Last week we were at dagger-throats, Baelish as the dagger, and Ned as the throat. Up was down, right was left, dogs and cats were living together. Mass hysteria! The Lannister-owned Red Guard are tearing through King’s Landing, killing anyone and everyone associated with the Starks. Arya and Inigo Montoya are have their routine sword lesson when the Guard shows up with a “your dad was hurt and wants me to take you to him” kidnapper line.
Inigo sees through this and because he is the greatest sword fighter in a thousand years, defends himself against five men. Oh, and the proof of his mastery is that he does this with a wooden training sword. He even pulls off a drop, spin (sweep the leg, Johnny!) and head thwack that takes down the last of the Cobra Kai. I kept expecting him to whip one of the proper swords out of their hands, but nope, he’s all “Wooden play sword? Good enough for the likes of you.”
Their leader, however, is not one to be trifled with. Inigo switches hands, tells the man, “I know something you don’t know. I am not left handed!” and they battle briefly. The leader cuts away the wooden sword to the handle. Inigo gets in a proper fencing stance with his busted instrument and asks Arya, who has been rooted to the ground in fear, watching everything, “What do we say to Death?” She replies with a shaky voice, “Not today.”
She takes off running, hearing sounds of a painful battle behind her, and even more battle ahead. She frantically mutters over and over, “Not today” as she takes a different path under the castle. (Chasing cats should prove fruitful, methinks.)
Meanwhile, Sansa and her Nurse were roaming the halls, Sansa trying to tell the Nurse how awesome Joffrey Beiber is, but Nurse stops in her tracks. She hears the slaughter. “Go back to your room, bar the door, let no one in.”
“But I was supposed to go to the mall today and-”
“Good god, you brat, do as I say!”
Sansa picks up her skirts and races back. The Nurse – and man, this is one tough cookie – stands before four men of the Cobra Kai [The way of the fist! No mercy!] and sees their bloody swords. Sansa, almost to her room, runs into The Hound. He leers at her, she threatens to sic the Queen on him. He laughs, “Who do you think sent me?”
No one is safe, folks! Speaking of, Arya makes it outside, sees the dead men at the cart, and frantically searches for Needle, her Bilbo Baggins blade. She finds it just as a barn boy grabs her and cries out with glee. He will turn her in, the Queen will reward him handsomely, and urk! Needle to the gut meat! Good job, Arya, even though she’s slightly horrified that she just killed someone. Kill or be killed, there is no in between in battle, child!
Ned, stuck in a rocky hard place, suffers. Uncle Fester skitters over from the dark and brings Ned a flagon of water, and even takes a sip to prove it’s not poisonous. Fester tells Ned that Sansa is still engaged to Joffrey (the horror!) but Arya has vanished. Not even his spies can find her. (Good girl!) Everyone else that came with him from Winterfell is dead.
Fester asks, “What madness led you to tell the Queen you knew about Joffrey’s birth?” And Ned replies, “The madness of mercy and my honor. I could really use a touch of Boromir right about now, I’m in quite the pickle!”
Fester then lets him know that the Imp slipped out of Catelyn’s grasp, so really, there’s no bargaining chip left for Ned, good night, he’ll most likely be killed in the morning. Ned blinks up at him and wonders who he really serves? Uncle Fester retorts in an almost befuddled fashion, “Why, the Realm, m’lud. Someone must.”
At The Wall, two bodies are being dragged into camp on a sled. One looks like the cousin to Fester, the other is missing a hand, the very hand that Ghost the direwolf played fetch with. There is still no sign of Benjen and the rest of his party. The bodies have been dead awhile, but Porkins proves his worth again by noticing that they don’t smell. He suggests they burn the bodies, like the Wildlings do. He had an unsuccessful roll and the bodies are drug into the buildings to await a final decision.
Master Mormont has received a raven from King’s Landing and orders Jon to come to his chambers, have a horn of booze, and toughen up. Jon is told that his father is now branded a traitor. He notices that nothing was said about his sisters and their where abouts.
Sansa is with the Queen and her Council, still no sign of Arya.
Fester: Oooooh, your father was such an awful bad man!
GrandMaester Flash: Blah, blah, blah, I am blind to reasonable thought and am a slave to the rules.
Sansa: No, but my father cahn’t be a bad man, for he knows how desperately in love with Joffrey I am. I love him with the force of a thousand suns, and you cannot break that, not with a thousand swords!
