——> CONTINUER DE LA DEUXIÈME PARTIE
Et maintenant, vraisemblablement, nous avons le moment le plus pathétique de tous, même si nous sommes hors écran. Quand Jon s'est approché de la salle du trône, personne n'était près de la forteresse. Seul Drogon, qui s'est envolé de la série pour toujours.
Jon reste sur la flaque de sang pendant un moment et personne ne vient.
Il se dirige vers le bord de la pièce et baisse les yeux sur la passerelle menant au donjon. C'est désert.
Huh. Il pense.
Commencez à formuler un plan.
LA REINE ÉTAIT EXPIRÉE! Il se dit. NO.
UN VENT DE SANG ES O LA REINE EST ATTENDUE! NO.
Quelqu'un reçoit un vrai gras! Il dit. LE DUNNY À L'EXTÉRIEUR DE QUELQUES SANG ET PUIS LE TROUVE SUR HEHR DRAGONCHILD! DOMMAGES, NON!
Nous sommes au sommet de Jon Snow maintenant. Un homme emprisonné dans l’esprit d’une pomme de terre noble comme Edmund Dantes au château d’If.
Just look at the obscenity of his double penis belt. One flopped over top of the other like a two-penised Braavosi whore. My god man! Where’s your decorum? This is a meeting of Lords not a Philistine Bath House! Good god, even Yohn Royce himself has the decency to tie off his belt penises thirty degrees to the right like a fucking gentleman! If you need fashion tips from Yohn fucking Royce, how far are you from civility? My goodness.
So now all the players are in place for what feels like the grand Game of Thrones minigame for IOS and Android.
I know we’re supposed to feel something here, like HOLY SHIT LOOK AT ALL THE PLAYERS but all the best players are dead. Davos has the best chance at approaching the Tywins and the Olennas but we’re a tier down in every direction.
For example, I noted immediately that these people are all armed, with the exception of Sam and Tyrion. Even Prince Sleepytits has a sword but he hates it because it makes him list to the side from the extreme weight.
Grey Worm, of course, has a dagger.
OH SHIT! WE GOT A BADASS WITH A DAGGER OVER HERE!
But in the Old Game of Thrones, when there were real players, this shit would have been unthinkable. This is the definition of Guard Down Mode. Tell me what’s stopping Grey Worm from demanding they all take a knee right now and make him the King?
He could have 200 Dothraki ride in and start circling the tribunal, with Unsullied in HUH mode at every gate and what do you think will happen?
If GRRM was still writing this, which I’m quite sure he isn’t, he might have Grey Worm come in pulling Jon and Tyrion in chains behind him and say “you fucking people make me sick. All I see are your fucking games. I am going back to Essos. One of you will be King or Queen of the seven kingdoms. The rest will die here today.” And then he unchains Jon and Tyrion and from around the Dragon Pit, protected in the stands, are hundreds of Unsullied with crossbows.
It’s up to you who lives and who dies. On the hour, every hour, we will kill one of you until one remains. You want games? Here are your fucking games.”
And then he’d drop his arm and they’d fire like six bolts into Jimmy “The Egret” Phipps and he’d fall out of his chair like a sack of speared shit.
Oh Phippy, we haerdly knew ye.
With that, Grey Worm would spit at them and walk out. AND THEN WE’D SEE SOME SHIT, YO.
STAKES, PEOPLE. STAKES. DRAMA! CONSEQUENCES! DESIRES! CONFLICT!
Not just people sitting the fuck around. Holy static nightmare, Batman! I have four kids and we had a family meeting to discuss screens in our home and it took like three weeks and four people went to the hospital. My five year old tried to gank me with an Amazon HD8. But this? This deciding of everything in the seven kingdoms and no one wants to crimp their tea doily?
We talk all the time about how non-caucasian characters are poorly written, or at least unevenly written on this show. I shook my fist at the sky when Missandei didn’t pitch Cersei’s mean ass off the wall. But maybe this is the greatest inconsistency in the show for people of color. The fact that Grey Worm is the King of the Seven Kingdoms and is either too stupid or too poorly written to know it. One of his first lines in this scene is THIS IS OUR CITY. But…yeah.
So Grey Worm walks in with Tyrion.
“Where’s Jon?” Asks Sansa Stark.
OH LIKE, HELLO, HOW ARE YOU, I’M SANSA STARK. Says Grey Worm. THE FUCK LADY? WHERE ARE YOUR MANNERS?
Maybe it’s just me. I remember when Daenerys flew in on Drogon and Cersei didn’t say hello either. She said “We’ve been waiting for some time.” And Daenerys said “My apologies.” Like you do when you’re going mad.
So maybe they just don’t trifle with salutations in affairs of state in Westeros. Frankly, it makes me shudder. My title may just be an honorary one, pour l'instant… but Barbaric, I say! Indeed, if I had to endure a tête-à-tête of this plebeian ilk without proper adherence to conversational heraldry, if you will, I daresay I’d be out the door and into my coach and four with a speed that might rival Mercury himself.
But Grey Worm does not seem the least bit perturbed.
“Where’s Jon” Sansa asks.
“He is our prisoner.” Grey Worm says.
“So is Lord Tyrion. They were both to be brought to this gathering.”
“We will decide what we do with our prisoners.” Grey Worm says. “This is our city now.”
OH SNAP GET FUCKED SANSA STARKKKKK!
So let me get this straight: He brought Tyrion, just because. But he didn’t bring Jon…also just because? Was he worried that something might happen to Jon in “his” city? What’s the reasoning here? The Unsullied control this area completely. Grey Worm could slit Jon’s throat right there and there’s fuck all anyone could do about it. Yet he chooses not to bring him?
I don’t get it.
