Note: With the biggest cast in television it can be hard to keep all the names and faces straight. Thus the first mention of each character contains a link to a picture of them which will open in a new tab.

As I’ve often discussed in the past, I generally try to find unifying theme in each episode of Game of Thrones and base my blog around it.  Sometimes it’s hard, and takes a lot of pondering to find. Sometimes, as in “Dark Wings Dark Words,” there isn’t one to be found, as the episode is linked by graceful editing rather than a theme. Other times, as in “The Climb” or “Second Sons,” the writers are kind enough to put the theme right there in the title (although this week didn’t offer a Littlefinger soliloquy to put it in neon lights).

A lot of “Second Sons” is about, well, second sons. We’ve got the literal second-born male children, like Stannis and the Hound, as well as “second-class” sons like Gendry, due to being a bastard. Not to mention Tyrion, who fits into both categories. And how could we forget ol’ Samwell Tarly, a de-facto second son. Recall that Sam’s father stripped him of his birthright (in favor of his actual second son) and relegated him to the Night’s Watch despite his being the eldest.

My Sword is Yours, My Life is Yours, My Heart is Yours

Let’s start with a different, but still literal, kind of Second Sons: the band of sellswords now headed by one Daario Naharis (and thus capitalized). I say now headed because it’s in this very episode that Daario, a mere Liutenant rebelled against the captains of the Second Sons so that he could pledge his sword (and those of the Second Sons), life, and heart to Daenerys (which is especially considering they’re the exact words Jorah Mormont would have liked to have used if not for Westerosi customs and the fact that he doesn’t look quite like the dude in the picture above). Now all that stands between her and the conquest of Yunkai are those big brick walls.

Another, well I wouldn’t call it a theme, but another recurring idea in this episode was the mixture and juxtaposition of the kind, sweet, sugar, spice and everything nice moments with the brutal mean and menacing ones. I say moments here, because that’s how it played out in the majority of the episode. In Daenerys’ case however, it’s her character that’s transitioning from her acting like a “young girl unwise in the ways of war” to swiftly telling Ser Barristan to kill “that one first” (referring to the particularly rude captain of the Second Sons). In the episode, moments of sweetness and sadness are juxtaposed, but this week and in the series and general, it is Dany’s character which defines that juxtaposition. A more dangerous charmer there never was. You know, when she’s not screaming about taking back what is hers with fire and blood. She hasn’t done much of that this year, thank the seven (although in fairness the writers had to scramble about to give Daenerys a semi-interesting storyline last season, since the books don’t really offer one).

The Hound and the Wolf Girl/King’s Blood

I’m combining the highly removed storylines of Arya Stark and the Hound along with Stannis, Gendry, and Melisandre into one section because of they’re contrasting takes on the aforementioned juxtaposition of kindness and brutality. When the Hound snatched Arya up after she ran away from the Brotherhood, she (and many viewers) thought it was just about the worst thing that could have happened. I mean, he’s among the names in her “prayer,” you know, repeating all the names of the people who have wronged her and she intends to kill. No way she’ll ever get back to her family now, right? Arya even goes so far as to raise a boulder above Sandor’s head while he (ostensibly) sleeps. He’s awake though, and offers her a gamble: throw the rock and try to kill him, with the full understanding that if he does survive, he’ll catch her and break both her hands. Things are not looking good. As they ride, Sandor tries to explain that his finding her was actually good luck, as there are people far worse than him out there. She retorts that there’s no one worse than him, and he quips back that she’s never met his brother (which plays back into the second sons theme). Yep, things sure do look bad for Arya. When they reach a river, she asks if it’s the Blackwater, as she’s under the impression that he’s taking her back to King’s Landing and captivity. The Hound laughs and tells her the river is the Red Fork, and that he intends to take her to the Twins, where her brother and mother are headed, so he ransom her. In this case, a story that began menacing turns out well. There appears to be a glimmer of hope that Arya will finally get back to her family.

Arya’s old pal Gendry, however, finds himself on exactly the opposite side of the sweet and sour juxtaposition. Thing’s are looking good, a bastard boy been’s brought to the castle of his wealthy and powerful uncle, placed in a chamber containing more wealth than he’s ever seen, and better food and wine than he could even imagine. He doesn’t know what the plan is, but he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. The uncles of bastard boys don’t send their red priestesses into the middle of nowhere to find them so they can be pampered and given all the love and affection they never got growing up. Gendry remains suspicious, and rightfully so, until Melisandre is able to get him to relax using her feminine, ahem, charm. She sticks leeches on him to draw out his blood (one of which goes on a particularly painful and entirely unnecessary male organ), king’s blood. Of course, we knew that was coming after hearing Melisandre tell Stannis that she’s “slaughtered many sheep and none of them ever saw the knife.” The reason for all this, she claims, is that the recently freed Ser Davos remains a non-believer, and requires a demonstration of both her power and that of king’s blood. So Stannis drops each of the blood-filled leeches into a pit of fire while reciting the names of the usurper kings: Robb Stark, Balon Greyjoy, and Joffrey Baratheon. 

My Small Short Lannister Wedding

Meanwhile, there’s a wedding going on in King’s Landing. It’s the special day Sansa Stark has always dreamed of, only not at all. When Tyrion first comes to greet her she actually smiles and seems quite receptive, as if she’s taken Margaery’s advice to heart. But as the day wears on her true feelings show more and more. Things are just as rough for our favorite second son, Tyrion, who’s uncomfortable with the whole notion of wedding a girl who hates him, a girl who’s far too young for him, and the girl for whom the woman he’s truly in love with serves as a chambermaid.

Yes indeed, there are no shortage of awkward moments in King’s Landing this week. Whether it’s Tyrion’s interactions with his wife and lover, Joffrey telling Sansa he’s going to sneak into her bedchambers and rape her that evening, oh, and let’s not forget this classic line from the Cersei Lannister school of charm: “No one cares what your father once told you.” She says that to her own future husband, Ser Loras. But the night’s most entertaining interactions come from the awkward exchanges between the groom and his “proud father,” Tywin. Peter Dinklage plays one hell of a drunk. But still, the award for the best, and tensest moment of the episode goes to Tyrion after Joffrey tries to initiate the traditional bedding ceremony, in which the men in attendance strip the clothes off the bride and the women do the same to the groom. Tyrion has endured enough humiliation for one day, and declares that there will be no bedding, despite Joffrey’s angrily huffing that there will be if he commands it because he is the king, yadda yadda yadda. That’s when Tyrion pulls out a dagger and sticks it into the wooden table point first, telling Joffrey that if he continues he’ll be bedding his own wife with a “wooden cock” when his own day of matrimony arrives. Tywin is able to diffuse the situation by pointing out how drunk his son is, and Tyrion, quickly realizing his mistake (if not feeling guilty for it) attempts to play it off as a joke. Intra-Lannister relations in King’s Landing are already quite malicious, and it’s not as if Tyrion and Joffrey were pals prior to the wedding. We’ll have to wait and see if Tyrion’s threat comes back to haunt him.

A Few More Things:

-I didn’t get a chance to talk about Sam’s story in any depth. The long and short of it is that he finally discovers why some unknown man of the Night’s Watch left a cache of obsidian (or dragon glass) weapons at the Fist of the First Men: It’s the White Walker’s Kryptonite. It takes a trial by fire (or rather, ice) to figure that one out, Sam stabs the Other because it’s the only move he’s got. Lucky for him it paid off. Now we’ll just have to see if the rest of the Crows believe him, and what they have to say about the woman he’s got in tow.

-All you non-readers might be interested to know that in the books, Daario dyes both his hair and three-pronged beard blue. You can see why that wouldn’t work onscreen.

-That’s all for episode eight, so hold onto your hats, boys and girls. If you’ve been paying attention to the last two seasons, you know episode nine is when Shit. Goes. Down.

Check out the preview for next week’s episode below and follow the writer on Twitter @NateKreichman.

Note: With the biggest cast in television it can be hard to keep all the names and faces straight. Thus the first mention of each character contains a link to a picture of them which will open in a new tab.

I just want to note that George R.R. Martin, author of the books that make up Game of Thrones’ source material, also wrote this week’s episode. Not much to say beyond that, but it’s always worth pointing out that the man most familiar with the characters writes the episode.

But First We’ll Live

Perhaps the most straightforward theme in this week’s episode was that of love, the way it comes about and the way it ends, loves meant to be and those between the star-crossed. It remains to be seen which of those categories Jon and Ygritte fall into, and “The Bear and the Maiden Fair” spent a good amount of time essentially wondering the question aloud.

The episode opens with Jon and the Wildlings marching towards Castle Black. Ygritte takes pleasure in mocking the customs of Westerosi warfare: marching down roads while holding banners and banging drums to let the enemy know you’re coming. When she sarcastically asserts they won’t be banging any drums when they attack Castle Black, Jon retorts that instead, Mance will “light the biggest fire the North’s ever seen.” Ygritte counters in the same way she always does: “You know nothing, Jon Snow.” That’s when Orell wanders over to put some real bite behind her words. Giving Jon some sage romantic advice while spelling out the episode’s theme: “People work together when it suits them, they’re loyal when it suits them, they love each other when it suits them, and they kill each other when it suits them. She knows it, you don’t, which is why you’ll never hold onto her.”

Of course, later on we discover that Orell may not be as wise as his words indicated, he simply wants in Ygritte’s pants too. Orell steps up to tell her as much, and to warn her that Jon isn’t as loyal to their cause as he appears. But in doing so, he proves to be affording Ygritte way less credit than she deserves. As we learned last week, she’s more in touch with their position than anyone: She knows Jon is still loyal to the Night’s Watch, and it doesn’t factor into her decision to be with him because she’s realistic about the odds of their survival.

The tables of mockery are turned when they come upon a windmill and Ygritte asks Jon if it’s a palace. But as was the case in their earlier discussion of drums and marching, the talk turns serious. Jon mentions that he’d like to take Ygritte to see Winterfell, and she responds that maybe she’ll take him, once they’ve “taken their land back.” The conversation brings to the forefront a fact they’ve both been trying to forget, that they’re on different sides of the war, and their visions of what life will be like afterwards are highly disparate. That’s when Jon tells her that Kings beyond the Wall have tried to reclaim the North six times in the past thousand years, and six times they’ve been turned away. He insists that the seventh will be the same, pushing the point even after Ygritte claims that Mance is different than those that came before him, saying that “all of you will die.” Ygritte reminds him that it’s “all of us,” but like her talk of Mance she’s simply posturing. That’s when she lets us in on her true vision of the future: “You’re mine, and I’m yours. And if we die, we die. But first we’ll live.” Jon agrees.

Love is the Death of Duty

In the first season, Maester Aemon told Jon that “love is the death of duty,” and while the idea is clearly written all over Jon’s storyline, his brother Robb’s may be an even better example. Love is the cause of all the King in the North’s problems, and the reason he’s losing the war despite having won every battle.

It’s not only Robb’s love that’s hurting the war effort. Catelyn’s love of her daughters led her to free Jaime Lannister, which in turn led to Lord Karstark’s betrayal and subsequent beheading. That’s why Robb and his army are on their way to the Twins to attend the marriage between his uncle, Edmure Tully, and one of Lord Walder Frey’s daughers. The match was necessitated, of course, by Robb’s double-crossing his own marriage pact with Lord Walder, but also by the fact that he needs the Frey armies more than ever with the Karstark’s gone.

Like most of the episode, Robb’s story wasn’t big on plot advancement. Much like Jon and Ygritte, it served to underline both the true love between the King and Queen in the North and the black cloud hanging over it as a result of the war effort, of duty. As such, the revelation of Talisa’s pregnancy seems a dire symbol. When has any good deed (or good news) gone unpunished in Game of Thrones?