Queen: Yeah… I’m gonna need you to get this through your head. Your dad is a traitor. But I can still use you as a pawn, so I’ll pretend to have your best interests at heart and let you live.
MaesterFartFace: A child born from a traitors seed blah blah I’m ridiculously rigid in both thought and action and thereby prove to be utterly maddening!
Baelish: Let her have a chance, she’s the daughter of my lost love. Maybe I’ll earn points with her for my kindness?
Queen: Be quiet, I order you all to be quiet! Now, my little dove. Let’s have you write to your mother and older brother; tell them to fall before my son and say how wonderful he is. Tell you what, I’ll write it first, and you copy it down, there, that’s better!
Robb instantly reads the letter through the miracle of editing. “So Joffrey puts my father in chains and now he wants his ass kissed?” Renly, somewhere south, pinks at the ears and doesn’t know why.
Robb is going to go to King’s Landing, oh yes, but he won’t go alone. He’s going to call in the Banners. All of them, to the tune of 18,000+ men. (Someone’s looking to level up!) Greyjoy asks Robb if he’s skeert. Robb shows his shaking hand and says, “Yeah, I’m a little skeert.” Good, that shows you’re not shtupid.
It’s been far too long since we’ve been grossed out, have you noticed? CUE BOOB SUCKER. Catelyn races to her sister’s side (currently occupied by her TOO OLD TO BE NURSING son) and demands to know why she’s finding out hours later about Ned being imprisoned? Lysa, it turns out, is not only crazy but quite the bitch. Robin, meanwhile, stares at her chest, hungry, and fusses with the stays at the front of her dress.
Lysa begins offering Catelyn parenting advice. As Robin, the seven year old, tries to get at the biddy. Catelyn does everything but look at the creepy child and tells Lysa that she won’t be taking any parenting advice from her, thanks. Robin starts to untie Mama’s dress, he’s hungry and wants the biddy! Lysa tells him soon, smooshes his face against her chest (which is kinda mean, you just said he can’t have it) and keeps up her crazy tirade to Cate.
Robin shrieks, I WANT THE BIDDY! Lysa shushes him, reminds him that he can have the biddy later, and go take a bath and then he can have the biddy. (Never forget that Bono isn’t the record holder, he’s the record.) She then turns to her sister and says that she will not be helping her, she will not fight the Lannisters and only a fool would.
Decidedly not a fool, Tyrion and Bronn walk through the woods on their way to the Lannister camp. Tyrion chats up his buddy. “Oh, I’m sure there will be opportunities offered for you to kill me. But remember, I can always beat their price. I’m filthy rich. And I like living!” I like this guy, he might be my most favorite character.
They take a little afternoon nap and are awakened by Lothar of the Hill People. Lothar grunts, “How do you want to die?” Tyrion replies, “In my own bed? 80 years old? Drunk on wine and being sucked off by a whore, most likely Ros?” This gets a laugh, and through Tyrion’s wits and promises, gets all of these barbarians on his side. Tyrion is a Rogue Dwarf, the best character you can play. He’s got a bag of +4 Awesome, a Ring of Enchantment, and the ability to pull out a critical hit when needed.
Back at The Wall, Jon and Porkins are setting up the dinner’s mis en place when Alliser, their former Trainer and resident dickbag, walks in. “Let’s fight!” he says, dickishly. Jon grabs his knife, “Them’s fightin’ words!” Porkins and Pyp hold him back and Master Mormont comes in, tsk tsking. He grounds Jon (“But! He started it!”) to his quarters and takes away his privileges until he can show that he can be trusted again.
Jon is carving Morrissey lyrics into the wall as Ghost goes bananas. Jon grabs his sword, opens his door (“Uuum! You’re gonna get in trouble!”) and follows Ghost, who races to Master Mormont’s room. They enter, and something is not right. THE UNDEAD HAS ARISEN! And he is not there to bring everlasting life to his followers. Well, actually, he is, but not in a Jesus tra-la-la way. The dead man slams the door shut, locking out Ghost and grabs Jon by the throat. Jon prison shivs him, but it does nothing.
He works his way out of the dead man’s grip, pulls his sword and cuts the dude’s arm off at the elbow. Still he comes! He chest stabs the guy, and that seems to do the trick. Jon sees Marmont in the doorway and behind him, riiiiiiiiiiiising up with Predafremen Blue Eyes, goes on the attack again. Jon grabs the lantern from Mormont with a sickening sizzle, smashes it against the undead, who goes up like paper, engulfed in flames.
