Abstract

Analyzing the Game of Thrones HBO television show (2011-2019) character by character helps to reveal the issues with the final season: Which characters did the showrunners reward and which did they condemn? Fans had expected a lengthier punishment for Cersei and were surprised that her and Jamie’s end failed to fit their famous prophecy. Grey Worm and Missandei are sacrificed in a way that showed a distinct lack of racial sensitivity, dismaying fans who had seen some improvement in this issue through the years. Sansa, Brienne, and Arya had better arcs, albeit with a few problematic tropes. However, Daenerys’s fall is rushed and unjustified in her character, suggesting a sexist dismissal of her arc. On the one hand, many marginalized characters rise to triumph and power in the final episodes. On the other, the predominance of white highborn men on all the councils suggests little has changed in this epic revolution.

Literature’s assessment of characters as good or evil, successful or destroyed hinges on its endings. Authors often show their admiration for characters by having them win or at least die as great heroes, in contrast with the villains whom they relish tearing to pieces along with their reputations. Epic television like Game of Thrones is no exception: through the successes and failures of characters in the final, abbreviated season, the showrunners reveal whom they consider the true protagonists.

It’s notable that from the beginning, my own book Women in Game of Thrones catalogues only four women acting for themselves, rather than to advance a man as Catelyn does Robb. Daenerys, Olenna, and Yara play the game of thrones, while Arya refuses it. “Every other female character, and there are many, lives to serve someone and put his (usually his) interests ahead of hers. Those following their own agendas like Melisandre or Margaery still ostensibly serve a man” (Frankel, 2014, p. 35). Sixteen female characters spend all their time worrying about a man’s needs and advancement. By contrast, while some men like Davos support another man, there are closer to twenty male protagonists jockeying for the throne or refusing to play but clearly acting for their own agendas.

The later seasons see Cersei absolutely playing the game without the excuse of a son for whom to act. As she and Daenerys face off in the show’s final conflict, and as Sansa and Yara finally seize their own family thrones, the male-centric conflicts are clearly shifting over to the women, perhaps because the men have all killed each other off! However, the final twist makes this problematic as both queens have turned to evil because of their lust for power. Kit Harington, who plays Jon Snow, adds his concerns that the final two episodes will be accused of being sexist, an ongoing criticism of the show that has recently resurfaced. As he counters it:

The justification is: Just because they’re women, why should they be the goodies? They’re the most interesting characters in the show. And that’s what Thrones has always done. You can’t just say the strong women are going to end up the good people. Dany is not a good person. It’s going to open up discussion but there’s nothing done in this show that isn’t truthful to the characters. And when have you ever seen a woman play a dictator? (Hibberd, 2019)

It’s a fascinating question: How did the show come out through the lenses of gender, race, and disability? Let’s take it character by character.

The Lannisters

© Inna Vjuzhanina:
used with permission.

Of course, the siblings die together, in a scene Tyrion greets with great anguish in the final episode. Granted, the show removed most of the book’s prophecies but kept the one, or at least Maggy the Frog’s prophecy that “a younger, more beautiful queen” would bring Cersei down. Daenerys was always a contender, but Cersei clearly had reasons to be wary of Sansa and especially Margaery. Book four’s version of the prophecy doesn’t stop there: she would have three children and see them all die.

And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar [younger brother] shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you. (Martin 2005, p. 540-541)

Some fans were surprised that the prophecy did not come to literal fruition, while some explained its metaphorical fulfillment. Many still believe that in the book it will take place more literally, most likely at Jaime’s hands (well, hand) though the general effect is about the same.

The article “Five Much Better Deaths that Would’ve Done Cersei Lannister Justice” by Tyler Callaway (2019) emphasizes how much fans wanted her to suffer a crueler, lengthier destruction. The five include Arya killing her, perhaps wearing Jaime’s face and thus fulfilling the younger brother prophecy even while being a younger sibling herself, Jaime’s killing her to save King’s Landing, Daenerys, technically a younger sibling herself, destroying her in an epic firefight, or Cersei dramatically committing suicide, most of which would show the prophecy. There were even fan theories that her unborn child might kill her. While the supervillainess was indeed destroyed, with her warrior allies Euron and the Mountain each getting the epic battle, as the article above emphasizes, many simply found Cersei’s end too unsatisfying.

Grey Worm and Missandei

Missandei is the only one in recent years to share girl talk with Daenerys about her own relationship, making her more than the clichéd “best friend” of film. In fact, she sweetly falls in love and finds a way to adapt a relationship with disabled Grey Worm, through post-slavery trauma in both their cases, to find a relationship as sweet and enduring as Sam and Gilly’s. She deserved better.

When, before Grey Worm’s great battle against hordes of the undead, he and Missandei consider their peaceful retirement on her tropical island of Nath, fans winced. Surely this was such an idyllic fantasy that one or both would soon perish. As it happens, Grey Worm survives the battle, even as Ser Jorah and Theon each die for the person they most wished to sacrifice themselves for, nobly and expectedly as they had little obvious arc besides the heroic death. Fans were teased with the possibility that Grey Worm and Missandei might get their happy ending.

Of course, it was not to be. Euron the pirate captain, hardly the supervillain of the series after the easily-defeated Night King and much more sadistic Joffrey and Ramsay but he was the one left, captured Missandei in battle. Many fans had thought Missandei safe, admittedly, a foreboding thought in itself on this particular show, as she was the only surviving woman of color, at least onscreen.