The Impchelor 

In our first glimpse into King’s Landing this week, we see Sansa talking to Margaery Tyrell of the woe that is her impending marriage to Tyrion. He’s a Lannister, she complains, and as if that wasn’t enough he’s the scarred, dwarf Lannister. Margaery attempts to cheer her up, pointing out that he’s been kind to her, the scar makes him more attractive, and that he’s experienced in the bedroom, which is a good thing because women are hard to please (her mother told her so). What’s unfortunate is that although Sansa explicitly bemoans the ignorance that led her to dram of the capital and her southern Prince Charming, she’s still not entirely able to recognize that she’s still being ignorant. Tyrion isn’t Loras, that’s for sure, but as Margaery points out he is good looking and he’s been more kind to her than anyone in King’s Landing. What’s more, she complains about all this to the woman betrothed to Joffrey. Come on, Sansa, get your head in the game.

But we know Sansa’s unhappy, nothing’s changed there. What’s more interesting is that Tyrion is just as miserable as she is. He’s had this marriage thrust upon him too, and he’s kind of already in love with Shae. As Margaery does for Sansa, Bronn points out how silly it is for him to be complaining: He’s a lord and she’s a lady, it’s what they’re supposed to do, and it’s not like he has no sexual attraction to Sansa, young as she may be. What’s more, he’s a man, as long as he does his duty in wedding Sansa and getting her pregnant, he can bed Shae on the side for as long as he cares to. Of course, that idea doesn’t go over too well with Shae, who asks him what it will be like. Tyrion responds that he’ll buy her a good home, with guards and clothes and servants, and that any hypothetical children will be well provided for. Shae rightfully snaps back that she has no interest in having children who will never see their father and would likely be killed if their grandfather found out about them. Like so many characters, love is getting in the way of Tyrion doing his duty, and as always, “it will all turn out alright” is never a good bet on this show.

The Bear and the Maiden Fair

Then there’s Jaime and Brienne, a match no one and everyone saw coming. It’s hard to say whether their feelings for one another go beyond the platonic, but they certainly care deeply for, and perhaps even love each other, in their own way. Losing a hand has changed Jaime, sure, but no more than Brienne has. Would pre-Brienne Jaime have even bothered to go to her chambers and insist that even though there is nothing commanding him to return the Stark girls to their mother, save honor, he will. Brienne has reminded him that honor is enough, and Jaime’s travels with her have revealed to us that despite all he’s done and the opinion we may have held of him before, that’s something he knew well enough at one point. In his talk with Qyburn, Jaime condemns the immorality of killing people for research. But when Qyburn snaps back by asking how many lives Jaime has taken (“countless”) and how many he’s saved, he gets an unexpected answer: half a million, the population of King’s Landing. In much the way some people rediscover religion, Jaime is a reborn honorable man, and that’s what leads him to command that he and the part of Bolton men return to Harrenhal, where he leaps into a bear pit to save his maiden fair.

Check out the preview for next week’s episode below and follow the writer on Twitter @NateKreichman.

Note: With the biggest cast in television it can be hard to keep all the names and faces straight. Thus the first mention of each character contains a link to a picture of them which will open in a new tab.

Sometimes, I have to work really hard to find a theme that unifies all (or most, or even just a couple) of the storylines in a given episode of Game of Thrones. Sometimes, I don’t bother, because the writers and directors  make it clear that a particular episodes various plots have no cohesive theme, and are instead linked by, say, graceful editing. That was the case in the second episode of this season, “Dark Wings, Dark Words,” an onscreen character would bring up another, and we’d be whisked off to the named character’s far-away land and disparate plotline. But every once in a while there comes an episode which makes its theme quite explicit, and no hard work is required. “The Climb” is one of those episodes, as we got the title, a literal climb, and even a monologue from Littlefinger to fully explain the subtext for those that still hadn’t caught on.

Chaos isn’t a pit. Chaos is a ladder. Many who try to climb it fail, and never get to try again. The fall breaks them. And some are given a chance to climb, but they refuse. They cling to the realm, or the gods, or love. Illusions. Only the ladder is real. The climb is all there is.

In Game of Thrones, whether literally or figuratively, characters climb and fall, and if they survive, they get right back up and keep on climbing. Alternatively, they climb and reach the top, only to realize there’s still plenty of climbing to be done. As Lord Baelish so eloquently put it, “The climb is all there is.”

The Literal Climb

Why start anywhere but with the episode’s one literal climb? Jon, Ygritte, and company are climbing the wall on Mance Rayder’s orders. For those that don’t recall, the idea is that when they get to the otherside, Orell will warg into his eagle each night to watch for Mance’s signal. When they get it, they’ll attack Castle Black with the aim of getting the gates open so Mance can lead his army through the other side.

There’s not much going on plotwise, here. Some drama is injected when Jon and Ygritte come close to falling to their deaths after Orell cuts the rope holding them together to ensure his own safety. It was a necessity for the plot, but it also further develops Jon and Ygritte’s relationship. More importantly (only because Jon and Ygritte are already plenty close, and had a great bit of dialogue even before they climbed the wall), Orell has been set up as something of an enemy within the ranks after he goes against Tormund’s orders and attempts to sacrifice Jon and Ygritte save himself. Everyone’s too exhausted (not to mention happy they survived) to mention it by the time they get to the top of the wall, but there can be no doubt trouble is a-brewing.

But let’s talk about Jon and Ygritte. As mentioned, they had a fantastically-written conversation prior to the climb in which Ygritte tells Jon she knows he’s still loyal to the Night’s Watch, and that she even admires him for it, but that they’re together now and he’ll have to put that loyalty for her. And he’s not the only one, as Ygritte likewise puts aside her loyalty to Mance Rayder to adopt an us against the world mentality (which is part of the reason I see trouble on the horizon for Orell). The thing to note here is that Jon has now made two oaths—one to the Night’s Watch and one to Ygritte—and he’ll only be able to keep one. Jon is his father’s son, and he takes his vows seriously. But then again, if things happened the way we’ve been told they did, Eddard Stark sacrificed his honor for love once upon a time. If he hadn’t, Jon would never have been born.

You’re loyal, and you’re brave. You didn’t stop being a crow the day you walked into Mance Rayder’s tent. But I’m your woman now, Jon Snow. You’re going to be loyal to your woman. The Night’s Watch don’t care if you live or die. Mance Rayder don’t care if I live or die. We’re just soldiers in their armies and there’s plenty more to carry on if we go down. It’s you and me that matters to me and you. Don’t ever betray me.

King’s Landing: Climb City, USA Westeros

Nowhere is there more of the metaphorical climbing Littlefinger was referring to than King’s Landing. From the series’ very beginning, the city has been both the capital of the Seven Kingdoms and of politics, plotting, and intrigue. Ned Stark’s failure to play the game of thrones led to him losing his head, and here in season three things continue much the same: The players (or climbers) prosper, and the pawns weep at the sight of their boat going out to sea.

Poor Sansa, still completely oblivious. Like her father before her, she is the symbol of what happens to those who refuse to climb. Every once in a while, she gives us a glimmer of hope that she’s finally catching on to the way things work in King’s Landing. But she’s still clinging to Littlefinger’s illusions. In the first season she was the nice girl who wants to marry Prince Charming just ever so badly, and now, after all that’s happened to her, she’s, well she’s exactly the same. Even when things are going right she’s too ignorant to notice. She may be the only person in the Seven Kingdoms who doesn’t realize Ser Loras is, as his own grandmother put it, a “sword swallower.” And when Tywin and Olenna’s verbal duel results in the end of their betrothal, her Plan B is sailing out to sea thanks to Varys. Has the fall broken Sansa? Or is this the moment she finally realizes she needs to start climbing?

Now, about Tywin and Olenna, I could watch a whole episode of them duking it out. The whole conversation is a verbal climb, with each trying to cut the other’s ropes Orell-style. The Queen of Thorns shoots down Tywin’s proposal to wed Loras to Cersei, because she’s simply put “too old.” When Tywin fires back that a man of Loras’ proclivities would be lucky to marry “the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms,” Olenna responds by bringing up the equally damning and equally true rumors of the incest between Cersei and Tywin. Finally, Tywin brings out his last big gun, threatening to name Loras to the Kingsguard (and thus take an oath to never marry, allowing the claim to Highgarden to fall to Joffrey and Margaery’s hypothetical children). It’s a move Tywin is quite familiar with, given the Mad King used it against him. As he starts to draw up the order, the Queen of Thorns buckles, grabbing the quill from his fingers and snapping it in two, telling him it’s a rare thing to find a man who lives up to his reputation. We’ll just have to wait and see where things go from here.

Finally, there’s the conversation between Tyrion and Cersei. Tyrion climbed quite high last season, he was a successful (interim) Hand of the King and played a major part in the defense of the city. But he fell quite hard when Ser Mandon Moore, a member of the Kingsguard, made an attempt on his life during the Battle of the Blackwater, but not hard enough to break him. He’s rising once again, as he’s been assigned the post of Master of Coin and a marriage that will grant him the North (even if he doesn’t want it). This week, he finally brought up Ser Mandon’s attack to Cersei, noting that only she or Joffrey could have given the order. Cersei doesn’t reply, so Tyrion simply goes on to say that if it was Joffrey, he’s an idiot, because there are so many simpler ways to have him killed. The subtext  here, of course, is that if it was Cersei, she’s an idiot too. Regardless of who made the order, both Joffrey and Cersei both want him dead, but for now, they, like the realm, are united in fear of Tywin Lannister.

A Few More Things:

-Littlefinger’s talk with Ros last season about how he makes up for bad investments certainly came back to haunt her. But it proves once again that Littlefinger follows through on threats, he’s willing to do anything to keep on climbing.

-The Iron Throne is “Ugly, but it does have a certain appeal.” Or, as Varys puts it, “The Lysa Arryn of chairs.”

The list of storylines involving metaphorical climbs goes on:

-Theon’s fall—losing the “game” and begging his torturer to cut off his finger—has indubitably broken him.

-Robb’s marriage and punishment of Lord Karstark were large, if (arguably) necessary falls. He hopes to regain that ground by forging a new marriage pact with the Freys—this time for his uncle Edmure, who similarly agrees to make up for past mistakes.

-Despite the fact that he’s Robb’s bannerman, Roose continues to climb. He agrees to let Jaime return to King’s Landing, ostensibly to curry favor with Tywin and prove he had nothing to do with the loss of his hand. Yet in the same sentence he condemns both Brienne and Catelyn Stark for the same treason.

Check out the preview for next week’s episode below and follow the writer on Twitter @NateKreichman.

SPOILER WARNING: Whether you’ve read all five books or only watch the series this post is for you. I have read the books (multiple times) but I will not go beyond the scope of the TV series (save a wink or a nod every now and then that only my fellow readers will catch on to). All events that have occurred in the TV show up to and including yesterday’s episode are fair game.  You’ve been warned.

Note: With the biggest cast in television it can be hard to keep all the names and faces straight. Thus the first mention of each character contains a link to a picture of them which will open in a new tab.

