[The shot opens on the interior of the throne room of King's Landing. Dragon skulls decorate the sides. Daenerys and Rhaella standing in the gallery. Illyrio and Varys sit behind a high table in front of the throne.]
VARYS: All hail His Grace, Viserys Targaryen!
[Viserys enters, wicked and gleeful. All present bow or curtsey. Viserys climbs the Iron Throne and sits atop it.]
VISERYS: My counselors and people! No doubt word will have spread of how I handle treachery. Casterly Rock is in the sea, and their people burned or dead. I will now accept oaths of fealty from the lords assembled.
[Varys reads from a scroll]
VARYS: Lord Renly Baratheon of Storm's End.
[Renly Baratheon steps forward. There is a tic in his jaw as he bends the knee.]
RENLY: Your Grace. I vow to serve you, here and forever more.
[Viserys squints]
VISERYS: I burned your brothers in the courtyard of my castle.
[Renly keeps his head bowed and his eyes closed.]
VISERYS: You did not bend the knee when I called you first!
[Renly shudders]
RENLY: No, Your Grace. Yet I am here to plead for the people of Storm's End.
[Viserys plays with a growth of stubble on his face]
VISERYS: People? Perhaps. But they do not need you. I will allow you to live out your days at the Wall.
[There is murmuring, and then the gold cloaks march forward to arrest Renly. He is dragged out of sight, and then Viserys nods at Varys.]
VARYS: Storm's End and its incomes is rewarded to Jon Connington, long thought dead, for his services in securing the Golden Company for His Grace's army.
[Viserys nods and smiles through squinted eyes, as the nobles and smallfolk hurriedly smile, glance at each other and clap.]
VISERYS: He has a son, does he not?
[Illyrio glances up]
ILLYRIO: Yes, Your Grace. It would be most generous if he could be your squire.
[Viserys nods and gestures dismissively. Varys reads from his papers.]
VARYS: Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden.
[A fat man in gold and green garb waddles forward. He bends the knee.]
MACE: Your Grace, I pledge my fealty to you, and on behalf of my House.
[Viserys nods and gestures. Mace rises.]
VISERYS: You supported my father during the Usurper's rebellion.
MACE: Yes, Your Grace.
VISERYS: Though you failed to take Storm's End.
[Mace goes pale and there are twitters in the gallery. Viserys cocks his head]
VISERYS: Perhaps you were better served on the Trident, where my brother Rhaegar was killed?
[Mace stutters]
MACE: Your Grace, I hope I can prove my worth once more.
[Viserys raises his eyebrows. Mace turns, and a girl steps shyly forward.]
MACE: Your Grace, this is my only daughter, the Lady Margaery Tyrell. Perhaps she might join your lovely sister at court, as a handmaid? Or perhaps your gracious mother, who we were all so pleased -
[Viserys irritably nods and Mace beams.]
VISERYS: Yes, yes. I suppose.
[Viserys glances back to Varys, who clears his throat.]
VARYS: Prince Oberyn of House Martell.
[Oberyn steps forward. He bends the knee with a flourish]
OBERYN: Your Grace.
[Viserys glances over, curious]
VISERYS: My councillors tell me you set sail when first I wrote.
[Oberyn rises, a vision in Dornish silks.]
OBERYN: I did, Your Grace. The storms delayed our safe passage by sea.
[Viserys is growing irritated]
VISERYS: Very well, very well.
[Oberyn bows, and steps back.]
VARYS: Ser Edmure Tully!
[Edmure Tully gravely steps forward and bends the knee.]
EDMURE: Your Grace.
[Viserys glances down to Illyrio with a glance, then to Edmure]
VISERYS: Is your father not here?
[Edmure clears his throat as he stands]
EDMURE: Pardons, Your Grace. He is ill -
[Viserys makes a dismissive gesture, then pauses]
VISERYS: Harrenhal.
[Edmure slowly turns]
EDMURE: Yes, Your Grace?
[Viserys plays with the tufts of hair on his chin]
VISERYS: I should like it as a gift.
[Edmure freezes. Viserys is smiling, flicking his long hair with finger and thumb.]
EDMURE: H-harrenhal belongs to House Whent, Your Grace.
[Viserys glances down at Illyrio who nods, then back to Edmure, with a greater smile still. He throws up his hands]
VISERYS: And is anyone from House Whent present, Ser Edmure?
[Edmure pauses.]
EDMURE: Lady Shella is of old age, Your Grace, and cannot travel well…
[Viserys brings his hand down, and his hand is bloody. He grimaces and sucks his thumb, and turns horrified to the court. His palm curls into a fist]
VISERYS: Then she will not object to the crown receiving Harrenhal as a gift. Why, if she is too old to travel, what use can she have for such a large castle?
[Viserys laughs, and the assembled crowd quickly laugh, sharing pained glances. Viserys becomes moody once more.]
VISERYS: My Hand of the King will take possession of the castle, for it is my gift to her.
[Everyone glances to a figure stepping out of the shadows. Jean is expressionless, with red hair, black eyes, red garb. Edmure glances to Viserys]
EDMURE: You follow the red god, Your Grace?
[Viserys excitedly gestures down to Jean]
VISERYS: She is not a red priest, Ser Edmure! She is R'hllor herself!
[Murmurs break out and the assembled stare at Jean. Viserys excitedly nods.]
VISERYS: Oh, yes.
