Previously! LOADS. Most of it awful. Whee!!
But first! We open with horsies being prepped for a trip up north.Gjördkr the Bær Fuçkër is released from his restraints, and the men of the Watch don’t like it. But then, most of them don’t like any of Jon Snow’s decisions.
Lord Butt Hurt: A word, Lord Commander? About this plan of yours with the Wildling?
Jon: Of course, trusted fellow Man of the Black Watch. Please, continue.
LBH: [farts into hand, shoves it in Jon’s face]
Jon: …yes, thank you. [looks to camera like its The Office]
Before he heads out, however…
Sam: Lord Commander? What with you leveling up, you’ve unlocked Dragonglass. [hands some over]
Jon: Sweet! [checks its DMG, notes +10DMR when kitted out in full Wolf Armor]
There’s an incredibly ominous scene with a dying Maester Aemon giggling and cooing over Gilly’s child, WeeMorsel, then telling her in a fierce tone to get further south before it’s too late. (
And a reminder that the Mad King Aegon—it’s Aegon Targaryen who was the Wildfire wonk, yes? (GOT IT!) reminder that every Targaryen isn’t always Mad. I suppose this is foreshadowing for Daenerys? OR JON?! [/conspiracy theories])
HEY A SCENE THAT IS GOING TO REMIND ME OF THE BAD PLACE. Theon has a breakfast tray for the newlyweds, which is basically Sansa sobbing in bed. HEY B-HOLES FROM LAST WEEK: TAKE NOTE THAT SHE IS IN DISTRESS. Nope, sorry, not going to give in to those neckbeards who wanted to explain why Sansa wasn’t raped. Not gonna do it. Only had to use the Ban-Hammer twice, so— [deep breath]…Sorry, I had several nobodies (as in they’re not a part of our terrific and respectful community here) come after me for being unhappy last week, and I’m still heated about it, apparently.
And hoooooooly shit it just gets worse. We learn that Theon isn’t going to help her because he’s broken. And every night she goes through the whole “wedding night rape” thing again, a sort of Real Life Un-Idealized Rapunzel meets Groundhog Day story, and she has horrible bruises all over her arms. Sansa, why haven’t you put your light in the window?? Is Theon the only one who comes to tend to you!?
Me: this can’t get any worse.
Theon: IT CAN. IT CAN ALWAYS BE WORSE.
Right, that’s the part I keep forgetting. Why am I doing this to myself auuuugh!?
Sansa, her spine stronger than steel even though her outsides are as easy to tear as silk, refuses to call Theon “Reek.” He is Theon Greyjoy, last surviving son of Baelon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands. Now nut up—oh, sorry, right—cowboy up and put a candle in the window, post haste.
Theon goes through a harsh storm, the broken tower in sight, and we see him climbing stairs, the candle in his hand, and I bet you a TRILLION dollars he’s going to Ramsay with it. That’s what that ominous music as they cut to the tower meant. AND YEP, I FREAKING KNEW IT, Reek, you son of a dick. Never forget, he isn’t Theon. Never Theon, only Reek.
Cut to Brienne staring at the tower, waiting for a light that isn’t coming. DAMMIT ALL TO HELL.
There is a light burning, but it’s for Wee Morsel and Aemon, who is passing through the veil with Gilly watching over him and Sam insisting he stay, too. Aemon cries for Egg (Aegon), and says, “Egg… I dreamt that I was old,” his face looking younger and pain-free in the dim light as he crosses over.
At his memorial the next day, Sam reminds us that Targaryens can be gentle, wise and kind. (Did it skip Daenerys? BOOM! ROASTED.) Wait, no, Maester Aemon is because we all know what happens when you don’t burn the bodies.
He was the blood of the dragon, but now his fire has gone out. And now his Watch is ended. RIP, lovely sweet man.
Lord Butt Hurt, in a massive display of Piss Poor Manners at a Funeral, reminds Sam that all of his friends are going bye bye. Maybe Sam will go bye bye, too. NO, NOT RED LEADER SAMWELL GAMGEE PORKINS! Sam, stay on target! [sniffs]
Sansa visits Ramsay where he oversees some fortifications to Winterfell, his creepy face blank until he switches on his Psychopath #1 smile for her benefit. Feeling proud of himself, he peacocks about, ignoring that he just left a weapon lying out. Sansa doesn’t ignore it, and there’s my girl! (Do you think he did it on purpose?) He blathers on about Stannis heading to them, more peacocking, and Sansa, remembering how she tripped Joffrey up by using her words, reminds Ramsay that Walda is having a Baby Heir, making Ramsay the Spare.