Daenerys’s two Dothraki handmaids, the other non-white women in the show, remain as part of her entourage in the books as she conquers Slaver’s Bay. Doreah from Pentos dies in the desert, but Irri and Jhiqui are an ever-present part of the story, as are Daenerys’s three bloodriders. Granted, the show streamlines characters as it has far too many to handle. Missandei becomes a more useful guide to Slaver’s Bay, so she is kept and the Dothraki women eliminated. However, the non-white women surrounding Daenerys are thus reduced. (Frankel, 2014, p. 30)

Fans had been virulent about the treatment of the other rare women of color on the show, most notably the Dothraki women, Tyrion’s lover Shae, and Robb’s wife Talisa. Many hoped the showrunners were listening to fans’ outcries, as they had appeared to on other occasions, fewer naked women appearing as set dressing, while some naked men at least offered equal exploitation, for example. However, in Missandei’s death, the showrunners appeared particularly tone deaf. Ava DuVernay tweeted in response, “So… the one and only sister on the whole epic, years-long series? That’s what you wanna do? Okay” (Fallon, 2019).

Cersei and company chain Missandei, likely traumatic for the former slave as well as a problematic visual message, and then hold her hostage to compel Daenerys to surrender. Missandei offers a defiant “Dracarys,” the signal for dragons to burn the place down, which many believed motivated Daenerys’ torching of the city. However, Missandei does not get to actually order the dragon around in this moment or defiantly jump and take her fate into her own hands. Cersei executes her.

Of course, the motivation for this, from both Cersei and showrunners, was to devastate Daenerys and her friends, especially Grey Worm. Clarke explains:

That’s the biggest break. There’s nothing I will not do after losing Missandei and seeing the sacrifice she was prepared to make for her. That breaks her completely. (Hibberd, 2019)

This offers a painful trope beyond the slavery imagery, what comic book writer Gail Simone called “Women in Refrigerators.” In this trope, women suffer and are tragically killed, not to display their own heroism, but to torture the male superheroes. Several Batgirls and many more girlfriends suffer this fate, with Green Lantern’s girlfriend literally stuffed into the fridge in a shocking display for him to find. Missandei’s death is that of a pawn in Cersei and Daenerys’s game, which is a disappointing end for the dynamic, striking heroine.

Continuing the painful race metaphors, Grey Worm, the safely castrated and incredibly disciplined person of color, suddenly goes mad with rage and ignores all rules of combat. He slaughters surrendered soldiers, turning war into something far uglier. After, he nearly kills Jon as Jon protests the slaughter of more prisoners. When he begins a military coup, the remaining lords try to placate him with the offer of a piece of land far out of the way, and then persuade him to leave their country forever with his problematic attitudes. So much for him.

Daenerys and Jon

Daenerys’ supporters spend the final season whispering about how likely she is to descend into madness. Accordingly, Varys decides it’s likely, betrays her, and is executed for it. True, there is massive foreshadowing,not only in her family line but in her deliberate acts of violence though, it must be remarked, always in defense of children and the most helpless, never against them. As some critics have pointed out, there is forewarning, but this is not the same as characterization. Daenerys’ snap in the penultimate episode “The Bells” (2019) is somewhat set up, but unjustified in her character.

Many were startled when she turns cruel to her lover Jon Snow at the start of “The Bells” (2019). Even as he pledges his support and begs her to cultivate the people’s love, he rejects her on a personal level, giving her an excuse to abuse her new subjects. “All right, then,” she tells him coldly. “Let it be fear” (Benioff & Weiss & Sapochnik, 2019a). Tyrion, likewise, pleads that the civilians of King’s Landing are “innocents, like the ones you liberated in Meereen,” as he puts it. However, she rejects this argument, contending, “In Meereen, the slaves turned on the masters and liberated the city themselves the moment I arrived.” She rejects his insistence that they’re hostages unable to act. Of course, during battle, when the city surrenders, ringing the bells and opening the gates, she can be seen frozen on her dragon, considering. However, as Daenerys stares ahead at Cersei’s keep, she furiously chooses fire and blood. She burns not only Cersei, but the civilians of the city as well. Her actress Emilia Clarke explains:

She genuinely starts with the best intentions and truly hopes there isn’t going to be something scuttling her greatest plans… The problem is [the Starks] don’t like her and she sees it. She goes, “Okay, one chance.” She gives them that chance and it doesn’t work and she’s too far to turn around. She’s made her bed, she’s laying in it. It’s done. And that’s the thing. I don’t think she realizes until it happens — the real effect of their reactions on her is: “I don’t give a s—t.” This is my whole existence. Since birth! She literally was brought into this world going, “Run!” These f—kers have f—ked everything up, and now it’s, “You’re our only hope.” There’s so much she’s taken on in her duty in life to rectify, so much she’s seen and witnessed and been through and lost and suffered and hurt. Suddenly these people are turning around and saying, “We don’t accept you.” But she’s too far down the line. She’s killed so many people already. I can’t turn this ship around. It’s too much. One by one, you see all these strings being cut. And there’s just this last thread she’s holding onto: There’s this boy. And she thinks, “He loves me, and I think that’s enough.” But is it enough? Is it? And it’s just that hope and wishing that finally there is someone who accepts her for everything she is and … he f—king doesn’t. (Hibberd, 2019)

It’s unclear whether there is justification for this act, as Arya and Jon, on the ground among the civilians, would say there isn’t. Tyrion’s actor Peter Dinklage says the showrunners on set compared Dany’s dragon-bombing of King’s Landing to the U.S. dropping nuclear bombs on the Japanese cities Hiroshima and Nagasaki to decisively end World War II in 1945. “That’s what war is,” Dinklage says.

