Game of Thrones: The Wars To Come – Analysis

“The freedom to make my own mistakes was all I ever wanted.” So says Mance Rayder to Jon Snow after Jon fruitlessly tries to convince the King-Beyond-The-Wall that swallowing his pride and kneeling before Zod Stannis would be the right thing to do.

Mance Rayder: “I wish you good fortune in the wars to come.”

As we’ve seen in the last four seasons, when an episode cannot be joined together by geography or a central character, the show connects each of the vignettes with overarching themes. Freedom, and what one does with it, tied everything together last night. Even the shorter run-ins, like the scene with Brienne and Pod, featured the idea. Pod could easily be free of Brienne. He’s not her squire, she has no mission, he’s safe enough this far away from King’s Landing. And yet, faced with freedom, he stays, and the two of them make camp, and a carriage rolls by with their other ultimate quarry, Sansa Stark, inside, on her way west with Littlefinger.

Freedom to make mistakes may have been Mance’s one wish, but it’s never really been high on Tyrion’s list of priorities. That’s because his Lannister privilege these last few years has granted him the freedom to make mistakes–at least for a little while, until Tywin came along and put his foot down. The juxtaposition of Jon and Mance with Tyrion and Varys was one of the more striking parts of the episode, and not just because both independently reference the episode’s title. Varys and Jon both try to convince someone who used to be their superior that life is still worth living. Tyrion’s suicide is not quite as imminent as Mance’s date with Melisandre’s pyre, but he’s killing himself just the same. But the grief and self loathing Tyrion feels are things he can be distracted from–and a brand new political tussle might just do this trick. Tyrion won’t admit it, preferring to sink back into the comfort of snark, but Varys’ arguments have already had an effect on him. “Can I drink myself to death on the road to Meereene?” That’s a start.

Sadly, Jon’s appeals to Mance are fruitless. Mance is not a man who will ever take orders again, and will not take part in the politics of Westeros even if it might further the chances of his people’s survival come winter.  The sight of White Walkers has changed the equation for him in a fundamental manner (One wonders if Tyrion would have considered the trip to Meereen in such a lighthearted manner if he’d been faced by White Walkers).

Both these chapters also stand out because they are fundamental departures from the books. Though Jon and Mance do have the same heart to heart in the novels, the outcome is very different, as Mance and Melisandre hatch a plan in which they burn a decoy Mance and send the real article south in one of A Dance with Dragon’s more convoluted subplots. Presumably, that’s been cut, as Mance seemed in his right mind when addressing Stannis right before his burning. Tyrion’s scene has also been streamlined down to the bare bones of the story. There is now no Illyrio, though we are supposedly at his house, no bemoaning lost love Tysha. There is merely a two-man one act.

Place these against Cersei’s scenes, which are not only lifted pretty directly from the novels, but follow the same path, as her worst tendencies–arrogance, impulsiveness, anger–all come to the forefront. Even before her father’s body is seen by the lords and ladies who have come to pay their respects, her high handedness has already shown to be on the path to her destruction. Her first mistake comes early in the episode: not listening to Jaime. He isn’t wrong that all those people lined up outside will immediately start plotting to use Cersei’s weaknesses as a ruler to their own advantage the moment they see that Tywin is dead. Her second mistake comes from treating Lancel like the dumb pawn he used to be. In his bare feet and dirty robes, he may be an embarrassment to his father Kevan, but one should never write off someone who can attest to you having committed adultery, incest, and murder, especially if that person is in the grip of religious fervor.

Cersei, who now has plenty of freedom to make her own mistakes, will at least be interesting to watch as she makes more and more of those mistakes without Tywin there to curtail her. Dany’s mistakes, on the other hand, are already threatening tedium. One bright spot in her stiff necked foolishness to refuse to play politics in Meereene was the bedroom scene with Daario. In the books, her affair with Daario symbolizes things getting worse. Here, he’s the unheeded voice of reason. A Dragon Queen with no Dragons is not much of a Queen. And Dany’s snobbish arrogance, looking down on what sounds rather like the Meereenese WWE of the fighting pits, is short-sighted.

Though she does not listen on the latter subject, Daario does at least inspire Dany to see her dragon babies in the catacombs. And though her dragons are as angry as cats in a box, it should be noted that while they breath fire, they never breathe it on her. Those dragons could have easily killed her where she stood–which is her takeaway as she flees from them. It does not occur to her that while they may be angry, she’s still their mother, and that it’s within her power to bring them to heel and restore her rightful place. Instead she stands outside, a Queen of Nothing.

• Published on 04/13/2015 at 11:00 AM CDT
• Last updated on 10/21/2016 at 1:05 PM CDT