Season 8 Of Game Of Thrones Ruins All The Stories Set Up Since The Very Beginning Of Season 8 Of Game Of Thrones

Spoiler Warning

Although, nobody cares.
Not anymore.


In the throne room of the Red Keep of King’s Landing, Euron approaches Cersei as she sits in the Iron Throne.

“I have travelled across the Narrow Sea and brought you the Golden Company!” He gestures at a well-dressed soldier standing before the Iron Throne. “We gonna fuck now?”

“I’m not gay,” the soldier answers.

“I was talking to Cersei,” Euron drawls.

“Same answer,” Cersei says with a glare. “You didn’t bring me elephants. Where are my elephants? I’ve wanted elephants ever since last episode.”

“We decided they were too much trouble to bring along.” Euron turns to face the audience. “You had all better get used to that.” He turns back to Cersei. “Besides, we’re not even going to see the Golden Company for another four episodes, and when we do they’ll be on screen for thirty seconds using their bodies as ablative armour for the outer walls. It was kind of a waste bringing them all this way, honestly. And the money! They were so expensive! We had to get all new uniforms! This guy had to learn how to ride a horse!” he exclaims, gesturing towards the well-dressed soldier.

“Look,” Cersei says, “it’s not like I had a plan or anything when I asked for them, okay? I was just being generally treacherous, even if it seemed like I had a plan at the time. I didn’t have a plan, and whilst it probably seemed like me wanting mercenaries and elephants was a sign that I wanted to take the fight to the North, I actually just wanted to stay in King’s Landing the whole time staring out of the window and smiling wryly. Alright? So get off my back and then get me on my back getting off – it’s time for your consolation pity-fuck.”

Euron grins. “Alright! I hope you’re a fan of watersports, Cersei, because you’re about to get showered in Euron.”

Cersei begins walking away.

“We’re going to do so much sex you’re going to get a Euronary Tract Infection!” Euron calls.

Cersei keeps walking.

“My name sounds like piss!” Euron explains loudly.

The Commander of the Golden Company quietly begins to wonder if they should change their branding.


At Last Hearth, the seat of House Umber, Tormund and Beric stare up at the corpse-spiral of dismembered limbs, steadily burning, as the young Lord Umber, now a Wight, shrieks in a disturbing manner.

“What do you think it means?” Tormund asks in his Nordic drawl.

“Who knows?” Beric responds gruffly. “Maybe it’s a symbol of power to the White Walkers. Maybe it’s a sign of their lineage, as the Great Houses of Westeros each have their own sigil.” He considers. “Maybe they just do it because it looks cool, and alludes to a greater complexity to the White Walkers without actually having to explore what they are or what they want. Maybe in White Walker culture, making it look as though a thing has meaning is as good as actually giving a thing meaning.”

Tormund takes a while to respond as he tries to understand two thirds of the words that Beric just spoke. “So what you’re saying is, it’s all bullshit?”

“Aye, friend,” Beric says. “All bullshit, all the way down. We should head for Winterfell. We need to warn them.”

“Warn them that the Night King is on his way?”

“Warn them that it’s all bloody meaningless,” Beric explains. “Warn them that all of this suffering and torment, all of this build-up and mystery, all of it was for nought but an over-hyped zombie overlord with no higher motivation than killing the living for killings’ sake.”

“Huh.” Tormund pauses again. “That’s depressing.”


“Jon, there’s something you need to know,” Samwell Tarly excitedly babbles.

“What is it?” Jon asks, with his usual tone of steady confusion.

“Well, it’s probably easier if I explain it to you in… song.” Sam clears his throat.

Fighter of the Night King!
Champion of R’hllor!
He’s a child of Rhaegon
And Lyanna
For evermore.

Banger of his Aunty!
The last Targaryen.
His claim to power
Is stronger
Than everyone’s.”

“Uh, thanks, Sam,” Jon says, still confused. “Well, it’s going to be difficult to break up with Dany. I love her so much, ever since we started going out last episode.”

“Also, she burned my family and is a bit of a monster,” Sam says, quite sheepishly. “Say, do you think it’s worth addressing this issue sooner rather than later? This seems like exactly the kind of thing that could get out of hand quite quickly, given what we’ve seen with Robert’s Rebellion, the War of the Five Kings, y’know, all of that stuff. I mean, half the Starks were brutally murdered because of conflicting claims on the throne.”