The Dothraki are in the process of shopping for their upcoming trip. They’re shopping for dead sheepherders and live sheepherder women and children to trade for money so they can buy some ships so they can attack King’s Landing so they can rule the Seven Kingdoms. Big to do list. Daenerys doesn’t like seeing the women being treated like, well, slaves, and tells Jorah to make them stop. Mago, one of the men, doesn’t like this uppity woman telling him what to do.
Jorah tells her that she has a gentle heart, which pisses her off. “I do not have a gentle heart. Now make all of these women my daughters, or whatever you call it so they don’t get raped and beaten.” One woman in particular, Yanoosh of the Geepsee Weetches, follows her back to Drogo.
Mago is talking to the Khal, bitching about what his woman done did and how he needs to put that bitch in check. Dany approaches Drogo, who is sitting on a throne of severed heads – now that is a throne for a King. Dany tells her husband that if his men are so hungry for boneage, they can now marry her women.
Mago: “Does the horse mate with the lamb?”
Dany: “In a pinch. Also? Dragons eat both horses and lambs, so why don’t you STFU?”
Drago loves how ballsy his wife is getting, and I do, too. Mago, however, doesn’t like this foreign woman saying what’s what and getting her way. He thinks that if Drogo will let her boss him around, then maybe he’s not the man he claims to be. Maybe he’s not Khal Material. Maybe he’s just a big ol’ pussy that needs to step aside. Mago draws his scimitar.
Oh HALE no. Drogo is about to teach all them punk-ass bitches a lesson. He walks into the sword blade. It cuts into his chest and he pushes forward like a boss, cutting himself deeper. He starts the most epic trash talk that ever was, telling Mago all the ways he is going to be defiled once he’s dead.
“I am going to pull out your asshole through your ears. I will eat your liver before you die of blood loss. I am going pluck out your eyes and then piss in your ocular cavities.”
Mago has a swing, and a miss. It was high and wide, and Drogo let that one pass him right by. He turns his back to Mago, still trash talking, pulls out his two blades, drops those sumbitches to the ground, and turns to face him with no weapons. Drogo = baddest mofo in the land.
Mago swings again, but it’s on the outside, and low. A fast one, a wild swing and a miss, he’s just desperate now, and Drogo catches Mago’s hand holding his sword, and in a bold move, cuts Mago’s throat with his own sword. That’s gotta sting! But uh, oh, Drogo’s not done yet! He reaches through the slit, grabs Mago’s trachea and rips out the entire length of tongue. Drogo tosses the tongue on the head pile, and we’re looking at the MVP of this game.
You know, Darth Vader, with his force choke, was pretty bad ass back in the day. The Dothraki de-throating takes that up several levels, wouldn’t you say? If you listen closely, you can hear the ginormous stones on Drogo clanking as he sits back down on his skull throne.
Dany rushes to his side, worried about his boo boo. Woman, you trying to make him look weak when he just pulled a throat out of his best friend? He’s still in the afterglow of giving Mago a Columbian necktie. He waves her off. It turns out that Yanoosh is a healer. She thanks the Silver Lady for her life and approaches Drogo. She speaks to Dany in the Common Language, saying that if the wound isn’t cleaned out, it will fester. (Uncle Fester: oh, he’s such a big ol’ brute!)
Robb has all of the Bannermen at Winterfell for a little supper. MacGregor the Goat Fucker (you screw one goat…) stirs up some shit, demanding that he be the one to lead the men, or it’s screw you guys, he’s going home. “Oh, really,” says Robb. “How about if you do leave, then after I kill the Lannisters, I march up your way and kill you?”
MacGregor does not like the sound of that, spits, pulls his sword, and has a direwolf bite off two of his fingers for his efforts. Never mess with a Stark with a Direwolf at his side! Turns out that MacGregor has spent years building up an immunity to Direwolf bites and doesn’t die. Everyone shares a laugh at the bitten off fingers, and none laugh harder than MacGregor the Goat Fucker. Good times. (Pfft, it’s just a scratch, he’s had worse.)
Later that night, Robb tells Bran goodbye and that he’s to stay there and for pity’s sake, behave. Bran’s little brother, who can’t be more than 6 or 7, comes in. Bran shushes his brother, telling him that everything will be fine. Little Bro looks askance and says, “You’re an idiot. I’m just a boy – old enough to NOT BE NURSED – and even I can see that they’re all marching off to get killed. Man, wise up!” He sticks his thumb – NOT MUMMY’S BOOB – in his mouth and toddles off to bed.
