Forgive me for the lateness today, but I had minor surgery this morning. (Elective. I now have three arms, hooray!) ALSO, I WAS A LITTLE DRUNK ON MY OWN POWER LAST NIGHT because I called it, and it feels good. Let’s get to it! [If you need last week’s refresher, here you go.]
We lead off with Brienne and Jaime—his hand pinned just under his chin, and man, that’s going to stink soon—being led on horseback. Well, Brienne is on horseback, because Jaime just fell of his into the mud. Could his fall from Lannister heights be greater? Yep: a big ol’ swig of horse piss should do it.
But because Jaime is the gee dee Kingslayer, he manages to get a sword and hold off three guys left-handed until the six-fingered man (he totally looks like Christopher Guest in The Princess Bride) kicks him, disarms him, and then kicks him again. Ouch.
Uncle Fester just got a visit from UPS and has a rather large shipping box he’s about to open when Tyrion comes in. Tyrion is looking for information about Cersei trying to kill him. Varys? Any idea?
No. But what he does know is this, the tale of his becoming a Eunuch.
The Tale of Lord Varys’ De-Ballening
Once upon a time there was a young actor who was most becoming and showed much promise. A very wealthy man made an offer to the young man’s master, but not for anything so low as buggery, oh no, for this wealthy man was truly a sorcerer! He forced young Varys to drink a potion that made him unable to yell or move, but he could still feel pain. And thus didst the sorcerer smite young Varys’ twig and berries with a great smiting until they were smoten utterly. His wobbly bits were then tossed without so much as a by-your-leave into a flaming brazier, where a voice didst call from within, saying “Yes? You rang?”
God? Demon? Varys never learned, for he was then thrown into the cold, dark night where it was expected for him to die from the effects of no longer having a penis. But he lived by selling himself and learning how to pickpocket. He quickly learned that words were more dangerous than swords, because there he was, the victim of a sword, and yet still alive, because the sorcerer’s words were stronger. And he grew until he became the Lord of Whispers, and is still called that to this day.
Tyrion: Yes I know, because I called you that when I walked in. So how about a little help?
Varys: Allow me to remind you of why I am amazing. Because I’ll tell you what you want to know eventually, but first I want to show you that patience is a virtue. And revenge is a dish best served cold. Or in a box. Like bento.
They peer into the box and it’s the sorcerer, mouth sewn shut, beaten and half-starved. Tyrion looks like he might throw up.
Speaking of vomit, we then head up to Craster’s where Porkins’ buddies Pyp and Other Guy that looks like a skinny Bronn are shoveling pig shit and bitching about it. Porkins’ keeper stands watching, seething within because he’s got The Snow Madness or some shit, and hates everyone and everything. He has no faith in Mormont getting them back to the Wall alive.
Porkins steals away to see Gilly and the baby, but she snaps at his feeble attempt at wooing. “Ain’t nobody got time for that! This baby is going to die soon, so unless you want to change diapers and save his life, fuck off!” Porkins just wanted to make a daisy chain for your hair, gosh.
Bran has a dream that involves Medieval Billy Elliott [Jojen] telling him to climb a tree to go after the three-eyed raven (and is that one of those magic trees with faces that was mentioned one time?) but his mother Catelyn shows up and yells at him, and he falls to the ground and wakes up, and Medieval Billy Elliott looks across the fire at him guiltily, and none of this made any sense. MORE STORY HERE PLEASE.
The Hardest Working Hooker in Westeros pays Uncle Fester a visit to explain how Podrick is a Smeagol in the streets but a Gollum in the sheets, and hookers’ sex buttons are his Precious. The hookers couldn’t even talk about what made it amazing, it just was. (I am loling forever.) But more importantly, Littlefinger hasn’t given up on Lady Sansa. But how can Uncle Fester be sure?
Roz pulls out a shipping manifest for Baelish’s trip to the Eyrie to marry Bad Boob Sucker. Why, there are two featherbeds listed! And unless Littlefinger is that much of a priss (“I just cahn’t sleep on anything less than two beds thick!”), it’s pretty clear that he’s going to whisk Sansa away.
King Weaselteat takes Margaery on the worst date ever, in which he walks her around the castle pointing out all the dead bodies, as Cersei and Lady Olenna hang back and plan the wedding. Olenna—and guys? I love her—says to Cersei that even though women do everything for their men to keep them alive, they seem determined to get themselves killed. This rankles Cersei like nothing else, because she just wants to be in charge. She has more balls than most men. (Certainly more than Varys, HEY NOW! I’ll be here all week.)
Cersei calls out to her son that not all chicks want to look at entombed skeletons on a date, but oh no! Margaery loves that sort of thing, just loves it! Why, it’s a reminder that they built this magnificent palace! Joffrey gives his mother the bitchiest of bitch faces and prances off with Margaery in hand, looking for some flies so they can pull the wings off it. Fun!