Sansa doesn’t like it. I mean, there’s a lot not to like. Say, for instance, that she kind of decided never to return to King’s Landing ever again because of all the horrors that she endured, but here she is. Maybe said horrors and said reluctance were more Cersei-based? Maybe another thing not to love is that Grey Worm could end House Stark with a yawn and a casual call for fifty or sixty Unsullied to just come in and poke them all to death.
Since when would the Starks put themselves in a Red Wedding-level position to be wiped out, especially after the Red Wedding? Why would they EVER be here? They’re a bunch of xenophobic Northerners and this dude is a brown skinned foreigner who doesn’t even say hello at meetings. Why would they ever think they’d be given quarter of any kind? They don’t know Essosian parley protocols! Hell, Grey Worm doesn’t know Essosian parley protocols. Dude is making it up as he goes along. He couldn’t even have a basic conversation with Tyrion once upon an elegant room, and now he’s the diplomat holding every House in Westeros hostage?
Also: “we will decide what we do with we’s shit”
Who’s WE? Are they recreating the Athenian forum here in King’s Landing? One man one vote? Who’s we?
“If you look outside the walls of your city, you will see thousands of Northmen who…um, couldn’t stop you from killing us. Fuck.” Says Sansa.
“And I can show you thousands of Unsullied whom your people spit on when we came to save you, so eat a giant dick.” Grey Worm says.
“Hey, hi. Hi! Grey Worm. It’s me, Sam. We met at Winterfell?”
“Yes.” Nods Grey Worm.
“Hi, I just wanted you to know that your pajamas look great. All quilted and that. Real sharp like.” Sam gives Grey Worm a thumbs up and means it.
“The Ironborn are not quick to forgive,” Says Yara Greyjoy. “Queen D and I were vibing pretty hard and not just on one occasion. Like several times. And I sailed around the world to win the Iron Islands back in her name.”
“And she was very grateful.” Tyrion says.
YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP Grey Worm says and kicks Tyrion in the stomach. He falls over coughing. Rando Calrissian laughs his head off.
“I’m just saying that it’s a hell of a gesture to conquer a whole archi- arpa?”
“Archipelago.” Tyrion gasps. “Read a book.”
Grey Worm kicks him again. Rando claps.
“Thank you. Archipelago for someone.” Yara continues. “How many of you can say that? Who has gifted you an island chain and two of the most pants shittingly frightening rope bridges in the known world? Right!”
“So I kind of expected to sail back here and y’know…tell the queen what I did in person. Maybe a couple of glasses of Carménère, kick back on my tufted flannel duvet cover, throw on a little When Doves Cry and see what the fuck is what, you know?”
“Oh my god! So you’re mad you didn’t get laid?” Sansa coughs
“I just wanted to know, y’know…if she was the Mother of Dragons…everywhere.” Yara shrugs.
“I’m quite certain there’s some Breaker of Chains sexual innuendo ripe for the picking here but I’ll be damned if I can find it!” Sam says.
“I’m quite certain the Queen’s loins were well tended by my brother.” Sansa says.
“He could never tend loins the way I can tend loins.” Yara hisses.
“Say another word about my brother’s loin tending and I’ll cut your fucking throat.” Arya says.
Now Yara begins to rise, because she’s a badass.
Urine beat her in like 8 seconds. Arya would likely make a Frey Pie out of her. But still…CONFLICT! Oui! You want to torment a smart audience? Pit two good characters against each other. Forget good versus bad. That’s tired as shit. Pit stained good vs stained good. Who are you gonna root for in an Arya vs Yara deathmatch? Can you imagine how you might have felt if Arya made a point by killing Yara in the tribunal and everyone just watched it happen? Or vice versa, I suppose? (After all, they could just cast FUCKIT and make Yara an amazing fighter.) What if Arya actually used the Faceless Man vanishing trick or use face swapping for once and killed Grey Worm? How come we saw her train for like eleven years just to face swap one time and do the dagger drop one time and run away scared from both the dead and the firebombing of Dresden?
Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Because before the show can escalate to interesting, The World’s Uncle is on his feet, settling everyone down.
“Torgo Nudho, am I saying that properly?” Davos asks.
Grey Worm says nothing.
OH THANKS DUDE! OHOHOHKAY I’LL JUST FUCK UP YOUR NAME YOU HALF IDIOT THROATCUTTER.
“Torgo Nudho, The Unsullied are awesome, have surprisingly good teeth, and we as a country owe you. There is land in the Reach. Start your own house. I have inquired with the maesters of the cit-“
“We do not want payment!” Yells Torgo Nudho, who used to be cool. “WE WANT JUSTICE.”
“Sooooo, you want Jon Snow dead. But you also want our agreement on that instead of just killing him yourself?” Sam asks.
“I cannot kill him myself.” Grey Worm admits. “The men Davos Seaworth has guarding him are too strong. Too scary. My men refuse to fight them.”
Thank fooking god. Davos thinks.
“It’s not for you to decide.” Says Tyrion to Grey Worm.
“YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Grey Worm yells.
“Kick him again!” Yells Rando, getting excited.
“YOU’RE NOT HERE TO SPEAK!” Grey Worm barks at The Imp. “Everyone has heard enough words from you.”
“Yes, they have.” Tyrion winks at the camera.
“AND THEY’RE SICK OF SEEING YOU ON SCREEN. DUMB FUCK THAT YOU ARE.” Grey Worm yells.
“Once again, you’re correct.” Tyrion winks at camera again.
“Here’s the thing, Tordo Nuvo…am I saying that right? It doesn’t matter. Can I get a seltzer over here? Seltzer? So here’s the deal, this is my show. Always has been, always will be. Remember all those GIFs of me dancing at my trial? Oh man. Good times. So I’m not gonna give a Ted Talk here or anything but we need a King to decide on Jon’s fate. Not some halfwit ding dong in PJ’s from across the FAHKIN RIVAH as they say in Boston. Listen, people, you’re the most powerful people in Westeros, though it pains me to say it because I know what a bunch of colossal clods all of you are. Look around you and pick a fucking King.”