Dracarys

We only saw Dany for a short time in “And Now His Watch His Ended,” but what  a time it was. She hands the slave master Kraznys the chain holding Drogon, the largest and most fearsome of her dragons. He in turn hands her the whip which symbolizes control of the thousands and thousands of Unsullied before her. Once the whip is in her hand, the Unsullied immediately follow her various simple orders: march forward, stop. Kraznys finds himself in much the opposite scenario, though he holds Drogon’s chain, he does not hold Drogon. He complains to Dany in High Valyrian, who turns to tell him “A dragon is not a slave,” revealing in one line both facets of Dany’s deception: First, she’s understood Kraznys all along. The Targaryens are of the blood of Old Valyria, and Valyrian is her mother tongue. Second, she agreed to hand Drogon over knowing full well he would never submit to another master. Unlike slaves, bond and ownership can not be transferred with a chain or whip. She then commands the Unsullied to “slay the masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who holds a whip, but harm no child. Strike the chains off every slave you see!” Finally realizing his blunder, Kraznys attempts to regain control of the Unsullied, commanding them to kill her, but they belong to Dany now. Once again, she turns to say that word of great destruction, “Dracarys.” Boom. Roasted. Thus were the slaves of Astapor freed and the city burned, with Dany losing nothing and gaining an army in the process. Perhaps she’s finally on her way to Westeros?

In the books, this was one of those moments you stood up, paced around, puffed out your chest, and pumped your fists, and it translated in the show. In the books especially, it felt like the first time Dany had done anything, let alone anything awesome, in forever. The writers did what they could to inject some life into her season two storyline, but it still often felt like a distraction, time wasted in Qarth that could’ve been spent in Westeros. So seeing Dany say dracarys and the chaos that followed had much the same effect.

Furthermore, the scene symbolized both of the episode’s major themes. The first being rising up against one’s oppressors (at times a variation of the hunter becoming the hunted), and the second being the dangers of underestimating and/or misreading people. In this case at least I don’t think either requires much explanation (which is why I chose to begin with it). In the former case, slaves kill their masters. Done. In the latter, Kraznys thought he was conman when in fact he was the victim. That’s got to, ahem, burn.

Mutiny in the Watch

The aforementioned themes of “And Now His Watch Has Ended” were prevalent in the Night’s Watch storyline as well. It begins with a funeral for a brother named Bannen (no picture as we never actually met him in the show). Remember the words of the oath of Night’s Watch, “It shall not end until my death.” Thus the eulogy for Bannen, and all brothers of the Watch, conclude with “And now his watch is ended.” At first glance, this is the source of the episode’s title, but only at first glance.

The grumbling begins during the funeral, after Grenn notes he “didn’t think a broken foot could kill a man.” Rast replies that “It wasn’t his foot that killed him. That bastard Craster starved him to death.” Later on, Craster and Mormont argue about when the men of the Watch should leave for the Wall. But things don’t get truly ugly until Rast’s words are echoed in Craster’s hearing. Mormont orders the brother who spoke them to go outside, as he is prone to do when brothers say things to provoke their host. But the man refuses, saying it’s cold out. Hell breaks loose when Rast calls Craster a stingy bastard, Craster reaches for an axe, and the man who’d ignored Mormont’s orders earlier charges  at and slays the wildling. He then grabs one of the women and holds a knife to her throat, and when Mormont tries to intervene, Rast stabs him in the back (props to Mormont for coming this close to choking him to death after sustaining that kind of wound). Sam flees the chaos, grabbing a sword and taking off for the wilderness with Gilly.

First things first, the episode’s title refers to the end of both Commander Mormont’s watch, though he will get no funeral at which men say the words, as well as the mutineers, who are on their own now—returning to Castle Black would mean certain death. As for the themes, they’re quite prevalent if not as clear cut. It would be unfair to call Mormont an oppressor, but he was the man in charge, and his downfall stemmed from inability to recognize just how deep the fractures in the Watch’s morale went. The fact that he actually had to stand up to try and force Rast out of the keep speaks volumes. At Castle Black, under normal circumstances, the word of any superior is law, and that goes double for the Lord Commander. At Castle Black, Mormont wouldn’t have needed to tell Rast to leave the room, he would merely have to glare at him. There can be no doubt Mormont was aware of the discontent among his men. There can be no doubt he himself was discontent, as exhibited by his argument with Craster. But he completely underestimated just how far that discontent would make them go, and it cost him his life.

Jaime Lannister: Hero, Savior, Sympathetic Character?  

Jaime Lannister isn’t nearly as innocent as Mormont, nor has he personally oppressed his captives. It would be more accurate to call his current predicament an example of how the mighty have fallen (and his enemies rising). But while Tywin rests at the helm of the enemy war effort, Jaime is, or rather was, its greatest symbol due to his skills as a warrior. In this regard he does work as an illustration of the hunter becoming the hunted. He’s able to swipe a sword and attempts to fight himself free, and he makes a fairly good go of it considering how outnumbered he is, that he’s out of shape due to being imprisoned for over a year, and most importantly that he’s fighting with his left hand. Locke and his band would all be crow food if Jaime still had his sword hand.

There’s the weak overcoming the mighty, and then there’s what’s happening to Jaime. It’s a line you simply don’t cross. Forcing him to wear his hand around his neck, laughing when he falls off his horse into the mud, tricking him into drinking horse piss—Locke is one cruel dude. It’s important to consider that Locke is in the service of Roose Bolton. What do we know about him? Not much, although one exchange he had with Robb last season spoke volumes about his character:

Bolton: In my family we say, “a naked man has few secrets. A flayed man none.”

Robb: My father outlawed flaying in the North.

Bolton: We’re not in the North.

Robb Stark: We’re not torturing them!

Roose Bolton: The high road’s very pretty, but you’ll have a hard time marching your army down it.

Bolton’s not exactly known for his kindness either, and Lockey see as Roosey do. But that’s not the impression we get when Jaime arrives at Harrenhal in “Kissed by Fire.” Locke throws Jaime down at his master’s feet and then kicks him into the mud. Bolton is not amused, quickly telling Locke to pick him up. He then notes that Jaime’s lost a hand, but Locke replies “No my lord, he has it here,” pointing to it hanging around his neck. Bolton swipes it off and tells Locke to take it away, the man smiles and says “We’ll send it to his father,” to which Bolton replies “You’ll hold your tongue unless you want to lose it.” Bolton then commands that Brienne be cut free. He even offers his apologies and tells her she’ll be under his protection now. None of this behavior seems to fit with what we’ve seen of Bolton or his general reputation. There are only two possible explanations here: The first is that Bolton is an an honorable man who has cultivated a reputation for cruelty to put fear into others and gain power, which, as we know is “a trick, a shadow on the wall” (although that wouldn’t explain the look of genuine surprise on Locke’s face when Bolton tells him to hold his tongue). The second is that Bolton’s reputation is well-earned, but he believes holding back is the smart move in the game of thrones. Smart money goes on the second answer, as when Jaime finally speaks up to ask for news of King’s Landing, Bolton details Stannis’s siege, ending with “And your sister… How can I put this? Your sister… is alive and well. Your father’s forces prevailed.” Even if Bolton believes he can benefit from treating Jaime with some semblance of kindness, he still can’t hold back from torturing him with those pauses in his speech, which no doubt lasted years from Jaime’s perspective.

In other news, these two episodes brought an enormous amount of character development for Jaime and Brienne. As the odds against them grow larger, they grow closer and closer. Brienne tells Jaime she knows he saved her from being raped by telling Locke she’s from Tarth, the “Sapphire Isle,” and he’ll be well rewarded if she’s returned unharmed (and “her honor remains unbesmirched”). So what, you say, he said a few words to prevent a woman  from being raped, should we give him a trophy? No, you shouldn’t, but it’s important to note that, as Brienne reveals later, Tarth earned its nickname due to the blue of its waters, not because it’s full of sapphires. Locke and his men were uninformed enough to think the former, but Jaime received a grand education due to his status. It’s not an action that deserves a trophy, but it’s also not an action season one Jaime would have even bothered with. That Jaime Lannister would literally rather save his breath than save a “wench” from being raped.

But wait, there’s more! Jaime Lannister is known as Kingslayer and oathbreaker, he’s reviled throughout the Seven Kingdoms, men with a fraction of the honor of Ned Stark looked down their noses at him. We’ve heard him attempt to justify his actions in the past with lines like, “So many vows. They make you swear and swear. Defend the King, obey the King, obey your father, protect the innocent, defend the weak. But what if your father despises the King? What if the King massacres the innocent? It’s too much. No matter what you do, you’re forsaking one vow or another.” It all seemed like posturing and rationalization, whatever helped him sleep at night. Until the illustrious bath scene, when we finally hear the truth in a truly amazing scene between Nickolaj Coster-Waldau and Gwendoline Christie. Nothing I can say will do it justice, it speaks for itself, so I transcribed it for you. They say there’s no such thing as an incorrect opinion, but if your opinion of Jaime Lannister didn’t change after this episode, well, your opinion’s wrong. Congratulations, you’re the first person in the history of the world to have an incorrect opinion. You’re like the Neil Armstrong of sucking.

J: There it is. There’s the look. I’ve seen on face after face after seventeen years. You all despise me. Kingslayer. Oathbreaker. A man without honor. You’ve heard of wildfire?

B: Of course.

J: The Mad King was obsessed with it. He loved to watch people burn, the way their skin blackened and blistered and melted off their bones. He burned lords he didn’t like. He burned Hands who disobeyed him. He burned anyone who was against him. Before long half the country was against him. Aerys saw traitors everywhere. So he had his pyromancers place caches of wildfire all over the city. Beneath the Sept of Baelor and the slums of Flea bottom. Under houses, stables, taverns. Even beneath the Red Keep itself. Finally, the day of reckoning came. Robert Baratheon marched on the capital after his victory at the Trident. But my father arrived first, with the whole Lannister army at his back, promising to defend the city against the rebels. I knew my father than that. He’s never been one to pick the losing side. I told the Mad King as much. I urged him to surrender peacefully. But the king didn’t listen to me. He didn’t listen to Varys who tried to warn him. But he did listen to Grand Maester Pycelle, that grey sunken cunt. “You can trust the Lannisters,” he said. “The Lannisters have always been true friends of the crown.” So we opened the gates and my father sacked the city. Once again, I came to the king, begging him to surrender. He told me to…bring him my father’s head. Then he…turned to his pyromancer. “Burn them all,” he said. “Burn them in their homes. Burn them in their beds. Tell me, if your precious Renly commanded you to kill your own father and stand by while thousands of men, women, and children burned alive would you have done it? Would you have kept your oath then? First, I killed the pyromancer. And then when the king turned to flee I drove my sword into his back. “Burn them all,” he kept saying. “Burn them all.” I don’t think he expected to die. He…he meant to burn with rest of us and rise again, reborn as a dragon to turn his enemies to ash. I slit his throat to make sure that didn’t happen. That’s where Ned Stark found me.

B: If this is true, why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you tell Lord Stark?

Stark? You think the honorable Ned Stark wanted to hear my side. He judged me guilty the moment he set eyes on me. By what right does the wolf judge the lion? By what right?

B: Help, help! The Kingslayer!

J: Jaime. My name is Jaime.

The Hound vs. The Lightning Lord

Now back to your regularly-scheduled discussion of themes. There’s no better example of the hunter becoming the hunted in these episodes than the Hound getting hounded for his past crimes by Beric Dondarrion and the Brotherhood without Banners. Alright, there’s one, the literal one, but we’ll get to that later. But there’s no better example of the downtrodden rising up against their oppressors than the Brotherhood without Banners and all that they stand for. Well, yes there is. The literal slavery of the Unsullied clearly fits better than the figurative slavery the smallfolk of Westeros live under. Anyway, the vicious Sandor, who we’ve seen kill many a man is charged with the crime of murder, but since no one can prove his guilt or innocence, he will fight Dondarrion to the death in a trial by combat to “prove his guilt or innocence.”

