So if you’re new, here’s the skinny: I’m Unsullied! I have sworn a vow not to read the books until the show has come to an end. What’s that? You want to adjust your glasses and inform me that we’re out of Book Territory, ergo, you can say anything about—
NOPE. Ease up, Hoss. You’re stepping into JerkButt land, population: You. No book talk here. You have the whole internet for that, but this little place? [stands with hands on hips, gently smiles] This place is free of all book talk. Thankee, Sai. Plus, just ask some of the old timers and they’ll tell you how fun it is to watch me navigate the show as blindly as Arya Stark on the streets of Braavos.
We open at the wall, poor sad Direwolf puppy Ghost howling as Jon Snow lies on the ground, dead. Dead dead? Forever? Forever ever? For ever-ever? :( Ser Davos finally sees his corpse, the alarm has been raised, they see “TRAITOR” hanging over his head. A group carries him inside as Edd closes his eyes. He knows Thorne, aka Lord Butt Hurt did it.
Well, well, well, maybe Fire Crotch Mage—Melisandre’s red hair restored—might have a few kilowatts of Lord of Light left in her? Maybe? She’s not gonna lay hands on… Huh. No leeches on the pyre or shadow baby birthings? Just gonna let ol’ Ned Stark’s kid, the most famous bastard in all of Westeros, be all dead and stuff? Looks like it.
Lord Butt Hurt tries to restore order among a frustrated Night’s Watch dinner hour, and even admits he and the others killed Jon. “Yeah, I committed treason. Eh. But I hated him and it was the kind of hate that made my butt clench in a rage. Anyone? Any of you get rage poops? No? Literally just me? Wow. Anyway, Jon Snow knew nothing about the Night’s Watch, he even cave-married that Wildling then agreed to let them in, and it’s like, what have we been doing for all these years? Bro. BRO. You can’t just let the opposition come through, we’ve literally been doing the opposite of that for ages, and he’s just going to call Psych! and let them in? You get it. I had to kill him. Bro-code.”
And… these bros kind of grumble and agree and I could use some Samwell #NotAllMen Tarley right about now. The only good dudes up there seem to be holed up with Jon Snow’s body and Ser Davos and Edd. Oh, they have Ghost in there, and it made me so sad to see sweet Direwolf puppy Ghost nosing at Jon’s hand (I feel like that means something, right? Like, because Ghost is so insistent? Wishful drinking on my part? DON’T TELL ME THOUGH, omg.).
But WHAT DO? WHAT DO FELLAS? Davos doesn’t want to just try to overthrow Lord Butt Hurt, though. He’s got a plan, see? Edd seems to know what this means and takes off. I feel like he’s off to find the Wildlings. What else could he possibly do? Fashion a giant trench coat and they all climb inside and walk out?
Wow, it still hurts to see the Flayed Man sigil at Winterfell. I’m supposed to care that Ramsay is sad his murder bitch died, but I’m not. His tender words of love after tucking a loose tendril of hair behind her ear amount to, “I will flay so many people for having hurt you, you’d be so proud! I’m going to Jame Gumb/Buffalo Bill some Sansas, you’ll see. Sigh. Well, there goes Whatsername. Feed her to the dogs.”
Daddy Bolton wants to make sure Ramsay knows that his soccer game was okay… for a first grader. But he didn’t think he was playing at a higher level right? Oh dear, he did for a second, didn’t he? Bless. And because Ramsay was a dick to Sansa Stark, he’ll never make Select Club. Perma rec-league for Ramsay, it seems, so good thing Walda is possibly carrying a ringer. Roose Bolton is such a vindictive shit.
Sansa and Reek are off and running, so I guess they did land in a snow drift when they jumped in 5.10. The hounds are after them, so they have to cross a partially frozen river in order to throw off their scent. Sansa is ill-equipped for this level of outdoorsmanship. They cuddle under a fallen tree for warmth, but they can hear the hounds.
CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS? Because I want to talk for fourteen hours about how Sansa has been all alone for a very long time and the only tenderness she’s gotten since her father was beheaded was from Margery Tyrell, and she couldn’t really trust that, and this is the first time someone has just held her for her own well being and it is THEON, someone she once called BROTHER and then called REEK and… I just have a lot of feelings. SANSA I AM, as always, ROOTING FOR YOU. She looks so relieved, too…
Reek goes to intercept the Boltons on their tail to allow her to run on. THEON IS NO LONGER REEK and my heart rejoices. But of course, they all find her because it’s not like Theon/Reek is any GOOD at stuff. (Sorry, dude.) BUT HOLY SCHNIKIES, BRIENNE OF TARTH ARRIVES WITH POD AND A DESIRE TO SAVE LADY SANSA AND I NOW BELIEVE IN A GOD. Pod holds his own, too, well, for a good long while. Pod has no hat, no warm clothes, and does his best, sweet, dear Pod, and Theon finished off the guy when it starts looking bad because if there’s one thing Theon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands is good at, it’s stabbing someone in the back.
Brienne gets on one knee and offers to give her life for Sansa, and I love Brienne so much, holy smokes. SANSA. TAKE THE OFFER. Oh, good, she does. She does it properly, even though she’s cold-dumb and half alert. I am so happy, oh my gosh.
Now get on those horses and get warm, I am shivering just looking at you lot.
Meanwhile, back on Shame Island, Dowager Mother Cersei Lannister strokes her shorn hair and dreams of hugging Marcella, and oh man, that’s never going to happen, wow. Two down, one to go, but she doesn’t know it just yet. Uncle Daddy Jamie is there instead, once again failing to give his sister-lover what she wants. And their cinnamon roll Marcella was too good, too pure for this world.
Well, Cersei knew. Prophesy given and all that rot.
Jaime: Fuck prophesy. Fuck everyone who isn’t us.
Tyrion, in Meereen: Lord knows I’ve tried…
Me: [cackles, clinks wine glasses]
Margery, in her shame prison–they love to shame the ladies on this show what, are you new?–gets a’preaching to by Nun Ratchett, who seems to take pleasure in being shitty to women in particular. Fun? The uber-Franciscan Pope of Westeros makes sure Margary knows that if she just confesses to her sins…
[insert the fifty previous times I’ve made a Goonies reference to confessions]
…she can be on her way to a new and pious life. Yeah, sounds great and devoid of tea cakes and cheese and bonings on the reg. HARD PASS.
Prince Doran finally hears about Marcella being killed, and Ellaria and one of the daughters go into action, killing the Prince’s guard and then holy shit, stabbing him after just joking about the family and making summer vacation plans. That’s some cold-ass shit right there. The other guards watch on because apparently no one really cared about him?
“Weak men will never rule Dorne again.” I mean, I can get behind that, but it’s so messy. Someone will have to scrub blood out of the stones and throne, Ellaria. Then there will need to be a committee to pick a new fabric for the chair and UGH.
The other Sandsnake daughters show up to murder their brother Trystane, who’s holed up painting eyes on rocks. No, really. Seems… like a good job to keep busy? (Ugh, I don’t care if this is SEWPER IMPORTANT in the books. On TV it looks like a teenage boy painting eyes on rocks like a simpleton. “They’re my new friends! They’ll watch me lift weights and eye my ever growing caterpillarian mustache and they’ll never be mean to me like my
EDIT. Well, well, me, looks like I’m the dummy. On Twitter, Jen B points out to me that these could be the rocks they put over people’s eyes in their crypt, but since we only saw this on King Weaselteat and they mythos wasn’t really delved into on the show, I missed it. Mea culpa.
sisters cousins… The girls just pop his brain pan like it’s nothing, so I guess they didn’t have a close family. Okay, now I get it with the rocks. Also, women are being pretty damn boss this episode.
…Women being powerful? on MY Game of Thrones?! It’s more likely than you’d think.Tyrion and Varys pretend to be common men to get the 411 on the Mother of Dragons out on the streets. Some folks are trying to get the freed slaves to rise up, and others are trying to lay low because they know what the Sons of the Harpy are capable of. Like… burning every ship in the harbor. Damn. There goes that weekend sail.
Daario and Jorah look for their Khaleesi, and my hope is that somehow they’ll find that tiny ring of hers in the middle of nowhere, because that’s reasonable. That is totally a thing that makes perfect sense that could happen. I will say that it’s awful pretty wherever they are, even with the visible sign of a circling horde tearing up the ground around… ah, there it is! Dany’s ring. Good work, Detective Jorah! (But at least they made it logical that a regular person would be able to find that tiny clue.)
