Our Very Serious Game of Thrones Recap—Episode 701—”Sheeranstone”

Game of Thrones is a serious show, and we are serious people. In this series, we recap each new episode with the deep, dark, grim-faced seriousness it deserves. Seriously.

No fooling. Violators will be frowned at.

We open at the Twins, where the crotchety Walder Frey has made a full recovery from his death. To celebrate, he hosts a lavish dinner party and invites the many offshoots of his trigger-happy genitals. While his relatives eat, drink and be merry, Walder stuns them all with a verbal smackdown, lambasting them for killing the Starks at the Red Wedding. His speech is so powerful that every man in the room starts to die. Damn. What an orator!

Walder then removes his face to reveal that he was Arya Stark all along. “And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for you meddling — oh, wait, I did get away with it,” she laughs, before turning to Lady Frey. “Make sure to credit me for this, my artistic masterpiece.”

Walder’s wife recoils in terror, but Arya has no sympathy whatsoever. “You think you have problems?” she says. “I had to wear your geriatric husband’s sagging face for the sake of a ruse. Do you know how difficult it is to come up with new and exciting ways to murder people? You can’t just chop off their heads like we did in the first season — no, the people want more. This is what a consumerist culture does to society, nobody’s ever satisfied.”

“I had to have sex with that sagging geriatric,” his wife stonily replies.

“Touché,” says Arya, and leaves to wash her face with industrial-strength bleach.

DUN DUN DUNDUNDUN DUN DUNDUNDUN DUN DUNDUNDUN DUN DUNDUNDUN DUN DUNDUNDUN DUN DUNDUNDUN DUN DUNDUNDUN DUN

We’re north of the Wall. Meera Reed arrives at the gates of Castle Black, dragging Brandon Stark behind her on an inexplicable sled. Why is it inexplicable? Because it wasn’t bloody there at the end of last season. Uncle Benjen dropped them off at the weirwood without any means of transportation, so where did it come from? Did she build it herself? Did she uproot a tree with her bare goddamn hands and shape the wood by gnawing on it like a beaver? I mean, if anyone can do it, she can, but still. Where were the script supervisors on that one? We’re only one episode in and already facing these kinds of problems.

Anyway, Dolorous Edd and his men open the gate. 

“My name is T-800 and this is Brandon Stark of Winterfell,” says Meera.

“Where are your IDs?” Edd replies.

“DEATH IS COMING FOR US ALL,” says Bran, immediately revealing himself as Jon’s kin.

“Isn’t there one happy-go-lucky Stark among you?” says Edd. “I was nicknamed for my miserable attitude, but you lot make me look like Ellen DeGeneres.”

“There is,” Bran confirms. “But she’s in the Riverlands, committing mass murder.”

Bran and Meera are allowed in without any further questioning. I guess the Night’s Watch don’t care about continuity errors as much as I do.

At Winterfell, Jon Snow has gathered the noblemen of the North to discuss how to defend themselves against the White Walkers, who are currently doing a charity 10K to Eastwatch to raise funds for an Ed Sheeran gig. Jon floats the idea of gender equality, earning himself major brownie points from every woman in the room. “But who will make my sandwiches?” cries Lord Glover, who hasn’t seen Wonder Woman yet. Lyanna Mormont threatens to make a shit sandwich out of him unless he sits down and shuts his trap, while her new dad, Papa Davos, proudly watches on.

Soon, the topic of Karhold and the Last Hearth comes up, and Sansa openly disagrees with Jon’s decision to let the Umbers and Karstarks keep their ancestral homes. Jon’s lower lip wobbles. “Sansy, my beloved sister,” he says, not with words, but with his sad, chocolate-brown eyes. “Y U DO DIS 2 UR KING?”

“Who do you think I am, Bran?” says Sansa. “I can’t read your damn mind and I think your decision is ridiculous.”

It turns out that the heirs to Karhold and Last Hearth are children, and Jon’s not hot on the idea of letting kids run homeless through the streets. Not in this weather, anyway. He decrees that the strongholds can stay with their original families. Following the meeting, he and Sansa take a walk. Sansa can sense that Jon is one criticism away from retreating to his room to press wildflowers and listen to Death Cab, so she hits him with a barrage of compliments to boost his ego and implores him not to go the same way as Ned and Robb Stark. “You’re the only family I have left and you sent your personal resurrection specialist away like a goddamn imbecile,” she says. “Please. Don’t. Die. On. Me.”

