“I don’t know who everyone is. I can hardly keep up sometimes.” It’s easy to get lost in Game of Thrones‘ many twisting storylines. My wife has asked me several times to explain who is on the screen and what their specific plot point entails. It can be confusing, especially after a long 9-month layoff since the last episode of Season 4 aired. We could have had another child during that time span. That’s why the season premieres are so important to the series; they can provide a hard reset to the plans and intentions of the characters we’ll be seeing for the ten weeks the season lasts.
This year, Game of Thrones hit that premiere reset button in a very interesting way. It took us back to the moment that perhaps triggered all of the events of the series, and involved the person who may be at the center of all of it: it’s Cersei, it’s always been Cersei, and in “The Wars to Come” we’re presented with the prophecy and realization of her rise and downfall as Queen.
Cersei’s life is going to be ever more troubled now. She’s lost her husband (Robert, the King), she’s lost her eldest son (Joffrey, also the King), her daughter has been shipped off to Dorne, and her youngest child Tommen (the latest King) is being ripped from her control by the Tyrells. But the glue that held all of them together during this time was Tywin, her father. Tywin Lannister was not only a brilliant war tactician and deal-broker, but he was an expert leader.Cersei looked up to her father, modeling her career after him and often thinking of herself as the son he never had. Let’s face it: Jaime is too egomaniacal (or rather, he was) and Tyrion is a hideous imp. He didn’t just serve as the Hand of the King, he essentially ruled the country and fought wars while Joffrey and Tommen fought puberty.
And now he’s dead.
Cersei had always wanted to rule the country (through her children) but now she has to do it by default. The opening scene of the episode reflects that. Set like a fairy tale, it gives us a flashback to a young Cersei and her handmaiden sneaking through a forest to the seemingly hidden house of a fortune-telling witch. Cersei had been promised her hand to the dashing Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and was looking for confirmation by the witch of her glorious life as a Princess. “Will I marry?” Yes, but not to the King you think.”Will I be Queen?” Everything you have will be taken away by a woman younger and more beautiful than you. “Will I have children?” Yes, but they won’t be true royals.
Kind of dark, no?
And so we have the prophecy foretelling that Robert Baratheon would usurp the Targaryens, that he would have bastard children (and she would have children through incest), and that Margaery Tyrell would work to take her place.
The fallout of that is immense. Cersei is broken. She stands with Jaime in the sept as Tywin’s body is laid out before them and a dark, somber, defeated version of “Rains of Castamere” plays as background music. She’s almost more saddened over his death than over Joffrey’s, blaming Jaime for both. I think it’s fair to say that their relationship as lovers is over.
The man who killed him, Tyrion, is now on the loose. Having escaped with Jaime & Varys’ help, he’s has been traveling like a pig in a crate to the free cities, looking out from the same holes he’s been shitting through. And when Varys finally opens the box he spills out, groggy, bearded, disgusting. He’s the hideous imp in every way possible, and wonders why Varys would even bother helping him. But, Varys is a good friend to have. He’s a person who can maneuver politically, like Little Finger. Where Baelish has sinister intentions Varys seems to be genuine, though both use questionable methods along the way.
In Tyrion, Varys sees the brilliant political mind and deal-brokering of Tywin mixed with the compassion and human respect of someone like Ned Stark. It’s the kind of level head that the real savior of Westeros needs. We need to remind ourselves that Varys has always been a Targaryen and supporter of the House, even when he was council to the Baratheons and Lannisters, and so that savior is Daenerys. He set up the young Targaryens’ survival after Robert took the crown, sending them first to Pentos and then to the Dothraki to gather an army. He’s watched Tyrion change and evolve over the years, and knows that he has what it takes to be the Right Hand of a leader.
Whenever Tyrion meets her, I doubt it’ll under welcoming circumstances.
The Targaryen Queen is dealing with mutiny in Meereen, as the rebellious “Sons of the Harpy” aren’t taking to kindly to her rule. We touched on it a bit last year, in fact. Dany is trying to impose her Westerosi style of rule on a culture that simply doesn’t want (or know how to handle) it. There’s a reason that the slaver cities have survived for so long, and it isn’t because of any single ruler. It’s a reflection of modern Western v Eastern ideological clashes. Here’s the righteous Westerner barging into an ancient Eastern world with force, bringing values and ethics to a culture that isn’t ready for it yet.
