Unsullied Recap—Game of Thrones, Episode 609—”Battle of the Bastards”

Spoiler note: “A girl says nothing. A girl keeps her mouth closed. No one hears.” —Girls, boys, and everyone alike, Jaqen H’ghar has spoken, so please remember: This recap is primarily for non-book readers (book fans can discuss the show here). If you’re a book reader, please avoid posting any spoilers here so as not to ruin the fun for those who don’t know what’s coming next. Thank you!

We open on another day at the office for Daenerys: surrounded by the destruction and devastation of her enemies right outside her doors, while she waits for one of her advisors to plead for his life because, Lucy, he’s got some splainin’ to do. But Tyrion makes his case; although he underestimated the masters and they broke the treaty, they proved their fear of what Daenerys was accomplishing in Essos. Meereen had indeed begun to adjust to its new way of life, which meant that other cities would surely follow, and the Masters would lose everything—their trade, their wealth, their necessity to the communities in which they flourished. Daenerys agrees, and hatches her usual plan:

"Daenerys: “I will crucify the masters, I will set their fleets afire, kill every last one of their soldiers, and return their cities to the dirt. That is my plan. You don’t approve?”Tyrion: “You once told me you knew what your father was. Did you know his plans for King’s Landing when the Lannister armies were at his gates? Probably not. Well, he told my brother, and Jaime told me—he had caches of wildfire, hidden under the Red Keep, the guild halls, the Sept of Baelor, all the major thoroughfares. He would have burned every one of his citizens, the loyal ones and the traitors, every man, woman, and child. That’s why Jaime killed him.”Daenerys: “This is entirely different.”Tyrion: “You’re talking about destroying cities. It’s not entirely different.”"

Now, this is precisely the sort of advisor Daenerys needs: one who isn’t completely in awe of her, who will tell her the truth as Ser Barristan (rest his beardy soul) did, one who’s familiar with the Mad King’s history and how that history can repeat itself with Daenerys if she’s not careful. She listens to Tyrion now and, although I’m not convinced that will go on forever, for now it’s enough.

The Targaryen squad meets the offending Masters outside to discuss terms of surrender—the masters’ surrender, that is, which comes as a shock to them as they seem to have forgotten about Daenerys’ trump card: dragons. Drogon appears just in case the masters are more visual learners than auditory ones, and Daenerys climbs on board for a tour of her city under siege. The Sons of the Harpy are still hacking away at civilians when Daario and the Dothraki (which sounds like a GOT fan band) ride up and show them what’s what. Rhaegal and Viserion emerge from their catacombs, and follow their mother and brother to the Masters’ fleet, of which they incinerate only a select number of ships so Daenerys can keep some for herself.

Back at the pyramid, Tyrion, Missandei, and Grey Worm inform the Masters that, on Daenerys’ order, one of them must give their life as a lesson to others who would defy the Dragon Queen. Two of them attempt to sacrifice their “lowborn” comrade, and find themselves at the business end of Grey Worm’s blade instead. Tyrion tells the remaining master to spread the word: don’t mess with the lady with the dragons.

Now that that’s settled, Yara and Theon have arrived in Meereen to curry Daenerys’ favor. They offer a fleet of one hundred ships and the hot gossip that Euron totally wants to ask Daenerys to prom (“As if,” replies Daenerys), and ask that she grant the Iron Islands independence upon her taking of the Seven Kingdoms. On the vow that the Ironborn will chill out with all the raiding and pillaging, Daenerys agrees, primarily because she and Yara have struck a bond of sisterhood. I’m not sure if they’re going to swap friendship bracelets or make out. Probably both. The alliance is strong, and while I may not be on board with Daenerys, I’m totally here for some excellent female friendship/romance.

And now… Let’s get ready to ruuuuumble. The Battle of the Bastards is upon us, and it pulls out all the stops.

Sansa, Jon, and the crew wait while Ramsay and the Legion of Doom approach in an apparently neutral space to discuss battle terms. Jon, obviously concerned, tells Sansa, “You don’t have to be here,” but she tells him to shut his pretty trap, manbun, because she’s got business to attend to. She and Jon step forward as one to meet Ramsay, which really hammers the point home that this isn’t just a battle of the bastards—it’s Sansa’s fight, and perhaps more hers than anyone else’s. Jon wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for her, and Ramsay is her enemy, her abuser, and hers to finish.

Because he’s apparently never heard the phrase “Talk sh*t, get hit,” Ramsay goes off on a typical villain schpiel, thanking Jon for returning Sansa to him, urging them to bend the knee and pledge loyalty to the Boltons, and taunting them about their lack of numbers and dismal chances of victory. Most of them seem utterly unimpressed by Ramsay’s show, and indeed Lady Mormont makes her sole appearance in the episode with an award-winning “Who’s this clown, now?” face.