For those that don’t recall, in season one, Lord Beric (played by a different actor) was called upon by Ned Stark to bring the king’s justice to the “false knight” Gregor Clegane, who was sacking the Riverlands on the orders of Tywin Lannister. My how the tables have turned since then. With Ned and Robert dead, Joffrey on the Iron Throne and Tywin Lannister ruling the Seven Kingdoms behind the scenes, Gregor Clegane is now an honorable knight fighting for the good of the realm. Beric and the Brotherhood, however, have gone from king’s men to outlaws, but they continue to fight. The Hound points out that they’re fighting for ghosts, which Beric wears as a badge of honor. “That’s what we are, ghosts, waiting for you in the dark. You can’t see us, but we see you. No matter whose cloak you wear—Lannister, Stark, Baratheon—you prey on the weak, the Brotherhood without Banners will hunt you down.” In short, Beric the Brotherhood fights for the smallfolk against the oppression of the ruling class, and as a result, some of those same smallfolk have joined their ranks. Lord Beric and his band are some of the few truly egalitarian characters in the series. Sure Dany is slavery’s greatest enemy, but she still means to fight a war and install herself as queen, not hold free elections.

So in one of the best fight scenes in book or show, the Hound faces off against Dondarion and his flaming sword at the beginning of “Kissed by Fire.” It’s a close fight, but Sandor brute strength wins it as a downward thrust cuts right through Donadarrion’s sword, breaking it, and continues down through the Lightning Lord’s torso. It seems like a swift end given how much time was spent on the character’s backstory, and how intent Thoros and the others were on bringing Arya to see him. This time, the audience joins the Hound in underestimating Beric. As the Hound walks away Arya screams, “Burn in hell,” only for Dondarrion to miraculously reply, “He will, but not today.”

Which brings us to another major facet of Beric’s character, he’s found religion. Thoros of Myr is a Red Priest devoted to the Lord of Light (just as Melisandre is), and Beric, along with all his followers have converted to Thoros’s religion. For the most part, magic and the supernatural are more talked about than they are present in the world of Game of Thrones, but can be no doubt they’re there, what with the dragons, White Walkers, Melisandre seeing the future and surviving poisoned wine. Thoros brings Beric back to life after the Hound kills him. It’s the sixth time he’s died, and he’s got the scars to prove it. I’m willing to bet even the most steadfast atheists would convert to a religion if one of its priests brought them back to life six times. There’s a but to all this not being able to die business, however, there’s always a but. Beric’s been revived from death six times, but he’s not the same when he comes back, plus it’s getting harder and harder for Thoros to do. As Beric puts it, “Every time I come back, I’m a bit less. Pieces of you get chipped away.”

The Comedy Central Roast of Cersei Lannister

The hunter becoming the hunted theme appears in a far more figurative manner in the case of Cersei Lannister. She has a meeting with Tywin in which she  demands more responsibility and power, complaining that she’s constantly overlooked because of her gender, or so she believes. She asks, “Did it ever occur to you that I might be the one who deserved your confidence of your trust? Not your sons, not Jaime and Tyrion but me. Years and years of lectures on family and legacy, the same lecture really, with tiny, tedious variations. Did it ever occur to you that your daughter might be the only one listening to them, living by them, that she might have the most to contribute to your legacy, that you love so much more than your actual children?” Tywin, in the most awesomely condescending manner possible, responds, “Alright, contribute.” Cersei goes on to gripe that the Tyrells are a problem, despite the fact that they helped defeat Stannis and saved Cersei’s life and the lives of all her children, because “Margaery has her claws in Joffrey. She knows how to manipulate him.”

That’s when Tywin breaks out the big guns. “Good,” he replies, “I wish you knew how to manipulate him.” That’s fucking boom number one. Then comes “I don’t distrust you because you’re a woman, I distrust because you’re not as smart as you think you are.” That counts as fucking booms number two and three. Why? Because that’s the exact same insult Cersei used against Tyrion back in the season premier. Tywin goes on to say, “You’ve allowed that boy to ride roughshod over you and everyone else in this city,” which we’ll call fucking boom number four. This is everything I’m sure most every viewer has wanted to scream at Cersei every time she acts like the sharpest tool in the shed or claims her gender, not her incompetence, is the only reason she hasn’t been given more power. Let’s also note that the underestimation theme is subverted in this scene. First in Cersei’s enormous overestimation of her abilities and Tywin’s frank explanation of how those “abilities” appear in reality.

Cersei’s roasting (or being hunted) continues in “Kissed by Fire.” She takes absolute delight in watching as Tywin informs Tyrion he is to wed Sansa Stark to prevent the Tyrell plot of wedding her to Ser Loras, and grant them the key to the North. Of course, she’s not excited about her brother’s engagement as a normal sister would be, she’s simply there to see Tyrion squirm and enjoy his discomfort and futile counterarguments. Or so she thinks. Just when she reaches the peak of her ecstatic enjoyment of her brother’s torment, Tywin turns to reveal she too will be wed, and to none other than Ser Loras Tyrell. It’s a table turning on a number of levels. There’s the obvious: the very thing she enjoys watching her brother suffer through happens to her as well. But there’s also the way Tywin is using her own words against her. She said herself that the Tyrells are a problem, and wedding her to one will solve it. Like Tyrion, she hopelessly tries to talk her way out of it, but this is Tywin Lannister she’s arguing with. There is no victory to be had.

A Few More Things: 

There were quire a few more fantastic plotlines in these two episodes, but I’m nearing four thousand words here, so I’ll attempt to relate them to the aforementioned themes in a single paragraph. The ever-scheming Littlefinger is out-schemed when it’s revealed Ros is playing informant for Varys—which is also an example of a character underestimating another. We also get a Varyzation of the hunter becoming the hunted as Varys has the sorcerer who removed his testicles in a box. Tyrion can only hope to be as successful as Varys in seeking justice for the attempt on his life by a member of the Kingsguard—likely ordered by his sweet sister Cersei. Sansa tries to rebel against her oppresors by seeking to escape King’s Landing either secretly with the Littlefinger’s help or through the Tyrell plot to marry Loras. Finally, Theon, who unsuccessfully hunted the younger Stark boys (but settled for slaying a couple of orphans) literally plays out the most dangerous game when he escapes captivity with the help of a character whose name remains unknown only to end up right back where he started. Speaking of that unnamed character, he claims to be a commoner, yet he clearly refers to Theon as “my lord,” not “m’lord.” Let’s not forget Arya and Tywin’s conversation from last season.

Again, apologies for the lateness. I’ll be back tomorrow with a review of tonight’s episode. 

Note: With the biggest cast in television it can be hard to keep all the names and faces straight. Thus the first mention of each character contains a link to a picture of them which will open in a new tab.

You’re nothing without your daddy and your daddy ain’t here. 

We’ve been joking for a while now that Jaime and Brienne’s road-trip buddy comedy would bring them closer together. These two polar opposites would begin to think maybe they’re not so different, underneath it all. But how? Their final scene in last week’s episode seemed to offer the simplest possible answer to that question: introduce a common enemy, force them to work together.They were captured by Locke, one of Roose Bolton’s loyal soldiers.

Wait a minute, you say, Jaime and Brienne aren’t banding together to escape their captivity. Far from it. They remain as boorish and brusque in their interactions as ever. Jaime tries to use his father’s influence to win Locke over, telling him to look at things rationally: the North doesn’t have the manpower or the gold to win the war, switch to the winning side and Tywin Lannister will reward you with lands, gold, women, and perhaps some golden women. Locke’s not hearing any of it though, and his response is the closest thing this episode has to a unifying theme: “You’re nothing without your daddy and your daddy ain’t here.” And then? Boom goes the dynamite! I mean, off comes the hand! I spoke last week about the feeling of wholeness that was clear in Jaime’s eyes and body language as soon as he got Brienne’s sword in his hands (almost like I knew something like this was coming). “He moves about and casually swings the sword like it’s a part of his arm. It’s been ages since he held a sword, meaning it’s been ages since he felt whole.” And now he’s lost the appendage that allows him this feeling permanently. Jaime may be nothing without his daddy, but he’s even less without his sword hand.

Alright, you’re saying, but what does any of that have to do with Jaime and Brienne banding together in the long-term? Well, Jaime got his punishment despite his fancy words. Brienne did not, and while her daddy rescuing her would surely sound like a good idea, it is not Selwyn Tarth who saves her but Jaime’s fancy words. He convinces Locke that his cause would be better served if Brienne’s honor remains “unbesmirched,” because Brienne is from Tarth, which they call the “Sapphire Isle.” He assures him that returning Brienne safely will net Locke her weight in sapphires. He does all this before he makes his play, before it fails, he’s still working under the assumption that just saying the name Tywin Lannister will get him what he wants. That means Jaime tried to save Brienne for no other reason than—dare I say it—compassion. Could it be? Character development! Hurrah! Next week, Jaime will be the one in pain, the one unable to defend himself. Will Brienne leap to his aide? Could this be the beginning of a beautiful friendship?

Tywin be errbody’s daddy

Meanwhile in the capital, we get our first glimpse of a Small Council meeting with Tywin in charge. Luckily for Tyrion and Cersei, they’ve still got their daddy around.  But they’re not the only ones. Tywin seems to be serving as a surrogate daddy for Littlefinger, Varys, and Pycelle to boot. At the very least, Tywin’s the most powerful guy around, and everybody knows it. That’s why his presence at the head of the table is just as commanding as Dad’s when he sat down for dinner. But it’s more than that. Everyone knows what they want, but they need Tywin to get it, and the way they react to the game of musical chairs around the table wordlessly sums up each of their desires in relation to Tywin and each other.

Littlefinger, the powergrabber, brushes by Varys to take the seat on Tywin’s left hand, while the reserved Varys and the obedient Pycelle take the middle and far seats, respectively. It’s clear Tywin set the room up how he did on purpose. Cersei is the first one to defy his intentions by dragging her chair to the other side and taking her “rightful” place at Tywin’s right hand. She is saying, in so many words (or more accurately, none) that she is Tywin’s true heir, his equal. She knows it, but unfortunately no one else will recognize it because of her stupid vagina. Finally, I’ve got two possible interpretations of Tyrion’s decision to drag a chair to the end of the table opposite his father. Is he, trying to gain his father’s respect by saying, much like Cersei, that he’d be recognized as his father’s true son if not for his physical deformities? Could be, but having two characters say the same thing (even if it’s wordlessly) seems beneath this show. No, I think he’s trying to show Tywin and the rest that he’s not playing their game but one of his own devising with his own rules, and it’s got naught to do with Tywin or anyone else’s expectations.

I’m going to make this very clear: your daddy ain’t here. Because this is his funeral. 

We just spent a lot of time talking about a scene that got across everything we needed to know and more without a word being spoken. Well, guess what, we’re about to talk about another one. Robb, Catelyn and most of the northern army has returned to the Tully’s ancestral castle of Riverrun site of the viking funeral for Hoster Tully, father to Cat and the newly-introduced Edmure and brother to the Blackfish. As his father’s corpse floats downstream, Edmure attempts to ignite the funeral boat with a flaming arrow and misses. He notches and draws another, and misses again. He does it a third time, ending in his third miss. The Blackfish grabs the bow from him, and casually flings an arrow onto the boat despite it being nearly out of eyesight. That’s all you need to know about these characters right there, as we find out in the next scene.

Edmure expects to be congratulated for taking the fight to a host of Lannister men and routing them, despite Robb’s specific orders to hold the line and wait for the enemy to come to them. It seems Robb had a fantastic plan worked out to corner Gregor Clegane and put an end to him once and for all until Edmure went and screwed it up.