Now the noble lords and ladies look around. Who will be king?
Edmure Tully gives it a whirl but is dismissed with scorn by his niece. It’s a crime Lady C can scarcely endure, to see the great Tobias Menzies reduced to a punchline. He takes his seat.
Samwell Tarly suggests democracy and is mocked and derided by everyone. Who leads the opposition to the party of the people? You guessed it! Yohn fucking Royce, followed by the Lord of Shits himself. Edmure Tully is just thrilled that his idea wasn’t the dumbest one of the day. Yara laughs. Prince Sleepytits beams with humor at the jest. Robin Arryn lifts his hand to say WHAT THE FUCK? Bag of bones that isn’t Howland Reed laughs.
“Maybe we should give the dogs a vote as well.” Edmure says.
“I’LL ASK MY HORSE!” Jibes Yohn Royce.
Only Davos does not laugh. That should make him the king automatically. And to her credit, neither does Brienne, though she gives some looks that don’t give a position either way. Brahn is not a human so he says nothing. Sansa and Arya both laugh.
So the two decent people are Sam and Ser Davos. What a shocker.
“I suppose you want it for yourself.” Edmure says to Tyrion.
“Jesus, no.” Tyrion says. “All I’ve done is fuck up for years. Listen, I’ve been sitting in that larder, growing this fake beard for weeks, presumably to give me the affect of some form of sentient rodent. This whole thing, all the Cleganebowl shit and everything is largely fanservice and squirrels do great on Instagram, so.”
“So, you do want to be king?”
“No no. But I was thinking. What brings men together? Flags?”
“The prospect of a woman president?”
OH YAH YOU BETCHA YAH.
“No. None of those. The most powerful thing in the world is a good story. Nothing can stop it except two showrunners who just plain give up on a property. That’s the only thing.”
“But for our purposes, who has a better story than Bran the…uh…Broken?”
Qui? Everyone looks around. Never heard of him.
“I mean him. That guy. Bran. The Broken. Because he fell from a thing and went to the thing and now he can do the…y’know..whatever it is.”
Even Arya looks surprised. Because of all the people in all the world who tune in even casually to see The Game of Thrones, not a single one would choose Bran as anything but the most boring motherfucker in the world. Hell, they just met the Lord of Shits and he’s more deserving of the throne. If there was one.
“I thought you weren’t going to give a Ted Talk.” Grey Worm says.
“Neither did I but like I said, It’s my show.”
“Bran can’t be King, he has no dick.” Sansa Says.
“Yes I do.” Brahn says.
“Yes. You think your dick falls off when you fall out of a tower?”
“I mean, not right away.”
“I assure you, it does not.”
“That’s why he called you Bran the Broken. Because your dick is broken.”
“That’s not why!”
“My back is broken, not my dick.”
“Why can’t you walk then? Are your legs broken too?”
“No, just my spine.”
“And your dick.”
“But you can’t use it.”
“I mean, I use it.”
“But not to shag any ass.”
“Where is this going Sansa?”
“You can’t father children is all I’m saying. I mean, we could try to get a tart like Yara to bounce up and down on you-“
“Watch it.” Says Yara. Then she winks at Rando.
“-but I don’t think it’ll do any good.”
“Oh yes, because sons of kings have worked out famously for us. More Joffreys please! Amirite?” Says Tyrion.
The group politely laughs.
“I just don’t think he’s an ideal choice, that’s all. It should be someone, I don’t know…prettier.” Says Sansa.
“No, it must be Bran the Broken. He is our history, our memory. He is that dusty photo album that you keep thinking, ‘I should digitize this because the plastic is getting hard and yellow and all the stickum stuff has lost its grip but it’s like what I’m gonna buy a scanner and fucking sit around one by one and scan this shit? Who has time for that? I don’t even know who half the people in these pictures are!’ And so you just put the album back in that Rubbermaid blue plastic storage bin where you found it and never think about it again. THAT’S who Bran the Broken is. "
And this is when we really need to miss Sandor Clegane. The Hound.
Because you could remove all of these assclowns and just have The Hound be King and everything would work out just fine. Grey Worm would drag Tyrion up to the Dragon Pit where King The Hound was working on a bowl of chicken and he’d say.
“WHAT?” Irritated that anyone would interrupt his chicken.
“I wish to execute Jon Snow.”
“The fuck are you telling me for?” Sandor would say.
“I…uh…because there are guards that Davos-“
“Take it up with him then, I’m eating. NEXT!”
“If I may…” Tyrion would say.
“Oh for fucks sake, WHAT?”
“It’s just that we need a different King besides you…and who better than Bran the Broken?”
“Me. That’s who better. A fucking dung farmer, that’s who better. A brain damaged child with a spinny hat and a balloon, that’s who better than Bran the fucking Broken. What a stupid fucking name.”
“I swear to god if one more word comes out of your fucking mouth, I’m gonna kill every dwarf in the room.”
Tyrion looks around. Swallows.
“What do I do with him?” Grey Worm asks.
“Fuck if I know. What do you want to do with him?”
“Okay by me.”
Grey Worm takes out his dagger.
“NOT HERE FOR FUCKS SAKE. FUCK OFF.”
Grey Worm and Tyrion disappear. Tyrion is looking back at Sandor for help, but he’s already well into his bowl of chicken and Tyrion knows one word means one word.
Now Sam comes in. He is the royal butler.
“Uh, your grace?”
“The uh…Iron Bank is here.”
“Tell them to fuck off.”
