RECAP: Game Of Thrones – Season 6, Episode 9, ‘Battle Of The Bastards’

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Past episode nines from previous seasons gave us a lot of fan love. Things get done. Big proper things. Battles, people die and king’s fall. This episode was no exception.

This was a bloody great episode of GoT. Before watching, say goodbye to loved ones for an hour, and please settle in.

Jesus Christ it was good.

We start in Meeren, as the Old Masters fleet is still dishing out flaming balls of whatever onto the city. Daenerys and Tyrion are getting each other up to speed. It’s less ‘How’s your father’ and more ‘These flaming balls are pretty shit ey?’

Daenerys wants to torch the city. Classic fire queen. Tyrion talks her out of it.

They call the Old Masters for a bit of a powwow to discuss terms of surrender. The Old Masters didn’t realise it was their surrender being negotiated. Cue dragons being unleashed upon the fleet, and Dothraki Screamers taking care of the small Old Masters land force.

All taken care of before midday really.

Daenerys even takes a large portion of the fleet for herself. Might even be time to pop down to Bunnings to get some material to rebuild the city. A good day.

Later Yara and Theon Greyjoy arrive and pledge their support, which Daenerys accepts. Her and Yara have a helluva lot of chemistry. If they hook up I want the world to know that I called it first. All me. Cheers.

The ladies are killin’ this episode.

We then head North, which is where we’ll stay for the bulk of the episode. Get comfy, maybe bring a cardigan.

Jon Snow and his merry band have taken up camp outside Winterfell, and wish to do battle with Ramsay Bolton and his army.

Ramsay and Jon, with respective posse’s behind them, ride into middle ground and try to talk it over. Jon asks Ramsay to sort things the old way. Not crocheting, as nanna might tell you, but an individual fight to the death. Not surprisingly, Ramsay rejects the offer.

Ramsay tells them all he’s been starving his dogs for seven days in anticipation for the battle. They’ll feed soon. Sansa gets a bit snippy and tells Ramsey he’ll die tomorrow (during the battle presumptively), then rides off.

He imprisoned, raped and mentally tortured her, so her attitude seems fair (and even a bit too kind) in the scheme of things.

Back in Jon’s camp, we hear that his forces are outnumbered 2-1 at least. Jon doesn’t seem the sort to have done too well in high school maths, and thus is rather untroubled by the numbers. Sansa isn’t too happy, insisting they should have waited for more men. Jon asks ‘who?’…we find out later.

After the council, Tormund and Sir Davos are walking out together. Tormund is going to get a little ratshit on fermented goat milk (a personal favourite). Sir Davos just intends to walk around, which he does.

It’s not a jolly trek. He discovers the site where Stanis had his daughter burnt alive, and even finds the little stag that he personally carved for her all those years ago. Then the sun comes up and it’s time to go butcher people. C’est la vie, I suppose.

The night passes, the armies line up against each other, and it’s time for another beyond epic gigantic fuck off battle. Best one yet? It’s certainly up there. It has a giant, loads of horses and lots of blood soaked death. Pure GoT heaven.

Ramsay starts of proceedings with one of his infamous games. Rickon Stark, his captive, is told to run to Jon through what will soon become the battlefield.

When I was young, I was explicitly told by my grandfather that if ever a man was shooting at me, you have to run in a zigzag pattern for the best chance of survival. Same if you’re being chased by crocodiles. DUH! So you can guess what I was screaming at the TV.

Turns out Rickon hasn’t read any croc survival guides, and his grandfather was long dead before he was born. And so, unfortunately, he bites the big one. Just as big bro Jonny was racing out to save him.

Ramsay sends out the first wave of his force, a cavalry charge. Looks like Jon might get slaughtered on his lonesome, but not so. His own army’s cavalry charge hits Ramsay’s with great force just before he was going to suck a fat one. And they start to duke it out.

IT. IS. VIOLENCE. GALORE.

It all gets pretty hairy, and while not a smart man, I’d be beyond idiotic of me to describe every little niggle and chainmail rash that every soldier gets from the battle.

But in short: looks like the Stark forces are going to get wiped out, Ramsay seems very much in control as his infantry encircles Jon’s.

Then Sansa’s horrible old flame, Lord Baelish (Little Finger) arrives with the full force of The Vale behind him. You remember them yeah? Teenage boy still being breast fed? Yeah, that mob.

Ramsey is getting skittish. He retreats back into Winterfell, telling his underling there that their army is no more, but as they have Winterfell… err should be right.

Nah.

The giant in Jon Snow’s forces, alongside some bloodthirsty Stark men, charges the wall. He batters down the thick wooden gate, and Stark men flood into the city.

Ramsay Bolton’s men die quickly, and it’s just him standing. He decides to take Jon Snow up on that man vs man challenge, and starts firing arrows. Jon advances with a shield, then begins to clobber Ramsey with his bare fists.

Ramsey is all tied up in a cell. And it’s not Jon there to finish him, it’s Sansa Stark.

Let’s take a moment shall we. I dare you to think of a better villain all through literature than Ramsay Bolton. Dracula? Merely misunderstood. The Devil? His methods aren’t so contentious.

Hannibal Lecter? Perhaps. Where Hannibal takes faces Ramsey dismembers dicks, but it’s apples and oranges isn’t it?

So here we are. Ramsey all tied up, Sansa standing on the other side of the bars.

He tells her she can’t kill him as he’s a part of her. Not a nice part I’d hazard a guess. He’d be a muffin top belly, or an infected armpit or hangnail at best.

But he’s wrong here. Sansa reminds him his dogs are starving and haven’t eaten in seven days. He says they’re loyal, they won’t touch him.

It’s not often Ramsey is wrong, but he duffed up that prediction. His dogs eat him live, starting with his face.

So ends Ramsey Bolton. Villain extraordinaire. We may never see his like again. Let’s fucking hope not anyway. Sansa leaves the prison chambers, a wry smile at her lips.

And that my friends, is that. Stark’s back in charge of Winterfell, Daenerys with new allies, a fleet, and a safe city. Tune in next time as Sansa is caught playing with her old dolls and Sir Davos discovers the joys of anal fisting.

BUT REMEMBER: Feed your dogs!!

Words by William Henderson.