[Edmure notices Viserys gesturing dismissively. Edmure steps back. Viserys yawns]
VISERYS: Anyone else?
VARYS: Lord Eddard Stark, of Winterfell.
[Viserys narrows his eyes. Ned Stark stands before the assembled, and bends the knee with a quavering presence.]
NED: Your Grace.
[Viserys chews on his cheek]
VISERYS: You fought alongside the Usurper against my House, did you not?
NED: I did, Your Grace.
VISERYS: And you come to pay me homage?
NED: The north is a long way, Your Grace. I sailed from White Harbor, at your first raven.
[Varys glances up to Viserys]
VARYS: He does speak the truth, Your Grace. My little birds -
[Viserys is irate. He rises from the throne and walks down the steps. The crowd becomes nervous. Viserys reaches the bottom and points at Ned]
VISERYS: All I have are lords paying me homage after the fact. They swear their fealty now, when it is comfortable.
[Viserys glares at the assembled crowd]
VISERYS: How can I know you will not rise again? Need I take your sons and daughters as hostages?
[Viserys whirls and notices Jean, who is impassive. He raises a finger at her.]
VISERYS: She will tell me the truth. She knows - more than Varys, I daresay.
[Varys sucks in his lips. Viserys stalks close to Jean, delighting in her. She remains impassive.]
VISERYS: Tell me, my goddess -
[Viserys raises a hand and points at Ned]
VISERYS: Look into his head and into his heart. Tell me, does he lie?
[Jean turns to Viserys, who gulps. Her stare is long and Viserys quails. Jean brushes him off and walks slowly, calmly to Ned who lowers his eyes. Jean stands before him and the braziers around the room become suddenly lit. The crowd gasp.]
JEAN: Look at me.
[Ned slowly raises his head. He can scarcely look Jean in the eye. Ned gasps. Jean smiles.]
JEAN: He lies.
[Viserys is ecstatic and jabs a finger at Ned, who is sweating and the crowd panics.]
VISERYS: A-ha! Tell me, my goddess - what treason is on his mind?
[Jean turns to Viserys.]
JEAN: You are not the king.
[Viserys is aghast and red-faced and turns to Ned.]
VISERYS: How dare you! I took the throne! I won it with dragons by my side!
[Viserys draws his sword. He strides towards Ned who is gray-faced. Viserys stops at a touch on his arm from Jean.]
VISERYS: What -
[Viserys quails at Jean's stare. She turns to Ned with a smirk.]
JEAN: Tell him.
[Ned stammers, looking to Jean then to Viserys. Jean raises her voice, her hair flying about as she laughs]
JEAN: Do it!
[Ned quivers. He mumbles and clears his throat.]
NED: You are not the king.
[Viserys wrenches out of Jean's grip with a cry and leaps. He blinks and stumbles for he is gripping air and falls to the ground. Viserys turns to Jean.]
VISERYS: My sword!
[Jean stares at Viserys.]
JEAN: You are not the king.
VISERYS: Stop it - stop saying it - kill him!
[Jean glances to Ned]
JEAN: His bastard is.
[The crowd is a collective hush. Illyrio and Varys exchange glances. Viserys is shaking as much as Ned. Viserys smiles.]
VISERYS: Ha! Ha-ha! Very good!
[Viserys spins and flourishes]
VISERYS: A jape, I say! A bastard cannot be king, and certainly not a bastard Snow.
[Jean stares implacably back at Viserys.]
JEAN: I saw it, in his mind. A bed of blood, and his sister -
[Ned is overcome. Viserys turns on Ned, then to Jean. Viserys sniggers.]
VISERYS: But surely, it is a lie! Stark may well believe it, but that is not the truth!
[The crowd gasps as a brazier breaks away from the wall and lands in front of Jean. Viserys glances between the brazier and Jean, as does Ned.]
VISERYS: There is only one way to find out.
[Jean raises her hands and sparks of flame light up the air. Fiery apparitions take shape, and the crowd gasps. Faces and bodies and places which shift and move and speak aloud, and then crumble into ashes. The brazier crackles and Jean glances at Ned.]
NED: It is true, my lady.
[Ned bends the knee]
NED: I would plead that he go to the Wall -
[Viserys makes a guttural cry and turns to Jean, frenzied.]
VISERYS: You did this, you - you -
[Viserys draws his dagger and leaps upon Jean and stabs her. She buckles, trembling, then smirking. Only the hilt remains, and Jean is unharmed. Viserys is shaking and then, thrown against the Iron Throne, is impaled by many swords, and then thrown into the brazier where his face is pressed into the coals.]
JEAN: He was not the true king.
[Ned glances up to Jean, whose black eyes and veins in her face recede.]
JEAN: I will see this boy. This boy who is the king.
[Ned quavers]
NED: I should - send for him from the north.
[Jean smirks and waves her hand. The flames in the brazier before her spark, and in a flash of light, a boy leaps and crashes at the steps of the throne.]
JON: Robb!
[The boy glances up, wielding a sword and black garb, pale.]
JON: What is this?
[Ned turns to Jean.]
JON: The boy's name is Jon.
[Jean walks up to Jon and holds his chin. He quivers at her eyes. She points to the Iron Throne, with specks of blood and body upon the blades.]
JEAN: There it is, Your Grace.
[Jon looks around the room. Everyone is expectant and shows no doubt. Ned nods.]
NED: She speaks the truth, Jon. You are no son of mine.