Another crossing burned.
We might never reach Tumbleton.
So how long will it take you to build the bloody thing again?
We will have to find another crossing,
- take the long way round. - The queen will abhor this delay.
Lord Piper, take 100 of your fastest riders
and make for Stoney Sept.
Secure the barge and transit there.
That puts us back by a week, but we can do no better.
It's our last chance to ford the river with an army of this size.
Will we continue to suffer this Cole
and his band of hangers-on?
They flit about us like fucking deer flies,
another thing that we do not endure in the North.
Better deer flies than frostbite.
But Criston Cole I am past enduring, North or South.
Then loose my wolves and me on the hunt, and we will bring him down.
Or we could play at his game.
Ambush!
We're under attack!
To the next crossing, then?
They'll make for Stoney Sept and we'll once more be ahead of them.
Fall back!
If I'd have known we were expecting guests,
I would have made up the beds.
We're looking for Aemond Targaryen,
- the Kinslayer. - Ah, yes. There's been a horde of you
since the ungrateful queen announced her bounty.
Well, you won't find your quarry here.
There's an old man who churns the butter, but he's blind in both eyes.
And the boy who feeds the horses.
And then there are the ghosts.
Seems you have not learned the history of this place
and the laborers who built it...
who died here in chains...
in service to Harren the Cruel.
This castle breathes.
She swallows the greedy, the heedless.
Her founding stones were watered with the blood of men.
And she's always thirsty.
Oi! You bloody craven?!
Fuck this place.
Can you hear me?
Stay back! Stay back!
My brother. Aegon, he was here.
His face was on fire.
I saw him. He was clutching at me, dragging me down into the dark.
- My brother. - It's just the dream again. That's all.
It's just the dream again.
She saw it.
She said I would die, that I ruined everything.
No.
Mother.
None may enter, save at our queen's direction.
It is a matter of some delicacy.
I'm not certain how familiar you are with disorders of the...
female persuasion.
Hm?
I must thank you again for your loyalty, Grand Maester.
I flatter myself to think that I have ever been
a faithful servant to Your Grace.
More than that, you've been a friend.
But we have now a new queen.
And I find myself under some scrutiny.
I fear I can no longer offer you assistance after today
without making the proper disclosures.
I understand.
I don't want it.
You must.
It could be a boy. Do you see?
Aegon's heir, a rival to Joffrey.
To Rhaenyra herself.
She will kill it. She will have no choice.
Or if she does not, she will take it from you.
Aemond still lives, as far as we know.
He's at Harrenhal.
No, he was there, but he has fled.
- He's vanished. - I have seen him.
He burns, but without fire.
If Aemond threatens Rhaenyra's rule, she will use the child as her shield.
I can't do it.
Helaena, please. Please.
For your own sake, do you not wish to be free?
I can't.
- No. No. - Think of it, think of it as a cup of tea.
Nothing more.
But it isn't.
No. No, it's not. Listen to me. Listen to me, it is a blessing.
It is a remedy taught to the masters of the Citadel.
It has delivered me from disgrace and ruin.
It has delivered Rhaenyra herself when she was young.
And it will deliver you, too.
- Helaena. Please, please. - No.
Listen to me.
Will you bear a child
who will be never more than a hostage or a pawn?
It's mine!
It's my own, it's mine!
I had hoped a seat on the council would suffice
as recompense for House Frey's loyalty.
But Harrenhal was to be our recompense, payment for giving your Winter Wolves
passage across the Twins, promised by your own son.
- My son is dead. - And now, I discover
that you have pledged our castle as a trophy,
free to any hedge knight who can bring you the head
- of Aemond Targaryen. - You, yourself, are welcome to try.
Cregan Stark's army has crossed the Trident,
and we expect the crown's word to be honored,
no matter if some grubby sellsword
has dubbed himself Lord of Harrenhal in the meanwhile.
For now, however,
I would be pleased to join Your Grace's council.
What could anyone possibly want in Wendish Town?
Not Wendish Town itself, Your Grace, but a small village at the outskirts.
There were several farms burned,
and the men we talked to were certain it was Vhagar herself.
The Sea Snake's bastard, now a dragonrider.
- That's his brother. - Lord Darry is our ally.
Aemond may be provoking us.
By sacking a farm or three? To what end?
Dragons need to eat.
The White Worm, she was called.
