I can trust you, Pycelle. Can I not?
Why yes, of course, my lord.
These are perilous times. And the Crown must forge new alliances. And these alliances must often be sealed in matrimony.
I'm trusting the council with these plans, but the Queen mustn't know. We can't have her meddling in affairs that could determine the future of the Realm. There's too much at stake.
Oh, yes, yes. Indeed, yes. I shall be silent as the grave.
[Tyrion walks over to pour two cups of wine]
I'm brokering an alliance with House Martell of Dorne. Princess Myrcella will wed their youngest son when she comes of age, ensuring their loyalty and their army, should we need it.
Myrcella sent away to Dorne?
[Tyrion returns to the chairs with a cup of wine in each hand]
But remember, the Queen mustn't know.
[Varys is revealed to be occupying the seat Pycelle was sitting in earlier]
Ooh, "The Queen mustn't know." I love conversations that begin this way.
I plan to marry Princess Myrcella off to Theon Greyjoy.
Theon Greyjoy? Forgive me, my lord, but how? He grew up in Winterfell. He fights for Robb Stark.
Precisely. [turns and slowly walks away from Varys] Theon's father loathes the Starks and will convince the boy to come to our side. Greyjoy can destroy the Northern army from within and we can have his father's ships. But remember, you must tell no one.
[Tyrion turns around to face Littlefinger, who is now sitting where Varys sat]
I plan to wed Princess Myrcella to Robin Arryn of the Vale. Lysa is not fond of me. But perhaps the promise of a royal match will convince her to let bygones be bygones.
She imprisoned you. She tried to execute you, and you offer her son a princess?
For men in our position, holding grudges can be an encumbrance, don't you think?
And I suppose you want me to broker this agreement?
[starts pacing around the desk] Yes, I could sing this song to Lysa, if I cared to. What's in it for me?
The gratitude of the people of Westeros for helping to end this war, the adoration of the King for bringing the Vale back into the fold... and Harrenhal.
Never took you for a superstitious man. By all means, tear it down and rebuild. You'll be able to afford it. I plan to make you Lord of the Riverlands.
With a single stroke, you'd make me one of the greatest lords in the Realm.
You served my family well in the matter of the succession.
So did Janos Slynt, and he was given Harrenhal, too. Until you snatched it away.
I need you to deliver Lysa Arryn. I didn't need Janos Slynt. It's settled, then? [pause; Littlefinger nods] Good. Oh, and remember—
[Tyrion smirks, drinks the rest of his wine and leaves his chambers]
[Cersei confronts Tyrion about the marriage pact he made for Myrcella behind her back]
You monster! Myrcella is my only daughter! Do you really think I will let you sell her like a common whore?!
Myrcella is a princess. Some would say she was born for this.
I will not let you ship her off to Dorne as I was shipped off to Robert Baratheon!
Dorne is the safest place for her.
Are you mad? The Martells loathe us.
That's why we need to seduce them. We're going to need their support in the war your son started.
You won't get away with this. You think the piece of paper father gave you keeps you safe? Ned Stark had a piece of paper, too.
Just how safe do you think Myrcella is if the city falls? Do you want to see her raped and butchered like the Targaryen children? Make no mistake, they will mount her pretty little head on a spike right beside yours.
Get out! [pushes Tyrion back onto the stairs] Get out!
Power is a curious thing, my lord. Are you fond of riddles?
Why, am I about to hear one?
Three great men sit in a room; a king, a priest and a rich man. Between them stands a common sellsword. Each great man bids the sellsword kill the other two. Who lives, who dies?
Depends on the sellsword.
Does it? He has neither crown, nor gold, nor the favour of the gods.
He has a sword, the power of life and death.
But if it's swordsmen who rule, why do we pretend kings hold all the power? When Ned Stark lost his head, who was truly responsible? Joffrey? The executioner? Or something else?
I've decided I don't like riddles.
Power resides where men believe it resides. It's a trick, a shadow on the wall. And a very small man can cast a very large shadow.
Five Lannisters dead, for every one of ours. We've nowhere to keep these prisoners. We have barely enough food to feed our own.
We're not executing prisoners, Lord Bolton.
Of course, Your Grace. The officers will be useful. Some of them may be privy to Tywin Lannister's plans.
Well, we'll learn soon enough. In my family, we say: "A naked man has few secrets, a flayed man none."
My father outlawed flaying in the North.
We're not in the North...
We're not torturing them!
The high road's very pretty, but you'll have a'hard time marching your army down it.
The Lannisters hold prisoners of their own. I won't give them an excuse to abuse my sisters.