Still, Jon tries for some reason, and offers a mano a mano game of rock, paper, scissors between himself and Ramsay. No one else needs to die, just one of them, and they can settle it right now. But Ramsay, for all his faults, isn’t stupid; he knows he can’t beat Jon one-on-one, and he admits as much aloud. Shaggydog’s head is tossed at the Starks’ feet as proof that Ramsay has Rickon in his clutches (how long do they plan on keeping that head around, by the way?), and they agree to meet on the battlefield for brunch the next day. Having had quite enough, Sansa cuts across Ramsay and says, in the quote of the week, “You’re going to die tomorrow, Lord Bolton. Sleep well.” Ramsay might smirk it off, but the self-assurance in her statement really should have been enough to give him the heebie-jeebies.

That night, Jon, Tormund, and Davos discuss the next day’s battle strategy while Sansa looks on, seething. When she’s alone with Jon, they argue about what Jon can handle, about who Ramsay is and how Sansa knows him better than anyone else, and how Jon should have consulted her, should have listened to her before he went on with his plans. They’re both right, in their ways: Sansa is ignorant of what Jon has faced in enemies like the White Walkers, and Jon is just as ignorant of what Sansa has been through in their years apart.

Sansa finally acknowledges that there’s no saving Rickon—he’s too much of a threat to Ramsay’s claim to Winterfell, and as such they should have gathered a larger army. Without one, Ramsay very well may win, and she will not return to Winterfell with him if he does. Jon, knight in shining armor that he is, tells her, “I won’t ever let him touch you again” (I swooned, so sue me). But Sansa’s learned a lot by now, and she knows that if they don’t win, there’s no saving anyone who needs it.

Jon holds conference next with Melisandre, only to tell her that if he should die again, he doesn’t want her to bring him back. Melisandre more or less replies, “I do what I want,” because she may not know Jon’s purpose in this world, but the Lord of Light’s sure got plans for him.

Outside in their camp, Davos and Tormund talk about the men they used to follow, how they each loved Stannis and Mance, respectively, how they had faith in them and how they were wrong to trust in their kings. But “Jon Snow’s not a king,” Tormund says, and once again exemplifies the theme that runs through this series that those who fight with a purpose separate from power are those most suited to wield that power, who inspire honor, loyalty, and love. After this signature broment, Tormund heads off for a drink, and Davos goes for a walk to clear his head—but no such luck, as he comes upon what remains of Shireen’s funeral pyre, and puts the pieces of her death together when he finds the carved stag he gave her on their last meeting. But there’s no time to dwell on his discovery and the shattering grief that’s to come: the horn sounds in the distance, and the battle is on.

The scene is tense from the start, all silence save for the flapping of banners and the whooshing, crackling fires that set Bolton crosses ablaze. There’s the sound of hooves pattering atop the earth as Jon approaches the front lines on horseback, and as Ramsay comes forward with a rope in tow. He dismounts his horse and reveals that he’s led Rickon out to the battlefield; Ramsay raises his sword, as threatening as ever, and cuts Rickon free from his bonds. It turns out that Sansa was right—Ramsay fully intends to toy with Jon, and he starts with Rickon, who he instructs to run across the field to his brother while he, Ramsay, readies his bow and arrow.

Jon is like, “hell, nah,” and urges his horse forward to meet Rickon halfway, before the youngest Stark becomes another victim on Ramsay’s list. There’s a full camera shot, Jon coming from one end and Rickon the other, drawing ever nearer to each other and Rickon’s safety, and then Ramsay’s fourth arrow meets its mark. Rickon falls, shaking, bleeding, dying, and the world feels like it’s stopped. I, for one, hope that the North was watching. I hope they never get the image of a fallen Rickon Stark out of their heads, and I hope they know they did that to him. I hope they think they don’t care, that this is war and Rickon Stark means nothing to them, but I hope that boy haunts them and they realize what a lie that is.

It’s obvious in Jon’s expression, and those of Tormund and Davos, that Ramsay has broken Jon in one fell swoop. And all at once the world starts again. Jon charges, alone, towards Ramsay and his army, his own men far behind. Ramsay gives the order for his men’s arrows to fly, and Jon’s horse is hit, and he’s left to take on his rapidly approaching enemies on his own. For one slow-motion moment, as Jon draws his sword and stands his ground against his stampeding foes, it seems that this is the end for Jon all over again—and then BAM, his men are behind him and all hell breaks loose across this dead expanse of grass they call a battlefield.

Ramsay stands down with more men, avoiding the fight himself, either out of strategy or his own cowardice, but either way proving himself the villain when faced with Jon, who has flung himself headfirst into the battle, taking out man after man. Arrows fly overhead, whipping through the air before they hit soldiers and their mounts. The field is overrun by bodies—dead and fighting and squirming and bleeding. Davos leads their remaining men into the fray in a screaming fury, Tormund saves Jon from a Bolton man’s sword, and they’re all caked with dirt, sweat, their own blood and that of their enemies.