Ahhhhh. King Sandor the Brusque. But it was not to be because they had to kill him in fire. The thing he feared most.
And so we have Bran the Broken as the option on the table. Bran. The Broken. Oh Broken you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind. Hey Broken! Hey Broken!
“Seriously, though, all bullshit aside: If we elect you chief operating officer of Westeros Industries, will you kick ass for us in sickness and in health til death do us part?”
“Why the fuck do you think I wheeled my ass 1500 miles?” Brahn says.
“For real?” Sansa asks.
“You want to be king?”
“But you came for it.”
“I’m the Three Eyed Raven. I see shit.”
“So you could have been Lord of Winterfell-“
“Winterfell, bitch pleez.”
“It’s not good enough for you?”
“I never said that.”
“You just said bitch please.” Sansa says.
“It’s a turn of phrase. I’m here. I don’t want it, but I’m here and it’s on the table, okay?”
“So you came for it, even though you don’t want it.”
“I am here, and we are here, at this moment, for something.”
“Stop talking in nonsense. Speak plainly.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Oh my god Sansa just be quiet.”
“Who are you, really? I mean really?”
“I’m Brandon of House Stark.”
“Wait, you told me you weren’t Brandon of House Stark.” Sam says.
“That was then.”
“And now?” Sansa asks.
“Now I am.”
“That’s awfully convenient.” Sansa says.
“Maybe you just wanted me to have to break the news to Jon.” Sam says.
“What news?” Yara asks.
“That Jon was a Targaryen.”
“Wait Jon is a Targaryen? I pledged myself to the Targaryens!” Yara says. “Nobody lay a finger on Jon Targaryen!”
“So hold up, Jon and Daenerys were family?” Grey Worm asks.
“I thought you knew.” Tyrion says.
“No I didn’t know!” Grey Worm says, “that’s fucked up!”
“They were so devastated when they found out, Torgo Nudho, that she asked Jon to kill her.” Davos says, lying.
“Well, I don’t like it, but now I’m not as mad at Jon Snow.” Grey Worm says, a look of ickiness on his face. “Damn.”
“So Bran the Broken is the reason Jon and Daenerys broke up?” Brienne asks.
“Not directly, no.” Tyrion says.
“I wasn’t even going to tell Jon and Bran told me to. I don’t know how much less directly that could be.” Sam says. “But I’m sure he had his reasons.”
“I mean, Sansa always disapproved of the pairing.” Tyrion says.
“Because she would kill him.”
“But he killed her instead, is that better?” Rando asks.
“Better for him, I reckon.” The Lord of Shits muses.
“Still because of Bran.” Brienne points out. “Who I’m not sure is Bran at all.”
“Oh I’m Bran.” Says Corialinus. “Just look at me. I’m Bran alright.”
Arya studies him. She knows a thing or two about faces.
“That is his face…” She admits.
“See?” Not Bran says
“Then I for one am satisfied!” Tyrion says. “And for Brandon of House Stark to be king, I say AYE!”
“What is happen here?” Grey Worm asks, looking around.
“Shhhh.” Tyrion urges. “Just shhh.”
Now Ramin Djawadi’s music kicks in and everyone knows this shit is on. They all sit up a little straighter.
“Aye!” Sam says. Sweet, sweet summer child. He’s just happy to hang with the cool kids.
“Aye.” Nods Tobias Menzies, who could take every actor on that stage, act circles around them, pull out Hamlet’s Yorick skull, dunk on all of them and sit without breaking a sweat. But he gets one word in a fools mouth.
“AYE!” Grunts the bag of bones between he and Sam.
Bingo! someone yells as the lefternmost row all cast their votes in the affirmative.
Now it’s the Lord of Shits turn. Aye! He says off camera and when we pivot to him he’s smiling broadly at Tyrion, like they’re the best of pals. WHAT. A. KNUCKLEHEAD. That was one of the least convincing speeches I’ve ever heard and I have children who lie on the reg. Bran the Broken? You serious fool? Take yo two floppy doubledecker dicks and get the fuck outta here.
“Aye” says Yohn Royce. He’s white and a man. Sold.
Yohn Royce looks at the fop idiot who is Lord of the Eyrie. The fop idiot says Aye.
“I wanna sit on Nevilles face!” tweet like thirty million people who seriously need to get a good book and stop noodlin’ their bean at the sight of every fresh weirdo.
“Aye” Yawns Sleepytits off screen. He just wants to get this scratchy ‘clothes’ off.
“Aye” says Yara Greyjoy, presumably with Corialinus warging into her mind.
“Aye” off screen says Jimmy “The Egret” Phipps.
“Aye” whispers Rando, exuding sex appeal. He is the living manifestation of Drakkar Noir and no one is tweeting about him. They all want Michael Cera in Little Lord Fauntleroy knickers.
“Aye!” Nods Gendry, looking positively lordish.
“I’m not sure I get a vote, but aye.” Davos says.
MARRY ME. SERIOUSLY DAVOS. YOU ARE THE GREATEST AND YOU SHOULD BE KING A MILLION TIMES OVER. I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE GETTING ROBBED LIKE THIS. I HATE EVERYTHING.
“Aye.” Says Brienne in her capacity as TALLEST WOMANNNN IN THE LANNNNND!
Now we come to Sansa. She pauses. Whooooole lotta AYES leading up to her.
She turns to Bran.
“I’ll always love you little brother, broken dick or no.”
“It’s not broken.”
“Or whatever. Dick that fell off.”
“The point is you’ll be a good king. But the only way for me to be a queen, which everyone here knows I deserve, is to make sure the North is its own separate thing. So the North will remain independent like it was for thousands of years before the last like 800 years, but back then it was, just not for the last twenty generations or so.”
And as his first official act before he’s even sworn in as king of the seven kingdoms, Bran the Broken gives his sister half the land on the continent.
