The third season of Game of Thrones is here, and we’re chronicling the TV adaptation of George R. R. Martin’s world of Westeros — and how it differs from the books — in a series of letters between Wired writers (and Game of Thrones fanatics) Erik Henriksen and Laura Hudson.
__WARNING: The following includes spoilers for A Song of Ice and Fire Books 3-5 which have been redacted for your convenience with black bars. You can toggle spoilers on at your own risk by clicking the button to the left or highlighting. IF YOU CAN SEE THIS SENTENCE, YOU WILL BE ABLE TO SEE THE SPOILERS.__First, a TV versus book recap of "Kissed By Fire":
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Arya: The Hound's trial by combat begins, with Beric Dondarrion as his “judge.” It's pretty exciting, and—much like Arya—you can't wait to see the Hound get the pointy end. Except that he doesn't; he kills Beric instead. Thoros is on Beric's body in a flash, whispering a flame-related liturgy which seems sad until holy crap Beric comes back from the dead. From the dead! Turns out the White Walkers aren't the only zombies in Westeros. Arya grabs a knife and tries to stab the Hound herself like a badass, but they hold her back because there's no double jeopardy in trials by stabbing, or something. Later, learn that this is Beric's sixth resurrection thanks to the Lord of Light, but that he comes back a little “less” each time. Finally, Gendry decides to stay with the Brotherhood, completing Arya's no good very bad day by explaining that in the rigid class-based society of Westeros, they can never be family, because she'd always—ultimately–be "milady." In the books: The battle between the Hound and Beric is spot on, though the Hound suffered more serious burns when his shield caught on fire. Interestingly, when Arya tells the Hound to go to hell, on the show Beric says he will, and in the books Beric says he already has. And Gendry was way more of a jerk about the “milady” thing, which is pretty ironic regardless, since he's the son of Robert Baratheon and doesn't realize it.
Jon: The time has come for Jon to prove himself to the wildlings, in secret and sexy ways! First, Rattleshirt Tormund and Orell (the warg with the eagle) demand that Jon give them all the deets about where the Night's Watch soldiers are stationed and how men many there are. Jon hedges on the last point but finally says there are a thousand soldiers at Castle Black, a number that the super-hostile Orell thinks is a lie. Rattleshirt Tormund gives him the side-eye but lets him walk, saying that if the intel is bad, he'll kill him later. After (possibly) giving up the secrets of his former brothers, Jon chases Ygritte into a secret cave where she announces that's it's time to break another vow he made to the Night's Watch: celibacy. The virginal Jon, to his enormous credit, responds by immediately heading south of the border. That's right book fans: They totally kept the Lord's Kiss scene. Ygritte wants to stay in the sex cave forever and I don't blame her, because we only get scenes where characters experience happiness... what, every couple of episodes? In the books: There's definitely friction between Orell and Jon in the books, mostly because Jon kills Orell before he joins the Wildlings. Some of Orell's consciousness remains in his eagle, however, which subsequently tries to claw Jon's eyes out.
Jaime & Brienne: I'm grouping these two together from now on, as they have truly become the Ernie and Bert of Westeros. Locke finally drags the captives to Lord Bolton, who messes with Jaime briefly by withholding information about the well-being of his sister, then orders the duo unbound and cleaned up. Jaime's stump gets tended to by a creepy former maester namd Qyburn, who was stripped of his title because the Citadel found his “experiments” to be “too bold.” Brienne finally gets to take a bath, and of course Jaime strips down and jumps right in the tub with her. After baiting her into an argument—seemingly out of habit—he tells the true story behind his eponymous Kingslaying: The Mad King Aerys really was totally crazy, and secretly hid huge caches of wildfire around King's Landing. After he realized that he'd lost the city during Robert's Rebellion, Aerys told his pyromancer to detonate them all. Jaime saved everyone by killing them both and got branded a dishonorable jerk for his trouble, because apparently letting everyone in King's Landing die screaming from weapons of mass destruction would have been the knightly way? In the books: Bolton didn't jerk Jaime around, but otherwise this is very true to book. Also, the “my name is Jaime” comment he makes at the end was internal monologue rather than spoken, and echoed a similar statement–”My name is Brienne”–made numerous times by the lady-knight when Jaime called her “wench.” They both want to be seen as who they are, rather than how they are perceived.