Did we make the right choices in war? How much longer would [WWII] have gone on if we didn’t make horrible decisions? We love Daenerys. All the fans love Daenerys, and she’s doing these things for the greater good. “The greater good” has been in the headlines lately… when freeing everyone for the greater good you’re going to hurt some innocents along the way, unfortunately. (Hibberd, 2019)

With the battle won, the triumphant Daenerys stands in her burned castle above a vast army, in dark disciplined ranks that echo the First Order in Star Wars or their chilling inspiration, the Nazis. There, Daenerys gives a proud speech about how they have won the Seven Kingdoms while her war machine Drogon hisses overhead. “We will not lay down our spears until we have liberated all the people of the world,” she vows, and Tyrion and Jon look grim, realizing that they will not be liberators but conquerors (Benioff & Weiss, 2019). This dark Daenerys has not learned from her failure to colonize Meereen and impose her values there.

Tyrion, arrested for freeing his brother against her commands, is doomed to be executed like Varys. After, in the prison cell where she’s cast him, he appeals to Jon:

Tyrion: When she murdered the slavers of Astapor, I’m sure no one but the slavers complained. After all, they were evil men. When she crucified hundreds of Meereenese nobles, who could argue? They were evil men. The Dothraki khals she burned alive? They would have done worse to her. Everywhere she goes, evil men die and we cheer her for it. And she grows more powerful and more sure that she is good and right.

 

Jon: She believes her destiny is to build a better world for everyone.

 

Tyrion: If you believed that, if you truly believed it, wouldn’t you kill whoever stood between you and paradise? (Benioff & Weiss, 2019)

Tyrion, always one of the more perceptive characters, sees that Daenerys’ certainty has made her a tyrant and that anyone who defies her or tries to counsel her will die. As he reminds Jon, this includes both his sisters as well as the two of them.

In the next scene, Daenerys finally reaches the Iron Throne, alone in the falling ash of the dead city, though she fails to actually sit on it. She smiles at Jon and suggests that they rule her new world together. This disturbing turn emphasizes how little she’s learned. Further, as she recruits her chosen subjects of color to conquer the world and remake it in her image, the symbolism is quite familiar to modern viewers:

Many fans compare Dany’s adventures to a metaphor for colonialism, like that seen in The Man Who Would Be King, Avatar, Indiana Jones, Tarzan, Jon Carter of Mars, The Last of the Mohicans, and The Lost World. In such stories, the local way of life is usually depicted as savage and backwards, with the white ruler showing them a better way. Upon visiting Slaver’s Bay, Ser Barristan trains knights among the locals while Daenerys appoints local children as pages and loathes native dress. Daenerys is determined to end the barbarity of the fighting pits, but is shown to be naive as the former gladiators and former slaves beg to return to their old way of life and the terrorist attacks against Daenerys’s regime escalate. Martin notes that some fans compare it to “our current misadventures in Afghanistan and Iraq” but that he is not making such a direct parallel, adding, “I’ve said many times I don’t like thinly disguised allegory, but certain scenes do resonate over time.” (Frankel, 2014, p. 27)

As Jon confronts her with the slaughter she coolly insists, “It was necessary.” The aghast, emotional Jon protests the death of children, as Daenerys herself did a few years before. In tears, Jon begs her to be the queen he trusted and loved. “You can forgive all of them, make them see they made a mistake. Make them understand. Please, Dany” (Benioff & Weiss, 2019).

She refuses. “We can’t hide behind small mercies. The world we need won’t be built by men loyal to the world we have.” She insists that as the current world is swept away, her new world will be good “because I know what is good.” She smiles at Jon, eyes filled with fanatical madness, and he knows his duty. He stabs her. The perfect lovers, destined from the moment of their birth, thus find perfect tragedy instead of happiness, paralleling Cersei and Jaime’s own tragedy. “This is the second woman he’s fallen in love with who dies in his arms and he cradles her in the same way,” Harington notes. “This destroys Jon to do this” (Hibberd, 2019). Princess Weekes of The Mary Sue (2019) observes:

In the final episode of Game of Thrones, Daenerys Targaryen is put down like a dog with rabies by her former lover and cousin, Jon Snow, after they embrace. Jon spoke with Tyrion earlier and told the man it was the right thing to do because Dany had convinced herself that it was her destiny to rage war on everyone else in order to break the wheel.

The scene between Tyrion and Jon is somewhat interesting because the show does finally, in some way, acknowledge that Dany’s previous murderous actions against “evil men” (evil brown men) in Essos were not presented as something that could be challenged, but now that has all gone to her head. That would be an interesting storyline if the show had ever really dealt with those aspects of Dany and spent the season having her act cruelly, instead of having her advisors be incompetent and lead her more and more into a decline. Dany dies without saying anything. It’s quick and unceremonious for someone who could be considered one of the main characters of the series.