But they are fugitives. We will root them out soon enough.
- The whore. - Mm-hmm.
There was a skirmish last night at the Dragon Gate.
Horses were required to dispel it.
If only the Lady Mysaria had been there
with her promised bread and ladlefuls of stew.
Or if, by some miracle, the king consort's City Watch
had shown a penny's worth of restraint pursuing the pettiest of crimes,
- the pettiest of criminals-- - Did anyone see where Vhagar flew?
We went with all speed to take up the trail,
but it was two days cold.
Once again, Aemond is nowhere to be found.
Two of our gold cloaks were found dead in the street this morning.
Put to the blade by an unknown hand.
Where was this?
- Flea Bottom. - Flea Bottom.
Mm, has ever been a realm unto itself.
Quite ungovernable, full of undesirables.
Vhagar appears while Ormund Hightower
gathers himself at Tumbleton to some hidden purpose.
We need not waste our sweat fretting over a fox
gone to ground. If you will not burn him...
- He is not a f-- - ...then my army
will root him out soon enough.
As to that, there is fresh news
from Lord Tully's camp.
Their march has been slowed by interference
from Ser Criston Cole and his men.
River crossings are being burned before the army can reach them.
Go back to the Riverlands.
If Aemond has shown himself once, he may do so again.
Take no risk, but ascertain his path, his purpose.
If I may, Your Grace.
We arrived back only this morning.
The Lady Baela has not eaten, much less slept.
I am more than ready to fly.
It will not serve us if your eyes are weary
and your beast fatigued.
I will send Daemon.
I will go once I have dealt with this business in the city.
Our fallen soldiers. An accounting must be made.
- Do you not agree? - I am able, Your Grace.
The loss to our City Watch
is a crime, to be sure, but Ser Luthor will investigate.
- It is not a matter for the crown. - They are my men.
And we depend on those men now to secure your rule.
Especially since their wages have been withheld.
- Your Grace. - Not now.
Is it always like this?
Mm.
Daemon.
Have I somehow found myself back on Dragonstone?
That my voice must again compete with yours?
On the contrary. I have pledged to fulfill your command.
Just...
later.
I'm in no mood to jest. What does it make of me
if you will obey me only at a time and place of your own choosing?
You are the queen.
I act in your interest.
Good. My interest is Vhagar.
Mine too. But we have time enough.
Aemond is afraid. He has fled once already before you.
- We are in no danger. - There is treachery somewhere,
and I seek to uncover it.
What you seek is revenge.
And gods know I do not grudge you that, but revenge may wait.
At this moment, there is a disturbance in your city,
and you, yourself, are its likely cause.
I did not ask Ser Luthor to be brutal.
You need not have asked him anything at all.
Will you let yourself be rattled by vapid taunts,
by the painting of stripes on tavern walls?
They are more than taunts. They are an insult to my sons.
A challenge to my very legitimacy.
You are the Queen of Dragons.
Your strength is your legitimacy.
Your Grace?
Glad news.
Young Prince Joffrey has returned this hour from the Vale.
I'm told he's asked for you.
I will come to him when I'm able. I'm sure he's tired.
It is long past the nightingale.
I don't care.
Which way is West?
I have no idea.
- If I may say, Your Grace-- - I'm not going back.
- We have nowhere else to go. - You heard what I did.
Vhagar has been sighted at Wendish Town.
Two days ago. Who knows where she may be now?
Well, Harrenhal, then. Someone there will know something.
Look, Aemond must have left a message or a sign.
- We can pick up his trail. - It's 100 leagues
to Harrenhal, Your Grace, and the fields
and woods are teeming with Rivermen.
This is more than a folly. It is dangerous.
Fucking seven fucking hells!
What would you do if you found him, hm?
Your brother is a coiled viper, and you are...
you are hungry, and broken, and spent, and we are alone.
If we were to be discovered--
Stop telling me what I can't do!
This is his fault.
Everything.
Every one of my miseries is of his making, and I swear before the Warrior himself,
I'm going to find him and fucking kill him or die in the attempt.
Hm.
You know me, I think.
By reputation.
It is my privilege now to listen to the whispers of the Red Keep.
- The guests you receive... - What is it that you want?
...and the gifts they bring.
Show it to me.
My daughter has been unwell.
As you see, she suffers terrible headaches.