When Jon’s men are all gathered together, Bolton shields surround them, closing in and trapping them between their shields and spears and the mounds of dead and dying bodies. The Bolton army advances, their weapons slicing through their opponents as they step ever closer, gutting wildlings and Mormont men and those faithful Northerners who rallied to the Starks’ cause. Umber men scale the piles of bodies in order to fight Jon’s forces in closer quarters, and Tormund leads the wildlings in a game of wartime Red Rover, crashing into Bolton shields with all the force left in them.

Jon and Smalljon Umber are about to face off when Tormund tackles Jon to the ground, seemingly for the sake of his life, and takes on Umber himself. Jon is on the ground, filthy and gasping for air, seeing nothing but the silhouettes of men trampling above him and the intermittent flashes of sunlight beyond their fighting shadows. He struggles to emerge from their depths as Ramsay looks on from a distance. Tormund is being bested by Umber, Davos looks around, a horn blares in the near distance, Tormund slices Umber good, and Ramsay too turns at the sound of the horn as it blares again.

The sigil of House Arryn snaps in the wind, their army led by Littlefinger and undisputed Queen of the North, Sansa Stark. The Knights of the Vale descend upon what’s left of the battle, their forces overwhelming as they spill over the hillside, banners and swords waving. Ramsay, pulling a Joffrey at the Battle of Blackwater, retreats, abandoning his men for the safety of Winterfell, but he won’t get off that easy. Sansa, her triumphant smile faltering in presumed worry, watches as Jon, Tormund, and Wun Wun chase after the man who started this all and apparently fancies an escape before it’s over.

Once again encased within Winterfell’s walls, Ramsay seems surprised when Wun Wun starts breaking down the door, as if he hadn’t noticed his enemy had a giant on their side. But no matter, as Wun Wun shrugs off the dozens upon dozens of arrows in his flesh and gets down to business. The door comes crashing down, splintering at every angle, and Jon and his merry band of wildlings cross the threshold.

With one final arrow to the eye, courtesy of Ramsay, Wun Wun falls for good, and the culmination of this war is here: Ramsay, clean and unscathed and with nothing left to lose, faced against Jon, dirty and bloody and broken and furious, his unshakable honor shook as he approaches, throwing up his shield like Captain America every time Ramsay aims an arrow his way. Jon hits him upside the head with the shield, knocking him over, and Jon beats Ramsay nearly to death, stopping only when he sees Sansa standing above him, watching. He knows Ramsay is hers, that this battle is hers, and he’s going to give her that—she’s proven herself to him in more ways than one by now, and Jon knows that she’s not the girl he knew when they left Winterfell so many years before.

The banners of House Bolton fall, replaced by those of the Starks. Melisandre smiles. Davos’ hands fidget around the stag he made for Shireen. Rickon’s body is brought before Jon and Sansa, and Jon orders he be buried in the crypts next to Ned. Sansa wants to know where Ramsay is, and Jon leaves her to it.

Ramsay awakes, tied to a chair and locked in a cell, Sansa staring dispassionately through the bars at him as though he’s something vaguely sticky on the bottom of her shoe. And now, that might as well be all he is. He attempts to get the best of her once more, and tells her that no matter what, she’ll never truly be rid of him. But this is it for Sansa, the final straw, her moment of glory: “Your words will disappear. Your house will disappear. Your name will disappear. All memory of you will disappear.”

Ramsay’s hounds have been starved for days in preparation for a feast of his enemies, and now Sansa lets them loose upon him. Roose Bolton once called his son a mad dog, and now Ramsay dies at the snapping of their jaws as they tear into his body. Sansa watches, just long enough to know that he’ll be ripped apart, gone, and that’s all she needs. She leaves, the hounds’ growls and Ramsay’s screams fading out behind her, and she smiles as she goes. Finally, the man who took so much from her family, from her, has met his end at her hand. No matter how he tried, how he hurt her, he never beat her.

Take a breather, fellow Unsullied, and let’s discuss: Was the battle all you hoped for, and are you as satisfied with Ramsay’s long-awaited demise as I am? What enemies do Jon and Sansa have to turn their attentions to next, and can they rebuild their home while they do so? Does this episode’s fabulous display of girl power mean there’s more Queen Babe Sansa Stark merch in our future? As for next week’s happenings up north, my money’s on Littlefinger proposing to Sansa; and if we’re lucky, Jon will punch him in the face, too.

RIP Rickon Stark and Wun Wun the giant—you deserved better than Ramsay’s arrows. You are loved, and will be remembered.

Remember—speculation is encouraged, spoilers aren’t! Please refrain from posting book spoilers here! Feel free to discuss the episode in the comments or Tweet me @kattymaj, but don’t ruin any surprises for the viewers who haven’t read the books. While the show has largely diverged from its source material, you never know what details will crop up later. Thanks, and see you next week!