It’s hard to miss the daddy motif when you’re literally watching the funeral of a major character’s daddy. Every scene Cat’s in, from the funeral to her monologue about waiting for Hoster to return from wars and trips to the capital, a luxury Bran and Rickon will never again experience, screams “You’re nothing without your daddy and you’r daddy ain’t here.” The same rubs off on Robb, although perhaps not in such great fashion. Obviously, Robb’s daddy ain’t here, it’s the cause of almost every plot thread we’re involved in. But that’s nothing new, the absence of Eddard has been driving Robb forward since before they removed his head from his shoulders.

Gang of Three becomes Gang of Two

As is the case with Robb, Eddard’s absence has been a major motivating factor for Arya (as well as his other children, namely Bran and Jon Snow). Arya’s brief interlude this week has some parallels with Jaime’s. She’s the prize captive of the Brotherhood without Banners, a gang of, well, what are they? Outlaws, sure, but the rape and pillage kind or the Robin Hood kind? Hot Pie is allowed to leave the Brotherhood’s captivity because the innkeep wants him as a cook, and the Brotherhood says fine because Hot Pie is of no value to them. Arya, on the other hand, is a Stark, a valuable commodity. The Brotherhood is sure to be richly rewarded if they can return the girl to her family (or even more richly rewarded if they bring her to the Lannisters, it remains unclear just who they’re fighting for, if anyone). Of course, if Eddard had never died neither Arya or the Brotherhood would’ve ended up where they are now, although the fact that her daddy ain’t there isn’t any more important now than any other time since his death. Anyhow, Gendry and Arya continue down the path to wherever they’re going, and the Hound is along for the ride. Should be a doozy.

Champion of Abolition Trades Dragon for Slaves?

Like some other characters we’ve discussed here, the absence of Dany’s father has been a major force in her life. It wouldn’t be unfair to say it is the major force in her life. After all, she is the last of her line, and her life’s work has been returning to her rightful throne. Here in the present, Dany is intent on buying Unsullied, awesome slave soldiers who feel no pain. She tells the slave dealers she wants all 8000 Unsullied, as well as the half-trained boys. But they retort that even if she sold her ship, all her gold and possessions, and her Dothraki followers into slavery, she could afford only 23 Unsullied. But Dany is intent on buying them all, so she uses the only bargaining chips she has left: she offers them a dragon. Her devoted knights Jorah Mormont and Barristan Selmy immediately, well, flip the fuck out. She later chastises them, saying she appreciates their honest counsel in private, but that they must never question her in public. Pretty queenly if I do say so myself. The only question that remains is whether Dany truly intends to sell a dragon for some (admittedly awesome) slave soldiers. Dany, the show’s greatest champion of abolition, is going to sacrifice one of three living dragons for slaves, tacitly supporting that institution which she purports to hate so much. Could that really be what’s going on? That’s for me to know and you to find out (or you can get to work reading the books). All I’m going to say is don’t count anything out either way. Could you have predicted Jaime’s hand was coming off this week? Of course not. So anything could happen when we return to Astapor.

A Few More Things:

-Scenes we couldn’t get to: 1) Jon and Mance find endless horse heads arranged in a spiral shape by the “artists” currently known as White Walkers at the Fist of the First Men. All the men who died there are Wights now.

2) Sam and what’s left of the Night’s Watch return to Craster’s Keep, where he discovers that Gilly has given birth to a boy.

3) Theon escapes with the help of a man who claims to be in league with his sister. When guards catch up to him, the same man saves him yet again. Who is this guy? Is he for real?

4) Melisandre is going away and Stannis is going to miss her.

-Oh yeah, the actual purpose of that meeting is that Tyrion is the new Master of Coin while Littlefinger travels to the Eyrie in an attempt to woo Lysa Arryn.

-The scene regarding Pod’s ostensible sexual exploits was humorous, but I’m hoping it comes back to have some further purpose later on.

-Riverrun makes its first appearance in the title sequence.

-Tobias Menzies was fantastic as Brutus in Rome, and I’m sure he’ll be a great Edmure Tully, but he’s got a suspicious lack of red hair. Just saying.

-Arya asks the Hound if he recognizes this inn. He doesn’t. It’s the same spot where he killed Mycah, the butcher’s boy, in season one.

-”Rhaegar fought valiantly, Rhaegar fought nobly, and Rhaegar died.”

-One of Pod’s whores could perform a “Mereneese knot.” Ha!

Check out the preview for next week’s episode below and follow the writer on Twitter @NateKreichman.

Note: With the biggest cast in television it can be hard to keep all the names and faces straight. Thus the first mention of each character contains a link to a picture of them which will open in a new tab.

After the season premiere, “Valar Dohaeris,” got us caught up with all our favorite characters, this week’s episode was devoted to table-setting. Or, well, it would’ve been if this was any other show. Instead, “Dark Wings, Dark Words” began placing all those narrative dominoes for the characters lucky enough to appear in both episodes while embarking on the same “hey, remember these guys?” quest for Arya, Bran, and the rest of the folks we’d yet to see.

As we all know by now, Game of Thrones has a sprawling world and the biggest cast on TV, but despite it being nigh impossible, the writers are generally able to link all those storylines with a shared episodic theme. In the case of “Valar Dohaeris,” which is high valyrian for “all men must serve,” that theme was the idea of servitude. We got no such link this week, but that doesn’t mean the writers couldn’t find a way to bounce gracefully between all those separate characters and locations. It wasn’t so fancy as a shared theme, however. Instead, the characters in one scene would mention somebody’s name, and then we’d be whisked away thousands of miles to see what they’re up to. One scene for instance was centered around Robb and Catelyn, but when they brought up Theon Greyjoy, suddenly we’re in some dungeon watching the dude get tortured. The same concept was utilized throughout the episode, and while it’s less seamless than a fancy thematic connection, it got the job done.

Bran Makes a Friend (or Two)

Things begin inside Bran’s head. The Three-Eyed Raven (or Crow for my fellow book readers, yeah, I don’t know why they changed that either) has shown up in his dreams again. He attempts to shoot it with an arrow, complete with the same encouragement he got from Jon, Robb, and his father while practicing marksmanship way back in the pilot. Bran misses, and a new character shows up to tell him he can’t killed the Crow—er, Raven—because “the Raven is you.” We later discover the new guy is Jojen Reed, son of Howland, one of his brother’s bannermen and his father’s oldest friends (Howland even saved Ned’s life during the Rebellion). Jojen, it seems, knows a thing or two about Bran’s premonitory and wolf-inhabiting dreams. He experiences the former himself and knows enough about the latter that he can help Bran take control of his skinchanging abilities. Sounds like a pretty good friend to have if you ask me.

Meanwhile, Jojen’s sister, Meera, and Osha have an unexpected bonding of the warrior women moment. Osha mocks Jojen for needing his sister to protect and do the fighting for him, to which Meera responds, “Some people will always need help. That doesn’t mean they’re not worth helping.” As with so many lines on this show, this one has a double meaning: Meera’s talking about her brother, but she’s also referring to Bran, who they’ve come so far to help. Osha, of course, has already been helping Bran despite the fact that he’ll “always need help” because she’s recognized how special he is.

The Buddy Comedy Continues

I often joked last year that the Jaime and Brienne storyline was reminiscent of a buddy comedy. Just imagine this in a movie trailer voice: When two polar opposites are shackled together—literally—and forced to go on a road trip, anything can happen (insert funny clip), but laughs are certain. Prince Charming and the warrior woman you wouldn’t want to dance with (clip of sword fight, indicating double meaning of dance) are sure to give each other a hard time. But when greater obstacles emerge, will learning about each other lead to learning about themselves? Can the two discover how to play nice, or will their refusal to work together drown them both? Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth star in “The Bear and the Maiden Fair.” Rated R. In theaters four-seven-thirteen.

The Jaime and Brienne scenes don’t offer the same opportunity for exposition and fresh perspectives that their book counterparts do, but that’s a given. The medium makes it tons more difficult and time-consuming, but the writers, directors, and actors have done a fantastic job of letting us inside these character’s heads without actually letting us inside their heads. The way Nikolaj Coster-Waldau (Jaime) delivers a line like “I don’t blame him, and I don’t blame you either. We don’t get to choose who we love,” really underscores the depth of his love for Cersei, just as Brienne’s reaction to his earlier crack about Renly’s homosexuality shows us the way she felt about her king. Likewise, when Jaime yanks one of Brienne’s swords away, his smile and body language say it all. He moves about and casually swings the sword like it’s a part of his arm. It’s been ages since he held a sword, meaning it’s been ages since he felt whole.

It’s exactly this kind of character defining moment that gets them in trouble with those Bolton men. Jaime’s impudence in starting a fight certainly made it easier to find them. But they’re truly caught because after coming across a seemingly-innocent fellow traveler, the ultra-honorable Brienne assumed he was just that, innocent, and let him walk. Jaime, on the other hand, is looking out for number one. He insists the man recognized him and argues that they should kill him either way just to be safe. In the end, it’s Brienne’s honor that gets them a ticket to see Roose Bolton at Harrenhal.

Sansa’s Date with the Tyrells

Meanwhile in King’s Landing, Sansa is invited to dine with Margaery Tyrell, the queen to be, and her grandmother Olenna Tyrell, also known as the “Queen of Thorns.” The date isn’t just about lemon cakes and compliments, however. With Margaery now betrothed to Joffrey, the Tyrells want to know what the king is like, and who better to ask but his former beau? At first, Sansa believes she’s being set up, having learned that the king (and Queen Regent) have ears everywhere the hard way. But this is no trick. Margaery is far more in tune with political realities and the ways of the world than Sansa was when she first arrived at court, no doubt thanks to her prickly grandmother being unafraid to call bullshit—on anyone or anything. The Tyrells have heard some nasty rumors about Joff, and they want to know if there’s any truth behind them.

It takes a bit of prodding, but they finally get Sansa to speak. “He’s a monster,” she says. But that won’t affect their course of action. Margaery will marry Joffrey (her father, or the “Lord Oaf of Highgarden” as his mother calls him) regardless, she simply wants to do so with her eyes open. We’ve known from the very beginning that Marge is a player, not a pawn, and the way she “seduces” Joffrey by feigning interest in his phallic crossbow makes that clear (if a sword is an extension of Jaime’s arm, than that crossbow is an extension of Joff’s dick). Even more impressive, however, is the effect Margaery seems to be having on Joffrey even when she’s not around. King Douche has made it increasingly clear that his mother, Cersei, is no longer the number one queen on the charts or in his heart. That probably won’t make her any more of a jealous, controlling psycho.

Arya Stark and the Brotherhood without Banners, with Special Guest The Hound

When the camera finds its way to Arya for the first time this season, she, Gendry, and Hot Pie are trying to find her grandfather’s castle, Riverrun, and hoping her brother and mother are inside its walls. As they wander about the Riverlands, they discuss their most recent fun-filled activity: the escape from Harrenhal with the help of Jaqen H’ghar. In a fantastic bit of Lampshade Hanging, Gendry wants an explanation for something many of us have been wondering ourselves: “He offered to kill any three people you wanted. Dead. All you had to do was give him the names. Anyone. You could have picked King Joffrey. You could have picked Tywin Lannister… You could have ended the war.” Arya tells him to shut up about it because they got out of Harrenhal and that’s all that matters. For Gendry, myself, and the rest of the fans who are wondering why Arya didn’t just say “Joffrey Baratheon,” my explanation may not be entirely satisfying. But it’s correct from a narrative standpoint.