The maester is kind enough to tend to her.
And yet the flask is full.
I took a lover after Viserys.
The queen herself knows the truth of it. I was careless, to my shame.
It's a difficult thing, but I should no longer delay.
Was he a lord or a commoner?
Or perhaps both?
I must appeal to you, Lady Mysaria.
You of all people must understand the...
the indignities we women endure.
There is surely no need for this to be spoken of again.
You would not, of course, seek to deceive the queen.
I am her prisoner.
As you were once, if I'm not mistaken.
As you say.
Have you ever seen the Hightower
at Oldtown, Ser Criston?
I've heard tell of it.
Ormund and I had a game,
to "run the tower."
You'd start at the base before dawn
and aim to be the first one to see the sun rise
from the beacon.
Of course, I let him win.
He was a thin-skinned twat even then.
Mm.
At that moment, when the sun rises over the Seven Kingdoms,
hundreds and hundreds of miles...
I hope to show it to you one day.
You could make a home at Oldtown, Ser Criston.
A knight of your stature would be most welcome...
to serve our house there.
Halt! Stay back!
Stay clear!
Hold your ground!
Stand your ground!
Crow's feet.
Gods.
Are they ahead of us?
Your hand was heavier than warranted by the crime.
I was well schooled in those manners, was I not?
I had the finest of captains.
In any case, the queen wanted it stopped.
The queen's son is dead. She must be excused her impulses.
- Oh, you'd have me refuse her? - No, rather temper her.
Tend to her humors.
Not every whim needs to be pursued with equal vigor.
You know, they cut their bowels as well as their throat.
Did they tell you that?
Good men dying in agony in their own shit.
We will pay the villains back in kind.
What is the mood among the men?
They complain about their wages, or lack of them.
I shall address them.
A rousing speech from the Rogue Prince himself.
I'm not sure that's gonna make up for a steady wage anymore.
If I lead them, they will follow.
It's been a minute
since you were the Prince of Flea Bottom.
Most of the men were in swaddling clothes when you--
What is our standing?
Battlements are being raised with haste, my lord.
But we lack in timber, and men, and time.
Then levy more conscripts,
and fell every tree from here to Bitterbridge.
We must secure our walls.
Rhaenyra's host is surely on the march.
The maester tells me you've been most assiduous in your lessons.
We are making a study on my forebears
on the Hightower side.
I mean, their battles, their enemies.
It has been three days now spent in the pursuit
of these dry histories.
Dry, did you say?
No. Of course not.
Or rather, they may seem dry at first glance,
but to learn fr...
To venerate our ancestors, that is a noble task.
And I'm grateful for it.
Good.
It would please me to hear you recite.
We have parsed out the conflicts
between House Greyjoy and Houses Peake
and Osgrey and Gardener,
House Dayne of Dorne--
And Meria Martell?
The Yellow Toad of Dorne.
I should have a word with your tutor.
She was the only woman ever to have been gifted
with a truly military mind.
Though the gods divested her of beauty in turn.
A blind princess.
Hideous, hairless, thick of waist.
She does not sound so formidable.
When Aegon the Conqueror claimed her lands,
she refused to submit.
She declared him a usurper.
And all those that marched for him,
traitors to the Seven Kingdoms.
And she swore that Dorne would ever be unbowed, unbent.
A great host descended from the Red Mountains,
we Hightowers regrettably among them.
Meria poisoned her own wells,
hid her soldiers in the very sand of the desert.
Her castle, when they found it, was empty.
They thought that she was vanquished.
But she rose up out of the darkness and slaughtered them in their beds.
Is she a hero, then? Or a villain?
The Targaryens knew nothing of our civilization,
the Faith, the Citadel.
What they had,
what they still have, is strength.
Their armies, the obscenity of their dragons.
Meria Martell outwitted her enemy.
A cunning mind can resist the most savage of beasts.
And Dorne remains unbroken even today.
I was lucky.
Let us start again.
Never apologize for victory.
I have had these made.
Do you think it a good likeness?
You are the sign our allies have been waiting for.
The son of Viserys, the beacon shining from the High Tower.
From the lowliest of the faithful to Borros Baratheon himself.
Oh. No, you can't touch that.
Helaena?
Do you know why?
They eat the leaves of the nightshade, but that would be death for you or me.
It's a puzzle.
