Game of Thrones blog - Series 5 episode 6

This week's episode was all about the power of words to control and destroy, and the horror when there are none, says Gavanndra Hodge…

19 May 2015

'Have you ever heard a baby dragon singing? It's hard to be a cynic when you've heard a baby dragon singing…"

It must also be very hard to say 'have you ever heard a baby dragon singing?' without cracking up, but Jorah Mormont is the serious, taciturn type, not inclined to uncontrollable fits of giggles; not inclined to speak very much at all, in fact. When he learns of his father's death, from the tiresomely talkative Tyrion Lannister, he doesn't say anything, he just stares out at the sea and creases his manly brow, because that's the kind of no-nonsense guy he is. But this episode wasn't about the power of swords, it was about the power of words, about people who can speak, who use words to control, to parry, to wound, to destroy.

It was about how the most powerful man (and woman) is not the strongest, but the one with the best lines. Tyrion Lannister stopped the slavers loping off his head (and other things, apparently a 'dwarf's cock has magical properties'…) with his quick tongue, and then effected passage to Meereen by telling tall tales of Jorah's prowess on the battlefield. Petyr Baelish understands the power of words almost better than anyone and his audience with Cersei was a masterclass. He revealed the whereabouts of Sansa Stark - who Cersei believed killed her son - inciting the full force of Cersei's spitting fury, and then he councilled 'patience' knowing that the Queen Mother is the most impetuous woman in Westeros, and so it couldn't have been easier for him to then persuade her to agree that he should lead a force to retake Winterfell, and thus make himself warden of the north.

The conversation between Cersei and Lady Oleanna Tyrell was another skilful display. 'Ah yes, the famously tart-tounged Queen of Thorns,' said Cersei, to which Oleanna replied 'the famous tart, Queen Cersei.' The battle lines were drawn between the two worthy, wordy rivals, and the skirmish continued at the inquest into the licentious behaviour of Loras Tyrell, in which High Sparrow destroyed first Loras, and then Queen Margaery, with their own words.

Meanwhile over in the House of Black and White, Arya learned that telling her story would only lead to pain (it is a painful story to tell), and she would have to learn to lie, first to others, and finally to herself, about who she is and was and will be, and only when she has mastered that, only when she has learnt to renounce all her 'hopes and dreams, all that makes a girl who she is,' will she become a nameless, many-faced assassin, fit to wear one of the masks of human skin that she saw in the basements of the temple, which were like a vast, fleshy ossuary.

But in the end there were no words, there was only horror, as the virgin Sansa, dressed in white, her hair red, was wed at night, in the snow, to Ramsay Bolton, who then led his new bride to what had once been her parent's bedroom, and raped her and she could do nothing but scream, and that was truth.