Watching the Throne: The Best and Worst Things About "Game of Thrones" Season 3

There's a clear formula at work on Game of Thrones: Hit viewers with the big death-blow during the respective season's penultimate episode, and then slightly pump the brakes for the finale. In the show's 2011 debut run, the ninth hour, "Baelor," saw main character Ned Stark (Sean Bean) get decapitated, the first of many signs that Game of Thrones wasn't adhering to any previous codes of storytelling conduct. Last year, the second season reached its exploding point in the staggering "Blackwater," the ninth episode that featured what's still inarguably one of the grandest spectacles ever to take place on a television show—the blockbuster-movie-level, titular battle sequence.

Keeping the tradition alive, last week's season 3 penultimate episode, "The Rains of Castamere," shocked the world via "The Red Wedding," where (warning for anyone who hasn't signed online anytime during the past week) Robb Stark, mama Catelyn, and pregnant wife Talisa, along with Robb's entire army, were brutally slaughtered by Walder Frey and his men, the consequence of Robb's betraying Walder's plan to have the Stark king marry one of his daughters. Knowing how Game of Thrones operates, there was little doubt leading into last night's season 3 finale, titled "Mhysa,"that nothing even close to the Red Wedding would go down.

That's not to say that "Mhysa" was a snooze by any means—despite the lack of fresh corpses on display, the episode (written by series co-creators David Benioff and D.B. Weiss) did a fine job of both resolving several plot-lines and hinting at where Game of Thrones is heading come next spring, when season 4 begins.

And, first off, it's not looking good for Jon Snow. His season-long romance with Wildling cutie Ygritte—which was, let's be honest here, doomed from the start—was capped off by one of the more violent breakup scenes in recent memory, with a teary-eyed Ygritte shooting three arrows into an equally wet-lashed Jon Snow, leaving him near death before good old Samwell Tarly comes to his aid. Arya Stark, having just indirectly bared witness to her brother Robb's and mother Catelyn's deaths, isn't in a much better place than her illegitimate brother Jon—no longer just a ball of pent-up rage, she's officially killed a man, and the look of simultaneous horror and empowerment in her eyes doesn't bode well for much happiness in her future (not that any seemed likely to begin with). The same goes for Theon Greyjoy, who still doesn't know who's torturing him and, now, making him only respond to the name "Reek," or else receive further pain (we, the audience, however, now know that his punisher is Roose Bolton's bastard, Ramsay).

Over at King's Landing, there's a smidgen of hope: Jaime Lannister has finally returned home, minus on one hand yet ready to embrace his sister, Cersei, though any hopes of once again consummating their brother-sister relationship (gross, indeed) won't be without any challenges, now that she's engaged to Loras Tyrell. Cersei will gladly take any kind of good news, though, since her son, King Joffrey, keeps sinking deeper and deeper into joke-land—Tywin and Tyrion each take turns bluntly, and hilariously, bitching him out, to where he's damn near on the verge of anger crying.

Unsurprisingly, the only Game of Thrones character who has no reason to fret is Daenerys, season 3's undisputed queen of good fortune. With all of Yunkai's rulers dead, at the hands of her righthand men Daario, Jorah, and Grey Worm, Ms. Targaryen frees all of the city's previously enslaved citizens, all of whom loudly chant, in their native tongue, "Mother," and hoist her onto their shoulders. Name one other Iron Throne contender who could elicit such a response by walking amongst his or her underlings.

Because of that, Daenerys emerges victorious in regards to this season's Watching the Throne competition, though she's a co-champion—Dany must share the crown, for now, with Tywin Lannister, the series' very own Sun Tzu. Together, Daenerys and Tywin represent two of the third season's strongest components, but they're not alone in the good will, nor are they free of any negative counterparts. For a complete assessment of the HBO smash's 2013 go-round, here are the best and worst things about Game of Thrones season 3.

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Written by Matt Barone (@MBarone)

A lot of bad things happened this season—several characters died, romances were shattered, an entire army was wiped out, and Joffrey Baratheon didn't die a slow and miserable death. But how about everyone's favorite dragon mama, Daenerys? She made out like a golden-maned, beautiful, incredibly badass bandit, as if there was an unseen immunity cloud hovering over Dany, her dragons, and travel buddies Ser Jorah and Barristan Selmy.