What is the meaning of this? What kind of knight beats a helpless girl?
MTMeryn Trant
The kind who serves his king, Imp!
Careful now, we don't want to get blood all over your pretty white cloak.
Someone get the girl something to cover herself with. [Sandor Clegane gives Sansa his cloak] She's to be your Queen. Have you no regard for her honour?
For what crimes? She did not fight her brother's battle, you halfwit!
You can't talk to me like that! The king can do as he likes!
The Mad King did as he liked. Has your Uncle Jaime ever told you what happened to him?
MTMeryn Trant
[reaching for his sword] No one threatens His Grace in the presence of the Kingsguard!
I'm not threatening the King, ser. I'm educating my nephew. Bronn, the next time Ser Meryn speaks, kill him. [pause; Meryn glances at Bronn, who stares back] That was a threat. See the difference?
Lady Stark, I had not thought to find you in the Stormlands.
I had not thought to be here, Lord Stannis.
When I saw your standard, I couldn't be sure. Whose banner is that?
I suppose if we use the same one, the battle will be terribly confusing. Why is your stag on fire?
The king has taken for his sigil the fiery heart of the Lord of Light.
Ah, you must be this fire priestess we hear so much about. Ah brother, now I understand why you found religion in your old age!
No, no, I'm relieved. I never really believed you were a fanatic; charmless, rigid, a bore, yes, but not a godly man.
You should kneel before your brother. He is the Lord's Chosen, born amidst salt and smoke.
"Born amidst salt and smoke?" Is he a ham?
That's twice I've warned you.
Listen to yourselves! If you were sons of mine, I would knock your heads together and lock you in a bedchamber together until you remember you're brothers.
It is strange to find you beside my brother, Lady Stark. Your husband was a supporter of my claim; Lord Eddard's integrity cost him his head. And you sit beside this pretender and chastise me?
The Iron Throne is mine by right. All those who deny that are my foes.
The whole realm denies it, from Dorne to the Wall. Old men deny it with their death rattles and unborn children deny it in their mothers' wombs. No one wants you for their king. You never wanted any friends, brother, but a man without friends is a man without power.
For the sake of the mother who bore us, I will give you this one night to reconsider. Strike your banners, come to me before dawn and I will grant you your old seat on the Council. I'll even name you my heir, until a son is born to me. Otherwise I shall destroy you.
Look across those fields, brother. Can you see all those banners?
You think a few bolts of cloth will make you king?
No. The men holding those bolts of cloth will make me king!
We shall see, Renly. Come the dawn, we shall see.
Look to your sins, Lord Renly. The night is dark and full of terrors.
[Renly and Catelyn watch them leave]
Would you believe? I loved him once.
An anointed Knight, yes. Tell me, did Cersei have you knighted before or after she took you into her bed? [Lancel is dumbstruck] What? Nothing to say? No more warnings for me, Ser?
You will withdraw these filthy accusations!
Have you ever given any thought to what King Joffrey will have to say when he finds out you have been bedding his mother?
Did she take you against your will? Can you not defend yourself, Knight?
Your own father, Lord Tywin, when I was named the King's squire, he told me to obey her in everything!
Did he tell you to fuck her, too?
I only meant, I did as I was bid. I...
Hated every moment of it, is that what you'll have me believe? A high place in court, a knighthood, my sister's legs spreading open for you at night! Oh, yes, it must have been terrible! Wait here, His Grace will want to hear this.
Mercy! Mercy, my lord! I beg you!
Save it for Joffrey; he loves a good grovel.
My lord, it was your sister's bidding, the Queen. I'll leave the city at once, I swear.
You heard me. My father told you to obey my sister. Obey her. Stay close to her side. Keep her trust. Pleasure her whenever she requires. No one ever need know as long as you keep faith with me. I want to know what Cersei is doing, where she goes, who she sees, what they talk of, everything and you will tell me.
[kneels] Yes, my lord, I will. I swear it as you command.
Oh rise, rise. Let us drink to our understanding. Oh, you don't have a cup. Oh, well. Smile, cousin. My sister is a beautiful woman. And it's all for the good of the realm. Go back and tell her that I beg her forgiveness, that I want no more conflict between us and that henceforth I shall do nothing without her consent.
Oh, I'll give her Pycelle.
Yes, I'll release him in the morning. Cersei can keep him as a pet if she wants, but I will not have him on the council. I could swear that I had not harmed a single hair on his head, but that would not, strictly speaking, be true.