Jaehaera, come with me.
Come.
Listen now, dearest. We must leave here.
This very evening.
There seems to be some trouble in the city,
and some of Rhaenyra's soldiers must go to help the City Watch.
We will have one guard tonight instead of two.
Your necklace.
I tendered it to a maid. She will help us.
There is a hidden door that leads out in Aemond's chamber.
Below the keep and beyond its walls.
The one the men used when they came to kill my boy?
The room is Baela's now.
And she will no doubt be out hunting.
With luck, we may escape
and melt into the streets of King's Landing.
And Jaehaera?
Her room is guarded.
If she were to cry out, even once...
- then that would be the end. - I will not leave her.
The road ahead will not be safe for her.
Here, she has nursemaids to care for her, and Rhaenyra will not harm her.
Her rivals would never raise a girl up to rule, and...
and it might be prudent,
in fact, for the queen to take the child to ward.
We may even be able to-- to send for her one day.
You look away when you lie.
It has been days since Vhagar was here. She feeds, then eludes us.
We have traversed the Trident 50 times in the last fortnight.
For now, we must rest.
Could Aemond be crossing into the Westerlands to hide?
The Lannisters are allies,
and there are caves and crannies aplenty in those mountains.
And I'll be pleased to explore them with you
when you've had a sleep and a meal.
- He may be moving by night-- - Baela!
- My lady. - It is well enough for you.
The queen sees you as her talisman, a sign from the gods, but I--
It wasn't your fault.
She won't look at me.
And I cannot say I blame her.
The truth is, Addam, I wanted to go.
I saw myself a hero.
Turning the tide of a great battle and...
proving my worth to the realm.
I have the same desire, as do others.
It is pride, and I am punished for it.
My future was ordained.
I was one day to be queen.
My path lay straight before me, and now--
Your path has vanished.
Though it has been replaced, perhaps.
By an adventure.
I'll be married off, likely enough,
to some ancient, self-regarding lord in Pyke,
with enough hoarded gold to pay Rhaenyra's debts.
And then, I'll come and find you.
And we'll fly to exile.
But only if we eat first.
Vhagar!
She's gone.
No.
No, no, she will not abandon me.
I know only that she flew in the night and I did not see where.
Maybe she was afraid.
Am I a prisoner?
No.
Without her, I'm nothing.
- You are mistaken. - I must find her.
And how will you do that if the dragon has fled?
The queen hunts her as well.
The queen?
I told you, King's Landing has fallen.
I thought I dreamed it.
Aegon?
The queen says he's dead.
And that you killed him.
Though I do not know how much of that to believe.
He is dead because he will not let me be.
He...
he tormented me.
My childhood...
I worshiped him.
And yet our mother...
Sometimes...
the child that grieves her...
is the one a mother loves best.
Hm?
Who are you?
One that has been grieved.
Go on.
Say it.
My dragon is dead.
I'm a pathetic cripple.
And there is no possible scenario in which I make it to Wendish Town
to kill my stupid fucking brother.
Now as you should say, should we-- should we return to the camp, Your Grace?
I do not care to be discovered here unguarded,
and less so when darkness falls.
He was Cole's little pet, do you remember? A prodigy with the sword.
Father withdrew me from the tournaments, of course.
Can't even remember the pretext anymore.
Probably just afraid that I'd fall off my horse.
So, I had to sit and applaud him.
Aemond the champion.
And such a quick student.
Fucking fluent in High Valyrian.
I'm sure he thought I was a terrible king, but what I could have been if I was...
...given his fucking advantages.
And Mother indulged him. She loved him more, is the truth of it.
Poor darling Aemond and his scabby little eye.
And now he's killed me, and the whole fucking realm knows it.
- I must say, Your Grace. - What?
All this time we've been together...
from the moment you were injured, in fact,
flying drunk into a battle to which you were not invited...
you've done nothing but whinge
and self-flagellate with a tenacity I find astonishing.
You, who had every advantage in life.
You, who had every chance to shine.
Firstborn son, prince of the realm, the finest tutors, the finest knights
instructing you in the sword.
A dragon so beautiful, they named him after the sun itself.
You could have risen to greatness.
But instead, you trampled your birthright in the mud.
You lazed...
reveling in mediocrity...
fucking anything in sight and drinking yourself
into oblivion with your sycophantic friends.