There’s chanting outside, but scarcely before Joffrey can wet his knickers, Margaery pulls him to the balcony, for it is his people! They love him! Well, they will. She waves to the crowd as they scream for her, then begrudgingly toss out a “Yeah, Joffrey’s all right, I suppose, but LADY MARGAERY WE LOVE YOU!!” He preens like an idiot, because that’s the most acceptance he’s ever had in life that didn’t come from Mummy.
Theon Greyjoy and his helper continue to flee toward Yara and safety when they come upon a castle. Theon starts talking about his father wanting him to make a choice: is he Stark or Ironborn? As if Theon could be a Stark… Not with Robb always pointing out that he wasn’t one. So fine, he’s Ironborn. And he burned down Winterfell to prove it. But…those weren’t the two Stark boys that were burned, it was two farm boys and he murdered them. And in this moment I actually felt bad for Theon, because he finally realized what an utter wonk he’s been. So yes, his father asked him to choose.
But his father lost his head and oh, snap! He means Ned! Oh, that has to hurt. “I made a choice. And I chose wrong. And I’ve burned everything down.” Damn, Theon.
The helper opens a gate, brings him into a dark room, tells him to hush, then lights a torch. OH SHIT SON YOU JUST GOT BROUGHT BACK TO THE X GAMES OF TORTURE WHAAAAAAT? Holy Nacodoches, the look of betrayal and shock on his face could power a small village. Helper’s grin is an evil grin.
Brienne and Jaime’s group make camp that night, and Jaime won’t eat. His spirits are low, and he doesn’t see the point in it anymore.
Brienne: Aww, life getting you down? Because you’ve got a boo boo, I get it.
Jaime: I lost my hand! [/Nicholas Cage in Moonstruck]
Brienne: [smacks his head] Snap out of it! What, you think you’re the only person who lost something? People lose things all the time, keys, hands, jobs, their lives, what makes you so special?
Brienne: That’s what I thought. So why did you try and keep me from being raped?
Jaime: [eats, points at mouth to show he can’t talk]
Cersei goes to see Daddy at work. She wants to know what’s the 411 on Jaime. Tywin stares at her and says that he’s doing everything he can, pointedly. Because the man has the ability to do pretty much anything, and he’s doing everything to get his only son (ouch) back.
“Did it ever occur to you,” Cersei says, barely keeping her teeth from grinding all the way to the nubs, “that I’m your good son? I just wanted to play a game of catch, Dad, but it was nothing but lectures on family and manners. And Jaime wasn’t listening. I was. I listened. I’m doing it. And all I want is a gee dee game of catch, Daddy.”
After Tywin says nothing, she continues. “I don’t like the Tyrells. We shouldn’t trust them, because Margaery is manipulating Joffrey.”
GOOD. He wishes his daughter was manipulating Joffrey, quite frankly. When Cersei smirks that she’d like to see Tywin stop Joffrey from doing what he wants, Tywin stares her down with his ice-chip blue eyes and says, “I will.”
I’m pretty sure that if you look closely, you can see Cersei’s phantom prehensile tail tuck itself between her legs. Best thing: him saying that he doesn’t trust her not because she’s a woman, but because she’s not as smart as she thinks. That’s gotta hurt. That’s a stinger, right there.
Olenna spits on yet another cross stitch sampler with the Tyrell Motto on it, because it sucks. “Growing Strong?” That’s not going to strike fear in the heart of anyone. It lacks zazz. Who doesn’t lack zazz is Uncle Fester, who comes calling. Not to seduce, even though Olenna would love it, if only for laughter’s sake, but to simper about Lady Sansa and Littlefinger’s interest in her.
(Best line: Is she interesting? “Not particularly.” Ha. Wait, no, the best line is “What happens when a non-existent bumps against the decrepit?” I believe the Pointer Sisters answered that question: “When we bump, oooh, Fi-re.”)
Long and the short of it, Littlefinger is one of the most dangerous men in all of Westeros, because he’d do anything—anything—to be powerful. “He would see this country burn if he could be King of the ashes.” So he proposes the obvious: match Sansa up with Loras, because she’s the key to the North. Oho.
Speaking of, she’s praying by the sea (ugh) when Margaery comes over with just the right amount of silly girlfriend banter and teasing, and oh, how Sansa has longed for a sister-type! Arya was too rough and too young. And it’s interesting that she longs for a sister, because soon Maragery will be Queen and she can lift the ban on travel for Sansa. And she can travel with Loras to their wedding, hey now, and then they’ll really be sisters! It’s all Sansa could dream of, truly. Wow, Margaery is goooood.
