Episode 5: Father, Warrior, Smith…

5.1 INT: RED KEEP HALLWAY – MORNING

JAIME LANNISTER walks the halls of the Red Keep, his gait as light and jovial as his mood. He finds AERYS awaiting his arrival at the door to the royal quarters, SER OSWELL WHENT lingering at a courteous remove.

AERYS

There he is! There’s the fairest young knight in all of Westeros! Shake your king’s hand, Ser Jaime!

JAIME

Your flatter me, Your Grace.

AERYS is unrecognisable from the shambling ruin of recent weeks: his beard trimmed neatly along his jawline, his long silver-grey hair washed and perfumed, his crimson robes fresh from the castle laundry. Only the deep black heel-prints beneath his eyes and the pink and irritated caste to his sclera betray the sleepless nights that have worried his wits like a fraying length of rope.

AERYS

Walk with me, won’t you?

As the years pass and your legend grows, I shall boast to all the lords and ladies of these Seven Kingdoms that I was among among the very earliest to congratulate you on your first step towards greatness.

JAIME

You’re too kind, Your Grace, truly.

AERYS

The kindness is yours, ser, finding room in your day to keep an old man company. I’ve no doubt a fresh young knight such as yourself has no shortage of admirers clamouring for your attention.

JAIME

Not at all, Your Grace, I’m honoured that you’d even think to ask.

AERYS

How are you feeling? No wounds I trust?

JAIME

A few aches and pains and a bruise or two, but nothing permanent. I only wish the same could be said for Ser Harlan.

AERYS

Such a tragedy. A knight of Ser Harlan’s standing deserves a better end, no doubt.

JAIME

We still hold out hope for his recovery.

AERYS

Of course, of course. We shall all be certain to remember him in our prayers.

AERYS brings them to a stop before a pair of large wooden doors.

AERYS [CONT’D]

You’re a good man, Ser Jaime, spending so much of your time at Ser Harlan’s bedside.

JAIME

It’s the least I can do, Your Grace.

AERYS

Nonsense. I’ve always held that a man should be properly commended for the good that he does, which is why I’ve brought you here. Only a select few outside my family have ever stepped foot beyond these doors, but given you’ve already received your knighthood I can think of no better commendation I might offer.

AERYS pushes open the doors to reveal a long stone hall, a row of high arch windows on the right illuminating a line of statues on the left.

Leaving OSWELL to guard the doors, AERYS leads JAIME into the hall. Each statue is expertly crafted, decorated in gold and set upon a plinth inscribed with the name of the commemorated.

AERYS [CONT’D]

Do you know your Targaryen kings, Ser Jaime?

AERYS stops before the first statue: an imposing figure dressed in full armour, his hands crossed over the hilt of an enormous sword, flanked on either side by a beautiful woman that shares his likeness.

JAIME

Not as well as I should, perhaps. I tend to spend more time in the yard than the library.

AERYS

Spoken like a true warrior! No doubt you can recognise another when you see him?

JAIME

Aegon the Conqueror.

AERYS

The first and greatest of all the dragon kings. There’s not a soul on either side of the Narrow Sea that does not know his name. He brought dragons to Westeros, forged the Seven Kingdoms into a single realm, and forever changed the course of history. And to think all his mighty works were almost undone by his own son.

They move on to the next statue, a tall, willowy man in flowing robes clutching a thick and weighty tome.

AERYS [CONT’D]

Aenys the first. A weak, bookish sort given to womanly pursuits like poetry and music. I think he knew he wasn’t strong enough to rule: he even gave Aegon’s Valyrian steel sword to his younger brother Maegor. His own mother knew it too: she poisoned Aenys to put Meagor on the throne. 

They pass by the next statue to stand before the golden likeness of a broadly-built older man bearing a sword and shield.

AERYS

Maegor, first of his name. Truly a man worthy of the throne.

JAIME

Maegor the Cruel?

AERYS

So you remember some of your maester’s lessons at least! Better for you if you hadn’t: the surest place to find a lie is not – as many may claim - upon the lips of whores, but within the pages of our histories. Books are written by the maesters, a weak, mewling breed that naturally celebrate those of similar temperament, while making monsters of those men with the fortitude and ambition to make history rather than simply record it.

AERYS steps closer, looking up at his ancestor admiringly. He runs his hand across MAEGOR’s inscription.

AERYS [CONT’D]

When the High Septon and the zealots of his Faith Militant opposed their king taking multiple wives, Maegor flew Balerion the Black Dread to the top of Rhaenys’s Hill and burnt the Sept of Remembrance to the ground. When his brother’s son Aegon raised an army and claimed the throne for his own, Maegor slew his nephew and the dragon Quicksilver both. Imagine the world a man as hard as Maegor could have built…

*sigh*

He was discovered murdered upon the Iron Throne, betrayed by smaller men in only the sixth year of his rule.

JAIME looks askance at AERYS, feeling awkward at the king’s lingering study of Maegor’s likeness.

JAIME

          *cough*

You certainly come from distinguished stock, Your Grace.

AERYS

Indeed, and I must confess there are times I feel the pressure of living up to their standard. It can be hard living in a permanent shadow.

AERYS considers JAIME for a moment, the shadow of a sly, knowing smirk at the corners of his mouth.

AERYS [CONT’D]

But then I visit with Aegon the Conqueror; with Maegor; with Jaeherys the Wise, who reigned for more than half-a-century and convened the first Great Council to settle his succession; with Daeron, who led the Conquest of Dorne at just fourteen years of age; my great-grandfather Maekor, commander in not one but two victorious campaigns against Blackfyre Pretenders.

AERYS gestures with a flourish back along the line of gold and gleaming Targaryen kings.

AERYS [CONT’D]

I visit with them and take heart from their example, because they remind me that even a man struggling to draw breath beneath the most great and glorious lineage this world has ever known can still raise himself above the smothering weight of his inheritance. He can still overcome the burdensome expectations and thankless duties of his father and seize his own future, realise his own potential. And then I ask myself the simple question…

AERYS turns back from his rapturous sweep of his antecedents to level his eyes at JAIME’s own.

AERYS [CONT’D]

If they could do it……what’s stopping you?

INTRO.

5.2 INT: LEWYN MARTELL’S CELL - MORNING

S.E: knock, door opening.

DERFEL

I have breakfast for you, my Lord.

LEWYN

I didn’t send for any breakfast.

DERFEL

The Lord Commander’s orders, my lord. He told me to say that…

DERFEL’s brow knits as he struggles to summon his instructions to mind.

DERFEL [CONT’D]

That he hopes you enjoyed your long-deserved evening off.

LEWYN’s eyebrows raise in surprise, doubly so when he notices there is not one but two servings of fresh fruit, fried bread, eggs and bacon on the tray DERFEL carries.

LEWYN

          Very well.

LEWYN accepts the tray, handing DERFEL a couple of coppers from the dresser by the door.

S.E: door closing.

QARLTON

Who was it, my love?

LEWYN

Just that curious little servant boy with the blue hands. Come and look what Gerold has sent us.

QARLTON appears from the adjoining room, dressed in naught but LEWYN’s white cloak.

QARLTON

Would you consider this appropriate dress for breakfasting in the company of a Prince of Dorne?

LEWYN smiles, sitting on his narrow bed and popping a fat green grape into his mouth.

LEWYN

Perhaps a little precarious for frying eggs, but entirely becoming for eating them, I’d say.

QARLTON

Don’t you think I look the very image of the Warrior himself.

QARLTON turns to the short wooden shelf over LEWYN’s bed and the small wooden statue stationed there.

QARLTON [CONT’D]

Why do you keep that ugly old thing up there anyway? I can feel his beady little eyes judging me every time I look at it.

LEWYN

Every knight makes his prayers to the Warrior. Someone saw fit to give us one of the seven gods all to ourselves; it would seem ungrateful not to show at least a little reverence.

QARLTON joins LEWYN on the bed, but not before sticking out his tongue churlishly at the Warrior’s whittled effigy.

QARLTON

Are you sure I can partake? I very much doubt I’m the dining companion Ser Gerold intended for your morning off.

LEWYN

You might be surprised. I suspect the old White Bull knows more than his discretion allows him to let on.

QARLTON halts the progress of a slice of apple from the bowl to his lips.

QARLTON

Lewyn, are you telling me the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard knows that we –

LEWYN [INTERRUPTING]

Calm yourself, Qarlton. He can’t know anything for certain, and if somehow he did, I’d say sending us breakfast in bed makes it rather plain he holds no objection.

QARLTON

Then Gerold Hightower is one man among a thousand.

QARLTON samples the apple, but his scepticism lingers.

QARLTON [CONT’D]

What about the rest of your brothers?

LEWYN

If Gerold has his suspicions, so too does Harlan. The two of them have been thick as thieves for decades. Barristan, too, most likely, but his surfeit of honour will prevent him gossiping about another man’s lack.

QARLTON

Better I’d asked “who doesn’t know.” What about Darry and Whent?

LEWYN

Jonothor believes I’m bedding some lady-in-waiting of Elia’s, while Oswell insists it’s the daughter of a minor lord down in the city. They make the occasional allusion to my harbouring irregular predilections, but those can be explained by my being Dornish and their being bereft of originality. 

LEWYN nibbles at the end of a streak of bacon, then feeds the rest to QARLTON.

QARLTON

Still, this is not Sunspear, my prince. You need to me more careful.

LEWYN

We don’t pretend at some absurd pretence of purity like the hypocrites of these other kingdoms, perhaps, but our freedoms are not entirely without qualification. Male paramours are prohibited from court, and on the rare occasion they are permitted at royal functions they’re expected to slink in the shadows at the edge of the feast like your northern bastards.

QARLTON

We’re not northerners here.

LEWYN

Oh, you sweet summer child, you’re all northerners to me.

