You don’t just take away a precious baby like that without expecting vengeance incarnate to come down on you harder than gym junkie seagull on a creatine chip.
I don’t want to shame anybody about having a foot fetish. Hell, I wish I had the kind of good-looking trotters that were worthy of an entry on Wikifeet.
After nearly 20 years of time jumps (more if you count the episode 1 pre-credit sequence naming Viserys as heir), Viserys had done the most he possibly could to bring the divided wings of House Targaryen back together…. annnnd then f*** it all up again.
My first thought watching this episode was “Could somebody please turn on a light?” Many of its scenes were so dimly lit I only knew what was going on by the subtitles, most of which involved the phrase “breathing heavily”.
After recognising Ser Harwin Strong’s talents last episode, all of a sudden BAM! There he was, ten years later but one hundred per cent more beefyl, more blue-eyed, more sexual, and oh-so-much-more curly-haired.
Slap my back and call me Heimlich because that guy just pulled a MANEOUVER on me.
Lordy lordy, Episode 4 sure delivered a fresh breath of air in the form of a dank sex pit in the Street of Silk. You could practically smell the bodily fluids. God knows if they have towels in that moist place, let alone baths.
When we deal with challenges in life, whether they be simple family quarrels, or life or death matters, how do we choose to handle them? Do we act with force, or compassion? Do we make bold moves, or subtle ones? Do we act like the hunter, or the prey?
Then Rhaenyra, silent and steady with her serving so far, bursts out with “Dad! We ride DRAGONS! Let me RIDE A DRAGON THERE! We can BURN THEM WITH OUR DRAGONS, DAD! DAD! ARE YOU LISTENING, DAD?”
I try to be as comprehensive as I can in the recaps, but clearly it’s a big show, with lots happening, so I’m bound to leave some things out. If this happens, I’m going to try to corral these thoughts for a sexy bit of content. “Sextras”, if you will.
Great characters, the promise of intrigue, some frankly uncalled-for gore, and a smashingly good candidate for Natalie’s “Who Will Become The New Object of My Slightly Perverted Fixation?” talent quest.
It gives both the history buff and rabid feminist in me a rush of energy and delight, because degustations on what constitutes female power are always delicious