Once more, Jon’s lower lip starts to wobble, but he is spared from showing emotion by the arrival of Maester Wolkan, who comes bearing a friendly letter from Cersei Lannister.

“What does it say?” says Sansa.

“DEATH IS COMING FOR YOU ALL,” Jon reads. “Did Bran write this letter?”

“Cersei’s so cool,” Sansa mutters under her breath.

“What was that?”

“I said you were born to rule.”

Jon’s lower lip wobbles again.

In King’s Landing, Cersei is putting her newfound power to good use by having the Red Keep redecorated. She’s watching the royal floor-painter at work when Jaime stops by to discuss their inevitable defeat.

“Why are you having a map of Westeros painted on the floor?” Jaime asks.

“Have you seen how often people in this show have to lean over maps on tables to keep in shot during war councils?” Cersei responds. “It’s terrible for your posture.”

Jaime uses his wealth of military experience to conclude that his family are screwed, and tries to discuss a more cheerful subject: the suicide of their youngest son, Tommen. Cersei waves the matter away. “Let’s have another baby,” she says, but Jaime misses her anvil-sized hints because he’s fretting about the fate of the nation.

Later, Euron Greyjoy arrives in the city to woo Cersei, as he’s pretty certain that his first choice, Daenerys, is embarking on a journey of sexual awakening with his niece. He is received by Cersei and her brother in the throne room and promptly proposes marriage, skillfully neglecting to mention that he plans to betray her as soon as opportunity arises.

“You’ll betray me as soon as opportunity arises,” Cersei declares. “I decline your proposal.”

The King of the Iron Islands is undeterred, and promises to buy Cersei a big sparkler of an engagement ring to bring her round to the idea, or failing that, the head of an enemy — which should be easy, because you could swing a cat in any given part of Westeros and hit at least one person Cersei hates. Hell, she probably hates the cat.

“I’ll get you a present as well,” Euron says to Jaime on his way out the door. “Something from the second-hand store.”

Jaime’s lower lip wobbles.

We cut to Samwell Tarly, who is hard at work in the Citadel of Oldtown, flying first class / Up in the sky / Poppin’ champagne / Living’ my life / In the fast lane / And I won’t change / For the glamorous, oh the flossy flossy.

Sam is desperate to gain entry to the restricted section of the library to learn more about the Night King’s horcruxes, and seeks a permission slip from Professor Slughorn during an after-class organ harvesting session. Unfortunately, Slughorn isn’t remotely interested in fighting the impending darkness. “We survived the first White Walker attack thousand of years ago,” he tells his young apprentice. “We’ll survive the next one. Have some of that suspicious-looking gruel and mellow out.”

“We did survive it,” Sam agrees. “And with that in mind, don’t you think it would be pertinent to study the first Long Night so we can figure out how we did it?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Slughorn says. “I’ve got a chunk of ignorance lodged in my ear.” Then he shuffles off to find some sweet crystallized pineapple. Sam has no other choice but to steal some keys and sneak into the restricted section at night. Filch would have caught and punished him, but as you saw at the beginning of the episode, Arya literally peeled his face off.

Back at Winterfell, Brienne and Pod are sparring when Tormund strolls over to suggest Eastwatch and chill. Unused to this, Brienne takes her discomfort out on her squire. “But I respect you as a person!” Pod cries as he falls into the snow.

Sansa’s watching over Brienne in quiet reflection when Petyr Baelish sidles up to her, reminding her that she really needs to learn how to turn off that Snapchat map.

“Why aren’t you happy?” he asks.

“Well,” she begins. “I did just bury my youngest brother.”

“I mean–”

“My other brother and sister are still missing and I don’t know how to find them.”

“But–”

“My parents and eldest brother are dead.”

“I have a pot of gold I’d like to–”

“My home could be under attack from an army of unbeatable ice zombies any day now.”

“It’s just at the end of the rainbow, if you’d care to join–”

“Cersei Lannister is packing scorpions into some innocent-looking gift baskets with my name on them at this very moment.”

“Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are–”

“And I’ve spent the past few years being raped and beaten,” she finishes. “Take your pick.”

Petyr blinks confusedly. “I don’t get your point.”

Back in the Riverlands, Arya’s riding along when she comes across a group of Lannister soldiers. Ed Sheeran is also there, his presence as inexplicable as Bran and Meera’s brand new sled.