Badass though she might be, Arya is still a child. It may be harder for her to understand big-picture stuff like ending the war with a whisper when the people around her are being tortured and dying. Her first selection was the Tickler for two reasons: First, she hadn’t seen Jaqen deliver yet. In that position, offering the Tickler is a win-win (or more accurately a win-draw). If Jaqen does follow through, the man directly responsible for the captives’ lives being a living hell will be no more. If he’s bullshitting her, then things stay exactly as they are. OK, so once she knows Jaqen’s legit, why doesn’t she give up Tywin? Recall the situation at Harrenhal before Tywin arrived: the torture, execution, incarceration, and so on. Tywin arrives and takes the prisoners out of a cage and puts them to work. Gendry is back to banging an anvil, Hot Pie is back to baking hot pies, and Arya recieves a pretty comfy position as his personal cupbearer. She may have feared that Tywin’s death would have meant a return to the way things were. Furthermore, she formed an odd kind of father-daughter bond with the man over the course of the season. So she waits, and uses the second kill to save her own skin when Amory Lorch discovers she’s stolen a message from Tywin’s chambers. By the time she puts it together that killing Tywin kills the Lannister war effort, it’s too late. So she uses Jaqen’s rules against him so that he’ll help them escape. Now, back to season three.

So Arya and company cross paths with Thoros of Myr and the rest of his cohorts in the Brotherhoood without Banners. Although Thoros claims that while “The Lords of Westeros want to burn the countryside. We’re trying to save it,” it’s not immediately clear if he’s telling the truth or if the trio are being kidnapped by your standard gang of outlaws. I don’t want to reveal too much, we’ll doubtlessly get a lot more information on the Brotherhood in the coming weeks, but I think it’s clear by episode’s ends that Thoros’ boast is closer to the truth than the outlaw argument (but as always there are no blacks and whites in Game of Thrones, only shades of grey). The Brotherhood has captured Sandor Clegane, the Hound, and he’s the one that reveals Arya’s identity. Even if the Brotherhood are closer to “good guys” than “bad guys,” they still need to seize an opportunity when it comes to them, and ransoming a daughter of one of the most powerful houses in the kingdoms is a hell of an opportunity. It’s a bold strategy, Cotton, let’s see if it works out for ‘em.

A Few More Things: 

Here’s a quick rundown of the scenes/characters we didn’t get to cover:

1) Robb heads for Riverrun to attend his maternal grandfather’s funeral while Roose Bolton is left to garrison Harrenhal. He and Catelyn receive some bad news: Theon and the Ironmen (ostensibly) razed Winterfell and murdered Bran and Rickon before bolting back to the Iron Islands. But wait, that doesn’t fit with what we saw happen in last season’s finale, nor with Theon being tortured. What’s really going on?

-Catelyn discusses a young Jon Snow in a fantastic monologue. Or rather, it would’ve been fantastic if it gelled at all with what we know of her character thus far. A great actress puts on a great show, but that seems to be all it has to offer. I get that there are a lot of characters and not enough monologues to go around. But despite being well-written and well-acted, the inconsistency makes it seem like a self-indulgent waste of screentime.

2) One of the men present for said torture tells claims he was sent by Theon’s sister, Yara. Can he be trusted? Is he friend or foe?

3) Shae warns Sansa about Littlefinger, and later converses with Tyrion about protecting her. At least one person in this list is smart enough to realize that people and things may not always be as they seem.

4) King Joffrey Baratheon, first of his name, or your weekly proof that “there’s no cure for being a cunt.”

5) Jon Snow and Mance Rayder have a little chat about how he got so many diverse tribes to follow him south. It’s simple really, they’ll die if they don’t.

6) Meanwhile, Sam is exhausted as the remaining members of the Watch begin the trudge back to the Wall. He takes a break, seeing more benefit in dying than taking another step. But he’s able to get moving with some help from his friends, along with a direct order from the Old Bear, “I command you not to die.” Does the Watch need every last man, or does Mormont have big plans for young Mr. Tarly?

And some random musings:

-In general, Nikolaj Coster-Waldau has put on a fantastic English accent throughout the series. You might never have guessed he was Danish… until this week. A few of his early lines this week were just… off. His Scandinavian roots managed to seep through a bit.

-Holy puberty, Branman

-For those who don’t know, the episode’s title, “Dark Wings, Dark Words” refers to a common saying in the show’s universe. Messages are carried to far away castles by raven in Westeros. The idea behind the phrase is that more often than not, the birds (and their dark wings) bring bad news (dark words).

Check out the preview for next week’s episode below and follow the writer on Twitter @NateKreichman.

The final scene of last week’s episode left the viewers with absolutely none of that eponymous “Peace of Mind,” but that was probably the point. You’ll recall Augustine’s henchman Picker was at work installing a rocking chair for Winona that she didn’t order. I spent the week wondering what the game was. Is a bomb or some other devious device planted in the chair? And the title of this week’s episode, “Ghosts,” didn’t offer any consolation. I mean, “Ghosts” doesn’t exactly scream “don’t worry, she’ll be fine.”

I’m still not quite sure how those four goons got into Winona’s house, or what the chair had to do with it, but the play fails pretty spectacularly. In fact, the finale turned out sunny for Raylan without him having to put much effort in (you know, relative to his other doings). Raylan quickly dispatches three of the thugs after one gets too close while punching him in the stomach, and he’s able to kill the last when he lifts his gun from Winona’s belly to Raylan. Classic introduced-just-to-die Justified villain move. As Raylan says later in the episode, “they always pull,” and you don’t pull on Raylan Goddamn Givens!

Once the authorities arrive at the scene, Raylan talks with Art and Assistant U.S. Attorney David Vasquez about the motivations for the attack. Raylan quickly discovers what we already knew, Nick Augustine was behind the whole thing, and the scheme’s purpose was a final, flailing attempt to get at Drew Thompson. What else? But that’s not the most interesting part of the conversation. Raylan brings up Augustine, calling him “this Nicky fella,” and Vazquez quickly responds with the man’s full name. Raylan then jokes, “oh good, you’re familiar,” to which Vasquez responds, “more than I’d like to be.” We’ve known for quite a while that the Tonins have a mole in either the Marshals’ or U.S. Attorney’s office. It’s how Augustine found out Shelby wouldn’t talk until he knew Ellen May was safe almost as fast as the Marshals who heard him say the words. Now I may be reading too much into this, folks, but I don’t think so: David Vasquez is the mole, hence his being more familiar than he’d like to be. Plus, Vasquez relays almost as much information about the Tonins to the Marshals as vice-versa. Sure, a good prosecutor might know plenty about the latest “Shakespearean” power struggle in the Tonin family. But I think he’s also got inside information. That wasn’t just a throwaway line.

After Raylan puts it together that Augustine is responsible for the attack on his wife, he immediately elects to go after him, despite the fact that he’s suspended (for real this time). In his defense, Raylan doesn’t know for sure what we do, that his delaying the suspension to close the Drew Thompson case is what put him (and his family) on Augustine’s radar to begin with. But that doesn’t make his decision to  ignore Art’s orders and seek revenge any smarter. His family is attacked, so he does the exact same thing that got his family attacked in the first place? As soon as he told Winona, “I’m gonna find the guy responsible for this, and I’m gonna take care of him,” I thought, aww here it goes.

Stupid decision or not, however, things work out for Raylan in the end. He and Boyd have a fantastic conversation as they drive to meet Augustine at the airport in which Raylan says Boyd “loves anything lets you put your head on the pillow at night thinking you a’int the bad guy.”  It’s an interesting accusation, given how things shake up for Boyd and the general Anti-Hero/Anti-Villain dynamic the show works with. What’s more interesting, however, is the accusation Boyd fires back, “What do you tell yourself at night when you lay your head down, allows you to wake up in the morning pretending you’re not the bad guy?” It’s a valid question, given what Raylan does in the episode. Unbeknownst to Boyd he’s already got things figured out. He’s called Sammy Tonin, Theo’s son and the heir apparent, as well as Nick Augustine’s biggest enemy and competitor for power. Sammy arrives at the airstrip and asks Raylan, “If you saw a crime committed against [Augustine], you wouldn’t as a lawman feel the obligation to intervene?” Raylan simply responds, “I’m suspended,” and walks away to the sound of machine gun fire as Sammy’s henchmen blow Augustine away as he sits in his limo.

While things turn out fantastic for Raylan in the finale, the same can not be said for Boyd, although the opposite could be. In a desperate move to rescue Ava, Boyd decides to go down a mine shaft that hasn’t been used since the days of his great-grandaddy to grab Delroy’s corpse, even though he himself has told Ava repeatedly that “moving a body is the best way of getting caught.” But the cops are already on the scene, and it appears someone’s told them where the body was hidden.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, so Boyd plays the very last card in his deck. He calls on a man from Clover Hill who owns an undertaking business and a member of the Harlan County Sheriff’s department—neither of whom work for him anymore and both of whom he’s screwed over in the past—and concocts a plan to steal Delroy’s body and replace it with another. Things appear to go swimmingly, so Ava and Jimmy take the stolen corpse to another location. Except Ava tells Jimmy to go home, perhaps out of some odd notion that there are some things you have to do yourself or because she’s heard Boyd say “moving a body is the best way of getting caught” so many times that she doesn’t want to drag another “innocent” into the mess.

To Ava’s dismay, the very cop who was present as she lifted the body from the undertaker’s shows up with his partner to arrest her. I talked last week about the speed at which inter-gang alliances are formed, fall apart, and reassemble again. Because in the crime business it’s less about what you’ve done for me lately and more about what you can do for me now. Unfortunately for Boyd, the deputy owes him no allegiance and the undertaker owes him less. The last time Boyd and the latter got together it was so he could rip him off for a whole bunch of money and a Dairy Queen franchise. Desperate times. So both men doublecross Boyd, a likely result given his history of doublecrossing them, and Ava ends up in the back of a cop car. Boyd shows up and assaults the officer, and while lying on the ground he sees Cassie St. Cyr in the distance watching, then getting in her truck and driving away. Cassie still held a grudge against Boyd for indirectly killing her brother Billy, and it’s the preacher’s ghost that comes back to haunt Boyd. As I’ve talked about at length, that’s the way things are in Harlan, history, your actions as well as those of your father and grandfather and every other clan are leashed to the arguments and alliances of those who came before—the eponymous ghosts. Cassie St. Cyr is new to Harlan, but she was around long enough to have a beef with Boyd that came back to bite him in the ass. Although it’s no consolation for Ava being on her way to prison, Boyd’s luck changes slightly at episode’s end. Wynn Duffy returns to announce that Sammy Tonin has placed him in charge of all the family’s business east of the Mississippi, and he wants Boyd to run his Kentucky heroin trade. I can already imagine season five.

That’s it for this season of Justified, but be sure to check out my Game of Thrones blog and follow the writer on Twitter @NateKreichman.

Note: With the biggest cast in television it can be hard to keep all the names and faces straight. Thus the first mention of each character contains a link to a picture of them which will open in a new tab.

Each of Game of Thrones‘ first two seasons followed a structural pattern, one which will be repeated in the newest season. Episode nine, of course, brings us the season’s “woah moment.” Whether it’s Ned Stark losing a head or the Battle of Blackwater Bay (not to mention the doozy they’ve got in store this year), episode nine leaves the story forever altered. The finales that follow are dedicated to picking up the pieces. Episode ten shows each character’s reaction to the “woah moment,” cramming in conclusions and cliffhangers—the beginnings of the plotlines to come. Each season’s premiere, then, is about picking up where we left off and setting the table for where we hope to go, building on the foundations laid in the previous season’s finale (yes, even season one was building on “a previous season,” the events that came before it just happen to be a hypothetical one we didn’t get to see firsthand). The call and response of the show’s finales and premieres echo the necessary warm-up phase in each subsequent installment of George R.R. Martin’s “A Song of Ice and Fire.”