LEWYN takes QARLTON’s chin in his hand and tilts his head, inspecting his profile.

LEWYN [CONT’D]

I think you’d suit a beard, come to think of it. A great big bushy one that leaves my chin pink and scratched to remind me of your kisses while I’m standing duty.

QARLTON grins and swats LEWYN’s hand away.

QARLTON

I envy you your life in Dorne.

LEWYN

Envy belongs to barren women and small-cocked men, Qarlton, not rich little lords from castles in the Crownlands. 

QARLTON

What about lonely young boys?

The first time my father caught me with his ward, he beat me so badly I was passing blood for a moon’s turn. The second time was even worse, but this time it was my mother that suffered Lord Franklin’s wrath. It was all her fault, you see: her coddling had made me weak and womanly. When the Spring Fever came to Shoreman’s Bluff, her body was still too broken from father’s fists to put up any sort of fight. Two days after mother’s funeral, Lord Franklin gave me a choice: renounce my name and title, or follow my mother into the ground.

I had a little coin, so things weren’t too bad at first, but then the coin ran out, and suddenly they were. I was fifteen, short and skinny, and knew next to nothing of the world beyond the walls of my father’s castle. I had no trade, no skills to speak of, nothing at all to offer anyone.

LEWYN

How did you survive?

QARLTON pulls a sour face, and LEWYN suddenly feels acutely guilty for even asking.

QARLTON

It’s probably best we skip forward in the story a little.

LEWYN

To Tywin Lannister.

QARLTON

And why not? Every happy ending needs a white knight, and until I met you, I thought mine was Tywin. Amory Lorch recognised me on the Street of Silk, and brought me to the Tower of the Hand like a lapdog presenting a curio in the hopes of a pat on the head from his master. Tywin had me bathed and dressed and fed from his own table. After supper I was escorted to my comfortable new chambers overlooking the ocean. When I woke the next morning, I was presented with my old titles and a seat on Tywin’s council.

LEWYN

And all you had to give in return was your unquestioning obedience and a lifetime of lickspittling.

QARLTON

Tywin demands a lot from his servants, whether they’re dressed in fancy raiment or roughspun. But I was nothing when he met me, and now I’m Master of Coin and sleep a few hundred paces from the king of the Seven Kingdoms. Everything I have, everything I am…it all came from Tywin Lannister.

LEWYN turns this over in his mind for a moment, picking idly at the fruit bowl.

LEWYN

Do you know what knights ask one another the first time they meet?

QARLTON

Something horrendously masculine, no doubt. How many men have you killed? How big is your sword and may I hold it?

LEWYN

We ask them how they came by their knighthood. Any knight can make another knight, even hedge knights and cravens, and so in order to truly take the measure of a man you must first know who knighted him. Because a knighthood is only worth as much as the man it came from.

QARLTON

And who gave you yours?

LEWYN

His name wouldn’t mean anything to you, but he was once the finest swordsman in all of Dorne. He’s an old man now, of course, bent-backed and half-blind the last time I saw him. Still sharp as a spearpoint, though.

QARLTON takes up a piece of fried bed, pulling smaller pieces from the slice to chew on.

QARLTON

If only we could go and meet him. I would enjoy hearing tales of the dashing young Dornish prince.

LEWYN

Why don’t we?

QARLTON

Why don’t we what?

LEWYN

Go to Dorne.

QARLTON

You know Tywin would never allow it. It’s his pleasure to keep we lickspittle lords on a short leash: not one of us have ever been permitted beyond the city walls since Tywin gave us our seats in Council.

LEWYN

Tywin Lannister shall have no say in the matter.

LEWYN cups QARLTON’s cheek, running his thumb tenderly across the Master of Coin’s stubbly pink skin.

LEWYN [CONT’D]

I am a Prince of Dorne, and I want to show you the Water Gardens. I want to feed you roasted peppers from the Grand Bazaar. I want to sail you along the coast and sleep on the beach beneath the stars. I want to introduce you to Doran.

QARLTON

You’ve told the prince about us?

LEWYN

My brothers in the Kingsguard I can almost understand, but you can’t seriously fear my own nephew would betray our confidence?

QARLTON

No, it’s not that, I just…I didn’t know you’d told your family about me.

LEWYN makes a poor attempt at feigning interest in his food, the swaggering dandy uncharacteristically abashed.

LEWYN

Yes, well…wipe those greasy fingers on my cloak once more and I shall be forced to reconsider my invitation.

5.3 EXT: STORM’S END - DAY

SELYSE stands atop the cliffs of Storm’s End, wrapped up in heavy furs against the bracing wind blowing in off the sea. She looks down at the small bay far below, following STANNIS as he leads RENLY by the hand across the beach. She turns at the sound of approaching footsteps.

SELYSE

I understand congratulations are in order.

ROBERT joins SELYSE at the cliff’s edge. SELYSE wrinkles her nose at the stench of ale that emanates from her brother-in-law like warmth from a heated stone, but keeps her disapproval to herself.

ROBERT

I’ve never known Ned for a gossip.

SELYSE

Little Renly is quite the pet of Maester Cressen; he was feeding the ravens in the rookery when the scroll arrived from Winterfell. When can we expect the big day?

ROBERT

Summer, perhaps, if this Spring doesn’t drag on so long as Winter did. Lord Stark and I will likely settle the details when I see him at Harrenhal.

SELYSE

I have yet to have the pleasure of meeting the Lady Lyanna. She must be quite a remarkable woman to tame a man of such notoriously large appetites as Robert Baratheon.

As STANNIS and RENLY approach the sea, RENLY suddenly breaks free and turns to flee, but STANNIS runs back and catches him by the cloak, then kneels before him, holding RENLY in place by the shoulders.

ROBERT

What’s he doing?

SELYSE

Renly has refused to go near water since your parents died. Haven’t you noticed?

ROBERT at least has the good grace to look abashed.

ROBERT

It’s been a busy few days…I’ve had too many demands on my attention to spend as much time with the boy as I would have liked. I did give him a ferret, though.

SELYSE

Yes, thank you for that. Lord Slinky scared Renly’s chambermaid half to death this morning.

The poor little lamb refuses to let me bathe him; he threw a fit when I tried to wash his face with a wet cloth, even. I had to instruct the servants to crush some berries in his water and tell him it was wine just to make him drink.

ROBERT watches with gathering agitation as RENLY tries again to escape up the beach, but this time STANNIS snatches his younger brother up off the ground and physically carries him towards the water, RENLY kicking his little legs and beating at STANNIS’ grip with balled fists, wriggling and squirming in impotent panic.

ROBERT

What in seven hells is this now?

SELYSE

It’s called tough love, Robert. I know it can look cruel at first look, but it’s the only kind Stannis knows how to give. Your father was always harder with –

SELYSE turns to discover ROBERT already gone, bolting as fast as his legs will carry him down the steep grassy incline towards the beach below.  

SELYSE

Robert!

CUT TO:

Wading into the sea until the tide meets his waistline, STANNIS unceremoniously tosses RENLY into the icy dark waters of Shipbreaker Bay

S.E: splashing water

STANNIS

Stop fighting, Renly! This for your own good!

RENLY flounders, thrashing his arms in a manic effort to right himself, trying and failing to find the seabed and succeeding instead in dunking himself deeper underwater. STANNIS thwarts his effort to lunge back towards the shore, stopping just short of forcing him underwater but doing little to help the boy stay afloat. Gasping for breath, RENLY swallows first one mouthful of water and then a second, his skin turned a deathly pale, his eyes bulging in terror.

STANNIS

Calm down, Renly! It’s just water. I won’t let any harm come to you, I swear it.

The words have only just left STANNIS’ lips when RENLY feels the shadow of his brother recede suddenly from the surface. His paroxysms double in desperation, certain now that he will never breathe the air again. He feels himself begin to sink, the surface somehow retreating towards the sky…

S.E: Renly pulled from the water.

ROBERT

It’s alright, lad, it’s alright. I’ve got you. You’re safe now, I’ve got you.

ROBERT lifts his little brother from the water and wraps him in his arms, carrying him like an infant back onto the beach. As ROBERT strides purposefully towards the castle, RENLY looks back at STANNIS staggering unsteadily to his feet at the water’s edge, blood pumping from the ragged split in his bottom lip. STANNIS wipes at his mouth with the sleeve of his doublet and spits a red and viscous glob onto the sand.

RENLY opens his mouth to warn ROBERT, but he cannot raise the alarm before STANNIS throws himself onto ROBERT’s back, wrapping his arms about his neck and squeezing tight. RENLY spills forward, and a second later STANNIS joins him, ROBERT bending forward and flipping him onto the sand. ROBERT looms over him, pointing a finger in his face.

ROBERT

Stop! You couldn’t win when we were children and you can’t win now. Sit down and behave, before I really lose my temper.

ROBERT turns his back and returns to RENLY, but he’s barely taken a dozen steps before STANNIS spears himself into ROBERT’s back. The bigger man begins to rise, but STANNIS hurls himself down and takes the mount, raining heavy fists down into his brother’s face.

STANNIS

I won’t…let you…take him…from me!

ROBERT gets his hands up to protect his head, then wraps his left about STANNIS’ face, his enormous mitt compressing STANNIS’ nose and mouth, depriving him of breath. STANNIS breaks off his barrage, twisting ROBERT’s arm in an effort to dislodge his vice-like grip. ROBERT takes his opening to bury his free hand in STANNIS’ armpit and flings the smaller man aside once again. Pinning STANNIS to the sand with his knees, ROBERT rears back like a blacksmith ready to wail upon an anvil, but finds his arm held in place by a small cadre of Baratheon guards that suddenly descend upon the brothers. SELYSE rushes to STANNIS’ side, a pair of guards helping their lord to his feet. It takes thrice that number to hold ROBERT at bay, half-a-dozen guards dragging on his limbs like a pack of terriers struggling to bring down a grizzly bear.