Ramsay: I am your king!
Sansa: Well I didn’t vote for you. Also, you’re a bastard. Like, literally and figuratively.
Ramsay: DADDY SAID HE LOVES ME AND I GET TO BE KING. LORD. WARDEN. WHATEVER.
Sansa: And the King who “naturalized” you? Another bastard. And an incest flower in Cersei’s attic. Good job!
Ramsay: You are making me very angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry. Also, info about your brother Jon Snow.
Sansa, dear sweet child that she is, eagerly sops up the knowledge that Jon has risen in rank, desperate for any news of any family member, save Robyn Arryn, who is probably making lusty eyes at a cow’s udder right about now. Hey guess what she could have gone the rest of her life not knowing? That Ramsay has taken her old lady friend, she of the North, and has flayed her, and all thanks to Reek letting him know.
IT CAN ALWAYS BE WORSE.
He reminds Sansa how long the nights are becoming with a leer. YEP. IT CAN ALWAYS BE WORSE.
Stannis’ men are a bunch of Laura’s, in that they are totally pussing out in the cold. How cold is it?
[taps mic] Is this thing on? It’s so cold, the horses are dying in scores! It’s so cold, they literally can’t move because the supply lines are frozen. It’s so cold, that the banner-men are leaving in droves! But nothing is colder than Stannis’ voice as he explains to Ser Davos that there will be no retreating, no waiting. There is no try, only do. I am not afraid.
Davos: [throat froggy] You… will be. (coughs) That was weird… [/Star Wars jokes]
So… the Red Woman can’t do any hocus pocus here? Stannis is getting pretty irritated with this whole “not becoming a king” thing. But she has seen them in Winterfell, has seen the Bolton’s banners lowered. (But has she seen her way back to red hair? I thought it had returned last week? I feel like it’s important, her hair color. IDK.)
Fire Crotch Mage: Say, we should toooootally bleed out little Newt to insure your victory.
Stannis: DID YOU MISS MY HEARTFELT FATHER’S DAY SPEECH TWO EPISODES AGO?!
FCM: Look, if you become king, you’ll be so super sexy to me.
Stannis: Nope, that’s not going to work this time.
Me: I WILL FUCKING TAKE A BULLET FOR STANNIS BARATHEON.
Cut to: the Wall where ha ha, casual attempted rape of Gilly where Sam gets his face beat in by two dudes, still gets up, and then PUPPY SAVES THE DAY, YAY DIREWOLF! Who’s a good boy? You are!!
(Okay, and that was pretty bad ass of Sam, but if I may: there are magic giant wolf puppies, magic shadow ninjas, men turning into living stone, and flying fucking fire-breathing lizards. You can STRETCH YOUR IMAGINATION beyond rape.)
Sam passes out, but Gilly’s there to tend him, ho hum, same old narrative for thousands of years, yawn.
These two have no friends, basically. So they’ll be each other’s friends. And she kisses him, then proceeds to have sex with him, and I hate the Nice Guy Narrative a lot. Teaching little boys all over the world that wearing a lady down, patiently waiting her out until she gives up and gives in is No Bueno.
Just me? Am I the only one who was really bothered by that scene? ETA: APPARENTLY. By the way, I had a lightbulb moment about why I’m possibly viewing this scene in this particular light here, thanks to awesome reader Lisa.
Things I’m NOT bothered by: Jorah wearing a collar and leather wristlets, rawr. He’s sold on the open market for 20 gold pieces, called honors. Tyrion tries to follow, then explains how he’s a package deal, and a great fighter as well. He proceeds to beat the shit out of the guy who has been whipping him, hahaha, and the man who bought Jorah throws in a few extra pieces because Tyrion’s “funny.” And smart. Brilliant, even. (Is this the end of our wonderful pirate Malko, on the show?]
Tyrion tries to use psychology on his new master, how if he’s made a free man, why, he’ll make sure his owner—ha—doesn’t get into any trouble. Hmm, Jorah looks troubled, rubbing at the center of his chest. I wonder why…
Daenerys is getting an itch scratched with Daario. Ah. [A single tear tracks down Jorah’s face, but he isn’t sure why] Daario would really prefer she marry him instead of that Son of a bi[strike]Harpy. But since she can’t just do what she’d like in that respect, she should gather every single Master in Meereen on the day of the Great Games (Olympics? Sweet!) and slaughter them. Um, she’s trying this “not killing everyone I see who angers me” thing, Daario? Look into it?
“All kings are either butchers or meat.” Welp, he’s not wrong!