“GIRL! GIRL! PRETTY GIRL!” the soldiers whisper, their ears and noses pricking up like so many excitable puppies, and they fall over themselves trying to be hospitable. Arya urges herself to ride on, but it’s too late — the power of Ed Sheeran’s melodious voice has penetrated the cold, hardened exterior of her heart, and just like that, she has feelings again.

“Gee golly,” says Nice Guy Lannister #1, and offers her some rabbit and homemade wine.

“Golly gosh,” says Nice Guy Lannister #2, as he speculates on the gender of his baby.

Arya’s lower lip wobbles.

The Hound is also on the move, traveling with the Brotherhood without Banners. They stop at a dilapidated old farmhouse the Hound remembers from that time he was a d-bag who stole from the kindly farmer and his daughter Sally, the rabbit-stew whiz kid. They enter the house to find the bloodied skeletons of Sally and her father sitting in the corner.

“Nothing unusual here,” says Beric, and makes himself comfortable, which says a lot about him, really.

“What do you lot do for entertainment in these parts?” says the Hound. “Anyone have a Hulu subscription?”

“Do we look like we can afford Hulu?” says Beric. “Thoros can’t even afford hair plugs. We stare into the flames and hope that it picks up HBO. What have you got today, Thoros?”

Thoros shrugs dejectedly from his spot by the fire. “Public access.”

The Hound joins Thoros by the hearth and is visibly moved by a low budget student film about global warming. Later, he buries the two skeletons in the yard. You would, too, if you’d just had a vision of a hundred thousand zombies marching on the Wall. Sleep certainly isn’t an option after that.

Back in Oldtown, Sam and Gilly are reading through books Sam pilfered from the restricted section in the hopes of finding information on how to defeat the Night King and his minions. “It says here that the melodious sound of Ed Sheeran’s voice could penetrate the cold, hardened exterior of any heart,” says Gilly. “Even a White Walker’s.”

“I knew that,” says Sam. “But he’s impossible to get hold of. Can’t even tweet him anymore.”

Eventually, Sam finds a map of Dragonstone that confirms there is a mine of dragonglass somewhere on the island. “Stannis told me about this,” he says.

“So this entire venture was obsolete, then?” Gilly replies.

Sam bristles as he hastily scrawls an epistle to Jon. “I regret ever encouraging you to extend your vocabulary.”

Some time later, Sam is clearing bowls away from the Citadel sick bay for the highly contagious when, suddenly, Jorah Mormont tries to infect him with greyscale. Damn, Jorah, I know it’s a lonely disease, but you don’t have to be such a dick about it.

Further east, Daenerys Targaryen and her cronies pull up at Dragonstone, where they find to their delight that Stannis Baratheon never left a house-sitter in charge. While the rest of her crew, who spent the entire sea journey standing completely still as per Dany’s orders, stretch their limbs, Dany takes a stroll on the beach and lovingly strokes the sand. ‘Beach party!’ she thinks. ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to find a couple of defectors to barbecue.’

Two of Dany’s Unsullied soldiers open the gates to the castle. Jeez, Stannis didn’t even lock the doors when he left. Even the two idiots from Home Alone could have cased this place.

After some wandering around, Dany and Tyrion make it to the famous Painted Table, which Dany’s most famous ancestor, Aegon the Conquerer, used to plan his legendary invasion of Westeros.

“Well,” says Daenerys. “My posture’s gonna get shot to shit.”

Taking the Iron Throne

This week, I award the Iron Throne to …

Arya Stark

One of the great things about writing articles is that, on occasion, I can be biased, and I’m starting off this series of recaps with a nice, juicy helping of favoritism before I must inevitably adopt a policy of objectivity. In this case, it’s well founded. Arya murdered an entire hall full of people and scored free tickets to an Ed Sheeran gig without breaking a sweat. What did you do last weekend?

Honorable mentions: The Hound, Thoros of Myr and Beric Dondarrion, Lyanna Mormont, Tormund Giantsbane’s ‘do me’ face, Sansa Stark’s A-Grade rejection skills.

Chilling in Fleabottom

This week’s bottom-dwelling, bowl o’ brown guzzling loser is …

Petyr Baelish

“Why aren’t you happy?” said Petyr. To Sansa Stark.

Honorable mentions: Yohn Royce, for suggesting that Jon burn the entire armada of Slaver’s B… sorry, for suggesting that Jon tear down Karhold and Last Hearth. Also Lord Glover, for sexism. Come on, man, this is the nineties.

Next: Game of Thrones creators announce new HBO series

Next week, we approach “Stormborn” with all the gravity and sensitivity it deserves.