5.4 INT: SMALL COUNCIL CHAMBER, TOWER OF THE HAND - DAY

TYWIN

Moving on: Lord Chelsted, an update on our arrangements for the forthoming tourney at Harrenhal, if you would.

QARLTON

Thank you, my lord Hand. These past weeks I have been in regular communication with Lord Whent’s head of household, and all signs point to this being the largest gathering off noble Houses in more than a generation. Lord Walter has spared no expense in the planning, promising twenty days of games, entertainment, and feasting. He means to offer winner’s purses three times larger than the generous bounty provided at the tourney held to mark the birth of Prince Viserys.

TYWIN

The finest knights from all Seven Kingdoms competed at Lannisport, Lord Chelsted. Thrice times a fortune will not fetch thrice times the quality of competitor.

VARYS

I never imagined Lord Whent possessed the means for such extravagance. Wherever did he find the coin, I wonder?

QARLTON

Harrenhal is no small holding, my Lord. The lands are vast, the tithes no doubt robust.

RHAEGAR

I’m sure Lord Varys would agree that the coming of spring deserves a celebration worthy of the occasion, especially so given these two long years of winter.

VARYS

Quite so, Your Grace.

TYWIN

What of the crown’s expense, Lord Chelsted.

Taken off-guard but eager to please, QARLTON shuffles hastily through a sheaf of parchment to find his figures.

QARLTON

Let me see…yes, here we are: the crown’s contribution to the festivities currently stands at sixty oxen, ninety sheep, and two-hundred barrels of wine: one-hundred Arbor Gold, one-hundred Dornish Red – circumstances permitting on the Gold, of course. Then there’s the incidental expense of transporting the royal persons and effects: tents, furniture, household guards, kitchen staff and assorted attendants. As to the particulars of the King’s travel to Harrenhal I shall gladly defer to Lord Commander Hightower’s considerable expertise. 

GEROLD steps forward, but RHAEGAR raises a hand.

RHAEGAR

That won’t be necessary, Lord Commander. 

GEROLD

Your Grace?

RHAEGAR

A succession of restless nights have regrettably taken an adverse toll upon the king’s otherwise robust constitution. In consideration of his good health, my father will remain here in the capitol rather than undergo what is certain to be an arduous ten days of demands upon his royal person.

TYWIN

I’m confident I speak for all the realm when I say his absence will be sorely felt, Your Grace, though of course the king’s health must always take priority.

Lord Chelsted can walk you through the agreed itinerary of royal engagements.

RHAEGAR

As invigorating a prospect as that sounds, I fear my intentions to enter the lists shall preclude me from assuming my father’s duties.

TYWIN

Her Grace the Queen, then.

RHAEGAR

My mother fulfils her obligations of state with grace and good-humour and never a word of complaint, I’m sure we can all agree, but in truth her reservoirs of patience with ceremony and pomp runs only marginally less shallow than my own. She will remain here, and care for the Princess Elia in her recovery.

TYWIN

Your Grace, the realm will expect a representative of the crown to attend such an august occasion, an expectation I believe it would behove appearances to satisfy.

RHAEGAR

Which is why I am sending you to serve in the king’s stead.

If TYWIN is surprised at the prince’s suggestion, he is too well practiced at court to betray any hint.

TYWIN

It was my intention to remain here at King’s Landing, Your Grace. To keep at least one pair of hands on the tiller of the realm, as it were.

RHAEGAR

Nonsense. You work too hard, Lord Tywin. I’m sure the realm will survive three short weeks without your oversight.

TYWIN considers RHAEGAR silently, weighing the variables of this unexpected concession.

TYWIN

It would be my honour, Your Grace.

RHAEGAR

Marvellous, then it’s settled. Anything further, my lords?

5.5 EXT: GARDENS OF THE RED KEEP – DAY

AERYS and JAIME stroll side-by-side along the battlements of the Red Keep. One-hundred feet below, the waters of Blackwater Bay crash against the great stone blocks at the base of the castle’s seawall.

JAIME

Forgive me if this is overly presumptuous, Your Grace, but I noticed there were no statues of your father or grandfather in the hall. King Maekar was the last in line.

AERYS

The duty of maintaining the hall passes down with the Iron Throne. After the circumstances of his death, my father decided Aegon was unworthy of a place among our forebears and refused to commission his statue.

Every living Targaryen was present that fateful night at Summerhall. Were it not for the bravery of the Lord Commander, the House of the Dragon might well have been extinguished in a single night. As it was, Jaehaerys lost a father, a brother, and very nearly a grandson.

JAIME

Prince Rhaegar.

AERYS

Rhaella’s labour began even as the castle burned, though Rhaegar was not due for another moon’s turn. Maester Corso perished in the blaze, so it was left to me to see Rhaella through. I even cut the umbilical cord myself.

AERYS reaches into his cloak and produces a six-inch blade he passes to JAIME for inspection.

JAIME

Valyrian steel?

AERYS

You have a good eye for weaponry, ser. That’s obsidian about the tang, and the hilt is genuine dragonbone.

JAIME nods appreciatively and hands back the dagger.

AERYS [CONT’D]

My father ascended the throne shortly thereafter, though I swear I’ve never seen a man look so miserable as he did on the day of his coronation. He was born a second son; he did not expect to rule, nor did he desire it. In time he came to resent the throne near as much as he grieved the circumstances by which it came to him. And as that resentment grew, so too did his anger towards Aegon. By the end he was a self-pitying, melancholic old man, consumed by bitterness and regret. The only joy in his life came from his grandson; he would dote on Rhaegar as though he were his own.

AERYS lapses into a reflective silence, clearly preoccupied with his memories. Only when they pass a lord of the court and AERYS nods in greeting does JAIME feel comfortable interrupting AERYS’ reminiscences.

JAIME

But why no statue of King Jaehaerys?

AERYS appears at first not to have heard the question. JAIME is about to repeat himself when the king sighs and turns his head to look out across the waters of the Narrow Sea.

AERYS

There are fewer answers in all the world than there are questions as to what passes between fathers and sons, Ser Jaime.

Now it’s JAIME’s turn to fall silent as he turns the king’s words over in his mind.

AERYS [CONT’D]

When Rhaella was pregnant with Rhaegar my grandfather told me that ruling seven kingdoms was positively effortless when compared to raising sons. I was never entirely certain if that was meant as counsel or criticism, though given the quarrels he and my father shared I tend towards the latter.

JAIME

I’ve always envied people fortunate enough to know their grandfathers. 

AERYS

Knowing them is one thing, living with them quite another. It’s little wonder my father decamped us to Dragonstone for months at a time. Even the Red Keep was not large enough for king and crown prince both. 

JAIME

Were you close to your grandfather?

Again, AERYS is slow to reply, and JAIME suddenly fears he has overstepped.

JAIME [CONT’D]

Forgive me, Your Grace, I should not be asking such personal questions.

AERYS

It’s quite alright. An inquisitive mind is a healthy mind, I’m given to understand.

Although waving away JAIME’s apology, AERYS takes a long, contemplative pause before answering.

AERYS [CONT’D]

My grandfather Aegon was a complicated man: hard-headed, stubborn, intractable in his resolutions. First among them was the decision that his son must follow his own example and marry outside the family, contrary to generations of Targaryen tradition. Aegon’s plans did not best please my mother and father; they dreamed of taking one another to wed so they might preserve the blood of the dragon from further dilution. Regardless of their wishes, Aegon promised his daughter Shaera to Luthor Tyrell, then-heir to Highgarden, and his son Jaehaerys to Celia Tully, daughter to the Lord of Riverrun. But Shaera and Jaehaerys defied my grandfather’s wishes and ran away together to marry in secret. By the time Aegon’s white cloaks followed their tracks and dragged them back to face their king the marriage was already consummated.

JAIME

And Aegon forgave them? 

AERYS

His eldest son Duncan had already answered Aegon’s ultimatum by renouncing his claim in favour of that peasant girl from Oldstones with whom the minstrels remain so tediously enamoured. His third son Dareon was an inveterate boy-lover and hardly to be trusted with furthering the royal line. Unless Aegon was prepared to see the Targaryen dynasty end with whichever grasping Lord best pleased Shaera’s younger sister, he was left with little option but to concede defeat and grant his son and daughter his blessing.

AERYS takes note of JAIME’s querulous expression.

AERYS [CONT’D]

Does that surprise you?

JAIME

They defied their father’s command, made their king look a fool.

AERYS

If there’s one lesson to take away from everything I’ve told you, Ser Jaime, it’s this: never underestimate the bounds to which a man’s forgiveness might stretch when the future of his house is at stake. 

5.6 INT: SOLAR, RED KEEP – DAY – RHAEGAR AND CERSEI

S.E: knocking.

RHAEGAR

Come in, Arthur.

S.E: door opens.

ARTHUR

Lady Cersei, Your Grace.

RHAEGAR

Welcome, my lady.

CERSEI

Good day, Your Grace.

RHAEGAR does his best to disguise his surprise at the manner of dress CERSEI has chosen. Looking about the room with naked curiosity at the prince’s private quarters, she affords him ample opportunity to appreciate her elaborate green gown with lace sleeves and low-cut bodice that leaves her shoulders bare.

RHAEGAR

Thank you, Ser Arthur, you may leave us.

ARTHUR’s attention is focused on CERSEI, his wry circumspection as plain as her curiosity.

RHAEGAR [CONT’D]

That will be all, Arthur.

ARTHUR and RHAEGAR share an exchange entirely in mute pantomime behind CERSEI’s back, the Kingsguard finally conceding defeat in impressing upon the prince his reservations at leaving him alone with CERSEI.

ARTHUR

Of course, Your Grace. I shall be just outside the door should you have need of me.