I will tell you the truth.
You were a terrible king.
But worse than that...
you are a terrible man.
Don't.
They said you were here.
I thought there was some mistake.
They require of me, perhaps, just some show of deference, or regard.
- The people or the Seven? - Both.
There can be no harm in it, at the least. You could try it.
Four of my men lie dead.
Six, if you count the two from yesterday.
All gold cloaks, all killed in the same way.
Throats cut.
You are tired.
You hear the wind in these vaulted towers
and imagine their omens when there are none.
Hm? These are men only.
- Nothing more. - Then why can't you find them?
You are more than this.
This costs us precious time.
That is no doubt their goal.
They knew we would leave the road when we abandoned our mounts.
This land may be theirs, but even they could not cause thorns
and brambles to spring from the earth in our path.
And men are talking of desertion.
Ser Criston. Friend.
They see no sense in continuing with this plan and to speak truth,
nor do I. We grow weak.
- Stoney Sept still lies far ahead. - Mm.
If we leave the track here...
cut straight through the lowlands toward the crossing,
we may yet still gain a day or two over Tully's host.
Just hire the fucking ship.
What ship might that be?
Seven hells.
He's gone. My lady, be quick.
You said the nurse would meet us with Jaehaera.
And so she will, at the other end.
- Where? - Come, now. Quickly.
Did you imagine I wouldn't be watching?
So it is she who is with child.
An inconvenient heir.
There is no need for Rhaenyra to hear of what transpired tonight.
I will keep no more secrets from the queen.
And what will be the result if you tell her?
We are already at her mercy.
In but a short time, Helaena's condition will make itself known,
as these things cannot help but do.
It is not for me to decide.
I heard tell of the White Worm.
Years ago.
She dealt in secrets and extortion, and I knew men who feared her.
She had the cunning to play all sides, not just lapdog to the queen.
These are rich words in the mouth of a Hightower.
I simply urge you to think of yourself.
There is good in Rhaenyra, but...
the crown is a weight that crushes.
Rhaenyra will do in the end what she has to do,
and what she has to do will be dire.
There is only one who can walk that path with her,
and she chose him long ago.
She knows what Daemon is.
They have ever been two sides of a coin...
as much as she may deny it.
Her attentions may be on you now,
that you bathe in the warm light of her gaze, but...
will you stake so high a wager on the whims of a dragonrider?
I want to go out.
- Not now, dearest. - Yes.
I need to see the moon.
The window will have to do.
Speak, and you serve no one, you gain the queen no advantage.
But if you say nothing, no harm is done.
You earn yourself favor with the Hightowers...
if a time should come when you have need of it.
He tried to stay awake for you, Your Grace.
Come on, keep moving!
Keep moving now!
Forward.
Leave him! Leave him where he fell.
Where is he?
Aemond One-Eye. We know he's been here.
Good ser, this has become tiresome.
I'm of a mind to send a message to the queen myself.
He's not here.
- He has never been here. - She's lying.
I've heard about you, witch.
She's no witch. She's an imbecile.
Cast out and wandering. Touched in the head.
Though not in the cunny for too long, I think.
Will you speak to me thus in the very shadow of my fortress?
It's been weeks since I've had a woman.
I'm going to fuck you and make you my salt wife.
Ah!
Seems you've taken a turn for the better.
In Essos, we can secrete His Grace until the time is right for his return.
But we are watched now. We can linger here no longer.
- You risk his safety merely by speaking-- - An ocean passage beset
by pirates, and dragons, and storms, and then what?
Eating dates and incense while Westeros
- is reduced to ash? - His Grace is in no state to fight.
Neither would he tolerate the Braavosi heat.
- The monkeys alone-- - You surprise me, Lannister.
Such a distaste for the foreign.
I have lived with these people. Do you forget? I've eaten with them,
fought with them, shared everything with them, even their...
Yes?
I know what they are.
In Braavos, I have prepared the means for us
to live in a manner as befits His Grace.
- We can ascertain-- - He is the king, Larys.
Not some chip for you to hold until such time as benefits you.
- I have men riding with me-- - Sellswords.
Cheaply bought, by the look of them.
We need only bring him to Lannisport, where he will be sheltered.
From there, we may summon and command what strength remains to us.
Yes, no doubt it would be the making of the Lannisters
to declare Casterly Rock the new seat of the king.
