Our latest episode of HBO’s Game of Thrones begins Sansa back at her needlework, just like the first time we laid eyes on her. This is not, however, the same Sansa that left Winterfell in season 1, as Scratchy the Pimp is about to discover.
Scratchy the Pimp spends some fine time on the hot seat, playing innocent and horrified as Sansa confronts him with the price she paid for his repellent scheming.
We could end the whole thing right here, with a casual swipe of a sword. Down goes Scratchy, the man who sold King’s Landing to the Iron Bank, fed Loras and Marge to the HS, and murdered Jon Arryn, Ned Stark, and King Joff. OK, he gets a bye for Joff. Instead, he squeaks his way out the door with a some dubious advice and a parting cheap shot. Fuck you, Scratchy.
Back on the montage stage at Project Mayhem, a girl is getting schooled hard by Ginger Bitchface yet again. A girl wastes a lot of energy switching grips, and telegraphs her attacks.
Capt. Jaquen slinks up in his housedress and throws a little shade, then gives a girl the elevator speech version of the history of the Faceless Men. And a girl gets a fresh mission to fuck up.
Across town at the Globe Theatre, the great and mighty are mocked mercilessly. And our hero Stupid Ned Stark is a Pantomime Fool. Magnificent. A girl is not. Amused.
Backstage we have: PENIS! WITHNAIL! MISS FISCHER! I suddenly love this stupid subplot.
And back to Project Mayhem, where we do not ask questions.
Bran & Raven are peaking again, and the big reveal is that the Ice Zombies are an ancient defense system left untended until it went self-aware and now rogue. Thanks fucking loads, creepy pixie folk.
Across the sea on the Asshole Islands, we are having a Kingsmoot, which is apparently a dick-measuring contest. Yara and Theon are at a distinct disadvantage, and are shouted down by their charismatic lunatic uncle, who intends to build the world’s largest fleet and have the 7 kingdoms pay for it. He’s also totally gonna fuck Dany. With his dick.
That’s enough to win the crowd, and while he’s getting his coronation swirly, Theon & Yara, no fucking fools, steal some ships and get themselves in the wind.
Meanwhile, far from Euron’s dick, Dany is getting her imperious face on to deal with the Jorah thing. Her imperious face goes all stricken, however, when he does the big reveal. His whole forearm looks like a kiln accident. He intends to do the noble thing and crawl under the porch like a sick cat, but Dany won’t have it.
Daario the Sleaze, for his part, manages to keep his piehole shut for the whole scene.
The rest of Dany’s brain trust back in Mereen is having a staff meeting, and the two week numbers show that a fragile peace has taken hold. Great work, everyone. So we have results, but let’s worry about optics, says Tyrion like every terrible manager ever. New plan: Let’s fuck everything up with a pact with a Red Woman!
Kinvara, our new R’hollor girl, has the self-possession, crazy eyes, and fabulous dress sense that Mel used to wield with such grace. She controls the whole encounter, even when Varys goes on the attack. Her response? She slowly ascends the stairs to eye level with Tyrion, and finally closes the distance with Varys, laying a proprietary hand on his sleeve as she reads him for utter filth.
Oh, Tyrion. Wait til Dany gets home.
Up north in the raven cave, a thoroughly bored Bran decides to grab a main cable. And unfortunately, since the same magic that allows him to use the tree network also created the Ice Zombies, Bran’s presence gets flagged by the fucking Night King, and he picks up a Trojan horse virus that trashes the security firewall. Bran has really fucked up this time.
There’s a strategy meeting at Castle Black, and things do look grim. The North is looking like a game of Risk that was lost three turns ago. Things go round and round, Tormund sneaks another eyeful of Brienne, Mel doesn’t make a peep, and Sansa finally drops the intel that Scratchy planted with her.
Brienne doesn’t like any of this, and she didn’t miss that lie. But she’s sworn an oath.
As the away teams assemble, Sansa reveals the fruits of her needlework: a Stark Daddy Cloak for Dead Snow to wear as he calls on the houses of the North. Good looking out, Sansa.
And yes, Edd, you are the Lord Commander. The Dolorous Lord Commander.
Back at the raven cave, Meera is feeling pretty cheerful, until her Ice Zombie sense starts tingling. Sure enough, the endless army of frozen corpses is stood up just outside, having chartered an Ice Bus or something. The pixies chuck a few holy hand grenades to minimal effect, leaving it to Meera to load a stoned Bran into his sled while screaming for him to pull it together with his god damned superpowers as zombies rain down from the ceiling like spiders.
Bran somehow manages to warg into Hodor without leaving his vision, so he doesn’t get to see the zombies overwhelm his Direwolf (RIP Summer). He sees the Raven get ice-cleaved through the vision filter (nice CGI).
The zombie rabble are doing a floor-to-ceiling corridor swarm all Aliens style, which is Leaf the Pixie’s cue to make like Vasquez with the last grenade. It buys enough time to get Bran, Meera, and Hodor out the back.
Hail and farewell, Hodor.