Indeed, as Princess Weekes adds, there is a bigger problem in her lack of setup.

“Calling Game of Thrones‘ treatment of Dany sexist is not saying that she shouldn’t be allowed to be bad.” Instead the problem is replacing her goodness with the narrative convenience of “bitches be crazy” tropes. Without sufficient explanation of her madness, it falls under a painful gender stereotype. “Yes, although I don’t know if she’s a villain,” showrunner Bryan Cogman says. “This is a tragedy. She’s a tragic figure in a very Shakespearean and Greek sense” (Hibberd, 2019).

In anguish, Drogon burns down the throne. This in itself, with no one inheriting it and “the wheel broken” was a commonly predicted outcome. However, Drogon’s doing so is left as an empty symbol. A new king of Westeros is appointed, and the actual chair is basically immaterial. Granted, the Baratheons took the throne on the strength of Robert’s Targaryen grandmother, and they kept many of the old dynasty’s trappings, while Bran has no known Targaryen blood. However, he is noble on both sides, with the added magic of the Three-Eyed Raven. The council’s appointing the future kings is a slight change, but kings—presumably all or mostly from the noble class—will continue.

Meanwhile, Jon is punished in the old tradition, accepting that the coup was necessary and sending the kingslayer or queenslayer to the Wall. Most confusing because the Wall was shattered, Night’s Watch basically killed off and then Night’s King defeated. However, aside from their job as protectors, the equivalent of the French Foreign Legion serves a useful role in their society. When Jon asks, Tyrion explains, “The world will always need a home for bastards and broken men.” As he adds, this political compromise satisfies the warring sides that want him variously punished or rewarded. Further, the last Targaryen will not take the throne, nor will his family. Tyrion concludes,

“You shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. The Unsullied wanted your head of course, but Grey Worm has accepted the justice of a life sentence. Sansa and Arya wanted you freed, but they understand our new king needs to make peace. No one is very happy. Which means it’s a good compromise, I suppose” (Benioff & Weiss, 2019).

Off he goes to the Wall. The show leaves it ambiguous whether Jon in his black cloak is seen riding out on a joint mission with the Wildlings or abandoning his station to join them and become King Beyond the Wall. Either way, it’s clear that his understanding of them will lead to a new closeness and alliance between their peoples. As Jack Beauchamp (2019) comments skeptically in “Game of Thrones’ Finale Betrayed the Show’s Core Themes”:

Jon goes back to the Night’s Watch, which has no reason to exist now that the wildlings are at peace with the Seven Kingdoms and the White Walkers have been destroyed. Somehow the Wall, a massive quasi-magical ice construction, has been repaired in months. And in the very last sequence, Jon — who is obsessed with duty and honor — seems to quit the Night’s Watch and go wandering with wildlings? Then we see a green shoot from a plant peeking up through the snow, as if what was supposed to be the longest winter in recent history, in a world where winters last years, is already ending? Is it because the White Walkers are dead? Who knows!

Bran the Broken and his Council

From a disability lens, the “cripples, bastards, and broken things” Tyrion describes in the first season do quite well. Bran is crowned the monarch of all seven, now six kingdoms, with his sister Queen in the North and his brother Night’s Watch Commander or perhaps King Beyond the Wall. Those are mighty alliances, to say nothing of Arya’s striking capability. Grey Worm survives and leads his people to a new homeland of Nath, though The World of Ice and Fire reveals that visitors inevitably die of slow poisoning, so he should be quite wary. Sam ascends to Grand Maester. Tyrion, similarly rejected and basically disowned by his father, becomes the Hand of the King, second in charge of the kingdom. One presumes he inherits the Lannister lands as well, as the next in line. Tyrion’s advice to Jon in the first episode defines him clearly for the audience:

Tyrion Lannister: Let me tell you something, Bastard. Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor and it can never be used to hurt you.

 

Jon Snow: What the hell do you know about being a bastard?

 

Tyrion Lannister: All dwarfs are bastards in their father’s eyes. (Benioff & Weiss, 2011).

From this ignominious start, these characters rise to rule Westeros and the kingdom beyond the Wall. They survive when the more respected heroes fail and are destroyed. The new world, it seems, belongs to the outsiders.

Of course, the Council to choose the next ruler is democratic—to a point, as Sam’s suggestion of true democracy is laughed out of the Council. Sansa demands that her neighbor and uncle sit down, and then declares her own kingdom’s independence. They’re strong feminist moments she’s earned. At the same time, she, Arya, Yara, and Brienne are the only women present. They make up a token presence but hardly an equal one.