Everyone nods in agreement. Good. They didn’t need those financial ramifications, security infrastructure or natural resources anyway. Nice.
Tyrion can’t believe his good fortune. He pulled it off. Corialinus was right! Jesus he was right again!
“All Hail Bran the Broken! King of the Six Kingdoms!”
“Bran the Broken!” Everyone yells, standing.
“Oh rub it in why don’t you!” Bran says. “The very first order of business is handicapped ramps on every building-“
“I’m not sure that’s in the budget, your grace.” Says Yohn Royce.
In Florida, millions of Olds nod in approval. If they didn’t want to be handicapped they shouldn’t have been handicapped!
Tyrion bows. Holy shit, he thinks, I’m going to be Hand of the King!
“Lord Tyrion” Bran the Broken says “You will be Hand.”
“Nooooo!” Tyrion sings, as if talking to a baby or a rabbit. “I don’t want it. Honest! I prefer these manacles that are literally cutting into my wrists. Don’t give me access to wine again!”
“You are Hand. Deal with it.”
“He can’t be!” Says Grey Worm. “He’s a traitor.”
“Not to me.”
“He deserves justice!”
“He just got it. I told him how to fool a stupid ogre with a dagger and he did it. Bravo. Now he gets to run the world while I warg elsewhere.”
“I am a very weak man.” Grey Worm says. “The worst kind of Plot Robot.”
“Yes, I know.” King Broken says.
“You must also kill Jon Snow.” Grey Worm says.”Sorry, if I don’t pretend to care about it, none of this makes any sense.”
“None of it does anyway, friend.” Says Davos.
“So you’ll kill him, yes?” Grey Worm asks.
“Yeah I’m his brother and pretty much everyone here is his best friend, so.”
“Then just whip him to death!”
“He must be punished!”
“I’ll send him to the Wall.” King Broken says. “He can’t get into any trouble up there.” Bran winks at Tyrion.
“Why did you just wink?” Grey Worm asks.
“I had something in my eye.”
“Aye!” Sleepytits says, waking up from a quick nap.
“No we already voted.” Yara says.
“You watch Riverdale?” Sleepytits asks.
“I wish I was better at this.” Grey Worm says. “Should I have just killed you all? You guys can tell me now, it’s too late. Should I have?”
“Take your men and sail back to wherever the hell you came from,” King Broken says “with our thanks and our compliments.”
Now we cut to Davos as he shows up outside Jon’s cell where the ten killers are sitting at a couple of tables, contentedly listening to Paisley play his harmonica. He finishes his song as Davos walks up with a wineskin in his hand. Every one of them looks like they gained ten pounds.
“Gents, I have one last bag of ale for you.” Davos says.
“That’s it then?” Logen says. “All finished?”
“Damned if that wasn’t the greatest job I ever had.” Logen says. All his men, Threetrees, Tul Duru and the Dogman nod in agreement, as do the Unsullied and Kevin. Only Black Dow looks peeved.
“Never even got to kill anyone.” He complains.
“There’ll be killin’ enough to make up for it where we’re going.” Threetrees says.
The Dogman takes the ale and pours it evenly into ten cups and the men all toast and throw back the alcohol.
“I’m going to miss this.” Joaquin admits.
“Fuckin A.” Kevin agrees.
“Hell if that wasn’t fun.” Tul Duru says, offering a hand to the Unsullied named Thor. They shake and man hug. All the others follow suit, friendly hugs, shared jokes and warm claps on the back. It’s nothing short of a miracle that no murder broke out.
But Black Dow doesn’t hug anyone. He doesn’t smile or wish anyone well. He feels that he was owed a fight and if he has to manufacture one, then so be it. He’s watching Paisley and Sphincter as they pick up various pieces of discarded gear. In attesa. Figuring.
“If you’ve a mind to start trouble, understand that I told you not to.” Says a voice behind him.
Black Dow turns to find Logen Ninefingers there, watching him with a hard look.
“At this point I know your black mind before you do. To be clear, if you choose to hurt those boys, I’m gonna put it on you. And this time I’m not gonna let you walk away. This time I’ll break you piece by piece and leave you begging for death. So you do what you’re gonna do, but you won’t be able to say you didn’t understand my meaning.”
That thing is in the back of Logen’s eye, where The Bloody Nine lives. There is no man on the face of the world that Black Dow fears.
Except for The Bloody Nine.
“I’m not gonna do anything, Chief.” He says.
“Mmmm.” Logen says, working a hand on his own chin and considering. Then he turns and walks away. Black Dow breathes a sigh of relief before cursing under his breath.
“Ser Davos.” Logen says, offering his hand to the smaller man. “Thanks.”
“No, I thank you.” Ser Davos says. “You may have saved the Seven Kingdoms. Or six rather.”
“I don’t know what that is, but if eating delicious food twice a day and drinking a vat of wine saved anything it’s probably not anything they’ll sing songs about. Come, Kevin! Joaquin! We’ll walk you boys to your ship. I want to see make sure you get on your way safely.” Logen says, casting a sidelong glance at Black Dow.
Davos watches the ten killers leave the square. He breathes a deep sigh as Tyrion jogs in from the other direction with a couple of goldcloaks behind him.
“Ser Davos!” Tyrion says. “The uh-“
Tyrion bends over and huffs in deep breaths.
“My god I’m out of shape.”
“We all are.” Davos says.
“Prince Sleepytits has removed all of his vestments and is trying to offer his ‘services’ to The Lady of Winterfell. Would you kindly prevent a war between The North and Dorne please?”
“Fooken hell.” Davos frowns. “If it’s not one thing-“
“I know.” Tyrion agrees. “I know.”
“Have you?” Tyrion asks, pointing to Jon’s basement.