S.E: door closing.

RHAEGAR

I notice you do not have your harp, my lady.

CERSEI strolls about the room, inspecting the various nick-naks and trinkets that decorate the prince’s shelves, a collection compiled across his various expeditions abroad.

CERSEI

I assumed we would be using yours, Your Grace. It seemed rather silly to bring another.

She picks up a small statue of an armoured knight, his sword painted in fiery orange flames.

CERSEI [CONT’D]

I admit I was a little surprised you suggested we meet in the privacy of your solar. You know how people like to gossip. A young maiden, alone with the handsome and charming prince behind closed doors…

RHAEGAR

Where better to ensure word of your practice does not find its way back to your father?

CERSEI

Of course, how forgetful of me. What does your lady wife think of the idea?

RHAEGAR

Curiously enough it’s very similar to an idea of her own. She’s been encouraging me for years to hold classes so I might teach all the children of the court to play.

CERSEI cannot keep herself from cringing at the sudden glimpse into RHAEGAR’s estimation of her. Her confidence momentarily wavers, and she covers the bare skin above her bodice with her arms in an unconscious yet altogether congruent gesture of childish bashfulness. In the moment it takes her to recover her coquettish confidence, RHAEGAR crosses the room and collects his silver harp from its table.

RHAEGAR (CONT’D]

Shall we begin?

CERSEI

Actually, I thought we might share a spot of luncheon first. We shall need our strength if we mean to make to most of our time together.

RHAEGAR

I see.

CERSEI

Did I presume too much? I can send word to the kitchens –

RHAEGAR [INTERRUPTING]

No, no, it’s quite alright. I’m afraid I dined already, but I am happy to watch you eat if you have an appetite.

CERSEI

Perhaps we might sit on the veranda and take in a little sun while we wait?

RHAEGAR

Of course.

They move through the open floor-length windows and onto the veranda that overlooks King’s Landing. CERSEI positions herself close by RHAEGAR’s side at the wrought-iron railing. She turns her face up to the afternoon sun, closing her eyes like a basking housecat.

CERSEI

The spring has been too long in coming; it’s so lovely to feel the warmth upon my skin again.

RHAEGAR

I see you have dressed for the weather.

CERSEI

Do you like it?

RHAEGAR

It’s a lovely colour.

CERSEI

I had it made only recently. I decided my wardrobe was rather wanting for the company I’ve been keeping here at court.

RHAEGAR

You have certainly made quite a stir, my lady. I hope you have properly prepared yourself for the flurry of marriage proposals soon to follow.

CERSEI

You flatter me with your concern, Your Grace, but I shall be leaving such matters entirely to my father.

RHAEGAR

You must trust his judgment very much.

CERSEI

Women of my age cannot be relied upon when it comes to affairs of the heart. We are too easily carried away by passions of the flesh, too vulnerable to the seductions of more seasoned men and their ill-intentions.

RHAEGAR

I’ve no doubt Ser Jaime provides ample deterrent for men of such untoward ambitions.

CERSEI

My brother is far too preoccupied with his own ambitions to interest himself in others’. He’s dreamt of fighting alongside the great Ser Arthur Dayne since he was old enough to swing a practice sword.

RHAEGAR

Having suffered first-hand his skill with such, I can say with confidence that Arthur wielding sharpened steel is more readily the preserve of nightmares, as the Kingswood Brotherhood only just discovered.

CERSEI

You must be quite the accomplished swordsman yourself, having spent so many years learning at Ser Arthur’s knee?

RHAEGAR

“Accomplished” is not the word I would choose, and I suspect the word Arthur might choose is not to be repeated within the hearing of a lady.

CERSEI

You’re far too modest, Your Grace. Remember, I have seen you in competition.

RHAEGAR

A sword and a lance are two different things entirely, my lady, and I would describe as nothing more than adequate my abilities with either.

CERSEI

How shameful for my uncles, to be unstead in short succession by a man of only adequate ability.

RHAEGAR

Beginner’s luck, I’m sure. Your father’s tourney was my first time entering the lists, and a rider will always fare worse against an opponent that he doesn’t know than one he does, as Arthur amply demonstrated when he dumped me from my saddle on the final day.

CERSEI

My father always says there is no shame in losing to the better man, only in losing twice. You avenged your loss the next year at Storm’s End, my brother told me.

RHAEGAR

Did he mention that I watched from my backside as Ser Barristan took the champion’s purse?

CERSEI

Still, you must be the only man alive that can boast of unseating the Sword of the Morning, the Red Viper of Dorne, and Lord Steffon Baratheon all in a single day. I cannot imagine how proud the Princess Elia must have been to see her husband besting three such famous warriors.

RHAEGAR

I rather suspect she would have been cheering for her brother Oberyn, actually.

CERSEI

The Princess didn’t attend the tourney?

RHAEGAR

Sadly not. Elia was still recovering from the birth of Rhaenys and much too weak to travel.

CERSEI

The poor thing. I’m sure she felt absolutely awful, not being there for your special day. I know I would have. That’s why I intend never to miss a tourney once I’m wed. Wherever my husband goes, I shall go too so that I might present him my favour and shower him with kisses when he triumphs. And in return, he shall proclaim me the Queen of Love and Beauty and crown me with a garland of roses.

RHAEGAR

And if he should fail?

CERSEI

Then I shall be there to kiss his bruises and distract him from his defeat. I shall imagine so many methods of distraction everything else will fall entirely out of his head.

S.E: knocking.

Seizing eagerly upon the interruption, RHAEGAR steps through the doors into the solar.

RHAEGAR

That must be your luncheon. Shall we move to the table?

CERSEI smiles, brushing close by RHAEGAR and into the room.

CERSEI

By all means, Your Grace. Your wish is my command.

5.7 EXT: GARDENS OF THE RED KEEP - DAY

AERYS

So, tell me, ser: how are you finding King’s Landing thus far?

JAIME

I always wondered what my first time in the capital would be like. I never imagined it would prove quite so remarkable as it has.

AERYS and JAIME stroll together along the paths that wind around and through the carefully-manicured lawns of the Red Keep’s gardens. Although the frosts of winter are only recently departed, a deployment of green-fingered servants is already hard at work planting flowers for the spring.

AERYS

I remember being so disappointed when Tywin insisted your mother return to the Rock for the delivery. I’d have been positively distraught had I known just how long it would take your father to keep his word to me.

JAIME

His word, Your Grace?

AERYS

When news reached us that Tywin was delivered of twins, I summoned your parents back to court so that I might see these golden-haired little lion cubs for myself. Your father felt Joanna was too weak to travel and demurred to separate a mother from her newborns, promising instead to bring you both along when he returned to resume his duties as my Hand. Seventeen years later, and here you finally are.

JAIME

Well I am glad to finally have made your acquaintance, Your Grace, however overdue it may have been.

AERYS

Oh but you must let me tell the rest of the story: when your father refused to bring you to court, I decided to take the court to you. Rhaella and I, little Rhaegar, the small council, the Kingsguard, the servants: all of us decamped to Casterly Rock for the better part of a year. I visited you in your nursery every day. The first time I picked each of you from your crib, I had your weight in gold placed down in your stead.

JAIME

I never knew that.

AERYS

I can’t imagine why your father would keep that from you…It almost makes you wonder what other secrets he may have squirreled away.

JAIME thinks this over. AERYS studies his reaction from the corner of his eye.

AERYS (CONT’D)

It was me that introduced Tywin to your mother. I bet you didn’t know that either. Oh, they’d seen one another around the keep, and were even distant relations unless I’m very much mistaken, but it wasn’t until I brought them together at some banquet or other that things truly began between them.

JAIME

It’s strange, to think of my father at that age. It’s hard to picture.

AERYS

Even Grandmaester Pycelle was a young man once, long ago in the mists of time. The years creep up on all of us, I promise you that.

As they walk, one young lady of the court after another flashes JAIME a flirtatious smile, giggling with their companions once they pass. AERYS observes their attentions with amusement.

AERYS [CONT’D]

Not that you need fear the ravages of age anytime soon. I imagine you and your sister could have sailed all the way from Casterly Rock upon the river of tears shed by all the fair young things heartbroken to see you go.

JAIME

No doubt you broke your own share of hearts in your day, Your Grace.

AERYS

My day was more short-lived than you might imagine. By the time I was your age I was already a husband and a father both.

There were other women, of course, though most were only a distraction: I’d known for as long as I can remember that Rhaella and I were meant for one another.

JAIME

It’s a rare thing, to know your heart at such an early age.

AERYS

It is, though I was speaking rather more prosaically. My father had decided before Rhaella was born that I must marry my sister, just as he had married his. He was a queer sort, old Jaehaerys, forever preoccupied by sorcery and magic and ancient prophecy. Even our betrothal he decided on the counsel of a woods witch, such was his credulity when it came to the supernatural.

JAIME

I had no idea.

AERYS

It’s hardly something we’re in the practice of promoting. Can you imagine what people might think if they knew the future of the Seven Kingdoms was determined on the auguries of some anonymous mystic?

Rhaella was furious when father decided the day had finally come for us to say our vows. She had her heart set on some knight or other at the time, I seem to recall. She protested for months, adamant that she would never allow the fancies of a superstitious old fool to decide her own heart.

It took no little persuasion before I was able to make her see that our father’s reasons made no matter, only her duty to our house.

Remember those words, Jaime; you may have need of them one day.

The two men have come abreast of a raised marble patio overlooking a wide expanse of flat green lawn. AERYS spies a team of servants laying out plates and glasses and a tall silver cake stand overladen with sweet treats of half-a-hundred different shapes and colours.

AERYS

Ah, time for tea. Shall we sit awhile?

S.E: footsteps.

A pair of Targaryen household guard approach and nod in formal greeting to OSWELL.