Do you think even now of your own advancement?
Oh, begging your pardon, most selfless of servants.
I was only risking my life at sea for our common cause.
Gregor, is it?
It seems I missed the salient moment when His Grace made you Hand.
You may call me "Your Grace."
There is an evil spirit afoot. This is no man, I tell you.
Do not shame yourself, Ned. We're knights, not infants.
But we will find these cravens and make a grim example of them.
We are hunters. Not prey.
- Hunters get paid. - It's not safe out there!
Enough.
You and I are the protectors and keepers
of the greatest Citadel in all of Westeros.
The governing seat of a mighty realm.
Without the City Watch, without us...
these streets would echo with the cries of insurrection.
The alleys of King's Landing would boil with corruption and depravity.
I look to you now to uphold your vows to the city and to the throne.
Trust in your queen, and I pledge you, you will be repaid twice over
for the sacrifices you make now.
And in the years to come, as Dorne finally bends the knee...
...as Rhaenyra's great empire grows
and the Seven Kingdoms become Nine,
become Twelve, become the new Valyria.
When I return with wagons spilling over with silks and silver,
who will be the first...
...to celebrate in the spoils of conquest?
We will!
Groups of three and four!
No man walks alone.
Woodgard, Owtram, you oversee the market square.
It seems the Lord of Flea Bottom has not been altogether forgotten.
We've apprehended someone, Your Grace.
At River Row.
Then he will be the first to be repaid.
Fall in!
Stoney Sept beyond the rise!
What is it?
The Rivermen have crossed.
And burned the bridge behind them.
We can no longer delay their march.
So we failed.
How many others?
Who was with you?
I was the only one. I swear it.
- I acted alone. - Under whose instruction?
I never saw his face, I told you.
The tongue or the eye?
The eye.
It was the king, he said! Please!
He said it was the king's work I was to be about.
It was Aegon then.
No.
Look.
In my boot.
Compliments of King Daeron Targaryen, he said.
For killing traitors to his throne.
No! No! Please!
There's none who may say that you did not give
your best effort.
Perhaps this is the best we could have hoped for.
We've made our mark and returned alive...
...to Tumbleton, perhaps...
to find out what Ormund has planned.
I thank you for your offer, Ser Gwayne.
But my path is set before me.
And what is...
What is that path?
We'll raft the river.
Or swim it.
It was one thing to obstruct them, Ser Criston, but...
you must see they've gained the advantage.
What more can we do?
We will join them...
in battle.
Face them head on.
We have half the men that we set out with.
There are 200 Rivermen for every one of us.
That-- you...
It would march us towards certain death.
This was your goal, wasn't it?
All along.
Our fate was always assured, Ser Gwayne.
When we set out, we were doomed...
to death and defeat.
I have offered you sanctuary.
Or at least the hope of one.
You have offered me service to your house.
I am grateful.
But I have been a servant all my life.
To green or to black.
I have defined myself by oaths...
through unyielding devotion.
And the highborn have made much of me while it pleased them to do so.
But I will not let them diminish me now.
I will not return spurned...
rejected.
I am the realm's greatest warrior.
And I will die as such.
Clear-eyed.
Unbent.
Glorious in battle.
And not in their service, finally.
But in my own.
And they will sing songs of it.
And Queen Alicent herself will hear them.
The plan is to rebuild the fleet at Driftmark,
but it will take time.
The Velaryon resources are diminished.
A condition with which I am all too familiar.
The king consort, Your Grace.
My prince.
The price of our humiliation.
- What is this? - Who is this.
Young Daeron Targaryen.
Ormund has declared him king.
We should have burned them when we had the chance.
We have endured much.
Suffered much.
This I know.
And though we languish now...
in the darkness...
we will not lose heart.
Come to bed.
She hears something.
The Seven watch over us even now.
Look.
Let the Maiden grant us vision.
For the way ahead is blessed.
Let the Warrior lend us his sword
that we do not falter in our resolve.
And the Smith...
Let's go.
Let the Smith bless us with his strength.
The Crone lights our way.
Ours is the path of righteousness.
Ser Luthor?
Careful.
The Mother gives her comfort.
The Father, his protection.
No. No, it's blocked.
We have to go back.
There is no way back, the door is shut!
No, no, no, no, no! No!
And the Stranger...
The Stranger offers us rest.