Seen on the Council are Ser Davos, Edmund Tully, the Starks, Brienne, Gendry, Sam, Edmure Tully, Robin Arryn, and his bannerman Yohn Royce, a few previously unseen older men, suspected by many to be Howland Reed and the new Lord of the Dreadfort, from their warm clothing, as well as the new prince of Dorne. Yara Greyjoy, now rightfully Queen of the Iron Islands. Some of these are lords of the Seven Kingdoms, and some one step down. Brienne is likely several steps down, while Arya and Bran are their lady’s siblings, but one might argue that they’re war heroes and valued advisors from the past rulership. Ser Davos as the show’s quintessential everyman as well as the head of a house certainly needs to be there from the fannish point of view, and he and Gendry as former peasants give the lower classes at least token representation. The concept of a ruler being designated by a council of lords is not new in Westerosi history, having happened previously when the succession within the Targaryen family was in question. Of course, in the wake of so much loss, these lords seem quite uncertain. As they sit silent, Tyrion’s memorable speech defines their future:

I’ve had nothing to do but think these past few weeks. About our bloody history. About the mistakes we’ve made. What unites people? Armies? Gold? Flags? Stories. There’s nothing in the world more powerful than a good story. Nothing can stop it. No enemy can defeat it. And who has a better story than Bran the Broken? The boy who fell from a high tower and lived. He knew he’d never walk again, so he learned to fly. He crossed beyond the Wall, a crippled boy, and became the Three-Eyed Raven. He is our memory, the keeper of all our stories. The wars, weddings, births, massacres, famines. Our triumphs, mm, our defeats, our past. Who better to lead us into the future? (Benioff & Weiss, 2019)

Further, he will “break the wheel” as it is decided that he will have no sons to inherit. “From now on, rulers will not be born. They will be chosen on this spot by the lords and ladies of Westeros to serve the realm.” While this is certainly an imperfect republic, it is a choice of a sort. However, there are other reasons that the scene is unrealistic. As Jack Beauchamp (2019) notes:

The resolution to the defining conflict of the series — the battle for the Iron Throne and the future of the Westerosi monarchy — is essentially determined by Tyrion Lannister making an impassioned speech. Sansa Stark wins independence for the North without so much as an argument from any of other assembled lords. Jon Snow returns to the Night’s Watch, which no longer has any reason to exist, and then maybe-possibly defects to the wildlings? And Arya Stark, for no real reason, decides to become Christopher Columbus.

To Beauchamp (2019) this makes no sense for character consistency or for political reality. As he adds:

The politics of the show, a key part of what made it feel so different and fresh way back in 2011, completely fell apart — to the point where it was impossible to treat the series as having anything like verisimilitude. It’s not just the North that wants independence, for example: Both the Iron Islands and Dorne are historically separate from the rest of Westeros and might well be looking to secure their own freedom from the Iron Throne. Gendry, the new lord of the Stormlands, might be looking to shore up his shaky claim on his title (as a bastard elevated by the now-dead Daenerys). These conflicting interests could have theoretically led to a tense and difficult negotiation, one that lasted several days in show time and produced a surprising outcome… The problem isn’t that Bran became king, per se. One could imagine an episode of Game of Thrones in which a deadlocked council, riven by years of division and war, ends up electing a political unknown like Bran as a compromise after a debate that nearly starts another conflict. I could have bought that. But that’s not what happened. Instead, the scene is all about Tyrion — who, as he admitted earlier in the episode, has been spectacularly wrong about everything for seasons now — persuading everyone to do what he says just because he said so. It’s nonsense.

Nonetheless, this is what happens, and Tyrion’s mysterious, even fabricated, hero “Bran the Broken” takes over. Perhaps he rules and perhaps, as the Small Council meeting appears, he’s only a figurehead and leaves Tyrion to manage daily decisions. Either way, the system works. One might wish they didn’t feel the need to call him “Bran the Broken” each time he enters or leaves the room. Certainly, Tyrion has extolled the value of owning one’s label, but this one really seems gratuitous. Tyrion’s own ascendency as Hand of the King is not terribly surprising, considering how that has been foreshadowed since his competent leadership in the second season.

Yara’s presence emphasizes that she has won her own plotline, though this was sadly cut and only occurred offscreen. Despite her sidelining, she of course makes a striking, positive heroine. Yara, who does as she pleases (to the point of defying her father in season three to lead a fleet to rescue Theon) gets to keep her lesbian relationships and the Seastone Chair, never held before by a woman. She will choose her own heir and have all she’s always wanted, in a triumphant end. Little Lyanna Mormont, who got all the best lines, has died a defiant, feisty war hero, but she does die. Happy endings come to some, but clearly not all.

Sam becomes Bran’s Grand Maester and is one of the few to get a romantic happy ending. While Maesters take oaths of chastity, one assumes Bran might have allowed an exception, or Sam’s unmarried paramour might be quietly overlooked as Pycelle’s mistresses were. Presumably, to take the post he has given up his claim to his family lands, from which he had always been distanced. As someone who cares for the people and adores books and ancient lore, he does seem designed to be a maester, as Jon and Aemon work out early on. Disowned by his father and nearly killed by the Night’s Watch for being fat, clumsy, sweet and bookish, he fits in with the unwanted heroes like Tyrion and Jon even as he carves a place for himself in Westeros.

It should be noted that in contrast with Ser Davos and Gendry, the plucky commoner survivors who have dodged attempts from the highborns to murder them, Edmund Tully, Robin Arryn, and various new lords to ascend to the old seats have survived by virtue of being highborn, able-bodied white men, and keep their positions for just this reason. Beside characters like Yara who lost everything winning their positions, it’s a marked contrast. Further, none of them are any form of minority, which may be realistic, but disappointingly strikes a blow on the side of the status quo.