It shouldn’t come as a tremendous surprise then that the titles of last season’s finale, “Valar Morghulis,” and yesterday’s premiere, “Valar Dohaeris,” are also a call and response. In many places on the continent of Essos, Valar Morghulis is a customary saying, traditionally answered by Valar Dohaeris. The former translates to all men must die in High Valyrian, the latter to all men must serve. With so many widespread and disparate storylines, it’s often difficult to find a single recurring theme in an episode of Game of Thrones. The closest you’ll come in the premiere can be found in the translation of its title: the all encompassing nature of service in the world of the show. Or, as Bob Dylan put it, everybody’s “Gotta Serve Somebody.”

Beyond the Wall

Everyone remembers the exciting ending of the second season: Three horn blasts and Sam coming face-to-face with a White Walker on a dead horse leading a hoard of Walkers and Wights. It’s no surprise then that “Valar Dohaeris” picks up right where we left off in the series’ first cold open. Now as we all know, full-on battle scenes are expensive. Most of last season’s budget went towards “Blackwater.” Most. Towards one episode. It detracts from the episode’s potential for action, but as I’ve mentioned premieres are meant for table setting, and the producers have plenty of things to spend money on more important than this one battle. So as we’ve seen numerous times throughout the series, we get what amounts to a fade to black, the ringing of swords, and fade back in just in time for the plot to move forward. Immediately after rescuing Sam, Lord Commander Mormont asks if he sent the ravens, and berates him when he finds out he didn’t, saying, “That was your job, your only job.” Recall the theme of servitude, Sam is a man of the Watch, and in this at least he has failed in his duties. With only a fraction of the men of the Watch who left for the ranging still breathing, Mormont announces that they need to return to the Wall: “It’s a long march. We know what’s out there, but we have to make it, have to warn them, or before winter’s done, everyone you’ve ever known will be dead.” Such is the duty of the men of the Watch, they serve the kingdoms, they are “the shield that guards the realms of men.”

Meanwhile, Jon is brought before Mance Rayder, the King Beyond the Wall. At first, Jon kneels before Tormund Giantsbane, mistaking him for Mance because the large, gruff warrior is the type of man Jon is used to serving. But the Free Folk are not like the people of Westeros, they kneel for no man, king or otherwise, and choose their own rulers—the title of King Beyond the Wall is not necessarily inherited. Recall that Jon’s idol and former commander Qhorin Halfhand compelled the boy to slay him to gain the Wildlings’ trust, so he could spy on them and bring all he discovers back to The Wall. Jon tells Mance that he’s turning his cloak because he wants to “fight for the side that fights for the living,” but in his heart, Jon still believes the Night’s Watch is that side. Moving forward, the question will be whether the time Jon spends with the Free Folk reinforces this belief or places it in jeopardy. Is Jon a double agent, or a double-double agent?

The Impire Strikes Back

Tyrion fell from grace last season after a member of the Kingsguard attempted to kill him during the Battle of the Blackwater. He believes this was done on Cersei’s orders but has no way to prove it. Regardless, the knight was killed by Tyrion’s squire, Podrick Payne, before he could inflict any more damage than a nasty slash across the face. Tyrion was moved to a dank cell to recover from his wounds while his father, Tywin, claimed his former title and chambers in the Tower of the Hand. What’s more, Tyrion is given very little credit for their victory while his father is proclaimed Savior of the City.

Tyrion served king and family loyally, going above and beyond the call of duty. He did this in spite of the fact that most of his family hates (or at least resents) him. Cersei despises him to such a degree that she sent an assassin to kill him in the heat of battle. Yet far from being covered in glory like his father, Tyrion appears to have been punished more than anything else. So in the premiere, he resolves to visit Tywin and ask what the reward for all his loyal service will be. At first, he asks simply for a bit of gratitude, to which his father responds “Jugglers and singers require applause.” Although he never dreams his father will actually give it to him, what Tyrion really wants is his birthright, Casterly Rock, the seat of House Lannister. Like the Night’s Watch, the Kingsguard pledge not to hold lands or father children, so Jaime is technically ineligible (although he’s already done the latter, you know, with his sister). But while Tywin is willing to grant his son a suitable wife and a position fit for his talents, he says that “I would let myself be consumed by maggots before mocking the family name and making you heir to Casterly Rock.” This fierce rebuke brings to mind a question which runs throughout the episode: At what point does giving oneself over to a cause, to service, mean forfeiting those qualities that make one unique or even individual? I’ve mentioned that in the most ridiculously general of terms, Tyrion is the “good guy” on the “bad team,” and his service leads to that clash. Every man has his breaking point, will Tyrion remain the loyal soldier (literally and otherwise) or be forced to rebel?

Return of The Onion (Knight)

One of last season’s biggest cliffhangers was whether Davos Seaworth had survived the ruin of his ship in Blackwater Bay. Things got a little dire when he failed to pop up in the season finale, but a good rule of thumb while watching Game of Thrones (and other shows) is that unless you see someone die with your own two eyes, they may not necessarily be dead. Few men are more loyal to anything than Davos is to Stannis, who raised him up from low birth and a life of smuggling. Stannis, meanwhile, remains loyal to his cause: He believes himself the one true king, and that means two possible endings: He gains his birthright or dies trying. The toll that steadfastness (among other things, like fathering shadow demons) has taken on Stannis is apparent when Davos arrives on Dragonstone. The king has grown a beard, his hair is graying, and he refuses all visitors, save Melisandre. A commonly repeated idea for Davos is that “loyal service means telling hard truths.” He cannot stand idly by as Melisandre burns prisoners and non-believers alive, and her grip on his king grows tighter and tighter. When she whispers in his ear the same thing she told his now-deceased son, “death by fire is the purest death,” Davos loses it. He pulls out a dagger and attempts to slay the red priestess, an action he believes analogous to telling his king a hard truth. But he fails, and his king condemns him to a dungeon cell. Yet another victim of loyal service.

Daenerys’ New Hope?

Daenerys begins the episode on a ship bound for Astapor. Before she leaves the vessel we see more effects of service as her Dothraki followers (who come from a culture of people who have never set foot on a boat and fear salt water) vomit and stumble around. In the slave city of Astapor, both Dany and the viewer are treated to a glimpse of the Unsullied: eunuch warriors picked as boys for their rigorous training. They lose the ability to feel pain or fear as well as any sense of self. They know only obedience, and understand only duty. The Unsullied are an explicit display of the extremes of the above-mentioned notion that loyal service and individuality are conflicting ideals. Like Stannis, Dany serves her own cause: placing herself on the Iron Throne. She cannot do so without an army, and the Unsullied are among the world’s greatest warriors. Dany, however, is slavery’s greatest enemy. Yet another way individuality can slip away is when one’s ideals are sacrificed for the good of a cause. Is it possible for Dany to remain true to herself if she brings an army of 8,000 slave warriors, each of whom has killed an infant in front of its mother as part of their training, under her command?

As she is walking back to her ship, a little girl/Warlock assassin attacks Dany with the help of some trickery and a manticore. In a sequence that seemed to go over the top in its parallels to the introduction of Obi-Wan Kenobi in the first Star Wars movie (hence the section title references), she is rescued by a man we have not seen in a long time: Ser Barristan Selmy, who was removed from Joffrey’s Kingsguard way back in season one. When Ser Barristan asks for a place in Dany’s Queensguard, both Dany and Jorah appear skeptical, and the latter points out that Ser Barristan served King Robert Baratheon as well. Barristan claims he wants to redeem himself for failing King Aerys II, her father and the last of the Targaryen dynasty to sit the Iron Throne, and making the mistake of serving King Robert while forgetting the “true” Queen. Whether Ser Barristan is truly loyal to Dany’s cause or wishes to serve her for personal reasons (recall his speech after Joffrey fired him, “I am a knight, I will die a knight”) remains ambiguous. Either way, it speaks volumes about the theme of servitude that this man would cross two continents to serve either “the one true queen” or “a ruler who isn’t Joffrey.”

Family Dinner

Although it may be harder to connect to the service theme, Joffrey and Cersei’s dinner scene with Margaery and Loras Tyrell was the highlight of the episode for me. It was a microcosm of the scheming and political intrigue that lie at the show’s heart. It begins when Joffrey, whose motto is “the king can do as he likes,” watches as Margaery gives toys and food to boys at an orphange, sons of men killed in the Battle of the Blackwater. I still can’t figure out whether that look on his face, one denoting a complete inability to comprehend what he’s seeing, is more funny or sad. Why would she help poor people, he wonders, why does she care? Joffrey couldn’t give two shits what the smallfolk think of him. He’s their king, they should worry what he thinks of them, or it’ll be off with their heads.

One person whose opinion does matter to Joffrey, however, is that of Margaery, his new bride to be. Cersei tells the story of the riot to warns Margaery of the dangers of walking around Flea Bottom unprotected (and no doubt put a bit of fear in her, everything Cersei says at the dinner table can be interpreted in more than one way). Joff postures and acts tough, saying their lives were never really danger. Cersei responds that Joff “is his father’s son, we can’t all have a king’s bravery.” Whether she means his father, Jaime, or his “father,” Robert, is impertinent, it works both ways and she may even have intended it as such. My favorite part of the scene came after Margaery describes all the food her family is bringing into the city to help the common people (and gain their trust over the Lannisters). Once again, Joff postures, and talks about how Margaery “has done this sort of… charitable work before.” The way he struggles to find the word “charitable,” as if he’s never used it before and doesn’t entirely understand what it means was hilarious. Cersei is quick to agree that she is sure Margaery knows what she’s doing. Once again the words have a double meaning: Cersei realizes that Margaery is helping the poor, sure, but she’s also playing the game of thrones, gaining the love and trust of the smallfolk for herself and her family. What Cersei may find even more offensive, however, is that Margaery has become her competitor for the king’s love and admiration.

A Few More Things:

-Meanwhile: Robb arrives at Harrenhal to find “two hundred Northmen slaughtered like sheep.” He places Catelyn under a medieval form of house arrest. Among the dead they find a harmless looking old man named Qyburn. Remember the name.

-Also: Littlefinger and Sansa discuss his plan to help her escape. Is Petyr Baelish the savior Sansa has been waiting for?

-No Arya, Bran, Jaime, or Brienne this week, among many others. Yes, there are really that many characters.

-Cersei remarks that she’d heard Tyrion lost his nose, a reference to the Imp’s far more brutal injury in the books. Pure fan service.

-The way the opening sequence changes based on the story continue to make it the best on TV. Winterfell as a smoldering rubble and the Harpy of Astapor were highlights.

Check out the preview for next week’s episode below and follow the writer on Twitter @NateKreichman.

Well folks, I’m man enough to admit when I’m wrong. And boy was I wrong about the Crowder/Givens Alliance I thought was hinted at in “Get Drew” before getting into motion in “Decoy.” We bloggers aren’t always perfect, if you can believe it. As it turned out, Boyd and Augustine’s mutual doublecrossing was a lot simpler than all that. Each side planned to work with the other for as long as they had something to gain from it and not a moment longer. Because there was no way of knowing when that moment would come, they each had contingency plans in place. Plans that moved forward even while the partnership was still (ostensibly) in place, including Colt shooting Mort, the aptly named Tonin sniper. But as we saw this week, inter-gang alliances can reassemble just as easily as they fall apart. Because in the crime business it’s less about what you’ve done for me lately than what you can do for me now.