At Crasters, the Watch burn one of their men who had been left behind the last time they were there. Apparently he died of a “broken foot” but the grunts know the truth: he was starved, just like they’re being starved. They stand there with the smell of Long Pig in their noses as their bellies rumble and Craster eats meat off a bone. They have nothing but bread made from sawdust.
Craster doesn’t understand why Mormont doesn’t just kill some of them to be eaten. He’ll do it, if Mormont isn’t man enough. One dude gets pissed enough to challenge him about the hidden larder of food Craster must have, they go back and forth, and angry dude calls Craster a bastard. Somewhere Jon Snow has a single tear roll down his cheek, and he doesn’t know why.
“You’re a daughter-fucking, Wildling bastard.”
“Call me bastard one more time, I dare you!”
“Bastard,” the guy says, cool as you like.
“Them’s fighting words!” And the guy neck-knifes him! Gurble! Blood! Mayhem! Everything’s fighting and yelling and rebellion, and Mormont gets literally stabbed in the back by one of his men, the Porkins’ Watch-Boy! WHAT THE HELL. Mormont falls to the ground and Angry Watcher pussy-stabs him all “Ehn! Ehn!” in the chest.
Porkins grabs Gilly and the baby and tells her they have to leave, now. Yeah, where you going, Porkins? Freedom’s thataway! Gilly makes him follow her after shoving the diaper bag on his shoulder. Bitches get shit done.
Arya and the Brotherhood make their way to a cave. The Hound’s hood is removed when he’s standing next to the fire, and he has a minor freakout, which is a nice bit of continuity. A man saunters from the shadows with a swagger, and the music tells me I’m supposed to care. It is…Baric Dundarrion! Uh…okay? The Hound calls them deserters but Baric says no, they are ghosts, the watchers who are always watching, waiting for their chance to fight. For justice. Or the One True God. (The religion stuff doesn’t have enough exposition for me to care or be able to follow what’s the what.)
The Hound is called a murderer, which he denies, but Arya says it’s twoo, it’s twoo! He killed her friend Mychah, when she was the one who hit Joffrey. So it is to be trial by combat, then. But he won’t fight Arya, no, he’ll fight Baric. He is…the most interesting man in the Brotherhood. He doesn’t always fight, but when he does, it’s to the death.
BUT NOW FOR THE BEST PART OF THE SHOW, AND IF YOU DIDN’T THINK THAT I STOOD AND SCREAMED IN VICTORY, THEN YOU DON’T KNOW ME AT ALL.
Dany and her gang go to make the final exchange: a dragon for an army. Krasnys is rude and awful, speaking in Valyrian. There is an awesome shot of the army, and it is HUGE. (That’s what she said.) She gets Dracarys out of his cage, he’s tethered to a chain-leash, and she passes him off to Krasnys like a leather balloon. Her baby makes horrible awful noises in the air as Krasnys tries to get him under control. He hands Dany an intricate whip, and she asks, “Is it done?”
In Valyrian he says, “The bitch has her army.”
She calls to the Unsullied and gives them rudimentary orders. In Valyrian. Then she turns to Krasnys and says—in Valyrian—”A dragon is not a slave.” OH SNAP I KNEW IT, I AM SO FREAKING HAPPY ABOUT HIS LOOK OF SHOCK AND MISSANDEI’S HOLY SHIT, M’LADY! FACE.
She says to him, “Yeah, so you’re an idiot who forgot that I am Danaerys Targaryen, Dragonborn, and Valyrian is my mother tongue, so who’s the bitch now?” She tells her army to kill everyone who holds a whip and called them their master. She then says her baby’s name, and he GLEEFULLY lights up Krasnys with dragonfire, which must sting a lot. The battle is quick, Dracarys burns the whole plaza, and Jorah makes a note to change his pants once they board ship.
[Tough girls don’t look at explosions. They blow things up and then walk away.]
Dany then tells the Unsullied that they are free. She wants no slaves, only soldiers who will fight for her. A few look…woken up. “Will you fight for me?” (Jorah almost screams out, “YES, KHALEESI, I WILL FIGHT FOR YOU.”)
There is a resounding “HELL, YEAH” from the army, Jorah falls in love with her that much more, and Dany rides out with her army in tow. She drops the mic, er, the whip, flashes Astapor a peace sign as her dragons fly overhead towards their ships.
And zero fucks were given that day. DANY OUT!
I freaking love this show with the force of a thousand suns. It just gets better every episode, holy smokes. (Remember: I’m NOT a book reader, no spoilers, please, and many readers are also spoiler free. Be a lady, don’t be shady.)
ETA: There are a few folks pointing out that the dragon isn’t actually named Dracarys, but that it’s a command in Valyrian. Or whatever other language there is. Since I’m not a book reader, I only know what the show tells me, so please try to ignore if I don’t have all of those inner details just right. I’m just some chick loving on a show, you know? I don’t get paid, I just come to squee.