What’s more, the current rulers suggest a shift in power. Dorne, land of the powerful and vicious Sand Snakes, and the Tyrells’ Highgarden now both are ruled by men. In the former case, it is the brutish, misogynistic Bronn, a bastard if ever there was one. He’s Littlefinger’s spiritual heir, greedy and unprincipled. Princess Weekes (2019) adds:

The Iron Throne is now occupied by Bran Stark, who is really the Three-Eyed Raven with a council of men beside him, plus Brienne. Great. Who gets to rule besides Brienne and Bran (who we don’t even get to see do anything, as he gets wheeled in and out within five minutes)? Bronn, who is going to turn Highgarden, one of the few seats of onscreen female leadership, into his own personal brothel, is now Master of Coin. Tyrion, who spent the entire last two-and-a-half seasons being functionally useless, is hand of the king. There’s also Davos, who we love but has failed to be anything more than a great hype man and daddy type, and Sam, who reads.

Emphasizing that their world will continue being strikingly sexist, Brienne is the only woman on the Small Council, and she’s there as a warrior, not an advisor. Further, the men end the story with Bronn plotting to reopen the brothels. Brienne protests, “I think we can all agree that ships take precedence over brothels,” while Sam makes a moral argument, but Bronn dismisses them both. Tyrion brags: “I once brought a jackass and a honeycomb into a brothel.” The camera fades out, emphasizing that morality, family values, and feminism can all be set aside when there’s an opportunity to keep marching naked women around the streets of Westeros. It seems nothing has changed.

Brienne and Pod

© Inna Vjuzhanina:
used with permission.

Brienne of Tarth: Your crimes are past forgiveness, Kingslayer.

 

Jaime Lannister: Why do you hate me so much? Have I ever harmed you?

 

Brienne of Tarth: You’ve harmed others—those you were sworn to protect, the weak, the innocent. (Benioff & Weiss & Taylor, 2012)

Even as they debate morality and choices, they come to respect each other as fellow warriors. Fans were touched when Jaime, who had seen her valor and honor, formally knighted her before the great battle with the Night King. However, his having sex with her and then abandoning her to ride back to Cersei was painful for more than the lady. It emphasized that even in a perfect buddy relationship of mutual respect, if one character is female, the male character should try for sex, even if his feelings are elsewhere. Rachel Leishman (2019) in “Virginity Isn’t Something That Brienne of Tarth Needed Fixed,” explains:

Women do not need sex to make us fully-fleshed people and we don’t need a trumpeted losing of virginity (and subsequent betrayal) to give us emotional depth. Brienne of Tarth was so much more than her sexuality, and the relationship she built with Jaime Lannister should have been enough to have her ask him to stay, knowing he’d be walking into his death, without the outdated sexual dynamics first.

Her character and story were complete without her needing sex any more than she needed a fairytale wedding. As Leishman (2019) continues:

Here’s my problem with virginity being used as a “defect” of a character: it insinuates that a woman must be fixed by sex (in most media to date, with a man). Brienne, an incredibly powerful woman, was somehow “lacking” as a virgin, with a deficit that only someone else could give her. On top of that, virginity was used as an emotional rationale, in this case, for Brienne begging Jaime to stay. A good writer could have done this without forcing a storyline that made Brienne of Tarth seem “less than” just because she never had sex before and is assumed to be made vulnerable because of it.

Indeed, her final goodbye was pathetic, a clichéd dumped woman trying to keep Jaime with her, while he sought to return to the bad relationship. It was out of character for her. As writer Nell Scovell tweeted, a female writer would have fought for a better ending. “Ser Brienne should have pulled her sword on Jaime and made him fight his way to Cersei’s side” (Fallon, 2019).

Of course, her pathetic dumping is not her final moment. At last, Brienne wins the role of head of the Kingsguard, becoming the greatest warrior in the land, as she craved. She survives, while Jaime does not. Further, she inherits his position and ends her story by writing his, gaining closure by describing his final deeds however she wishes. Fan memes that week envisioned her writing much ruder responses.

It’s sweet that perpetual sidekick Podrick Payne survives, a loyal underdog mistreated and abandoned by the powerful before finally being trained by Brienne. He serves the kingdom alongside her and his beloved old master Tyrion, though it’s arguable whether he should be on the Kingsguard, considered one of the seven best warriors in the kingdom. Nonetheless, if loyalty is the decider, he certainly deserves it.

Arya

Arya forced many fans to frantically Google her age after she, in a surprise twist, seduced her old friend Gendry. Many consider the scene one of agency but one notably out of character. Lux Alptraum (2019) notes, in the provocatively titled essay “Arya’s Sex Scene Reminds us that Game of Thrones Will Never Understand Female Sexuality”: “The moment felt forced, and like a young girl play-acting the role of a dominant, sexually commanding adult woman.” It rushed the moment instead of letting the characters develop. As Alptraum (2019) continues:

While there are certainly young women who respond to trauma by becoming voracious sexual consumers — the kind of woman Arya appears to be in that scene — we’ve never been given any indication that that is Arya’s own experience. To the contrary, she’s never demonstrated even a glimmer of interest in sex and sexuality, her lack of desire even inspiring fan theories that she might be asexual. The one time she’s been shown in close proximity to a sexual encounter, at the brothel where she murders Meryn Trant, wasn’t exactly the kind of experience that leads a young woman to enthusiastically crave the D… The key thing that Game of Thrones fails to understand here is that for young women, sex — particularly the kind of caring, intimate sex that Arya and Gendry are supposed to be having — requires vulnerability, a vulnerability that a young woman like Arya seems unlikely to be interested in. To open up to another person, both physically and emotionally, requires a willingness to put yourself at risk, one far more scary than the bodily harm that Arya routinely subjects herself to throughout the show.

