Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Whilst your men guard against

(workers chattering, shouting)

(dragons calling)

(music fades out)

Winter is coming.

maidservant: Your Grace?

They will fight hard.

If we're to kill a royal fucking prince,

and you have such a deft touch with the smallfolk,

Aegon is ever-eager to prove himself

Aemond is my closest blood and our best sword.

She was a fool to go alone.

where do you think we're gonna find him?

guard 1: Standing down!

Urgent news from Dragonstone.

I plan to send Vhagar to burn it to ash.

Thank you, my lord.

They are... well-honed.

You must not interrupt his custom.

one in 10 men from our household

It is the Hand's wont to keep a firm grip on things.

She has not acted on the vengeful impulse that others might have.

- Sheep, Your-Your Grace. - Aegon: Sheep, even better.

Have her moved to the cells.

mind me like some helpless duckling.

I would think, as we find ourselves

In winter, it will cover all you see,

(thunder rumbling)

but the lady speaks the truth.

or they will meet Vhagar and Sunfyre together.

(birds chirping)

The king summoned me.

That makes her a fool.

We are expected at the small council, Your Grace.

Not the dragons.

Oh, well, you're the king.

My letters to Rhaenyra. Has there been any answer?

I had this commissioned for Prince Lucerys.

'Twas the blackest of treacheries.

- (grunting) - Shh.

But he is fiercely loyal. He wishes to please.

We must establish a toehold there, at Harrenhal.

(Criston, Alicent panting)

Your council stands at the ready, Your Grace.