Quick takes: IS LYANNA MORMONT OKAY? I’m not happy with Wun Wun dying but if Lyanna is somewhere on that pile of squish I am DONE, okay?
Shorter Ramsay Bolton: You know how I skinned a guy’s dick and then cut it off, and raped your fav ten times a night for 3 months, and let my dogs eat a newborn baby? You know how I stabbed my dad, who was the scariest man alive? I’ve been holding back, you guys. Watch this drive.
At least we weren’t attached much to Rickon.
Fuck Ghost. Ghost is the worst. Ghost and the long-lost Nymeria have ONE JOB, and it is to eat the enemies of the Stark children. That is all they have to do. So Ghost should be out there, being the big pasty berserker he was designed to be, ripping up Boltons left and right, preventing Wun Wun from getting hamstrung like that, eating Ramsay’s dogs like they’re milkbones. Instead, where the fuck is he? I mean it, where? Ghost sucks. Shaggydog sucked. Grey Wind at least didn’t know. The Targaryen pets are like the only ones earning their keep around here.
Speaking of which, thanks for showing up and doing what should have been done like 16 hours ago, DANY. Fuckin’ A, if you’re finally done vision-questing and whining, approximately 9,000 people have died, so get a MOVE ON.
Tyrion has now had two good ideas: Blackwater, and this move. He’s a fandom stand-in woobie why? Shut up, Tyrion.
Ick Jon Snow Tormund squishy pile of dead things heaving ick ick ick. Saving Private Wildling was not my favorite movie, even if I did enjoy the Gladiator-style rage-fighting at the end.
Oh, were you thinking I would talk about something other than Sansa Stark, QUEEN IN THE NORTH, tonight? You will be disappointed.
The oddest things are passed down in families. Black hair. Silver hair. Red Hair. Violet eyes, sure. It’s not always the physical features, though. Talent, an affinity for music or painting or dance. Charm, or beauty. A way of walking. The tilt of a head.
Violence. Madness. Rage. A burning in the bones for vengeance that isn’t so much blood-borne as cradle-taught, sung to lull some children to sleep the way others murmur lullabies.
Sansa Stark is Catelyn’s daughter. She commands, and men obey. She makes alliances, and survives, and she loves her family. She can put aside the treatment Littlefinger gave her, and use him for what she needed, the way Catelyn and Lysa used him long ago, to play their games.
Sansa Stark is Eddard’s daughter. Sophie Turner is a genius, because: the weight that lay across her shoulders was the same one her father bore. Send your men to war. Pass the sentence. Swing the sword. If you cannot carry the killing of a man, while you listen, while you watch, you have no right to order it. She could have turned her back while Ramsay died, but she watched instead.
She is Catelyn’s daughter and Eddard’s too, but Sansa Stark — and she would fight me for saying this — is not a little bit of Cersei Lannister’s daughter too. Ned would have had Ramsay beheaded, swift and quiet, or stabbed him there in the yard, quick. Sansa’s small smile, when the first dog ripped into Ramsay’s throat, was Cersei against the High Sparrow, was Cersei ordering Tyrion’s trial, was Cersei through and through. The oddest things are passed down in families.
This episode was a bit of a letdown for me because I saw most of it coming, knowing the Vale was in reserve, knowing Sansa had sent for them. Certain things still thrilled (FUCK YEAH THE VALE THE YOUNG FALCON FUCK YEAH SANSA QUEEN IN THE NORTH I may have a problem guys) or frustrated (FUCK GHOST) but what it left me with is a sense that even as everyone begins to get what they want, everyone is still profoundly unsettled.
Jon Snow, half-victorious, no longer knows his place. Melisandre no longer trusts her visions. Davos no longer trusts his heart. And Ramsay might be right, in the end. The Lannisters, Littlefinger, the Boltons, all they’ve done to Sansa has left marks she may not even know about. With so many people whispering in your ear, how do you learn to listen to your own voice again?