And fun, we get to hear some of the Dothraki dudes wonder if the curtains match the rug, how she could take it up the bunghole, and other fun dude talk. Just guys being dudes! Where’s a luck dragon when you need one, amirite, ladies?
New Khal: Seeing a naked lady is like, the top thing ever, right m’dudes?
Tweedle Dee: What about breaking in a new ride, aka a horse?
Tweedle Dum: You know when you have a mosquito bite? And you scratch and scratch and it’s awesome but just before it hurts?
Tweedle Dummer: I don’t know, bro, when water trapped in your ear finally leaks out? Pretty sweet. Like, it gives me the shivers.
Tweedle Dumbest: Is… is no one going to say a baby’s smile? Because I feel like someone should say…
New Khal: BOOBIES. GUYS. COME ON.
Guys: … right, right, bewbs. Totally awesome. HIGH FIVE.
Dany: Are you so arrogant that you don’t think that I can speak your language? Pfft. Of course you are. By the way, m’Bona Fides. Yeah, hi. Nice to meet you, Mother of Dragons, yadda yadda. Oh, oh, so now I got your attention? Tell Rape Patrol to back the eff off and listen up, cowboys.
New Khal: Yeah, no. I will rape you instead.
Dany: Khal Drogo’s ghost is watching and doesn’t like you. Also, I hate that I have to call onto a dude to get you to take me seriously.
New Khal: Well, we sort of are short hand for rape culture, so, yeah. You’re going to have to. Tell your dead husband no disrespect meant.
Dany: [looks at camera like she’s on The Office]
Instead of helping her, though, they want to send her off to Crone Island. Hope you like cats and knitting, Khaleesi!
Arya, blind and begging in the streets of Braavos, cannot see, but then no one sees her either. Except for A Girl, who knows that Arya can still stand and fight. A Girl is a shit, damn, tenderizing Arya with a quarterstaff, hoping Arya will pick hers up and fight back. But we know what Arya is capable of, so it’s okay? I think? Ugh.I hate the whole tear someone down to build them back up stuff, but then, I’m just a girl (not A Girl) so what do I know? Pfft, I’m so lame I think Crone Island with other ladies and no Rape Culture sounds amazeballs.
Lord Butt Hurt presents Davos and his group “amnesty,” but while Davos was born at night, it wasn’t last night. He knows he can’t just fist bump Alliser and be on his way. So maybe they need Fire Crotch Mage to do the voodoo that she do so well.
Where is she? Melisandre is checking herself out in a mirror, and if I looked like her, I would be checking myself out in a mirror, too. She’s built like a brick shit-house, after all. I get it. She sadly stares at her magnificent bewbs, removes her choker (and the red light glowing in the center stone dims!) and she sees herself, her TRUE self: old, wrinkled, ruined. It’s all very The Shining, room 237.
Has she lost her faith? Does she do this every night? She just climbs into her fur-lined bed…
Is she giving up her youth and vitality for something? For Davos? FOR JON SNOW?! (OMG, no spoilers or I will drive to your house and slap your hand and make you watch a 10 hour loop of Ted Cruz looking constipated, Clockwork Orange style. And I won’t bring eye drops.)
But it’s like the show is trying to say that a woman will only be taken seriously if she’s young and vital, fuckable. Like Melisandre. But wait, that’s not right because Dany is young and vital, fuckable, and the Khalasar doesn’t care about her. And Sansa is young and vital, fuckable, and she’s being used for her body and… Guys?
Take a knee.
It’s almost like women have layers. It’s almost like people’s (men) perception of women is what allows or prevents them from accomplishing their goals.
Okay, sound off (respectfully and sans spoilers) about your thoughts for the season. Is this a new and improved season? Is Brienne of Tarth truly the best of all of us? Are we feeling off-kilter because Cersei wasn’t blasted on wine for her scene?
GUYS. PLEASE. If something is in the books and didn’t air on the show because of course everything in the books can’t be on the show, it is a spoiler. A book spoiler. Talk about the show, please, and keep your poor dumb writer (*waves*) pure and fresh? If you want to talk about the books, you have LOTS of options. This website just isn’t one of them. <3