OSWELL

Your Grace, if you will excuse me, it is time for the Lord Commander’s debrief. Ser Bryce and Ser Mastion will stand the guard until my relief should arrive.

AERYS waves an absent hand of acknowledgment as he eagerly descends upon a layer of apple cakes. JAIME remains where he’s standing, the king’s advice niggling at his mind like a thorn in the lion’s paw. OSWELL rouses him with an amiable hand upon his shoulder.

OSWELL [CONT’D]

Best not wait too long, lad, or the king will leave you nothing but crumbs.

Feeling a smile beyond his current capabilities, JAIME summons a mechanical nod and follows the pair of Targaryen guards towards the patio and their gorging king.

5.8 INT: VARYS’ CHAMBERS, RED KEEP – DAY

VARYS

I’m quite certain you shall find his replacement more than satisfactory. Rugen is a conscientious worker, with little need of supervision. He is a solitary sort, so don’t expect him to surface from the black cells too often.

LONGWATERS

But, my lord, Brass Ben has been in charge of the third level for years.

VARYS

Magister Ilyrio will find good use for him, you have my word. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a great many correspondences that require my attention.

LONGWATERS

As you command, my lord.

RENNIFER LONGWATERS, chief undergaoler of the Red Keep’s dungeons, bows to the Master of Whispers and shuffles from the room. VARYS returns eagerly to his papers.

S.E: knocking

Irritated at another interruption, VARYS determines to send his visitor away in short order, but holds his temper when he finds BELLA hovering in the doorway.

VARYS

Ah, Bella, come in child. You have something for me?

BELLA nods and hands over a small vial of white granular powder. VARYS holds it to the light.

VARYS [TO HIMSELF]

What are you up to, Grandmaester?

He hands the vial back to BELLA.

VARYS [CONT’D]

Are you familiar with the apothecary that plies his trade at the foot of Visenya’s Hill?

BELLA furrows her brow in thought, then nods.

VARYS [CONT’D]

Tell master Beardsley I would like to know the identity of this powder, as well as its likely effects.

VARYS returns to his desk, but senses BELLA lingering by the door.

VARYS [CONT’D]

That will be all, Bella.

The girl studies the floor, making no move to depart. Sighing, VARYS walks over and crouches down to BELLA’s height.

VARYS [CONT’D]

You feel guilty for betraying the Princess Elia’s trust.

BELLA

She’s good to me, m’lord. She plays games with me, and still gives me an orange at the end of every day even though she doesn’t have any left for herself.

VARYS places a finger beneath BELLA’s chin and raises her face for his inspection.

VARYS

So I see.

He draws a handkerchief from his sleeve, licks a corner, and wipes away the sticky film of dried orange juice that glazes the corners of the girl’s mouth.

VARYS [CONT’D]

The princess is a good woman, and you’re a good girl for wanting to see that no harm should come to her. But sometimes, to keep the people we care for safe, we have to do things we would not ordinarily do.

BELLA remains unconvinced. VARYS takes her hand in his.

VARYS [CONT’D]

I promise you, sweetling, I only have the Princess Elia’s interests at heart. You believe me when I say that, don’t you?

The little servant girl casts an appraising eye over the Master of Whispers, then nods once again.

VARYS [CONT’D]

That’s good. Because if I’m going to keep her safe, I’m going to need your help. And this –

VARYS taps the vial BELLA clutches in her free hand.

VARYS [CONT’D]

This is how you help me. We need to know that this is the right medicine to make the princess feel better, which is why I need you to deliver it to the apothecary as quick as you can. Will you do that for me? For the princess?

BELLA

Yes, m’lord.

VARYS

There’s a good girl. Run along now, and when you return, you can make your face all sticky again with the lovely candied plum I’ll have here waiting for you.

BELLA scampers from the room. VARYS watches her go, then returns to his desk and settles in to work.

S.E: knocking

VARYS [CONT’D]

I swear, I should find more peace at Ilyrio’s pillow house.

Exasperated, VARYS throws down his quill and crosses to the door, ready to vent his frustration at whomever has the misfortune of standing on the other side.

S.E: door opening.

VARYS [CONT’D]

Lord Commander. What a delightful surprise. 

GEROLD

I trust I’m not interrupting something?

VARYS

Nothing that cannot wait. How may I be of service, my lord?

GEROLD

I’m told I have you to thank for the freshly-laundered whites delivered to the White Sword Tower this morning.

VARYS

A small kindness. I recently took into my service a young boy previously employed as a dyer’s apprentice. When I heard of your adventures in the Kingswood I realised you may have need of his expertise at removing stubborn stains.

GEROLD

Perhaps it’s your servant that’s most deserving of my thanks, then.

VARYS

As was ever the way, my lord.

GEROLD

Very well then. Apologies for the intrusion; I shall let you get back to your work. Good day.

VARYS

No apology necessary. Good day, Lord Commander.

S.E: door closing.

VARYS takes a step towards his desk, then stops. He waits, his ears perked, anticipating another disturbance. When none is forthcoming, he breathes a sigh of blessed relief and gratefully continues about his business.

5.9 INT: WHITE SWORD TOWER – DAY

LEWYN sits at the three-sided table fashioned in the shape of a shield, whittling with his knife at a five-inch length of wood. JONOTHOR enters, and LEWYN greets him with a beaming smile.

LEWYN

Good day, noble Jonothor!

JONOTHOR

Well don’t you look like the cat that got the cream. I hope you spared a thought for your poor brother stood in a draughty corridor all night while you were getting your end away.

S.E: chair scrape.

LEWYN

Believe it or not, Jonothor, you never once entered my mind the whole evening, except briefly at supper.

JONOTHOR

Oh?

LEWYN

Aye, when I paid for our lavish five-course meal with the coin I won from you at dice last week.

JONOTHOR

What kind of prince depends upon ill-gotten gains to treat his lady to the finer things in life?

LEWYN

Why does food taste better off someone else’s plate?

SERS BARRISTAN and OSWELL enter together, the latter in the middle of conveying his point in typically animated fashion.

OSWELL

…see the way she stars at him. It’s so brazen I swear she’d make the girls touting for business outside a brothel blush.

BARRISTAN

She’s not the first young maiden to bat her lashes in our prince’s direction, and I’m certain she won’t be the last. Rhaegar can take care of himself.

OSWELL

I certainly hope so. I’d run onto the sharp end of a Dothraki arakh to protect the man from harm, but I’d think twice before coming between that she-lion and her quarry.

JONOTHOR

Is this the Lannister girl?

BARRISTAN

The castle seems incapable of talking about little else of late.

JONOTHOR catches OSWELL by the arm as he passes on his way to an empty chair.

JONOTHOR

Did you talk to Barristan yet?

BARRISTAN

Talk to Barristan about what exactly?

OSWELL

I was building myself up to it, Jonothor.

JONOTHOR

You said you’d do it today.

OSWELL

The sun hasn’t set just yet, has it?

JONOTHOR

We agreed you’d tell him before the shift change.

BARRISTAN

If my presence is inconveniencing your talking about me, sers, I should be happy to step outside.

Before either man can answer, ARTHUR and GEROLD enter and bid everyone settle. ARTHUR seats himself at GEROLD’s left elbow, while GEROLD remains standing at the table’s point.

GEROLD

Before we begin, just a friendly reminder from your Lord Commander: lately I’ve been seeing more than one of you lurking about the castle on your free time. You know my rule: if you’re not on shift or in your bed, get yourself out of the Red Keep. If you have the day, get out of the city. Spend too long staring at these same walls without interruption and you’ll go mad, and a mad knight is a careless knight, and I’ll have no careless knights in my Kingsguard. Is that clear?

He receives a round of nods and murmured assents in answer.

GEROLD

Now, as you’re no doubt aware, we find ourselves rather stretched at the moment. We have seven royal persons to watch over, and in Harlan’s absence that means we’re outnumbered.

OSWELL

Why didn’t Queen Visenya think to make two-dozen Kingsguard instead…

JONOTHOR

Because there’s only seven Gods, you fucking heathen.

OSWELL kicks the back of JONOTHOR’s chair and JONOTHOR turns with hand raised.

GEROLD

Alright, settle down children. Fortunately for us, the Princess Rhaenys and the Princes Viserys and Aegon are easy enough to corral in one place, and the Princess Elia is still confined to her quarters on maester’s orders. So, beginning with the day shift, the assignments are as follows: Ser B -

JONOTHOR [INTERRUPTING]

Maegor’s teats, Gerold, must we suffer through this interminable routine every day? We all know our assignments.

GEROLD

You do not know your assignments, Jonothor. A great many considerations factor into these rotas, and a great deal can change from one day to the next.

JONOTHOR

Alright, you tell me if I’m close: you need to be free to attend council, Lewyn has to stand guard for his niece, Barristan can’t be assigned to the queen –

OSWELL [INTERRUPTING]

I’ve always wondered what that’s about. Did the young Barristan try and sneak a peek during bath time or something?

BARRISTAN

Watch your tongue, Oswell.

JONOTHOR

…Arthur always gets the prince’s detail because you want to keep his old friend Rhaegar sweet, and Harlan’s too old and sleepy to work nights. Am I forgetting something, or was that about it?

GEROLD

You forget that Ser Harlan is not included in this latest rotation, so, we shall be short a man for the day shift.

LEWYN

My niece blackmailed me into petitioning the queen to visit with the children on the morrow, so I can double-up on the watch and stand guard over all five.

GEROLD

Excellent, that makes things good and simple then. Moving on: late shift, anything to hand over from last night?

ARTHUR

Nothing at all. The children were both asleep by seven, Princess Elia barely an hour later.

GEROLD

And the Prince?

ARTHUR

Across the hall all night, up and about his business at the break of dawn

GEROLD

Oswell? Jonothor? How was the king’s watch?