“Not yet.” Davos says. “I was just about to.”
“I’ll tell him.” Tyrion says.
Davos nods and hurries out of the square. Tyrion leans against the stone wall at the top of the basement stairs.
“My goodness.” He says, looking at the two goldcloaks with an embarrassed smile. “Do either of you know what a collapsed lung feels like?”
The shorter of the two Goldcloaks says nothing.
The taller one says “OI BELIEVE IT FEELS LOIK A STABBIN PAIN IN D’CHEST, MY LORD, WHICH WOULD WORSEN WIF DEEP PROLONGED BREFFS.”
Tyrion smiles at him with a small nod and walks down the stairs and into the basement. The shorter goldcloack whacks the biggun with the back of his gauntlet.
“Idiot.” The goldcloak says. “That was rhetorical.”
“Oh!” The biggun says. “Oh.”
Now we cut to Jon. He also has a fake beard from his long incarceration.
Tyrion stands near him, in his own fake beard. It’s a fake beard-off!
Jon is slowly donning his Night’s Watch garb, tying laces, threading eyelets, pulling buckles tight as Tyrion chronicles the plan.
“The ruse will be the Night’s Watch. It basically doesn’t exist. But we have two acolytes in Nights Watch gear who should be waiting outside. They will escort you North and explain your mission. Pass through the Wall at Castle Black and head due North until you see the Teeth of the Gods. There you will face the first unbreakable boundary.
WHA ES ET?
“We’re not completely sure, but the first part is an invisible barrier that requires a human sacrifice. We’re sending Yohn Royce with you.”
HE’S THE MAHN I’M TO KELL?
WHY WOOD HE AGREE TO THES?
“We told him there was oil up there.”
“Arya will be heading to the Tree of Death in Asshai. She has been fully briefed and is ready to go.”
AH WESH SHE DEDN’T HAVE TO.
“Only the Paladin Elect can fulfill the prophecy.”
THIS SHOW ESN’T EXACTLY GREAT AT DELIVERING ON PROPHECY.
“The next one will.”
“Sansa doesn’t know yet…about Corialinus.”
PROBABLY FOR THE BEST RIGHT NOW.
“And there’s reason to believe, from small glimpses, snippets if you will, that the third Paladin Elect will not actually be Sansa.”
HOW ES THA POSSIBLE? ARE THERE ANY OTHER STARKS OOT THERE?
“Not right now, no.”
BUH THERE WELL BEH?
“It appears there might be. Glimpses…of course. Just fleeting glimpses of two children. A boy and a girl. Twins. With red hair.”
Jon thinks for a minute.
TWENS WITH RED HAIR? SUNSA’S CHELDREN?
Tyrion shrugs. But…yeah…probably.
THA WOULD BE YEARS FROM NOW.
“Sorry to say, the road ahead will be fraught with dangers that will not be overcome in weeks.” Tyrion says.
Jon puts his head back and laughs. OF COORSE NOT. THAT’S MA LUCK INNIT.
“There is reason to believe that, at some point, you must go south to go north. Though I can’t say why or when.”
RIGHT. Jon nods, strapping Longclaw around his waist. THA SOONDS ABOOT FOOKIN RAGHT.
“Your sisters will be waiting for you at the pier. And Corialinus too, to keep up appearances. Just be careful not to say anything in front of Sansa. She’s…complicated.”
SOS YER DAHRK WEZZARD. HE’S LOOKEY AH DOONT STICK A KNIFE EN HES FOOKIN EYE.
HE’S A COCKSUCKER. MAHRK MAH WORDS: SOMEDEH I’LL MAKE HEM PAY FOR WHAT HEH TOOK FROM MEH.
“And I’ll be there with you when that day comes. So much of my time is spent reviling him, but until we know more, we’re lucky to have him on our side.”
THERE IS NO OUR SIDE. EVERYTHENG IS JOOST SHADES OF HES SIDE. Jon points out, throwing his fur-mantled cloak over his shoulders.
“Right. True. Of course. I won’t forget it.”
THIS ES IT THEN, AH EXPECT.
LIFE ES FOONY.
“It is that.”
They hug. Tyrion pats him on the back as Jon walks to the door. Before Jon opens it, he turns back to his uncle.
AH CAN TROOST YOU, RIGHT?
“Always.” Tyrion nods. “Til my dying day. You’re the only family I have.”
NOH THE ONLEH.
“You know what I mean. Not ancient relics. My real family. Real blood. We’ve been friends a long time before we even knew we were family. And we’ll take down this monster together. You have my word. Good luck, Jon Snow. The world is counting on you, once again. Be careful out there.”
SOOMETHIN TELLS MEH YOOR JOB HERE WILL BE EVERY BET AS PRECARIOUS AS MINE.
“Perhaps.” Tyrion admits. “But at least we’ll be doing what we were meant to do.”
Jon nods and leaves
We cut to Jon walking out to the port in his Night’s Watch mantle. Two Three Eyed Raven Acolytes in Night’s Watch Gear flank Jon. Grey Worm waits to see Jon Snow boarding the boat to his exile.
Jon looks up and sees Grey Worm clocking him. Grey Worm tenses his mandible, but says nothing.
WHY DOONT YOU TAHKE A FOOKIN PECTURE? YOU STANDIN THERE ALL AFTERNOON WAITIN FOHR MEH TO COME BY? DED YOU RUN OUT OF ENNOCENT PEOPLE TO KELL?
“Fuck you, Jon Snow!” Grey Worm yells. “Fuck you!”
NOH FOOK YOU, YUH MURDERIN PIECE OF SHIT.
“Murder? Me?? You kill the Queen! You the murder!”