Robb: Lord Karstark, still pissed that Jaime killed one of his sons and then got freed by Catelyn, decides to take it out on the two young Lannister hostages by murdering them. Robb is livid and decides—against the advice of basically everyone—to execute Karstark for the crime (beheading him personally, just like dad would have done) because it's the Right Thing to Do. Obviously, he loses all the Karstark soldiers (half his army) in the process. Talisa suggests that Robb take his armies back to reclaim the North, but he comes up with another plan: Head west and take the Lannister homeland of Casterly Rock. But he needs soldiers to do it, and there's only one unaligned party with enough resources to help: Lord Frey, the man whose daughter Robb was intended to marry before he met Talisa. In the books: The murdered boys on the show are Lannisters (and brothers), but in the novels one is a Lannister and the other a Frey with Lannister blood. The Karstark men actually desert Robb even before he executes Lord Karstark, and Talisa's suggestion—that Robb head home and retake the North—was his idea and the strategy he chose, rather than heading to Casterly Rock (though both were suggested as in our recent military analysis of Robb Stark's campaign).
Cersei: The Queen Regent is pulling a full-on Snow White Wicked Queen, bound and determined to destroy Margaery for being the younger, better version of her in every way. She enlists the help of Littlefinger, so the former Master of Coin sends a handsome young man to ply Loras for information with sex. Sure enough, the Knight of Flowers spills that he's intended for marriage. The second piece of the puzzle falls into place when Littlefinger reminds Sansa (who's still swooning over the idea of marrying Loras) about his plan to sneak her out of King's Landing and she demurs, saying that maybe she should stick around after all. Littlefinger says he totally supports her decision, by which he means that he's totally telling Cersei. After convincing a sassy Lady Olenna to have the Tyrells pick up half the tab for the incredibly expensive royal wedding, Tyrion heads to a meeting with his father and his sister where he learns that Tywin wants to prevent the Stark/Tyrell marriage by preemptively marrying Sansa to a Lannister: Tyrion himself. Congratulations, Cersei, you actually did a thing! And she can't stop smirking about it–at least until she learns the second half of Tywin's marriage plans: She's to marry Ser Loras. In the books: Tywin does learn of the Tyrell plot to marry Sansa into their family with the help of Littlefinger, but Cersei isn't involved. Also, the Tyrells hoped to match Sansa with Willas, Loras and Margaery's older brother, since Loras is in the Kingsguard and cannot marry; similarly Tywin wants Cersei to marry Willas, not Loras.
Stannis: With Melisandre off on some mysterious errand, Stannis goes to see his wife Selyse and confess his infidelity with the Red Lady—only to learn that his wife not only knows all about it, but 100% supports it thanks to her Lord of Light fanaticism. After all, Melisandre was able to give him a terrifying shadow-assassin baby, while she's birthed three stillborn sons (which no joke, she is keeping in jars) and their daughter, Shireen, who has some sort of skin affliction on her face. There is so very much that is messed up about this, but keeping your dead babies preserved in jars in the middle of your room to look at every day surely tops of the list. Shireen is very friendly with Davos, and when she hears that he's in the dungeon, she sneaks down to his cell to bring him a book to pass the time. When he says he's illiterate, she starts teaching him to read. In the books: Though Stannis' wife, Selyse, does become a fervent supporter of Melisandre and the Red God, the scene between her and Stannis never happens, nor do we ever hear of her havings any miscarriages or dead male children—only the inability to produce a male heir. Davos is indeed illiterate, but Shireen has no particular friendship with him and does not visit him. Also given the absence of Edric Storm on the show and the sudden focus on Shireen right after Melisandre said an ominous thing about the power of Stannis's blood, am I the only one a little worried for the girl?
Daenerys: After freeing the Unsullied, Dany asks them to choose a leader from their own ranks, and they select a young man named Grey Worm. When Dany learns that all Unsullied are renamed after various types of vermin after being castrated, she commands them to pick new names that give the pride. But Grey Worm says that he is proud of his name—it's the one he had when Dany freed him. Jorah and Selmy enjoy some camaraderie over battles from back in the day, at least until Selmy suggests that Jorah may hinder Dany more than help when they ultimately return to Westeros, since he's still a pariah for the whole "selling people into slavery" thing. Jorah is not interested in hearing this from someone who joined their party five seconds ago, but it seems like Selmy might have a point. In the books: The Unsullied are indeed given the names of vermin, although for maximum dehumanization, those names are changed each day. Also, Barristan Selmy was still pretending to be Arstan Whitebeard at this point–an old man who claimed to be be a squire—so he and Jorah did no reminiscing about old battles; their relationship was distrustful at best.
-Laura
The main thing that stuck with me this episode—and I suppose it's a running theme of the show, but I noticed it even more in this particular hour—was that all of these characters are struggling not so much with what they want to be doing but what is expected of them.