In King’s Landing, the religious freaks are hanging on the steps of the citadel like a bunch of ’50s leather toughs. I’m surprised one of them doesn’t pull out a switchblade-comb, stroking his greasy locks back into a D.A. You know, for Jesus, or whatever the Westeros equal is.
Lady Olenna goes to the High Sparrow full of piss and vinegar, spoiling for a fight. She believes he’s a fraud, and buddy, she’s had enough years of spotting them to know ’em when she sees ’em. So what, he’s going to use her grandbabies as an example when the whole damn town is filled with sinners?
High Septon: Yes.
Lady Olenna: Fine. You want equality? Everyone in KL can starve equally, how you like them non-delivered apples?
“We are the many, and you are the few,” he tells her. “And when the many stop fearing the few…” He gives dealer hands and bails.
[’40s radio voice] Things aren’t looking too good for our High Garden darlings! But wait! A mockingbird arrives! A note with a familiar Lord Baelish seal on it is handed to a departing Lady Olenna.
Aww, King Tommen is on a hunger strike because his Special Purpose isn’t there to warm his bed. Plus, no one’s seen Ser Pounce, and Tommen needs cuddles!
Cersei: You sound fussy. Does diddums need a nap?
Tommen: [knuckles sleep away with his widdle fists] No!
Hey, you know what would be awesome? If Tommen’s stones dropped all the way, he told his mummy to shut it, declared the religious wonks traitors to the crown, sent the Gold Cloaks and whoever else after them, rounding them up and maybe slaughtering them, I don’t know, I’m getting blood thirsty, and TOOK BACK HIS KINGDOM. But what do I know?
Cersei gives him advice that I’m pretty sure is meant for herself, about being confronted with things beyond your control (religious fervor), things you can’t prepare for (religious wonks coming for your incestuous ass), things that may not be nice (religious wonks killing the king because he’s an incest baby and most definitely his mother).
Tommen’s all, Nah, ma, I’m all about that starting a war for the lady I loved life. GOOD JOB, A+ THINKING, KID! Cersei, though says, Margaery will be killed first, and she haaaates when Tommen says he loves his wife. She literally has an eye twitch at that, wow, and she says passionately that she will do anything to keep him safe, anything, and that means doing things that aren’t in his best interest, but in her perceived best interests for him. Yeesh.
Jaime is allowed to see his daughter, er, niece, for a super stilted convo that all teen girls have with their daddies who beat up their boyfriends. (Well, mostly this happens in Florida.) Well, UncleDaddy, she’s in LOVE okay? Mommy made her go there, and she DID, right? And it was hot and gross at first, but she found a hairdresser she likes and they let her stay up late, and no one tells her what to wear and they all think she’s REALLY COOL, OKAY?! So she’s staying in Dorne, and she’s going to marry her boyfriend, and he is going to buy her a pony and she is going to name it NOT JAIME. So there! =P
Jaime: Uh… what?
Bronn: How about the rest of that song that probably spells either mine or Jaime’s doom? Hey, ha, probably both of us. TWO THREE FOUR! “The Dornishman’s taken my life, but what does it matter, for I’ve already tasted his wife.”
Hahaha! Oberyn’s daughters, in a nearby cell, smirk. Okay, just one does, and damn, she’s thirsty for some Bronn, showing her titties and batting her eyelashes at him, and–
Admiral Akbar: IT’S A TRAP. [Sorry, I’m always going to revert to Star Wars, you should know this by now]
[NSFW IMAGE OF BEWBS, BASICALLY SHE GOT THEM TV TITTIES <– The best line from Orange is the New Black, btw.]
She asks about his arm, stroking herself, and yep, I’m guessing there was poison in the blade, sex poison. DIBS ON ALL GIRL GLAM-ROCK BAND, SEX POISON.
I mean, yeah, she’s gorgeous. His vision begins to go, his nose bleeds, and she says there was a poison on her blade called the Long Farewell. Bye bye, buddy. No no, wait, she’s the most beautiful woman in the world, come on! She tosses him the antidote just in the nick of time. Damn, girl. That’s some La Femme Dornita shizz.
Baelish goes to his ransacked business in KL. Lady Olenna meets him there, he blathers on about it until she cuts him off. “You’ve always been rather impressed with yourself.” Ha ha ha! Oh, and Ramsay Bolton? THIS is the bastard who has climbed to ever greater heights, the one you should be focused on in the immediate future.
(Is he a bastard? I mean, he is, but like, birth-wise? Not that it matters to me, mind you. BUT GOT IT, THANKS, READERS! lower-case b-bastard, not literal, forgot about that line from S1 with Catelyn.)