ONLEH BECAUSE YOU WERE TOO BLIND TEH SEE ET. PEOPLE LIKE YOU KELLED HER LONG BEFORE I EVER DED. FOLLOWIN HER EVERY WESH. KELLIN FOR NO REASON. PEOPLE LIKE YOU TWISTED HER MIND.
“I follow my queens every word! I not apologize for that!”
YAH YOU WERE A GOOD SLAVE.
“Fuck you Jon Snow! I’m a free man! You’re lucky I don’t come down there right now and kill YOU.”
COME ON DOWN! I’M IN NO RUSH. HOP OFF YER LETTLE POOPDECK THERE AND LETS HAVE SOME FOOKIN PAJAMA TIME! I GOT MEH A CRYSTAL BALL SAYS I’M COOMIN OUTTA THIS ONE OKAY.
“You’re not worth it. I’m a free man. I choose to take my people away from this pisshole.”
GOOD. BON VOYAGE, YEH PIECE OF FELTH. WHEREVER YAH GO. WHEREVER YEH ARE, YOU’LL ALWAYS BE A MURDERIN SHIT WHO CUT MEN’S THROATS IN THE TOWN SQUARE AFTER THEY SURRENDERED. YEH CAN’T WASH THAT OFF. AND THAT’S JUST WHET I SAW YEH DO. I CAN ONLY IMAGINE WHAT A REAL PIECE OF SHET YEH ACTUALLY ARE.
“At least I no fuck my aunt and kill her.”
FUCK OFF AND DIE.
“No you fuck off! You fuck off forever! You kill your own family! All hope in the world die because of you! All hope in the whole world because you fuck your family and kill your family! You are a murderer! You are a murderer Jon Snow!”
Jon walks away from him. On the boat, Grey Worm is fuming. He looks at Jon Snow’s back to him as he walks away and then at his spear leaning on the side of the gunwale. He reaches for the spear.
Before he can get it, a hand stops him. Grey Worm spins, furious.
Joaquin stands there.
“Torgo, man. It is so not worth it. Let’s get going. Let’s start the next thing. Enough of this. I love Myhsa too, but we’ve fought her battles long enough.”
Grey Worm softens.
“You are right. Thanks, Joaquin. Set sail for the isle of Naath!”
“Naath?” Asks the Dothraki Kevin. “Isn’t that the place where everyone who isn’t from Naath dies of Butterfly Flu or some shit?”
Grey Worm stares at Kevin coldly.
“I mean, Naath! Cool!” Says Kevin as Joaquin steers him away. “Naath it is!”
Once they’re out of view of Grey Worm they both laugh.
“I don’t want to die of fuckin’ Butterflies man!” Kevin says. “Can you imagine? After all the shit we been through?”
“Don’t worry, we’ll drop them off and go somewhere else.”
“Where we gonna go? I told my mom I was coming home.” Kevin says.
“Well, let’s go see your mom first and then we’ll do my thing.”
“Oh man, you’re gonna love her. She’s a great cook and she has this little Welsh Corgi. He’s the coolest dog ever.”
“Wait, your mom has a Welsh Corgi?” Joaquin asks.
“Yeah! Giuseppe! He’s awesome! What’s your thing again?”
Joaquin can barely control his excitement. He sort of recites the mission from rote, but all he can think of is Giuseppe. “Um…On the slope where the Bone Mountains meet the Poison Sea, is said to grow a flower that when turned to perfume, can give the wearer the ability to turn invisible.”
“It’s a dangerous place.” Joaquin says, recovering from his excitement a little. “It’d be nice to have a big, stupid horsefucking idiot with a hand sickle to help me get there.”
“I’m down.” Says Kevin. “I got nothin’ to do and all the time in the world to do it.”
They bump fists.
“You and me both, brother. You and me both.”
The ship begins to move away from the pier. Further down and away, on another pier, Jon rounds a corner to see the living members of House Stark waiting for him.
Not a single solitary guard anywhere to be seen. Total Guard Down mode. Just naked to the world and any Mos Eisley Spice Fiend or Bioshock Plasmid Splicer who deigns to happen by with a steak knife. I’ll never understand it. A dude with a decent bow eye could end House Stark from up on the hill above. Nuts.
But House Stark. House Stark now.
Ned would never have believed, when he dropped his head onto the chopping block, that in less than a decade House Stark would take over the whole world. Westeros, split in two, with a Stark on the throne of both. A third Stark taking Mance Rayder’s job as King Beyond the Wall, and a fourth Stark setting sail to conquer parts unknown.
Even if that were all it was, it would be a hell of a story.
And now Jon approaches Sansa, who really thinks that’s all it is. Sansa, who betrayed him at least twice, perhaps for his own safety or possibly for her own ambition. Which side you tend to believe will fall across various party lines.
It’s the first time she’s seen him since the betrayal.
Ned carried the secret for more than 18 years. Sansa didn’t carry it 18 hours.
But she had her reasons. A potato alone in the world is a terrible thing.
She requests immediate forgiveness, but Jon hugs her instead. Not just yet. Not just yet.
Now Arya springs it on Sansa that she, too, is not coming home. Instead she will just sail away. We know, thankfully, that she has a mission and a destination in mind that isn’t just some nebulous Lady Crane horseshit where she sails off the edge of the map, never to be heard from again.
When I first watched this scene, I was destroyed thinking of Jon’s forced exile, even though people said HE’D WANT TO GO THERE! And thinking of Arya’s self imposed exile even though people said IT’S BETTER THAN BEING A LADY OR A KILLER FOR HIRE! I hated the choice of Brahn as king before I knew he was really a six thousand year old dark wizard Lannister running for his life from a bunch of Starks representing the Law. And I hated most that we had suffered for years to get the Stark kiddos back together, only to now have them thrown asunder and shaken into the breeze and for what? To mollify a character who was never more than half a character at best?
