In the Flesh: House of the Dragon s2e04 'The Red Dragon and the Gold'

“The King has fallen, we must find him,” says ser Criston Cole (Fabien Frankel) to a soldier kneeling on the field of battle in the shadow of Rook’s Rest. When Cole puts a hand on the man’s shoulder to rouse him, he collapses, bones and ashes spilling from his gaping visor. That’s the cost of covering yourself in glory. Cole may be a loathsome thug who helped foment a coup and a civil war because a teenage girl turned down running away with him, but it’s a harrowing experience following him through the battle as fire-breathing monsters clash in the sky above, their boiling-hot blood raining down on the helpless mortals scurrying about beneath them. He’s sprung his trap, luring Rhaenys (Eve Best) and her dragon Meleys into combat and then calling down Aemond (Ewan Mitchell) and the monstrous Vhagar, with King Aegon II (Tom Glynn-Carnie) drunkenly hurling himself and Sunfyre into the mix for good measure, but you can watch in real time as it dawns on the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard that what he’s really done is pulled Hell’s ripcord. It says Fire and Blood on those banners for a reason.

The aerial clashes between the three dragons are some of the most arresting pieces of fantasy spectacle ever filmed, and the episode throws emotional oil on the fire by giving us small moments of affection and connection between the riders and their mounts. Sunfyre nuzzling Aegon. Rhaenys leaning her forehead against Meleys’ flank. These are living, breathing creatures who love their riders, and the minute they’re unleashed against each other their terrible fragility becomes as apparent as their awesome might. The dragons are fantasy itself, arguably the oldest and most iconic fixture of the genre stretching back to Smaug and to Fafnir and Saint George’s serpent before him. Seeing them made vulnerable is heartbreaking. Sunfyre shrieking in pain as Meleys tears him apart. Meleys looking back to Rhaenys with sorrowfu resignation as Vhagar’s jaws tighten on her neck and the life fades from her eyes. The most spectacular sight the show has given us yet is no sooner visible than we begin regretting wanting to see it in the first place. That’s a hell of a trick.

And the little hurts are no less painful. Alicent (Olivia Cooke) pointlessly needles her son the king over his removal of his father’s books from his rooms, all but calling him an ignoramus and ignoring his sullen reminder that he had them taken away, not burned. This descends into a sadistic display of emotional abuse as the dowager queen rips into Aegon, taking even his naked appeals for help and guidance as further opportunities to crush his self-image and push him toward the reckless course of action he pursues. It’s hard not to see this as displaced self-loathing over her hypocritical need for the same abortifacient tea that once turned her against Rhaenyra (Emma D’Arcy). And in the ruins of Harrenhal, King-consort Daemon (Matt Smith) wanders haunted halls in dreams of his own failures and inadequacies, beheading an echo of his niece (Millie Alcock) for the simple truth that his brother loved her more than him. On such small things do the lives of millions turn, and once the needle’s drawn blood, there’s no taking it back.