She lets him know that when they got in bed together, that stuff is ’til death do us part with her. They killed Joffrey as a team, after all, and that’s the kind of bro stuff that doesn’t leave you, right? And should he decide to attack her person, or hires someone to do it, she’s prepared for that, too. And it’ll make what the Boltons do look like child’s play. So! Any plans? Yep! He has a young man for her. (I think she’s past being interested in that sort of thing, Baelish. Now, a platter of cheese…)
Hell yeah, fighting pits! Jorah is preparing himself at the entry level, but oho, the Queen will be sitting court side, so kick ass! Jorah is going to drive for the hoop HARD, yo. He’s not selected for first string, however, but when he hears Daenerys is outside, he goes running to see, his heart welling (and aching with longing.)
It is straight up Spartacus out on the killing floor with the blood spray and slaughter, and Daenerys is really not enjoying herself and wants to leave. Jorah suits up and heads out, uncaring that he wasn’t selected, and kills everyone in his path like a mother fucking bad ass. (Side note, Daenerys’ dress is so pretty!)
Maybe my favorite fight is Jorah ripping a helmet off a contender and bashing him over the head with it, hahaha. Well, he’s got the Queen’s eye now!
Tyrion manages to get a mook to break his restraints so he can see what’s happening, too.
Jorah, the last standing, removes his helmet and stands before his queen, his Khaleesi, vibrating with love for her, but she is sickened by the very sight of him, demanding his removal. Panicked, he tells her he brought her a gift; Tyrion walks out just then and introduces himself. OHO SHE IS INTRIGUED.
Cersei goes to visit Margaery, not looking so glamorous down in the dungeon. She’s so happy to see Margaery’s downfall, pretending to give a shit, but they both know she’s a liar. Margaery knows Tommen fell so easily in love with her because she’s warm and loving and has genuine concern beyond the tip of her nose, AHEM.
Cersei’s eye twitch is back, but she maintains her calm exterior, her benign smile, her barely controlled anger at everything in the world that would deny her being King. Er, Queen.
Speaking of peacocking, a funky bass line plays as she struts out of there singing
“Well you can tell by the way I use my walk,
I am Queen Mother, no time to talk.
Dissent loud and kinsmen warm,
I’ve been kicked around since I was born.
And now it’s all right, it’s OK,
Sparrows look the other way.
Do not try to understand
The Lannister curse on me, man!
Whether your my brother (which means that you’re my lover)
I’m still staying alive, staying alive.”
[needle scratch on the record]
After pretending to give a shit about the Tyrells to the High Sparrow, he asks her some pointed questions about the church, as in, the physical church. She stifles a yawn, motioning for him to continue. Well, he wants to knock down all the gold, chase out the money lenders, undo the power of the kings and leave nothing but simple truths. Cersei, you self righteous dodo, the hairs on the back of your neck should have risen at this.
But oh, she will choke on her own hubris, and he asks her, “What will we find when we strip away your finery?” LIES AND HATE AND SPIDERS. Okay, maybe not spiders.
Turns out a young man came to them, broken and sad, and had so much to say. About her. A door opens, she stands stock still as Lancel enters. As she tries to leave, a nun or whatever blocks her, grabs her and takes her away as she screams she is the Queen! (Are you? ARE YOU?)
And oh, how the might have fallen as she’s thrown into a cell of her own, her weak “Look at me! My face will be the last thing you see before you die,” echoes in the empty chamber as they shut the door on her. HA. HA HA HA!
Welp, we knew that was coming! And you know what? It was pretty damn satisfying. Now I’m ready for the people to overthrow the religious zealots because of their love for the kind Queen Margaery who fed them, spoke to them, made them feel seen and appreciated. HOW ABOUT IT, FLEA BOTTOM?
Reminder times infinity: I am NOT a book reader. I will not BE a book reader until the show is complete. PLEASE leave everything—little nitpicks and fill in the gap stuff—book related out of here, huh? You may think it’s an unimportant detail, but I’m left sobbing, betrayed and a shadow of who I once was. Help me continue to love doing this (I mean, I don’t get paid. I actually pay for the joy of loving this show with you. BE A BRO.) [forehead smooch]
Shoutout to Super Reader JCDavis for the incredibly thoughtful donation to keep the site running on the best servers I can find. So, so grateful to you! <3
COMMENTARY ON GILLY AND SAM REDACTED FOR THE TIME BEING. I’m mulling this one over. (I still don’t buy Gilly being romantically in Sam, however. Please don’t try to convince me, either. Talk amongst yourselves if you’d like, though!)