“That’s a good point, Sam,” Jon says, “but we need her dragons to fight the White Walkers. I guess I’ll keep it quiet for now, then after the battle I’ll simmer on it for a bit, and then I’ll probably just wait for her to do something truly unforgivable and abhorrent before I make any real commitment either way.

“After all, she’s my queen.”


“You’re pregnant?” Euron asks fervently within Cersei’s bedchamber.

“I am,” Cersei answers, “and it’s definitely yours and not Jaime’s.”

“Weird flex, but okay,” Euron says as he rubs her belly softly. “This is fantastic! I have always wanted to be a father! This informs on my character in so many ways! Now we can develop a complex and in-depth relationship that will be rewarding for both of us!”

“Are you still talking?” Cersei asks, gazing out of the window. “Sorry, I was lost, staring out of the window at the city.”

“So, what exciting developments do you think will arise as a result of you being pregnant with my child?” Euron asks.

“Oh, I’m sure they will all be significant and meaningful, and I’m sure this is a major point in each of our stories, and worthy of noting in the annals of history.”


In Bronn’s Man Cave, he and three naked women cavort on the bed.

“Did you know Ed Sheeran was on this show once?” one woman asks.

“Oh really?” replies another.

“Yeah, but he’s a toasted teacake now.” A world away, internet edgelords cheer.

Enter QYBURN, for it is he, sinisterly walking into the room and sinisterly carrying a crossbow. “Ser Bronn of the Blackwater?” he asks.

“I am Bronn,” Bronn responds.

“Cersei wants you to use this crossbow to kill both of her brothers,” Qyburn explains, handing Bronn the crossbow.

“I am Bronn?”

“Yes, both of them. Remember to pack extra bolts. Or just get them to stand back to back. Maybe get Jaime to kneel first.”

“I am Bronn.”

“I know, and Cersei has promised you a whole castle!”

“I. Am. Bronn.”

“Cersei promises that this time you’ll get it,” Qyburn assures, his hands held up in appeasement.

“I am Bronn?”

“Probably, but don’t worry too much about that now. This is a very important task. Very important. Whatever you do, don’t pointlessly threaten either one of them in a tavern and then piss off again as randomly as you appeared, as some convenient means of becoming one of the Great Lords of Westeros so that you can pretend you had a character arc because you accidentally became one of the more popular parts of the show.”

“I am Bronn.”

“No, I said don’t do that! The exact opposite of that! If you do that, you’ll make this look like an amateur operation written by people with no clue of how to construct narratives!”

“I am Bronn.”

Qyburn sighs. “How can… Look, just go North, kill Tyrion, kill Jaime, come back for your castle. I mean it. Cersei means it! And if Tyrion ends up back here, outside the gates of King’s Landing, in front of a large number of archers and siege crossbows, and you haven’t killed him, then, oh! I can just guarantee you that Cersei will absolutely kill him herself. Absolutely. No doubt about it.”


“No she will not just let him live despite insisting that you kill him now! She definitely wants him dead!”

“I am Bronn.”

“It will not be a tired plot contrivance and a weakening of her characterisation!”

“I am Bronn!”

“She’s still relevant to the show!”


“No, you’re the one without agency!”

“… I am Bronn.”

Qyburn sags, his shoulders slump. “Whatever. I’m going to go continue making the most powerful mass-produced weapon this world has ever seen. And then remove the aiming sights off of all but one of them.”

“I am Bronn?”


Qyburn exits as sinisterly as he entered, only in more of a huff.


“Well done, Captain Euron!” the new bosun cheers on the deck of the Silence. “You just went three for three on that dragon! You managed to hit a moving aerial target three times, from the deck of a ship in open water! And you managed to find the only place in the world where you had line-of-sight to the dragon, but neither the dragon, nor its sibling nor the Dragon Queen could see any of our twelve large ships or our unfurled, brightly embroidered sails! How did you do it?”

“Well, young man,” Euron says, “I’m just that bloody good!” He laughs fiendishly. “In truth, by hiding behind this rocky island, our ships were out of sight to the Dragon Queen and her dragons, so she could take no evasive action. Also I fired at the exact three moments that the ship was rocking the least. Also these scorpions have 100% accuracy up to distances of three miles, meaning all I have to do is point at the dragon’s neck, traditionally the narrowest part of the dragon, and let loose.”

The young bosun considers this for a moment. “But surely, Captain, if they can’t see us behind the rock, we can’t see them?”