Arya’s choice, while certainly made for herself, also demotes her from the very short list of women who have never stripped or been stripped on the show, leaving Yara, Catelyn, and Olenna as likely the only ones left. As with Brienne, this didn’t have to be part of her story. She could have concluded her plot a virgin and turned down Gendry without bullying him into a roll in the hay.

Her killing the Night King is justified, as it was a single, well-chosen blow from an assassin in a surprise attack, not a formal strike on the battlefield. Of course, as she is not a chosen one “born amid salt and smoke to wake dragons from stone,” with the dragonbone dagger but not the re-forged lightbringer, fans were quite perplexed. Nonetheless, it’s a satisfying blow struck for family and home.

Afterward, of course, she sets out to kill her great nemesis Cersei, in the company of the Hound. This too, is very fitting for the character after her long history with both. In King’s Landing, she defends civilians and fights capably, all while struck by the horrors of war. Her defining moment, however, comes when the Hound persuades her to abandon revenge. As he insists, “You think you wanted revenge a long time? I’ve been after it all my life. It’s all I care about. And look at me. Look at me! You wanna be like me? You come with me, you die here” (Benioff & Weiss & Sapochnik, 2019a). He goes on to his epic battle against his brother, but Arya survives. It’s a character change, but one emphasizing that Arya has learned to be more than a killing machine, that she has her family and goals besides endless death. One of those goals, however, is quite a surprise.

She ends the series choosing her own path, though it’s an unexpected one for fans. Beauchamp (2019) challenges the plot, asking:

Arya’s turn toward exploring “west of Westeros” was just plain stupid. I get that she mentioned wanting to explore in a previous season, but why would she abandon her sister and brother after just being reunited with them? Isn’t she a trained assassin with skills that could help Sansa prop up her new queendom? And why is a show that just turned one of its most beloved characters into a cautionary tale about imperialism ending with another one of its beloved characters apparently inventing 15th-century European colonialism? And it’s on and on and on like that.

Certainly, she is well trained to be Masters of Whispers, but she seems ready to leave politics forever. One hopes that as Arya explores and defends herself she will know enough not to become a second Daenerys.

Sansa

Sansa is of course the classic damsel of the show… at least in the beginning. Fans rolled their eyes and often united in hatred of the passive teen, who chooses horrible Joffrey over her family over and over, oblivious to reality. “She sees the world through rose-tinted glasses at the very beginning,” says Turner. “She is completely oblivious to who the royal family are. It’s like any Justin Bieber fan — they don’t realize Justin has his darkness about him” (Hiatt, 2019). Thomas (2012) adds:

As a massive fan of Sansa, even I must admit that she is difficult to like at first. She’s spoilt and a bit bratty. She fights with her fan-favorite sister and trusts characters who the reader knows are completely untrustworthy. She is hopelessly naive and lost in dreams of pretty princes and dashing knights. She acts, for all intents and purposes, like the eleven-year-old girl that she is.”

Many fans gave up on the weak future princess.

In the capitol, Sansa continues to choose her new family over her birth one. “I’m supposed to marry Prince Joffrey. I love him and I’m meant to be his queen—and have his babies,” Sansa continues to insist, even as her father comes to realize the treachery of the Lannisters (Benioff & Weiss & Espenson, 2011). Impassioned in her insistence, she actually reveals her father’s plans to the queen in the hopes that she can stay. “Sansa Stark must be one of the most hated characters in A Song of Ice and Fire. The vitriol leveled against her is often frightening in its intensity, surpassing that for actually horrific characters like Joffrey and Ramsey Bolton,” Thomas (2012) reports. Of course, she has been raised to cast off her birth family and be loyal to her new one after marriage. She escapes with the scheming and lecherous Littlefinger, spending seasons as his pawn, then is traded to the horrific Ramsay Bolton as his wife and abuse victim. Even in her childhood home of Winterfell, her moments of assertiveness are small triumphs in the face of Littlefinger’s and the Boltons’ plays for the throne.

At the same time, Sansa’s journey is not one of swashbuckling, but the woman’s journey of endurance, slowly, subtly defeating her enemies and remaining alive through one more season as so many others battle and are sacrificed. Unlike so many blustering warriors, she learns from each of her teachers and discovers how to win. While the series starts traditionally, focused on the men’s battle for the throne, it subtly shifts until the later seasons show how the women who are transforming the system, often from behind the scenes, are the true deciders of everyone’s fate. Season six ends with Jon Snow and Ramsay Bolton warring in masculine hero fashion. However Sansa, with her knowledge of her evil husband, is right in her character assessment, even as Jon nearly dies due to ignoring her. More importantly, Sansa calls on the goodwill she has built with her cousin Robin Arryn and summons reinforcements from him to save the day at the crucial moment.

Season seven sees her take the role of the ruling queen of Winterfell, especially in Jon’s absence. She displays the knowledge of the North and of how to run a castle that many bad rulers had previously ignored, and demonstrates what a true ruler can do. The season also shows the Starks’ reunification as Arya and Bran return.