The two brothers exchange a loaded look, each urging the other to speak. OSWELL sighs and sits up, conceding the contest.

OSWELL

Jonothor and I would like to bring something to table.

GEROLD

It’s not like you to seek permission before opening that mouth of yours, Oswell.

OSWELL

We think it’s past time we all had a discussion about the king and his...practices.

An uncomfortable silence settles, as though all the air in the room were being sucked up by the enormous and unpleasant elephant OSWELL has insisted upon acknowledging.

OSWELL [CONT’D]

The other night he had me send the gold cloaks to fetch a girl to his chambers. A face I hadn’t seen before, from the new Mermaid I reckon.

GEROLD

It’s not our place to pass judgment, Oswell.

OSWELL

I’m not concerned with the king’s marriage vows, Gerold. When the girl left, she looked as though she’d been set upon by a pack of wild dogs. Scratches, bites, chunks of hair torn from her head…she could barely manage the steps, she was so shaken.

JONOTHOR

It’s only getting worse. Before, it was just noises from the other side of the door, though none of them of pleasure. But now…

BARRISTAN

These are serious accusations you’re levelling.

JONOTHOR

Are you calling us liars, ser? If so, you’d best walk across cross the hall to Harlan’s sickbed and call him a liar while you’re at it. He’s spared the worst of it, only working days, but he’s seen enough to know. We all have, and it’s well past the point we had any excuse for pretending otherwise.

GEROLD

Nobody is calling anyone a liar, Jonothor, nor is anybody pretending. We’ve discussed this: the Kingsguard serve at the king’s pleasure. It is no concern of ours where or how he finds that pleasure. We listen, but we do not hear. We observe, but we do not see. That is the way of the Kingsguard, as you both know well enough.

None at table are in any hurry to meet OSWELL or JONOTHOR’s eye as the cast around for support, but neither do the pair appear willing to let the matter lie.

LEWYN

I say we let things play out. I’ve no doubt they will resolve themselves before too long.

JONOTHOR

And what is that supposed to mean?

LEWYN

Only that His Grace is a man given to easy distraction, all of them temporary. In Dorne, we’re still waiting for the underground canal he promised us twenty years ago.

OSWELL

So you’d have us do nothing?

GEROLD

What would be your alternative, ser? Go before our king and name him villain to his face? Bloody my knuckles until he begs forgiveness for his folly?

JONOTHOR

You’ve had worse ideas, Gerold.

GEROLD

Lord Commander, if you’d please. Let’s at least keep things formal while we’re discussing treason.

OSWELL

Oh, spare us the histrionic hand-wringing, won’t you? This is hardly -

GEROLD [INTERRUPTING]

If you know a better word to describe what you just encouraged me to do I should dearly like to hear it. Elsewise, let us move on and cease turning over ground we’ve already ploughed.

OSWELL silently encourages JONOTHOR to hold his peace, but he ignores his friend’s caution and looks instead to ARTHUR.

JONOTHOR

What about you, Sword of the Morning? You have nothing to say about this?

ARTHUR

Our Lord Commander has said all that needs be said, Ser Jonothor.

ARTHUR holds JONOTHOR’s eye, his expression as unwavering as JONOTHOR’s is reproachful.

GEROLD

That’s all for today. Consider yourselves dismissed.

The others rise and move to depart as ordered, JONOTHOR shaking his head in disappointment at ARTHUR as OSWELL shepherds him out the door.

ARTHUR

They’re right, you know. We can’t just stand by and do nothing.

GEROLD

Leave it be, Arthur.

ARTHUR

We swore an oath, Gerold. We swore to defend the weak, and –

GEROLD [INTERRUPTING]

That’s enough, I said! You’d do well to remember your place, ser. I’ve no doubt you’ll be named Lord Commander after I’m gone, but that day is not this one.

ARTHUR

You kept your temper with the others so you could let it flare with me, and that’s fine, I have no quarrel with that. But you will hear me out.

GEROLD hears the steel in ARTHUR’s voice and nods with a sigh of reluctant acquiescence.

ARTHUR [CONT’D]

I have a notion that may allow us to resolve this situation without open challenge to the king. Let me speak with Rhaegar.

GEROLD

It wouldn’t be proper. You’re his servant first, his friend second. That’s the only way this can work.

ARTHUR

But I remain his friend all the same. If I approach him in that manner, rather than in my capacity as a Kingsguard, then I see no compromise to either of our oaths.

GEROLD

It’s been nothing but compromise of late. It spreads like a disease, passing from one to the next until we’re all bent-double just to prevent ourselves from breaking…

Very well. But tread carefully, Arthur. 

ARTHUR

Rhaegar would never do me harm.

GEROLD

Perhaps not, but the son is not the father, and should word reach the king that you’ve run to Rhaegar with these calumnies…

I’m one white cloak down already; I shall be loath to lose another.

ARTHUR

Perhaps Oswell was right to counsel you against hyperbole. I have no fear for my cloak, Gerold.

GEROLD

You know better than most the true nature of kings, Arthur. And what holds true for them holds doubly so for Targaryens. I say again: tread carefully.

5.10 EXT: GARDEN BALCONY, RED KEEP - DAY

JAIME

Your Grace? Your Grace?

AERYS

Hm?

AERYS opens his eyes to find JAIME leaning over him, his face a picture of concern.

AERYS [CONT’D]

Forgive me, Jaime. I must have dozed off for a moment.

JAIME

You were right in the middle of speaking. I’ve never seen anything like it.

AERYS

Warm weather and a full belly make for a hazardous combination at my age. Help me up, won’t you? I’ll be fine once I’m on my feet.

JAIME lends a steadying arm to assist the king in rising, guiding him past the table of errant crumbs and empty crockery to the low marble wall of the patio. Discretely redirecting his attention so AERYS might recover himself unobserved, JAIME looks out over the lawn below where Prince VISERYS and Princess RHAENYS are at play, a wetnurse cradling the baby AEGON supervising from the sidelines. A servant approaches to refill the king’s glass.

AERYS

I’ve had enough of the red. Fetch the gold.

SERVANT

Apologies, Your Grace, but the cellars are dry of Arbor Gold.

AERYS

What do you mean, “dry”?

SERVANT

Lord Chelsted had most of our stores sent to Harrenhal for Lord Whent’s tourney. The kitchen master normally makes his purchase directly from the docks, but since the trade routes have been disrupted –

AERYS

Fine, fine, I didn’t ask for a disquisition. The red shall suffice for the moment.

Below, the children have laid out four plant-pots to roughly approximate a square, each side ten feet in length, and now occupy themselves in wrestling one another inside the field of play.

AERYS [CONT’D]

A game of Rhaella’s devising, I understand. “Take the Tower”, she calls it. You see those pots at each corner? The aim is to be the first player to touch each pot in turn. It’s your opponent’s part to prevent your doing so, and their’s you.

As they look on, VISERYS succeeds in overpowering his smaller niece and continues on to lay a hand on three of the four plant pots. RHAENYS doggedly clings to his back, forcing the prince to carry her weight as he navigates from one to the next. So focused is VISERYS on his own progress, he fails to notice the princess covertly touching each pot also.

JAIME

          Did she just…?

As VISERYS approaches the fourth and final pot, his steps staggered and weary from the exertion of carrying his piggy-backing niece, RHAENYS drops to her feet and throws herself headlong ahead of VISERYS, slapping her hand against the pewter plant pot and winning the game.

S.E: clapping.

AERYS

Well done, Rhaenys! It seems we have a master tactician in the family!

Enraged at being outwitted before his father, VISERYS shoves a celebrating RHAENYS to the ground.

VISERYS

You cheated!

AERYS

Viserys Targaryen! You pick your niece up this instant!

Immediately chastened before his father’s anger, VISERYS does as he’s commanded.

AERYS [CONT’D]

Come over here, young man.

The prince trudges obediently across the lawn, his head lowered in contrition.

AERYS [CONT’D]

What have I told you about bullying your little playmates? You’re a prince, Viserys, and princes must comport themselves with honour at all times. Pushing little girls to the ground is hardly honourable, now is it?

VISERYS

No, father.

AERYS

No. Now run along, but be sure to apologise to Rhaenys at once, do you hear me?

VISERYS

Yes, father. 

AERYS shakes his head ruefully as VISERYS returns to RHAENYS, the princess now cuddled into the wetnurses’ protective embrace and lamenting the grass stains that spoil her skirts.

AERYS

There are days I find myself in grudging agreement with old Aegon on the hardships of fatherhood.

JAIME

You and my father share common ground in that much at least.

AERYS

And I only have sons to worry over, thank the gods for small mercies. You father must be positively giddy at the prospect of his headaches soon being halved.

JAIME

I’m not sure I follow, Your Grace.

AERYS

Once Cersei is wed she’ll become her husband’s burden, no?

JAIME

My sister is not looking for a husband, Your Grace.

AERYS

Oh? What other possible purpose could your father have had for calling her to court?

JAIME

It was me he summoned, actually. Cersei just invited herself along for the journey.

AERYS

I see. Does your father make a habit of separating the two of you?

JAIME

Well…no. We’ve never spent more than a day or two apart, come to think of it.

AERYS makes no comment, leaving JAIME in peace to confront the contradiction of his own assumptions. The colour slowly drains from the young knight’s face and he suddenly looks as though his luncheon is ready to reappear.

AERYS

Are you feeling alright, Ser Jaime? Have I said something indelicate?

JAIME

Not at all, Your Grace, it’s just…

S.E: footsteps.

AERYS

Ah, here’s Ser Barristan.

BARRISTAN

Your Grace. Ser Jaime.

AERYS

I thought you might like to spend the afternoon in the yard training with the White Cloaks.

JAIME

I can think of nothing I’d like more, Your Grace.