Bran goes out to the tree for a little afternoon prayer, and Tonks joins them. The old gods are her gods, as well. Hodor waddles into view, naked from the waist down. Tonks, who evidently is a size queen, checks out his dongle and laughs. “There’s giant’s blood in him!” Hagrid? No, that takes me to the bad place! Sorry, off track. Tonks tells Bran that all of those men should have been marching north, not south. Something wicked this way comes!
Speaking of the north, the men at the Wall are finally burning the bodies of the undead. Porkins tells Red Leader that he’s been reading books, see, and that’s the best way to get exposition out, see? “They were touched by Wight Walkers, that’s why they came back.” Question: so they don’t become wight walkers, then where the hell are they and what the hell do they look like, then?? Meep!
“Only fire will stop them. Wight Walkers sleep under the ice for thousands of years and when they wake up…. I hope The Wall is high enough.” It’s well over 700 feet tall, that might not be tall enough? Are they the most amazing jumpers ever? Do they have dirigibles? I’m skeert.
Robb and the Bannerman have been on the move and made camp near the castle of the Taunting Frenchman. Cate and her man have arrived, and as they ride to greet her son, the Frenchman shouts after them, “I fart in your general direction! Go away or I shall taunt you a second time!” Robb shows his mother the letter from Sansa, aka the Queen’s words. They both notice that there is no mention of Arya.
Tyrion and his strays have finally reached Lannister camp, and it looks so much like The Fort in Fallout: New Vegas that I half expected to see Benny ring-a-ding-dinging in his Zoot Suit. Tyrion makes introductions.
“This is Lothar, of the Hill People. This is Gordok of Babyeaters, and this lady is Mathilde of the Holy Shit Is That Your Face Or Did They Shave A Dog’s Ass And Train It To Walk Backwards People. But you can just call her Butterface for short.” Poppa Lannister catches Tyrion up on the haps. The Imp says, “It was awfully good of you to go to war for me. I almost think you cared.”
Tywin rolls his eyes, ignores him, and learns that Robb is close at hand. To war, then! He makes an offer to the barbarians: join me in this fight and I’ll match my son’s offer and tack on a li’l sumpin sumpin. Lothar agrees, but only if Tyrion joins them in the fight as collateral. His dad thinks that sounds like a fine plan. Tyrion gulps and grabs at his collar.
Robb is looking over his map (with game pieces!) with his men, trying to determine the best course of action. A spy is brought before him; said spy was counting chickens to report back to the Lannisters. Robb decides to let him go because he’s on a mercy kick like his dad. Honor, schmonor, don’t you want to dip your wick in some baddies? Evidently not. He sends the spy on his way to report back to Tywin that Winter is Coming, and they want to see if the Lannisters actually shit gold, as has been widely reported.
MacGregor the Goat Fucker is not okay with that and asks if “[Jon’s] tetched in the head, boy?” SAY THAT AGAIN. Call me boy again, I dare you. Robb grew a mighty pair, and they smell goatish and musky and MacGregor cannot challenge such a thing.
Big business is afoot in King’s Landing. Tywin will be installed as Hand when he arrives (how convenient) and oh, one other thing. Ser Barrister? You who have been so faithful and honorable? How about we move your retirement up to, oh, say, now? Now works for us. Ser Barrister is not okay with that, and he may be older, but he is still one tough hombre and reminds all of the remaining guard of that. He tosses his sword down and storms off. Jaime will take over his position as leader of the army. Sansa watches all of this transpire and grows up pretty fast in a blink.
She approaches the Queen and King Weaselteat and falls to her knees. Please show mercy to her father, because she is pretty sure that he was sick, or lied to, or something, but please don’t hurt her daddy! She bats her eyes at Weaselteat, who claims that he was moved by her sweet speech. But… (there’s always a but) her daddy did say that he wasn’t King. His hands are tied, here, really.
Tell you what. He’ll send his four fastest ships in all directions, to find the rest of her family. And her father needs to be convinced that Joffrey is King. And if he can’t…well. Make him confess, make him swear fealty, or there will be no mercy. Sansa replies, “He will.”
NEXT WEEK: The Imp is on the front lines! Dany lies bleeding in Jorah’s arms! INTRIGUE AND DEATH AWAIT! (Only 2 episodes left???)