At the end of season seven, Littlefinger’s slow manipulation of Sansa into trusting him over Arya finally reaches a climax. Sansa summons them both before her council, but to Littlefinger’s shock, accuses him of all the murders and schemes she has witnessed while, as he had thought, helpless and fully in his sway. She calls on Arya to execute him in a moment of sisterly solidarity that defies his manipulations and places her fully in charge.

In the final season’s first episode, “Winterfell” (2019), Jon tries to bond with his favorite sister Arya by rolling his eyes at Sansa and is instead shocked when she shoots him down by saying “Sansa’s the smartest person I’ve ever met” (Hill & Nutter, 2019). The alliances have shifted and Jon must now acknowledge his sister’s competence.

So when Tyrion Lannister, who married Sansa once Joffrey cast her off, reunites with her in “Winterfell” and declares that “many underestimate [her] — most of them are dead now,” it’s a bigger fist-pumping moment than any dragon joyride could be. Even if it’s not exactly a subtle declaration, it’s a long overdue recognition from both Tyrion and the show itself, which has put Sansa through hell without granting her the moments of triumph so many other beleaguered characters have occasionally enjoyed. (Framke, 2019)

Tyrion’s acknowledgment of her shows that she’s truly advanced to be a master game player like Littlefinger. Further, she devastates him judgmentally, saying, “I used to think you were the cleverest man in the world” (Hill & Nutter, 2019). Tyrion’s skill is talking his way out of trouble. Framke (2019) adds, “Sansa, by contrast, has ascended to where she is largely because of what she didn’t say; she’s learned how to harness the power of listening and lying in wait more than anyone.”

Meanwhile, in a highly debated scene, Sansa implies that without having survived sexual assault and psychological torture, she would not have evolved into a strong leader. “Without Littlefinger and Ramsay and the rest, I would have stayed a little bird all my life,” she says, which many people painfully interpreted as Sansa expressing gratitude to her rapist. Jessica Chastain took to Twitter to explain why even presenting the possibility for that interpretation is irresponsible.

“Rape is not a tool to make a character stronger,” she wrote. “A woman doesn’t need to be victimized in order to become a butterfly. The little bird was always a Phoenix. Her prevailing strength is solely because of her. And her alone” (Fallon, 2019).

Writer Clarkisha Kent likewise chimed in: “I would have rather Sansa been like ‘it is what it is’ to the events that led her to this season versus basically implying getting assaulted and shit made her ‘stronger,’” she tweeted. “Just…. pitiful. And def written by a cishet [cisgender heterosexual] man” (Fallon, 2019).

Sansa, this whole show, the only reason she has willed herself to survive is for her family,” says Turner, who has a “The Pack Survives” tattoo, quoting the show. “The power of family and unity is so strong that it can keep people alive. That’s the biggest thing I’ve taken away from the show: Family is everything” (Hiatt, 2019). At it begins, season eight pits her against Daenerys, newly her queen and her brother’s lover. In the first episode, she begrudgingly hands Winterfell over to Daenerys, and in the second, she directly questions how the queen has won Jon’s loyalty. “Men do stupid things for women. They’re easily manipulated,” she says through her vast experience (Cogman & Nutter, 2019).

In the Battle of Winterfell, Sansa actually fights, as Arya hands her a dagger and tells her, “Stick ‘em with the pointy end” (Benioff & Weiss & Sapochnik, 2019b). She’s transformed from damsel to leader and queen, even stuck in the crypt with the noncombatants. As Jon and Daenerys pursue their war, she remains Lady of Winterfell, undeniably in charge.

She is the one character who, without question, wins the battle for feminist empowerment. In contrast with Daenerys, Cersei, Margaery, Lady Olenna, the Sand Snakes, and every other woman who played the games of politics, war, and seduction and then painfully lost, Sansa triumphs. Her strategy was enduring, silently but not passively, until she found her moments to strike.

In the final episode, she not only speaks for the North, but declares independence from Westeros. Her people, she decides, will serve her but she will never bend the knee. Her family’s scattering further emphasizes that she can rule without them. In the show’s final moments, she has a mighty coronation in dark armor, finally transformed into a warrior queen. Allied by blood with the king of Westeros, Lord of the Riverlands, Lord of the Vale, and king beyond the Wall, she has ended the story at least as the second most powerful of all, or even the most powerful, considering Bran’s withdrawal. For a character destined from birth to serve a husband and his agenda, it’s quite a blow for feminism, even if her quiet capability is less flashy than the dragon queen’s.

She does not marry for love, politics, or any other reason, once more emphasizing her total independence. In fact, the last episode has no wedding at all, despite all the possible pairings. Of course, if anyone had thought the story would end with a happy wedding, that person clearly wasn’t paying attention.

Conclusion

So how did the series do? On the feminist scale, about two out of seven for women in charge of the world, with a similar ratio on the Small Council and the one that chooses the monarch. While the last few seasons’ Daenerys/Cersei battle emphasized their roles as all-powerful chosen one and villainess, their paired downfalls through insane ambition were a bad gender message. Insisting that Arya and Brienne wrap up their warrior journeys by having desperate sex with unsuitable men didn’t improve matters. If the lesson here is that stoic, meek little birds can sometimes rise through abuse to become great queens, it’s hardly a message that balances the scales. Still, being “cripples, bastards, broken things” and outcasts like Tyrion, Bran, Grey Worm, Bronn, and Sam, can in fairytale fashion lead to greatness… at least for the story’s men.

References