AERYS

You’ve fought with them, bled with them, and now you’ll train with them. If only you’d come to us sooner, all those years of expert teaching might well have made you a swordsman of Ser Arthur’s compare by now.

AERYS waves his hands, shooing JAIME away towards the waiting BARRISTAN.

AERYS [CONT’D]

Go on, go on, don’t let the shuffling of stiff old men hold you back. I’ll get there in my own time.

JAIME

Thank you, Your Grace. And thank you again for today.

JAIME moves to depart, then hesitates.

JAIME [CONT’D]

Your Grace, if my father should ask…

AERYS

You spent the day at Ser Harlan’s bedside. This will stay our little secret, Ser Jaime.

AERYS winks conspiratorially. JAIME nods his thanks and walks with BARRISTAN towards the yard. AERYS watches them recede into the distance, his satisfied smile slowly dissolving into a scowl as he shifts his attention back towards his son.

AERYS

Viserys! Get over here, boy!

S.E: running footsteps.

VISERYS

Yes, father?

AERYS [CONT’D]

Are you proud of yourself? Do you feel like a true prince, letting a little girl shame you like that?

VISERYS

It was only a game.

AERYS

Only a game?!

AERYS snatches VISERYS’ arm and shoves a bony finger into the little boy’s face.

AERYS

Do you know what will become of you if you don’t start toughening up? Do you want to see what you’ll grow up to be if you allow the women in your life to make you soft? Make you weak? Come with me: I promised your brother a much-needed lesson, but now I see that both my sons could stand to learn something from it.

5.11 INT: THE MERMAID - DAY

ILYRIO MOPATIS paces the mezzanine, manoeuvring his great bulk on incongruously light feet, first one way and then the other.

S.E. door opening.

ILYRIO

What’s the prognosis, maester?

MAESTER

The burns are mostly superficial, and largely localised about her legs and womanly parts.

ILYRIO

How fortunate then that she chose a line of work that never requires she be naked.

MAESTER

Yes, well, I gave her a little something for the pain, so she’ll be of no use to you for the rest of the evening.

ILYRIO

I wouldn’t dream of putting her to work in her condition.

MAESTER

That’s a greater kindness than your predecessor ever showed his girls.

ILYRIO

Kindness be damned. I’m endeavouring the build a reputation for this establishment, and I will not have it be said the Mermaid trades in damaged goods.

ILYRIO crosses the maester’s palm with silver and shoos him away. Spying NARISSA climbing the stairs, he crooks a finger in summons.

ILYRIO [CONT’D]

Well? What did you discover?

NARISSA

The best I could find was an old dyer at the draper’s over on River Row. He said it’s easy enough, if you make the right mix of agrimonia and sheep urine.

ILYRIO

Sheep urine?

NARISSA

Or cow urine, he said either works just as well. I warn you now though, Ilyrio, you’d best not be thinking of asking me to dye my hair.

ILYRIO smiles indulgently and twirls a length of NARISSA’S long red curls about his finger.

ILYRIO

What sort of businessman would I be to deny the men of King’s Landing such a rare delight? 

ILYN

Where is he?! Where’s the fat man?!

ILYRIO and NARISSA look down into the Mermaid’s foyer, where a waxen-skinned, cadaverous man in City Watch leathers stands defiantly in the open doorway. A second Watchman enters close behind, trailed by the lumbering frame of BRASS BEN. The former undergaoler of the Black Cells calls up to ILYRIO.

BRASS BEN

I’m sorry, magister, he just pushed right past me. He’s got half a dozen gold cloaks out here.

ILYN

There he is! I want a word with you, you stinkin’ bag of suet!

ILYRIO raises a hand to pardon his doorman.

ILYRIO

It’s quite alright, Ben.

He flashes an ingratiating smile to his unexpected visitor.

ILYRIO [CONT’D]

By all means, come on up to my chambers where you and I may talk in comfort, my friend.

As the Watchman and his escort begin their ascent, NARISSA takes note of the swords on their hips.

NARISSA

Shall I fetch Jodo and Gyllys?

ILYRIO

That won’t be necessary, my sweet, though a flagon of wine would be greatly appreciated.

5.12 INT: TYWIN’S CHAMBERS, TOWER OF THE HAND - DAY

TYWIN LANNISTER sits at his desk in the Hand’s chambers, wading duteously through the day’s fresh delivery of scrolls from throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

S.E: unfurling scroll.

He makes a note on a piece of parchment, then adds the unfurled scroll to the smaller of the two piles before him. His fingers reach for another. He inspects the wax with curiosity, runs a fingertip over the virginal smooth seal, the wax unblemished by imprint.

S.E: unfurling scroll.

As TYWIN reads, his brow gradually knits together into a frown. He sits back in his chair, his contemplative gaze settled somewhere a thousand miles away. Laying down his quill, he returns to the top of the parchment and reads its contents for a second time.

5.13 INT: ILYRIO’S CHAMBERS, THE MERMAID - DAY

NARISSA places a flagon of wine on the desk and pours a glass, the senior of the two Gold Cloaks leering appreciatively at the way in which her gown hews tight to the curves of her body. He accepts the glass his junior waves away and drains the wine in one long swallow.

ILYRIO [SMACKING LIPS APPRECIATIVELY]

Ah! Hard to come by these days, Arbor Gold. Fill 'er up, darling, there's a good girl.

At a nod from ILYRIO, NARISSA forces a smile as false as mummer's tears and obliges their guest, his eyes following the swing of her hips as she withdraws to the windowsill behind the Magister's chair.

ILYRIO 

So…would you prefer I address you as Ser Ilyn, or as Lord Payne?

ILYN

You know me, then?

ILYRIO

I am thorough to a fault when it comes to my investments. The captain of the Gold Cloaks naturally came up more than once during the course of my due diligence. I confess I am less familiar with you, ser.

ILYN’s second opens his mouth to speak but his Captain pre-empts him.

ILYN

Never you mind him. If you know my name, then you know what I came for.

ILYRIO

I know it very well indeed. Some might say it has been the defining preoccupation of my life thus far.

ILYN

If you want to do business in this city then you have to pay for the privilege. Twenty percent of your takings, plus me and my boys drink and fuck for free.

ILYRIO

I happen to know for a fact that my predecessor never paid more than five percent.

ILYN

Those were mate’s rates. Ardrew and me go back before the war, you’re just some fat foreign cunt without a friend this side of the Narrow Sea.

ILYRIO

On that score you are mistaken, Ser Ilyn.

ILYN

What, that bald nonce I’ve seen coming round here? From what I’ve been told there’s only one person wants him at court, and it’s not the person that matters. I’m Tywin Lannister’s man: now that’s a friend in high places.

ILYRIO

In that case you should have no quarrel with my taking this matter up with our Lord Hand directly?

This gives ILYN a moment’s pause. He shifts his weight, glancing at his friend and scowling at the small smirk he tries and fails to disguise.

ILYN

Watch yourself, you. Listen fat man, I’m a Westerman born and raised, loyal to the Lannisters of Casterly Rock, but it’s Lord Staunton that pays my wages. You want to complain to someone, you do it through the proper chain of command.

ILYRIO

As I explained, my friend, I am a stickler when it comes to my due diligence. Symond Staunton is dead, so too is his successor, Steffon Baratheon.

ILYN

So?

ILYRIO

So your threats are as empty as the Master of Law’s seat in council.

ILYN

Fancy men in fancy chairs only count for so much. Down here it’s steel that matters, and I’ve got two-hundred swords under my command.

ILYRIO

Which is why I’m prepared to negotiate, assuming your terms remain within the realm of the reasonable.

ILYN

I told you: twenty percent.

ILYRIO

Seven and a half.

ILYN

Fifteen.

ILYRIO

Ten.

MARTAN

Ilyn, that’s twice what we were getting from Ardrew.

ILYN

Shut your mouth!

ILYN stabs his index finger in his companion’s face, then strafes it around to ILYRIO and springs to his feet.

ILYN [CONT’D]

Fifteen percent, bagged and ready at the end of every month.

ILYRO

I’m afraid those terms appear to me entirely unreasonable, ser.

ILYN

If you think this sounds like I’m negotiating then your ears must be as full of lard as the rest of you. Fifteen percent of your takings, or I have my men burn this place to the ground with you and your whores locked inside.

ILYN drains his glass, then turns and hurls it against the wall.

S.E: shattering glass.

ILYN

Come on, let’s go.

He storms from the room without waiting for his companion to follow. The Gold Cloak moves to the door, hesitates, then turns back.

MARTAN

The name’s Martan, just in case you need to get hold of me for some reason.

ILYRIO nods, and MARTAN exits.

NARISSA

That one was ready to deal at ten percent.

ILYRIO

He was indeed.

NARISSA

Shall I send him a purse of gold, convince him it’s past time he cleared his own path to promotion?

ILYRIO

No, no, my dear, we’re not in Pentos now. When among the Westerosi, we must do as the Westerosi do, at least for a short while longer. As the captain himself suggested, we shall pursue our complaint through the proper chain of command.

5.14 EXT: YARD OF THE RED KEEP - DAY

JAIME enters the yard at BARRISTAN’s elbow to discover RHAEGAR and ARTHUR running through the prince’s drills, OSWELL and JONOTHOR sitting on a wall watching their progress. Arthur presses in steps, RHAEGAR alternately blocking the Sword of the Morning’s stroke with his shield or deflecting it aside with his steel.

ARTHUR

Good. Again.

S.E: swords.

Again.

Come at me. Concentrate on your footwork…that’s it…stay off your heels.

RHAEGAR does as he’s bid, swinging first left then right, overhand then underhand. ARTHUR backs up after each movement, urging his opponent to continue the press.

ARTHUR [CONT’D]

Very good, my prince. Let’s go again.

S.E: swords.

The two men halt their practice as they become aware of JAIME and BARRISTAN standing at the sword racks.