This is obviously a big part of Theon's life (who, disappointingly, we didn't see this week), but it also seems the case for Jaime (moral obligation vs. duty as member of the Kingsguard), Stannis' wife Selyse (due to the oh-so-progressive gender norms of Westeros, she's supposed to be giving Stannis sons, and instead gives him a creepy fetus parade and a little girl kept hidden away because of her deformity), and Robb (supposed to be a good commander-in-chief, but instead finds himself killing Lord Karstark, one of his own bannermen, and losing half of his army). Even Tyrion and Cersei, who think their already-diminished roles are to help Tywin rule at King's Landing, discover they're more useful as marriage pawns to secure loyalties and lands. In fact, the only person who seems totally cool with and capable of doing what's expected of him is Grey Worm, the leader of the Unsullied. But then again, it doesn't really seem like Grey Worm has a whole lot of other career options.
To get into spoiler territory for a minute, can I tell you how excited I am to see that we're finally heading into the Red Wedding?! I'm guessing this is going to be the big finale to season three, just as Ned's beheading and the Battle of Blackwater Bay were for the first two seasons. As a friend pointed out to me when we were reading the books, the Red Wedding is basically the moment when George R.R. Martin realized he had way too many characters—and it's starting to feel that way in the show, too. I want longer scenes of characters talking and doing stuff, but instead they've gotten to the point where just to keep things moving, we're more or less ducking in on everyone for a few seconds, then going off to check in on someone else. Time to trim the fat.
-Erik
________First off, I'd like to say that despite my previous criticisms about the show fixating on naked ladies without offering equal eye candy of the male variety, Game of Thrones achieved a very high level of sexy parity in the episode, which is perhaps my favorite kind of parity. Not only did they keep the Lord's Kiss scene and add a totally new dude-on-dude sex scene involving Ser Loras, but I was very impressed by the framing of the bathtub scene between Brienne and Jaime. When she leaps to her feet naked to challenge his insult, I love that they cut the shot above her breasts, and that she is portrayed first and foremost as a warrior, not an object of sexual titillation. Rather than setting Brienne apart as a Naked Lady, the show keeps its eyes on the attributes that really matter: the bravery and strength that transcend her gender. It could have gone so wrong, and reduced Brienne to nothing but her ladyparts–something her stupid society has been doing her whole life–but instead it went so, so right. WELL DONE SHOW. WELL DONE.
Second, I think you've touched on a core theme of the show: the conflicting expectations the characters are forced to struggle with, and how that it makes it so difficult for them (and us!) to figure out the Right Thing to Do. Was it the right thing for Jaime to kill the Mad King before he could deploy medieval WOMD, even though it meant breaking his Kingsguard vows? Was it the right thing for Jon to break his vows to the Night's Watch, even in service of the Night's Watch? Was it the right thing for Ned Stark to show mercy to Cersei and her children, even though it cost him his head and put Joffrey on the throne? Was it the right thing for Robb to execute to Lord Karstark, no matter what the cost to his army? Beric Dondarrion even thinks that letting the Hound go is the "right thing," after his “trial” proves him “innocent,” even though he clearly, clearly is guilty.
It's also super interesting to see how Beric tries to reconcile his faith with the outcome of the trial; he tells Arya that “the judgment isn't ours to make" and that the Hound survived not because he was blameless, but because "the Lord of Light isn't done with [him] yet.” This defense of the inscrutable ways of the Lord of Light is the same sort of religious rationalization you hear whenever terrible, unjust acts occur: If a god is infallible, then surely none of his acts can be wrong, only right in a way that we cannot yet grasp; the Lord of Light surely must have let the Hound live because like the Cylons, he has a plan. There's a fan theory that the Hound doesn't actually die as he seems to later in Storm of Swords, but goes on to renounce his former life and become a better man at the Quiet Isle monastery–and may emerge again later in the series. So perhaps in a way Beric is right, and the Lord of Light does know what he's doing? (Perhaps, from a certain perspective, the Lord of Light is George R. R. Martin?)
But the show and books don't just set up the characters for conflicts between expectations and reality; they set up readers and viewers as well. When Beric attacks the Hound with his flaming sword, he looks every bit like a hero ripped from the cover of a fantasy novel, which is a big part of why we don't just want him to win—we expect that he will. But the deeper message of Game of Thrones is often fervently anti-fantasy: People don't win because they are good, or because they look the part; they win because they are stronger. Trial by combat is obviously a terrible system of justice for many reasons, but primarily because it privileges the powerful, as though the entire world doesn't already do that constantly. It also reveals the lies we like to tell ourselves about strength and honor and truth–our optimistic sense of moral determinism that says that good will triumph simply because it should.
Just look at poor Sansa, who is basically the biggest fantasy novel fan of all, with her starry-eyed love of chivalry and knights. Joffrey was supposed to be her handsome prince, after all, just like Ned Stark was supposed to be our hero. But it didn't work out that way, and we all ended up just like Sansa at the Sept of Baelor and Arya in the cave with the Brotherhood: screaming that it wasn't fair, that it had to be a different way because everything we'd been taught said that this wasn't how the story was supposed to go. The tragedy of the Stark family is that they embody all the simplistic fairy tale notions about goodness, honor and beauty, and the tragedy of the reader is that we get to slowly realize exactly how false they those notions are by watching the Starks suffer over and over for being foolish enough to believe in them.