“Exactly!” Euron cries, smiling. “So, I just aimed for the exact point at which the dragons would emerge from behind the cover of the island, and let loose three perfectly timed bolts.”

“But, Captain, if you couldn’t see the dragons from behind the island, how would you know exactly where they would be emerging from? Would the Dragon Queen have seen you in the time it took you to aim this heavy, bulky piece of equipment?”

“Details, details, my friend!” Euron claps the young man about the shoulder. “Besides, this is all very well and good, but now I need to prepare for my greatest achievement: Killing Jaime Lannister!”

The bosun stays quiet for a moment. “The… the one-handed guy?”


“The one-handed guy whose remaining hand is not his sword hand?”


“The one-handed guy who everyone agrees is past his prime and who hasn’t won a duel in years?”


“And he will be your greatest achievement?”


“Not the dragon you just killed?”


“And not the fleet we are at this very second demolishing?”


“And not all the other fleets you’ve demolished? Or the fact you were once crowned the King of the Iron Islands?”

“No and no!”

“Jaime Lannister?”


“… Him?”


“And how’re you going to find him? Isn’t he far away to the North?”

“I’ll probably just bump into him.”

“Bump… Bump into him, Captain?”

“Yes, you know, I’ll be out for a stroll or swimming for my life or whatever, and maybe I’ll just see him. You know what they say, always the last place you expect! Eh?” Euron smiles at his gathered crew.

“So you’re not even going to hunt him down? Just, the second you see him, regardless of what’s going on, regardless of what state you happen to be in, or what he happens to be doing, or what the general scenario in general might be, you’ll just try to murder him, there and then?

“It’s been my life’s ambition to kill Jaime Lannister ever since three minutes ago. He’s Jaime Lannister!”

“… Him?”

“You talk a lot, young bosun. Aren’t all the sailors on my ship supposed to be tongueless mutes?”

“Oh, I’m new, actually! Just started yesterday, sir,” the bosun answers.

“Really?” Euron gestures to two other crewmen. “You two! Go and fetch me the tongue knife!”


“In all fairness,” Tyrion says, “it was decent of Cersei to honour the truce.”

“What?” Dany demands. “She promised to fight with us against the Night King!”

“Yes, but truthfully, we ended the existential threat to all life in the Seven Kingdoms with just half our forces, so it seems like we didn’t really need her. In fact it would probably have been even worse if the Night King had even more fresh corpses to raise against us at the last minute.”

Dany paces across the map room of Dragonstone, still fuming after the loss of Rhaegal.

Tyrion presses on. “And besides, she never actually attacked us, or took advantage of our weakened state in any way, which is exactly what we asked her to do in the first place. Her troops were a bonus, all we really wanted was a ceasefire to begin with.”

“Speaking of our weakened state,” Dany says, turning to Tyrion, “I assume we now have no hope of taking King’s Landing?”

“Why would you say that, my queen?”

Dany frowns. “Well, before the battle of Winterfell, we pushed for a peace with Cersei as we were evenly matched enough that we would lose too many of our forces with which to fight the Night King.”

“That’s correct,” Tyrion confirms.

“So,” Dany continues, “now that we’ve lost nearly our entire fleet, one of only two dragons, half of the Northern forces, half of our Unsullied, and all of our Dothraki, added to the fact that all of our remaining forces are wounded and tired as Sansa says, it seems like we’re no longer even.”

“Correct,” Tyrion says, “but don’t forget that Cersei has also reinforced with the Golden Company since our Truce talks, and has had weeks to prepare her defences with dozens, maybe hundreds of the most powerful weapon in all of Westeros. Seriously, Valyrian steel has nothing on those scorpion bolt throwers. Plus her troops are all fresh, well-equipped, well-fed, and have likely been drilling for this entire time, where they’ve not been bolstering the defences.”

“So, we can’t win, then?”

“Oh, no, my Queen, we can win! In fact, by my estimation we should be able to win so easily and succinctly that you will be faced with a contrived decision between pointlessly slaughtering civilians or not slaughtering civilians. Which, if I may say, you should go with the second option. Everyone agrees, from Sansa to Varys to me to everyone that the battle of King’s Landing is basically a done deal.”

“Wait, so at less than half-strength, with our forces exhausted and battered, with just one dragon, and with Cersei having nearly doubled her own military strength, we can still secure a near-total victory over King’s Landing?”

“Oh, absolutely, my Queen!”

“So, Tyrion?”

“Yes, my Queen?”