But now we know that there’s much, much more to the story. We know that Ser Pod is knighted on a sunny day. We know that Ser Brienne is Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and that at some point in the future, the most noble person in the Seven Kingdoms will realize that she’s guarding the most evil. And for a woman who is the ultimate Oathkeeper? We wonder how that conundrum will play out.
We know that a power unlike any other is rising in the East and that Red Women are spreading across the land like a plague. We know that something stirs in the South and it isn’t just Prince Sleepytits’ dingaling on a Dornish beach.
We see Queen Sansa crowned in the North. It’s meant to be happy, but she’s alone, and it feels…somber. As a strong woman, she doesn’t need people, autres, to prop her up. She can prop herself up, thank you very much. But soon she will miss the closeness of family, and set about making her own. The pitter patter of tiny feet that will grow into Starks who will shape the world.
And yes, we see Arya headed West, but not on a flight of fancy. She is wearing a pin of House Clegane on her belt, to remember a man who was forgotten by so many. She waterdances across the deck of her ship, flawless and sharp, hearing The Hound’s mockery in her head. But drill she must, because everything to this point will have been a pillow fight compared to the nightmares that await her in the Shadowlands. She will be tested like never before, and she sets her gaze on the horizon, where her destiny awaits.
Let others rest.
She will prepare.
We are not going to see Tyrion re-arranging chairs another time. We’re not going to have a casual small council meeting that will make us feel like no wheel was broken and that the entire arc of Daenerys Stormborn was as much of a null set as the Night King.
Instead we are going to find Jon already in the North, sleeping soundly in a tent with Ghost next to him. They are both sound asleep and dreaming. Jon is getting used to the idea of being the Law. It’s why policing the crypt in Winterfell felt so right.
And now he brings an ancient law to the True North. A place as strange and lawless as any in the world. But the Law of the Paladins Elect is coming, and Jon Snoo is coming with it. Good Law. Noble Law. Potato Law.
But now we join Jon’s dream, already in progress. We are somewhere far away. It feels more real than a regular dream. More like an ethereal dream state.
We have the distinct sense that this isn’t imaginary. This is REALLY HAPPENING SOMEWHERE.
We see a body in a shroud. Blood Red on a stone altar.
Wisps of smoke flash past. Or are they dragonflies?
We push into the face of the body, where layers of red gauze are being peeled back to reveal Daenerys Stormborn. Eyes closed. At peace. Flawless and beautiful.
We hear the sound of drums.
And then the room is dark.
In the dark, a pair of FIERY EYES flash open and we hear Daenerys’ voice.
A BLAST OF FIRE FROM DROGON FILLS THE SCREEN.
Jon sits up in a hurry. Ghost is already on his feet, hackles up. Jon runs outside where the first light of dawn is cresting the mountains in the distance. In the treeline, something is stirring and kicking up the snow into patchy clouds.
Tormund rushes out of his tent. Ghost is growling at something in the distance.
“What is it?” Tormund asks.
In the distance, a huge ICE SPIDER as big as an elephant comes skittering out of the forest and at the encampment.
“ARCHERS!” Jon yells and behind him, a hundred bows are drawn.
Yohn Royce walks between them, sipping tea from an ornate delicate cup. “I say! Is that a spider? Really! If it’s not one thing it’s another, isn’t it. I remember the last time I played the Old Course at St Andrews! There was a spot of weather as it happens from time to time and one of the chaps had this spider on his bag! Well! His caddy-“
Jon and Tormund share a look.
“Lord Royce, I beg your pardon, but we should probably handle this.”
“Ah yes! Quite so! Quite so. Such an inhospitable region, this. But exclusive oil claims will make it all worth it. Sorry I can’t share them with you lads. Fossil fuels, gentlemen! Mark me!” He says, walking away and sipping his tea.
“Soon.” Tormund smiles.
Jon and Tormund turn their attention back to the spider, heading at them at a furious clip.
“God I love the North!” Tormund yells.
Jon smiles and pulls Longclaw. A frozen potato in all his starchy glory. The Mightiest warrior of House Starch.
LET’S FOOKEN DO THIS!
SMASH TO BLACK.
Roll end credits for Game of Thrones
Roll end credits for the Pajiba Game of Thrones Deep Dive Recaps
Fellow lovers of All Things Westeros,
I’ve endeavored to put a fresh face on an ending that honestly left me saddened and disappointed. A selfish undertaking, no doubt, but I didn’t want to bid my favorite show goodbye without some brightness of the future, even if it was conjured out of thin air.
Obviously, there’s no way to fill all the head-scratching gaps in a few weeks, but I hope my feeble attempts to bring meaning (or at least comedy) to many of them didn’t rub die hards the wrong way. I’m sure I have slighted canon all over the place, but as a show watcher and not a book reader, I did the best I could with the scaffolding I knew about. I love Game of Thrones so much and I’ll never quite wrap my head around the places where it seemed to go so pear shaped, so quickly.
But what a show it was. The moments it shone brightest will never be forgotten. What a stunning tour de force for all parties involved. There is true beauty in imagination, which is every bit as important as air and water.
So, it is with a heavy heart that I say goodbye to Game of Thrones, to these deep dives and to a period of our lives where fantasy reigned supreme.
I meant to leave you with the biggest fix of them all, which was to write a punchline — a real punchline — for the Honeycomb and the Jackass joke that Tyrion mentioned. But alas, some Gordian Knots are never meant to be hacked in two.
To those of you who made it through to the end, I thank you for your loyalty, your self-hatred and your kind words. I hope the reading was as much fun as the writing.
Thanks for walking this winding road with me. May it lead us all home safely.
As always, I wish you good fortune in the wars to come.
Game Of Thrones Season 8 Episode 6 Deep Dive Recap PART TWO
Image sources (in order of posting): HBO, Lord Castleton