
From you.
Oh.
- May I ask you, ser-- - When a lord calls his banners
and sends us boys off to war,
it's custom for each to nail a penny
to the oak in the square.
And if we return, to take it down.
Oh, it's a great oak tree.
And yet,
it's often hard to find a spare bit to nail a new penny.
Why did you never knight me?
Did you think I'd leave you?
I wouldn't have.
Or was it something else?
Ser?
And that's why they call it the Pennytree.
A true knight always finishes a story.
- To Beesbury. - And to Hardyng.
- To their memory. - To the brave hearts.
How do they get the bees to swarm like that?
Some sort of magic?
Magic?
What?
Well, they put the queen in Beesbury's coffin.
Oh!
Fucking bee magic. My poor sweet warrior.
All that fighting's turned your brains to applesauce.
- Do you yield, dragon whore? - Eat shit, Sarrah!
Serving boy! My cup.
Have you no shame coming here?
Those men are dead because of you.
Will you take Egg to squire?
I told your father.
He's not my concern.
You know...
My brother wasn't always such a little monster.
Egg is no monster.
He's just a boy.
I didn't mean Egg.
But no doubt we'll make a man of him, too.
Perhaps the seeds of madness are sown in the womb, as the maesters say.
But Aerion was quite the glad child once.
He liked fishing.
What?
Ser Duncan, my lord, requests an audience.
I want you to know I do not blame you for ruining my name day.
It was a rotten thing they've done to you, and you were right in your reply.
Thanks.
Speak quick. I'm near rid of this place.
Before your brother died,
he said the realm needed good men.
What of it?
I will take Egg to squire.
But not at Summerhall.
I thought you were done with princes.
Egg is no prince.
Not yet.
Might be he's better served away from castles,
- and servants, and-- - His family?
If you would consent...
I would bring him on the road with me.
He'll learn to squire as I did.
We'll sleep in inns, stables.
Now and again, in the halls of some landed knight
or lesser lordling.
Maybe under a tree, when we must.
I forbid him to live as a peasant.
Aegon is blood of the dragon.
He cannot sleep in ditches and eat hard salt beef.
Daeron never slept in a ditch.
And all the beef Aerion ever ate was
thick and rare and bloody.
He's my last son.
Sweetfoot!
What are you doing here, girl?
I hear Ser Lyonel wants you for a stag.
Storm End's a sad place.
Figured an old friend might brighten it up for you.
You bought me a horse?
I won't be going with Lyonel.
What will you do then?
What I should have done all along.
Ride her in the other direction.
What about you?
I don't know.
Father always spoke about building up the cider business,
opening a new barreling outfit.
Cider?
Well, you should have your Sweetfoot back, in any matter.
She's not mine.
Not anymore.
Besides...
I think an orchard might suit her better.
What?
I can't.
Are you certain?
She is a fine animal.
Hello there, Sweetfoot. Do you like apples?
I don't know, Chestnut. Stop asking me.
Where would the old man go? Hm?
Ser Duncan!
My lord father says I am to serve you.
"Serve you, ser."
Chestnut's yours. Treat her kindly.
And I don't want to find you on Thunder unless I put you there.
Where are we going, ser?
Don't know.
I suppose we could go anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms,
- though I've never been to D-- - Nine.
- What? - There are nine kingdoms, ser.
- Of what? - The realm.
Are you mad?
Is that relevant?
There are seven kingdoms of the realm, boy.
Everyone knows that.
- Then, everyone is wrong. - Do you want a clout in the ear?
Crownlands, Westerlands, Stormlands, Riverlands,
the Iron Islands, the North, the Reach,
the Vale of Arryn, and Dorne.
No, but...
I've never been over the Red Mountains before.
I hear they have good puppet shows in Dorne.
Hyah! Hyah!
- Where's Aegon? - I've not seen him, my prince.
I will ask the septons.
Where the fuck is he?!