Also, Erik, in your discussion about people struggling to live up to expectations, you neglected to mention the one person who is stepping almost effortlessly into the role she's "meant" to play: Daenerys Targaryen. Given where she started, it is shocking how convincing she is as a leader, particularly the head of an army. On a slightly tangential note, that was always the problem I had with Lena Headey (aka Cersei) when she headlined Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles; she was a great actress, but I just never believed her as a leader. Dany, on the other hand, conveys astonishing power and authority, and commands an army like it's the most natural thing in the world. When she speaks, you believe that thousands of soldiers would snap to attention. When the show began, I absolutely bought Emilia Clarke as a 15-year-old naïve. Now I absolutely buy her as a military commander. You rule, Daenerys. And given most of the options in the War of the Five Kings, I'm starting to think you should.
-Laura
Okay, yes, agreed on the sex parity thing, but one thing you neglected to mention in the bathtub scene is that in the books, Jaime—since he's a POV character, we know this—gets kind of a boner when he sees Brienne in all her giant naked glory. I don't think that negates anything else that happens in the scene, but it does add another dimension to their relationship—i.e., the suggestion it could, at some point, become a relationship-relationship. It's a subtle shading to those characters' unique rapport, but it's there—and after how great this bathtub scene was (I kept expecting to see "EMMY CLIP" flash under Jaime's head during his speech), I wonder if it's going to make it into the show at some point.
And not to turn this Game of Thrones recap into a Sarah Connor Chronicles recap, but my conscience will not abide your comment about Headey as Sarah Connor—a comment that wounds my very soul. The reason you didn't buy Headey in that role is, weirdly enough, the reason I did buy her—because Sarah Connor, for all of her badassery, isn't a leader. She's a waitress at a crappy diner who gets caught up in some robo-craziness from the future. Sarah Connor does all sorts of amazing, admirable, awesome things to protect John, but they're acts of desperation, fear, and precaution; she's someone who's just doing the best she can, trying to hold things together, until John's old enough to take over. Unlike Daenerys, Sarah Connor isn't a stereotypical leader, amassing armies and showing off her power. She's a broke, tough-as-nails single mom whose kid is the most important thing in the world to her—not to mention the most important thing to the world in general.
Which, now that I think about it, doesn't make her all that different from Cersei! Like Sarah Connor, Cersei's known from before Joffrey's birth that, if all went to plan, he'd become the leader of Westeros, not her. Now that that's come true—in name, if not in practice—it's not surprising Cersei feels jilted and disappointed by how it's all turned out. After all those years of preparation, she now thinks she'd be a better leader than Joffrey (and she's probably right), and that she should be more valuable to Tywin (again, probably right).
Watching Daenerys come into her own these past few episodes has been so rewarding because she's so goddamn good at being a dramatic leader; watching Cersei shrivel and shrink has been so sad because she never thought she'd be relegated to the sidelines. Unlike Jaime, Cersei's fall doesn't lend itself to theatrical speeches, nor to opportunities to pose and look pretty even while being covered in mud and horseshit. Cersei's fall is worse, because no one but her seems to even notice that it's happened. She's served her purpose; aside from possibly being of use to marry off, she's done.
Speaking of Daenerys, though, I'm going to throw this out there to the ether and see what happens, but I'm hoping Benioff and Weiss are paying attention to how much everybody's loving Daenerys this season. Because in the books, the number of interesting things Daenerys does after the Astapor BBQ is... not high. Actually having Daenerys doing stuff—and serving as a foil for those losing power in Westeros—has been fantastic. One of the unexpectedly great things about all the shifts in power this season is how Benioff and Weiss have made the first two seasons seem like the calm before the storm. Like most Game of Thrones characters, most Game of Thrones viewers are likely looking back at seasons one and two and saying, "Huh. You know, I thought things were miserable for everybody then, but it turns out they can get so much worse."
-Erik
________It's interesting that you say that about Sarah Connor, Erik, because what made her so amazing to me was the fact that she started out as a mousy waitress in Terminator, then suddenly turned up in Terminator 2 as a stone-cold badass–a woman transformed. She wasn't Cersei; she was Daenerys, and when she went toe to toe with the T-1000 in the steel mill with nothing but a shotgun and a sense of righteous fury, she might as well have been shouting "dracarys." It was less complicated, perhaps, than what Headey offered in Sarah Connor Chronicles, but also more satisfying? I'm only human, you know. Maybe like Sansa, sometimes I prefer my fantasy heroes to be a little bit more fantastical.
-Laura