While it may not necessarily be a political statement about modern American political strategies, the ordeal that Dany is undergoing is effectively training her in how to handle the similar situations that will arise in Westeros whenever she does get back. There hasn’t been a leader in the Seven Kingdoms that has had Eastern understanding for thousands of years — essentially when the first Targaryens took over. She’s ultimately learning the hard ways of politics; Westeros is somewhat “fake” in that it’s ruled by pompous traditions and gold. Essos (the continent that’s home to Meereen, the Free Cities, and the Dothraki) is ruled by history and religion, a stark contrast. And here in the East, that is predicated on ruling through fear and power.
She’s losing the one thing that brings that fear and power: her dragons. Her giant black Drogon has flown away, and she has the other two beasts locked in an underground catacomb, causing them to become that much more aggressive with her.
It’s worth noting here that we have a world with two powerful mothers battling for control, each with three children born of nefarious ways. Cersei’s three children are born of incest, while Daenarys’ three of fire and magic. As the mothers lose their children, their worlds begin to unravel.
And if there’s one person who’s waiting for the world to unravel to make their move, it’s Stannis Baratheon. Ever since he lost the Battle of the Blackwater, Stannis has been in despair. His army is brutalized and decimated, his people are starving, and his funds have dried up. But he has a plan, thanks to the mysticism of Melisandre and the brains of Davos. When Stannis arrived at Castle Black with his army, defeating and capturing Mance Rayder and the Wildlings, he knew the free folk could potentially help turn the tide.
His giant chess move is to force Mance to either bend his knee or die in the fires of Melisandre’s God of Light. Either of the results would end up absorbing the Wildlings into his army. But to do so he needs Jon Snow.
Jon, who’s grown fond of the Mance (and vice versa) and who’s earning the respect of many of his Wall mates for his leadership, is becoming the keystone with which the Night’s Watch is held together. When Stannis asks him (and only him) to convince Mance, it shows the level to which his character has advanced through the ranks, both as a leader and as an adult. And yet, it’s that high level of compassion that constantly holds him back.
Mance knows that swearing fealty to Stannis wouldn’t just be a sign of weakness, it would be tear down of respect. His easy way out wouldn’t be what he convinced the Wildlings to follow, and he feels as if he owes them at least a semblance of those values as he’s put to death.
It’s a pity Mance has to go out the way he does. He isn’t a smart tactician or a decent king, but he does show incredible ability in uniting and rallying different peoples together under a common cause. So when Melisandre lights the fires underneath him as a warning to the other free folk, Jon’s spark of compassion comes through once again, putting an arrow into the heart of the Wildling King just before the flames engulf him. Jon is deeply affected by things that happen around him, often acting without forethought and damning the consequences.
In this case he’s defied a King and taken yet another huge risk, and may be something that could either pay off (in earning the respect of the Wildlings) or end in tragedy (for disobeying Stannis).
We have battles brewing on all fronts now. The Lannisters and Tyrells are fighting for control of the crown, Daenerys has to deal with the growing threat of the Sons of the Harpy, and Stannis is amassing a ruthless army and about to head towards Winterfell as his first stop towards King’s Landing. There are many wars to come indeed, and the seeds for the rest of the year have been sown here and now.
Other notes:
I’m not quite sure what’s happening with Little Finger. He’s in “the Game” as well, using Sansa as his pawn — although she’s easily learning the ways of being wicked herself — but his next move is kept shrouded in mystery.
Brienne is desperate, still on the hunt for any remnants of the Stark family she can find. She’s in despair at the moment, with no compass to guide her. The overly positive Podrick can only do so much to cheer her up.
And what is it with the Unsullied visiting brothels for songs? Grey Worm knows, but isn’t speaking about it. Does singing to an Unsullied ignite emotions of being loved by a mother, something that none of the soldiers experienced?
Images courtesy HBO
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