[During a war council, Arya is about to pour wine into Tywin's goblet when he stops her]
Not wine, water. We'll be here for some time. [pause] Girl, where are you from?
And who are the Lords of Maidenpool? Remind me.
And what is their sigil? [beat; Arya doesn't respond] A red salmon. I think a Maidenpool girl would remember that. You're a Northerner, aren't you? [Arya nods] Good. One more time, where are you from?
Barrowton, my lord. House Dustin. Two crossed longaxes beneath a black crown.
And what do they say about Robb Stark in the North?
They call him "The Young Wolf."
They say he rides into battle on the back of a giant direwolf. They say he can turn into a wolf himself when he wants. They say he can't be killed.
No, my lord. Anyone can be killed.
[beat; stares at Arya] Fetch that water.
Once you're safely back amongst your own people, will you give me leave to go, my lady?
You mean to kill Stannis.
But Stannis has a great army around him. His own guards are sworn to keep him safe.
I'm as good as any of them. I should never have fled.
Renly's death was no fault of yours. You served him bravely.
I only held him that once as he was dying.
He's gone, Brienne. You serve nothing and no one by following him into the earth. Renly's enemies are Robb's enemies as well.
I do not know your son, my lady, but I could serve you if you would have me. You have courage. Not battle courage perhaps, but, I don't know, a woman's kind of courage. And I think that when the time comes, you will not hold me back. Promise me that you will not hold me back from Stannis.
When the time comes, I will not hold you back.
[draws her sword and places it on he ground, kneeling] Then I am yours, my lady. I will shield your back and will give my life for yours if it comes to that. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.
[holds Brienne's hand] I vow that you shall always have a place in my home and at my table, and that I shall ask no service of you that might bring you dishonour. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.
I remember reading an old sailor's proverb: "Piss on wildfire and your cock burns off."
WHWisdom Hallyne
Oh... no, well, I've not conducted this experiment. It could well be true. The substance burns so hot, it melts wood, stone, even steel. And of course, flesh. The substance burns so hot, it melts flesh like tallow. After the dragons died, wildfire was the key to the Targaryen power. [Bronn scoffs]
My companion takes issue.
If I could tell you how many crazy old men I've seen pushing carts around army camps, making grand claims about jars full of pig shit... no offense meant.
WHWisdom Hallyne
Our order does not deal in pig shit! The substance is fire given form, and we have been perfecting it since the days of Maegor.
WHWisdom Hallyne
The jars are put in catapults and flung at the enemy.
How much do you have? [Hallyne gestures for them to follow]
If you could get real soldiers to man the catapults, then maybe you'd hit your target one time in ten. But all the real soldiers are in the Riverlands with your father.
WHWisdom Hallyne
My lord, this man is insulting.
I don't know if you've ever seen a battle, old man, but things can get a bit messy. 'Cause when we're flinging things at Stannis, he's flinging 'em right back at us. Men die. Men shit themselves. Men run. Which means pots falling. Which means fire inside the walls. Which means the poor cunts trying to defend the city end up burning it down.
My friend remains unconvinced.
WHWisdom Hallyne
He would not dare insult my order whilst Aerys Targaryen lived.
Well, he's not living anymore. And all his pots of wildfire didn't help him, did they? Men win wars, not magic tricks.
[Hallyne opens the vault, showing countless rows of shelves, filled with jars of wildfire, to Tyrion's shock]
WHWisdom Hallyne
We have been working tirelessly, day and night, ever since your royal sister commanded us to do so. Our present count stands at 7,811. Enough to burn Stannis Baratheon's fleet and armies both.
[warningly] This is a shit idea.
I'm afraid I have to concur with my advisor, Wisdom Hallyne. The contents of this room could lay King's Landing low. You won't be making wildfire for my sister any longer. You'll be making it for me.
[Theon and Dagmer barge into Wintetfell, waking Bran from his sleep]
It's Prince Theon now. Get up! You have to get dressed. I've taken Winterfell. I took it. I'm occupying it. I sent men over the walls with grappling claws and ropes.
And he sent me back to Pyke. I'm a Greyjoy. I can't fight for Robb and my father both. Where's Hodor?
[to Dagmer] Find the halfwit. My men are bringing your people into the courtyard.
So you and I can go down and tell them how you've yielded Winterfell to me.
[Bran hoists himself up]
I won't! I'll never yield. I'll fight you and throw you out.
The castle is mine but these people are still yours. You'll yield to keep them safe. To keep them alive. That's what a good lord would do. Think carefully about what you want to say.
Theon. [Theon turns back to Bran] Did you hate us the whole time?