Not that anyone's complaining. Daenerys in total control means that the world gets blessed with scenes of ferocious and womanly devastation, namely the season 3 showstopper that came at the end of the episode "And Now His Watch is Ended," when Daenerys took over the city of Astapor by unleashing her dragons and letting them burn the city's ruler, the misogynistic jerk Kraznys, alive. From which we'll forever this iconic image:

By the time season 4 begins, Daenerys' follower count will be large enough for her to start her own empire. After eliminating Kraznys, she brought his 8,000-deep army of obedient slaves, dubbed the Unsullied, under her anti-tyrannical, democratic command. She's also now the proud leader of the entire Yunkai village's population, courtesy of her new enforcer (and potential lover?) Daario's successful efforts in overtaking it by bloody force.

In season 3, all Daenerys did was win, win, and win some more. Chances are, things won't go transpire so conveniently for her next year, but let's not spoil her celebration yet. Because we all know what happens when you piss the Mother of Dragons off:

It's a narrative trope that's been used in undercover cop movies for decades now: Good guy infiltrates the bad guys' camp, pretends he's one of them, and falls in love with one of their women. And because of that familiarity, the storyline shared between honorary Stark family member Jon Snow and feisty Wildling ginger Ygritte always felt a bit stale. Whereas the rest of Game of Thrones characters are all involved in unpredictable plots, Jon's could've ever really only gone one way: Eventually, Ygritte and her friends would figure his deceit out, and she'd be an unhappy potty-mouth.

And, wouldn't you know it, that's exactly how things played out, culminating in Ygritte, in tears, firing three arrows into Jon Snow during last night's season finale, leaving him for dead (until his old pal Samwell Tarly finds and saves him).

Here's the thing, though: For all of its genericness, the Jon/Ygritte love affair was a welcome diversion, balancing the show's rampant bleakness and nihilism with sporadic respites. When their tender, though not exactly sweet (Ygritte doesn't play that girly-girl ish), romance was kicking, they provided Game of Thrones with both levity and warmth—at least someone in and around Westeros was getting some hot, steamy action, free of charge.

'Tis the power of strong acting. Thanks to Kit Harington and born scene-stealer Rose Leslie, Jon Snow and Ygritte managed to overcome their story's lack of originality and have Game of Thrones fans rooting for their love to survive. Of course, on a show where happy endings are as foreign as underwear, that just wasn't meant to be.

Oh, Joffrey Baratheon—he's television's most easily hatable bastard, yet how can you not also kind of love him for it, too?

Major props are, as always, due to actor Jack Gleeson for portraying the painfully entitled, teenage king with endless pomposity, a degree of I-think-I'm-better-than-everyone jerkiness that's nicely offset on occasion by moments of vulnerable self-awareness. And those moments typically come after Joffrey's been verbally, and sometimes physically, bitch-slapped by one his family's elders, none of whom are particularly concerned that he's technically their superior and could have them treated like the late Ned Stark if he so chooses.

The minscule sociopath takes his anger out on other people, though, like the whore into whom he shot a bunch of arrows while she was tied up to his bed's posts. Or his go-to whipping post, poor Sansa Stark, the recipient of Joffrey's "honeymoon rape" theat at her wedding to Tyrion. The only person he's even halfway pleasant towards is his future wife, Margaery Tyrell (played by the enchanting rising star Natalie Dormer), whose kindness and humanity momentarily gets through to him, though there could be another reason for his responsiveness towards her:

Season 3, more than its two predecessors, was powered by the notion that Joffrey's reign is flimsy at best. Grandpa Tywin, the family's (obvious) clear man of power, couldn't be in Joffrey's presence without insulting him in clever, undercover ways—rather than flat-out call him a "little prick who's unqualified to be king," Tywin mocked his softness and never showed him any visible respect all while still carrying out Joffrey's commands. Which, like everything else Tywin does, is strategic brilliance.

If Tywin has a superior in the realm of Joffrey-chumping, it's definitely Tyrion, the king's sarcastic uncle. Anytime Joffrey gets out of line, Tyrion's there to block his intentions. In last night's finale, for instance, the sadistic king talks about wanting to serve Robb Stark's head on a platter to his former bride-to-be, Sansa Stark, who's now Tyrion's wife. A compassionate man, Tyrion refuses to let that happen, an act of disobedience that, expectedly, pisses Joffrey off. The king calls Tyrion a "monster," prompting the imp to fire back, "Monsters are dangerous, and just now, kings are dying like flies." Harsh, yes, but still not as delightful as when, while totally shit-faced drunk at his wedding, Tyrion rejected Joffrey's orders to have a bedding ceremony (read: sexy times) with Sansa with a knife and the threat of, "You'll be fucking your own bride with a wooden cock."