With Drew Thompson in custody, the game should be over, but he refuses to cooperate with the investigation of the Tonins until he knows Ellen May is safe, a fact that’s relayed to the Tonins via a mole in the Marshals’ office (or perhaps the U.S. Attorney’s). So begins another game of hide and seek, only the tables have turned: this time, it’s the bad guys who have the inside scoop and the Marshals who have to do the seeking. Suddenly, Nick Augustine needs the Crowders again, so he goes to see cousin Johnny. It makes sense, Johnny is easily the most vulnerable of the bunch. Both Boyd and the Tonins have put a target on his back, the former due to his now public betrayal and the latter because betrayal or not, his last name’s still Crowder. So a new alliance is forged when Johnny calls Limehouse on Augustine’s behalf, and ends the moment he fails to broker an agreement. But Augustine doesn’t have time to waste, so he immediately calls Boyd and offers him the deal of the century: the money to get Ellen May and his cousin Johnny. He does all this with Johnny standing right in front of him, using the man’s own cell phone. As Omar Little would say, “It’s all in the game though, right?”

So Ava heads to Noble’s Holler to buy back Ellen May. She and Limehouse have one of those conversations that’s meant to get right to the heart of a person, to show who they really are. In so many words, Limehouse asks her if buying back Ellen May will really give her that eponymous peace of mind she’s been seeking all season. He tells her he’s “been wonderin’ lately what it is makes us forget who we are,” referring to the fact that he’s been forced to sell off parts of the Holler his clan has owned since Emancipation. But he’s also talking about Ava, and how he doesn’t even know who she is anymore. “I can’t do this,” he says, “and you shouldn’t either.” It’s no coincidence it’s the proposed buying and selling of a human that gets him thinking about all this.

There’s just one issue though, and it’s that Limehouse has already get Ellen May go. He’d already pondered the last question he asked Ava, “All these things you’ve done, with no mind to the consequences to other people, are you gonna have peace of mind when this is all over?” And his answer was no. Limehouse offered Ava the opportunity the make the same decision, to strive to be a better person, but she never even considered it. None of that matters though, Ellen May is gone, so the choice was purely hypothetical. Maybe part of the reason Limehouse let her go was out of fear that he’d have a harder time sticking to his convictions with the temptation of $300,000 cash being stuck in his face. But the more important factor was the similarly themed conversation he’d had with Ellen May earlier, one of those “hatchet conversations” that “cuts through the bullshit.”

Justified has milked a lot of humor—and sadness—out of Ellen May being, well, not the brightest bulb in the bunch. But as with Ava as well as Constable Bob’s torture scene last week, being forced into a corner you can’t escape, at least not independently, offers a chance to show your true colors, or perhaps it forces them out of you. Ellen May is at her most intelligent (by far) during her conversation with Limehouse because she’s convinced she’s going to die, sooner rather than later. “I don’t got no choice in the matter anyways,” she says, “you take their money and you let them kill me or you take their money and you let me go, either way I think I’ll probably wind up dead.” We get the answer to the earlier question about peace of mind from Boyd, when he quotes Emerson in saying, “Nothing can bring you peace but the triumph of principles.” Through Limehouse’s conversations with Ava and Ellen May, he unknowingly proves Boyd, or Emerson anyway, correct.

So Ellen May is set free, and goes first to Nicky Kush, her former boyfriend/pimp/father figure and paranoid radical, before seeking out Cassie St. Cyr at the Last Chance Holiness Church (there’s another apt name). Ellen May, as we all know, is deeply religious, and there’s nowhere better for her own principles to triumph. When Ava finds her, she is predictably unable to pull the trigger. That all leads to the long-awaited final showdown between Tim and Colt. Tim asks if Colt killed his oxy-addicted friend, Mark. Colt calls him “collateral damage,” along with claiming “most of him died somewhere in Kandahar.” The statement makes sense, addicts don’t wake up one day and become addicts, they don’t spend their childhoods daydreaming about oxycontin. But even if Colt is right about Mark, he’s talking every bit as much about himself. He may even be including Tim as well, who we’ve been told is likely an alcoholic and suffering from PTSD. So Colt enjoys his last cigarette, and revises an earlier statement by saying, “I guess I’ll quit today,” before raising his gun arm ever so slightly. I don’t believe Colt had any intention of killing Tim, this was a simple case of “suicide by cop.”

All this and I’ve barely said a word about Raylan Givens. Well, he was as Raylan as ever, finding the clues, rescuing the girl and solving the case all in the nick of time. Which all leads to one of the most unsettling endings to an episode of Justified or any other show for that matter. Augustine’s right hand man, Picker, is seen building a chair for Winona, who told Raylan earlier in the episode that she’d be having a girl and that it was really important he sign those papers in case something happened to either one of them. Raylan, of course, hasn’t signed the papers yet. What’s more, whatever’s going down was set in motion by his excessively Raylan-ey desire to delay his suspension and finish what he started. If he’d stayed in Lexington and taken a few days off, Augustine might never have casually asked Boyd the name of the Marshal in the hat. Raylan indirectly caused whatever’s going to happen to Winona and his unborn daughter next week. The Drew Thompson thrill ride is over, and the season finale is set to bring us a classic television plotline: Don’t you dare hurt my family! What makes it less cliche is that it goes against everything Raylan is and has been, prior to becoming an almost-father. He’s the detached, sarcastic Marshal in the cowboy hat who wakes up every morning ”thinking that today was another opportunity to mess up some bad guy’s day.” In the eerily-titled finale, “Ghosts,” we’re finally going to see the real Raylan Givens, not the hat and the quips, but what it’s like when he’s the one with real skin in the game.

Check out the preview for next week’s episode below and follow the writer on Twitter @NateKreichman.

Last week, I predicted the Crowders and the Marshals would forge a temporary alliance to fight, or rather survive, the onslaught of their common foe: the Tonin crime family, as personified by Nick Augustine (Mike O’Malley). The logic was simple: Despite having Drew Thompon in custody, the Marshals’ game was far from over. As Raylan put it, “We’re standing in a field, we haven’t done shit.” They needed to find a way to get both themselves and their prize catch out of Harlan alive. That left Boyd and company in a similar position. The Crowders had two options: “We make a case to Theo, or we run.”

As I watched the opening scene of “Decoy” for the first time, the apparent inaccuracy of my prediction had me disappointed. Although he remained plenty bold in sticking to his demand for $500,000, it appeared Boyd was simply going to aid the Tonins in finding Drew, and as a matter of course, Raylan. I can’t say for certain, because the writers took great care in ensuring the details behind the Crowders doublecrossing the Tonins were not made explicit (yet). But folks, I’m almost positive my original prognosis was correct.

Looking back, Boyd’s inclusion of Raylan as one his plan’s necessary casualties should’ve been my first hint. But hindsight is 20/20, or so they say. Boyd will never kill Raylan, directly or otherwise, nor will Raylan kill him. And that’s not just because the writers would be nowhere without their two main characters. These are men who have known each other for a long time, and they play by different rules than most archenemies. They’re Harlan County’s version of Batman and the Joker. Their’s is the game that never ends. No matter who or what enters the fold, be it northern carpetbaggers or Black Pike Coal. Deep down inside, being a “robber” would be a lot less fun for Boyd if Raylan wasn’t the “cop” (and, once again, vice-versa).

We’ve talked a lot this season about the ways Harlan seeps into its residents’ very souls. Last week, Boyd spoke at length about why Raylan should have become a criminal along with he and Arlo. Because to Boyd, being from Harlan and being an outlaw are one and the same. One of the major elements of Raylan’s character, however, has been trying to escape Harlan, both geographically and emotionally (I’m referring specifically to the little Arlo in the demon costume that’s always sitting on his shoulder). But the roots are so deep they always tear him back. Still, the desire to get away is what makes him scoff at Boyd’s comment, as well as get a little sheepish when he had to explain that he knew about some roads that weren’t on the map. In terms of action and plot events, the secret alliance came about because both sides needed to overcome a foe greater than themselves. But the real reason the Marshals, or Raylan rather, would make a deal with Boyd Crowder is because they are both Harlan County, Kentucky to the motherfucking bone. We see it as Boyd leads Tonin’s men into Raylan’s trap (the eponymous decoy, or one of many, at least). In what has become the classic Raylan move, he lets them walk so he can (legally) shoot them some other day, Boyd included. As Boyd walks away, Raylan reminds him of promise he’d just made, that they’ll “do this again sometime.” Boyd’s response? “You can count on it, Raylan.” The game goes on.

Now back to the rest of the betrayals, the episode was chock full of ‘em. It starts with Colt. Ever since he shot Tim’s army buddy after robbing their dealer, we’ve awaited a standoff between the two. It seemed imminent in “The Hatchet Tour” until Tim decided to let Colt walk—not because all was forgiven, but so he could shoot Colt after he’d sobered up, so things would be “fair.” Much like Raylan and Boyd, Tim let Colt walk so they could fight another day. Once again, it seemed that day was today during their beautifully written back-and-fourth as Tim sat in the motorcade (yet another decoy) while Colt and a Tonin sniper watched him from afar. My favorite part of the exchange was when Colt noted in faux dismay that the cars had “circled the wagons” to protect against his threats of explosives. The line was great because he wasn’t using the common modern idiom, but the original, literal meaning: the custom of bringing wagons into a circle upon attack. The move appears to foil Colt and the sniper’s plan, until he thinks for a moment that he did in fact see Drew Thompson in one of the cars. He asks for the gun to look and promptly turns it on the Tonin man, the first in your face sign of Boyd’s plan to dupe the boys from Detroit.

With all this deception, you’d almost feel bad for Nick Augustine and company if not for the fact that they work for the “God” of murder and drug-running. That is, until we cut back to Audrey’s, only to discover they’d been planning to cross Boyd as well. Last week, we ostensibly saw Wynn Duffy flee Augustine’s wrath once he learned Thompson had been captured by the law. Duffy’s run for his life is backed up during the aforementioned opening scene, in which Augustine questions why Boyd didn’t do the same. But later, Augustine begins to goad Ava into a fight (verbal or physical, it makes no matter). He goes through all the usual lines: She’s a gold-digging whore, she’d be nothing if not for Boyd, she had no other skills so she “sucked hillbilly dick” until she found the “right” hillbilly. Johnny tells Augustine to shut his mouth, but Nicky laughs and keeps right on going. Then Johnny speaks up again, and Augustine realizes he wasn’t just playing along in the scheme. After that, well, just about every cat Johnny’s got comes out of the bag. Augustine spills the beans about Johnny’s plans with Duffy (which seems to imply Duffy’s not actually gone and the Tonins knew about he and Johnny’s plot all along, that or Duffy is actually gone and they’re just good enough to know). Then Ava points a gun at Augustine, so Johnny points a gun at Ava. Augustine directs Johnny to shoot the woman with a gun to his head and Ava yells the same to prove his treachery. Johnny can’t do it, though. And why? Because he loves Ava. First Bowman, then Boyd, and now Johnny. You can almost hear the playground chants: All the Crowders love A-va! All the Crowders love A-va!

After all these plots and betrayals and professions of love, it’s almost hard to remember the character/plot device driving them all: Drew Thompson. As Constable Bob tells us at the end of the episode, air and road aren’t the only ways out of Harlan, as we see Drew and Rachel on freight train. There are two episodes of Justified left this season, and the question remains: what the hell is going to happen? There can be no doubt that the Tonins will continue the hunt, and some time is sure to be spent revealing the causes of all those doublecrossings. So the Marshals continue their work protecting Drew and Boyd… Ay, there’s the rub. If he and the Marshals are in it together against Detroit, I suppose he and Ava are in as much danger as Raylan and Thompson. Wouldn’t it be great to see Boyd and Raylan on the same side of a gunfight? Regardless, it’s not hard to predict these last two episodes will be captivating as hell.