RHAEGAR

Ser Jaime.

JAIME

Your Grace. Ser Arthur.

ARTHUR

I was told you might be stopping by. Give me a few moments to finish up with His Grace and I’ll be right with you.

RHAEGAR

No, it’s quite alright. I think I’ve had enough punishment for one day. He’s all yours, Ser Jaime.

ARTHUR

As you say, my prince. Come on then, Ser Jaime. I’ve been looking forward to a taste of what Ser Mathhos’s been teaching.

JAIME selects his sword and enters the practice circle, passing RHAEGAR as he exits.

JAIME

I can think of no greater honour, Ser Arthur, but I fear I would offer you little in the way of challenge.

ARTHUR

You’re too modest by far, Ser. I’ve seen you fight, don’t forget.

JAIME accepts ARTHUR’s compliment with a smile, but turns his head towards RHAEGAR.

JAIME

Perhaps I might test myself against a swordsman of comparable experience. Your Grace?

RHAEGAR breaks off his greetings to BARRISTAN and looks around, surprised at hearing the honorific.

JAIME [CONT’D]

Might you do me the honour?

RHAEGAR hesitates, looking first to BARRISTAN and then to ARTHUR. The former’s gaze is fixed on JAIME with a look of mild offense at the younger man’s presumption; the latter gives his head the slightest shake of deterrence. After what seems an age, RHAEGAR smiles.

RHAEGAR

Very well, Ser.

Like a pair of excited children, JONOTHOR and OSWELL hop down from their perch and scamper to join BARRISTAN as an impromptu audience to the coming spectacle. They mutter odds and wagers to one another beneath the hearing of the others, though BARRISTAN stands close enough to feel obligated to make plain with another scowl his disapproval of this whole affair.

Joining JAIME in the practice circle, RHAEGAR takes notice that his opponent is without shield, and makes a move to dispense with his own.

JAIME

Keep it. I could do with the practice.

RHAEGAR looks uncertain, caught between the competing imperatives of chivalry and courtesy.

JONOTHOR

I’d keep it if I were you, Your Grace.

RHAEGAR considers a moment longer, then withdraws his arm from the wraps and lays the shield aside. He and JAIME each take their stance, and ARTHUR steps forward to confirm the terms.

ARTHUR

One point per touch, you break on my word. Understood, Ser? Your Grace?

JAIME and RHAEGAR nod in turn and ARTHUR removes himself. As they circle one another, RHAEGAR’s eye drifts up to the battlements behind his opponent’s head. There, his father stands watching the sport below with rapt amusement, his hands resting on the shoulders of a wide-eyed Prince VISERYS.

JAIME lunges. RHAEGAR parries, but barely has time to rotate his wrist before JAIME follows up with a stab to RHAEGAR’s left breast.

ARTHUR [CONT’D]

Point Ser Jaime.

They circle each other once more, and now it’s JAIME’s turn to spy the king. AERYS silently pats his hands together to show his appreciation.

RHAEGAR takes two quick steps forward, his sword coming low then high then low again. JAIME blocks each effort, but with greater difficulty than he might have expected.

ARTHUR [CONT’D]

Good, Your Grace.

RHAEGAR comes again, but this time JAIME reads his low feint and parries the sword aside, spinning inside RHAEGAR’s step and dealing him a descending backstroke across the wrist. RHAEGAR winces between gritted teeth

ARTHUR [CONT’D]

Easy, Jaime.

JAIME

Ser Jaime.

ARTHUR narrows his eyes at the younger man as though seeing him anew. He appears about to speak, but RHAEGAR walks with purpose towards JAIME, and the Sword of the Morning backs up beyond the circle’s perimeter. RHAEGAR takes the offensive, but JAIME meets his attack effortlessly, parrying and blocking and dancing beyond the reach of the prince’s best efforts. He waits for RHAEGAR to take a step back to compose himself for another press then pre-emptively launches his own advance. RHAEGAR makes a block, then another, but the force of the third opens his guard a second too long and JAIME sticks the point of his sword into RHAEGAR’s naval. The prince spins away, cursing himself in frustration. He looks to the battlements again, then just as quickly looks away.

ARTHUR

Point Ser Jaime. Your Grace, a word?

JAIME flashes ARTHUR a beneficent grin, as though graciously concurring that the prince could use all the help he can get. ARTHUR takes RHAEGAR by the arm and leads him beyond the young knight’s hearing. While ARTHUR delivers instruction, JAIME saunters back and forth like a strutting rooster. He catches JONOTHOR’s eye.

JONOTHOR

Careful, lad. Your Lannister is showing.

JAIME furrows his brow, clearly confused by the Kingsguard’s admonition.

ARTHUR

Swords up.

RHAEGAR takes his stance, evidently buoyed by his brief conference with ARTHUR. JAIME comes at him hard.

S.E: fighting.

With each exchange, the confidence of RHAEGAR’s attack grows as JAIME’s poise appears to falter. RHAEGAR presses forward steadily, never allowing JAIME a chance to riposte, keeping him constantly on the back foot. At the circle’s edge, JAIME tries for a desperate lunge to break the barrage but RHAEGAR spins on his forward foot and scores a two-handed slice across JAIME’s middle.

ARTHUR

Point Prince Rhaegar. Better, Your Grace, much better.

JAIME and RHAEGAR pace like caged beasts at either end of the circle, studying their opponent across the ten feet of space that separates them. As though on some cue audible only to them, the two men meet in the circle’s middle, each clutching their sword in a double grip and swinging with a newfound ferocity. Even the typically glib tongues of JONOTHOR and OSWELL have ceased to wag, both men disconcerted at the palpable change in the atmosphere.

S.E: fighting.

The contest begins to swing JAIME’s way once more, only a fortunate jerk of the head and a desperate defensive stroke sparing RHAEGAR in successive seconds. In the next, however, JAIME succeeds in breaking through RHAEGAR’s guard once again and delivers a raking backhand across the ribs that doubles RHAEGAR over.

ARTHUR

Point Ser Jaime.

OSWELL

Arthur, perhaps it’s best we call time…

S.E: fighting.

JAIME allows RHAEGAR no recovery: he presses his advantage hard, never allowing the prince to properly recover his balance. JAIME stabs the point of his sword into RHAEGAR’s shoulder, and as RHAEGAR’s body twists away from the first strike, JAIME swings his blade in a tight arc to deliver a second, the dulled steel cracking down over RHAEGAR’s extended sword-arm.

ARTHUR

That’s enough. Break, both of you.

ARTHUR hurries to separate the two, but RHAEGAR has already launched a counter-attack, passing his sword to his weaker hand and lunging clumsily at his opponent, the pain in his arm driving him to furious retaliation.

It takes no great skill for JAIME to dance beyond the flurry of awkward swings, and none at all to seize upon RHAEGAR’s subsequent imbalance and deliver a deep underarm slash that flashes past the prince’s chest and carries on its rising trajectory. RHAEGAR instinctually leans back at the waist half-a-heartbeat before the blunted steel meets the underside of his jaw, but succeeds only in redirecting the sword’s edge to graze up and across his cheek. A spray of blood follows in its wake, a three-inch gash opened below RHAEGAR’s right eye.

ARTHUR [CONT’D]

I said “break”, dammit!

ARTHUR shoves JAIME away, the other three Kingsguard quickly converging about their prince. Crouching beside the kneeling RHAEGAR, ARTHUR pulls back his friend’s blood-smeared hand to get a closer look at the wound, but RHAEGAR shrugs him off.

RHAEGAR

I’m fine, Arthur.

Now standing, ARTHUR moves again to attend to RHAEGAR, but RHAEGAR repels him with a one-handed shove to the chest.

RHAEGAR [CONT’D]

I said I’m fine!

RHAEGAR touches his fingers to his cheek, inspects their bloody tips, then wipes his hand clean on his chest, leaving a red-pink smear across the fabric. He turns cold hard eyes upon JAIME, the anger that flares therein tempered by the prince’s best efforts to maintain an air of obstinate dignity.

RHAEGAR [CONT’D]

Well struck, Ser.

RHAEGAR spits a mouthful of blood-flecked spit into the dirt.

RHAEGAR [CONT’D]

I believe the champion’s purse belongs to you.

Ducking his head in a brief nod of respect, RHAEGAR turns and exits the circle. ARTHUR watches his prince depart the yard, then reels about and stalks towards JAIME. His swagger suddenly deserting him, JAIME instinctively takes a half-step backwards before the older, bigger, better man and holds up his hands in apology.

JAIME

That was ill-done, I know, I -

ARTHUR grabs JAIME by the doublet and pulls his face only inches from his own.

ARTHUR

A worthy performance, you must be very proud. Perhaps now you’d like to test yourself against a different class of swordsman, Ser?

JAIME swallows hard, his initial retreat compelling his youthful bravado to salvage some pride and resist wilting before the rare fire of ARTHUR DAYNE’s unchecked anger. Like a pack animal baring its belly before the alpha, JAIME eases himself from ARTHUR’s grip and surrenders the practice circle. Refusing to meet OSWELL’s and JONOTHOR’s reproving glares, he tosses his tourney sword into the dirt and retreats towards the castle, but finds his path unpassable. TYWIN stands waiting halfway down the steps, his upper lip curled in a disdainful sneer.

TYWIN

You stupid boy.

JAIME

All for the greater glory of House Lannister, father.

Without breaking his stride, JAIME brushes past his father and exits up the steps. TYWIN turns to follow, but freezes in his tracks at the sight of AERYS looking down from the battlements, making no effort to disguise the sly, mocking smile by which he silently proclaims his verdict on the events unfolded below.

TYWIN’s own expression similarly speaks volumes, making plain his conclusion that despite JAIME’s sardonic satisfaction, it is most certainly not House Lannister to whom this day belongs. 

OUTRO.