Quick takes: MY SISTER ASKED YOU A QUESTION is going to be my go-to response to anyone who’s trying shit with me this week. I am glad we have a house now where I can watch this show in the basement while Kick sleeps upstairs because I’m pretty sure it took five minutes for me to stop yelling FUCK YEAH FUCK YEAH FUCK YEAH.
When I saw Bran sitting next to Sansa I knew shit was going DOWN. The only way that could have been more satisfying is if they’d done it in episode three. Fare thee well, Lord Tommy Carcetti. Suck it, Sansa haters who thought my Queen in the North was dumb enough to fall for this crap. Suck it, everyone who thought she’d forgotten that he sold her to the Boltons. Suck it, everyone who thought Arya had PTSD and really hated her sister that much. STARK FAMILY UNITY FOREVER.
Look at your daughters, Catelyn. Look at them, alive and strong on the walls of Winterfell. The wolves have come again after all.
Ugh, Aegon Targaryen, true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. Blech. Glad Rhaegar, who always sounded like a dirtbag in the books, wasn’t an actual rapist, but he still threw over Elia Martell the minute another chick caught his eye, abandoned her and their kids to go impregnate the new wife. I can’t exactly fall in love with his actions here, though they do make it clear that Robert Baratheon was the absolute worst.
No wonder Ned always seemed like he had such a stick up his ass. He had to listen to Robert waxing obsessive about Ned’s own sister, all the while knowing he was protecting a secret trueborn son who had a much better claim to the throne than Robert ever had.
Every single Greyjoy makes my skin crawl.
Rank these outfits: Dany’s red cape, Greyworm’s Targaryen armor, Gregor Clegane’s helmet, Cersei’s hoopskirt and the ten dead IKEA rugs Jon wears everywhere.
Speaking of Jon, shut up, Jon. This is how dumb you’re being: You’re making me root for Tyrion. And this is how dumb Tyrion’s being: He believes what his sister’s telling him.
I never bought Jaime and Cersei, really, but the look on his face when he realized she wasn’t playing 11-dimensional chess, that she really had just lost the entire plot with her “I saw an undead thing which made me realize I should let it eat the Starks first” speech.
How do you know when you’ve gone too far? Do you hear the ice crack, the shifting surface shivering beneath your feet? Do you feel the air under you before the fall?
Cersei wrapped her hands around her unborn child, having staggered through loss after loss, defeat after defeat. How does she even know where the edge is? How does Jaime, keeping secrets, fighting his feelings for everyone and everything, know when it’s not worth fighting for anymore? He murdered his king, was disowned by his father, is it any wonder he thought he’d fallen as far as he could? Was he even watching for it anymore, the drop-off, the point of no return? Did he even think it was possible?
Do you feel the chill night stirring before you hear the beat of wings, like an indrawn breath? The Wall stood for a thousand years, solid as anything, sure as the ground beneath. Enchantments were woven into it, to keep the dead out and the living safe. Beric and Tormund walked the battlements, fearing only the heights. Did they feel it tremble, before it fell?