“Why did we push for Truce in the first place? We went to all the trouble of going past the wall, getting Thoros killed, getting fucking Viseryon, my fucking DRAGON, killed and captured by the Night King, which he then used to BREAK DOWN THE WALL. We did all of that just so’s we could capture a Wight to take to Cersei to prove that we needed a truce to fight the Night King?”

“… Yes?”

“Well, it just seems like if we can win so easily now, as we are currently, it seems like we could have won even more easily then, when we had THREE dragons, AND all of my Unsullied, AND my Dothraki, AND an alliance with the North, AND a fleet. And Cersei wouldn’t have any scorpions or the Golden Company.”

“Oh, yes, definitely, my Queen. Even more easily, stands to reason. Although the Golden Company are really just uniformed extras.”

“And we would still have more than enough troops left over to deal with the Night King. Who would be without the Undead Dragon with which he did so much damage at Winterfell.”

Tyrion nods eagerly. “Oh, absolutely, your grace.”

Dany halts her pacing and stops dead.

“I’m going to burn the city, Tyrion.”

“No, my Queen! Think of the innocents!”

“I’m going to burn it!”


“Grey Worm?”

Grey Worm appears from the shadows. “Khaleesi?”

Dany’s eyes narrow. “Execute Order Sixty-Six.”


Later, in the ashes of King’s Landing, Tyrion stands before Dany, his hands in shackles, Unsullied to either side of him with cold rage in their eyes.

Dany looks down on the dwarf and sneers. “Tyrion.”

“Yes, your grace?”

“I’ve been told you freed Jaime.”

“Yes, your grace.”

“And then you sent him to King’s Landing.”

“Yes, your grace.”

“Via a secret tunnel.”

“… Yes, your grace.”

Dany closes her eyes. “A secret tunnel from the shore, directly to the heart of the Red Keep.”

“Yes, your grace.” Tyrion squirms in his shackles.

“At a time when you had told me repeatedly that by removing Cersei from power, the war would be over.”

“Yes… your grace.”

“But you kept this information from me.”

“Yes, your grace.”

“When you knew I was already considering burning King’s Landing.”

“Yes, your grace.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone, except your brother, who you told to help Cersei escape.”

“Yes, your grace.”

Dany opens her eyes. “So, you knew about Arya, the perfect, faceless assassin, capable of impersonating anyone.”

“Yes, your grace.”

“And you knew of a secret passage into the very heart of Red Keep.”

“Yes, your grace.”

“And yet at no point did you put the two together? Or even consider sending literally anyone else, say, someone with a crossbow, and who might have free access to the Keep and to Cersei based on their heretofore strong allegiance with the Lannisters but whose loyalty could nonetheless be bought. Or, in fact, who you had already bought, by promising him Highgarden, the largest region in what is now my kingdom. All of these notions passed you by?”

Tyrion bows his head and sighs. “Yes, your grace.”

Dany clenches her fists. Behind her, atop the rubble, Drogon shuffles his wings and lets out a low, rumbling yawn. “And you’ve had knowledge of this passage since you left King’s Landing?”

“Yes, your Grace.”

“So all those people – Missandei, Varys, hundreds of my troops, thousands of Lannister troops, Jaime, the Hound, not to mention Rhaegal – ALL of those people that we both cared about, they all died what were, in essence, unnecessary deaths, had you simply shared knowledge of this secret passageway directly with anyone else at pretty much any point prior to yesterday?”

“Yes, your grace.”

A gust of wind sends ash scurrying across the ground and whirls it up in arcs about them, then dies back down.


“Yes, your grace?”

“I’m going to burn it. All of it. I’m going to burn every fucking city on the entire fucking face of this fucked up fucking planet. My husband DIED, my best friend DIED, my firstborn child DIED, Tyrion. Two of my dragons DIED, Tyrion, along with countless others. I can’t even have fucking children anymore, TYRION. I can’t have children, I don’t have any friends left, everyone hates me because apparently I’M the unreasonable one, well, fuck ’em. Fuck the lot of them. I’m going to burn every stinking hamlet, barn, village, town and city from here to far across the Narrow Sea. And do you know what, Tyrion?” she asks, finally, turning her back to him and walking towards Drogon.

Tyrion looks up at her, terror on his face. “Yes, your grace?” His voice quivers.

Dany climbs up onto Drogon’s back and strokes his scales. “I’m going to tell them all that it’s All. Your. Fault.” She leans forwards towards Drogon’s head and whispers, “Dracarys.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s