There was a whole lot of disrespect circling around Joffrey this season. Basically, it was an entire season's worth of this:

And it was glorious.

Prior to season 3, it would have been difficult to locate a Game of Thrones fan who didn't want to sucker-punch Jaime Lannister right in his smug, pretty-boy face. It's no fault of actor Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, though—he's done a superb job playing a reprehensible character with just the right touch of smooth charisma to never allow viewers to wholeheartedly despise Jaime. During seasons 1 and 2, you may have wanted to kick his ass, but don't act like you wouldn't have grabbed a drink with him if he'd propositioned you to do so. in that regard, consider him Thrones' version of George W. Bush.

The show's producers, along with the better than ever Coster-Waldau, changed all of that, however, in season 3, during which Stark prisoner Jaime, trapped in the castle of Harrenhal (overseen by Roose Bolton), was routinely beaten down, humiliated, and, most important of all, humbled by his captors. His right hand got chopped off (and tied to a rope that's wrapped around his head), he wasn't given the chance to bathe (resulting in a season-long look that could best be described as "Hobo with Only Sword-Hand"), and, through his fellow captive Brienne, he was forced to, you know, act like a likable human being and not the pompous, arrogant asshole of old. The humanization of Jaime was further helped by his monologue that explained the real story behind his "King Slayer" nickname, a tale of heroism in which Jaime murdered his boss in an effort to save his father and other innocent people from being burned by "the Mad King."

And just like that, Jaime went from perennial douchebag to a lifesaving hero, a new, desirable reputation that displayed itself even further when he jumped into the gladiatorial pit and squared off against a behemoth bear to rescue Brienne. Unlike Ron Burgundy, though, there was no "I immediately regret this decision" kind of utterance—Jaime was fearless...if not also stupid.

The question, going into season 4, is whether Jaime's shift into endearment will last or not, now that he's made back to King's Landing. Because there, his two closest family members also happen to be two of the show's meanest people: Cersei, his sister/incestuous cut-buddy, and Tywin, the father who's invested a great deal of mental energy into thinking that Jaime's his worthiest successor. But would Tywin ever knuckle up against a bear to save someone who once walked him around with shackles? And just wait until Jaime learns about Cersei's forced engagement to Loras Tyrell. That still functional left hand of his might need to do some slapping next year.

Maisie Williams, the excellent young actress responsible for making Arya Stark television's smallest badass, furthered her reputation last week when that Vine clip of her reacting to the Red Wedding exploded online and earned the across-the-board distinction of being the Game of Thrones incident's defining video response. The coolest thing about that: It was another one of those occasions when the performer behind your favorite TV character turns out to be just as cool, if not cooler, than their on-screen counterpart. Think every single thing that Breaking Bad co-stars Bryan Cranston and Aaron Paul do in real life, or Mad Men's Jon Hamm showing his off his comedic abilities on Adult Swim programs.

The awesomeness that is Arya intensified in season 3, which found the undercover kid being held captive by the Brotherhood of Banners, fleeing from their camp after they sold her BFF, Gendry, off to Stannis Baratheon's men, and unwittingly becoming the road companion of Joffrey's old bodyguard, The Hound.

Williams doesn't need dialogue to convey Arya's mini hurricane presence—her big, emotive eyes are able to dictate a plethora of emotions on their own. Granted, whenever she is given a choice bit of ice-cold verbiage, Williams always nails it:

And to think, the character's biggest badass moments are yet to come. At least that's what can be inferred from Arya's crucial scene in last night's finale, when, after seeing her brother Robb's dire wolf's head being paraded around on horseback by Walder Frey's men, she stabs a man to death for talking all kinds of disrespectful shit about her late, murdered sibling. As she admits to The Hound, it's her first time killing anyone. Please believe, it won't be the last.

The imp's Napoleon-like air of heightened self-confidence always had an expiration date, and the beginning of its end happened during last season's epic Battle of Blackwater, when Tyrion's face got slashed. In that moment, his arrogance was also cut down, ushering in a new version of Tyrion Lannister whom we saw in season 3: the humbled man.

Courtesy of his pops, that unsympathetic tyrant Tywin, Tyrion's slice of humble pie gradually grew into a dessert fit to feed an entire army. In every conversation they had, Tywin found new ways to tear his diminutive son's emotions and resolve down—yes, that meant fans were treated to far less of Tyrion's one-liners than in previous seasons, but it also gave the great Peter Dinklage plenty of poignant material to play with, and the award-winner never disappointed.

It's actually fitting that he ended up marrying Sansa Stark, who's his female equivalent in terms of constantly being emotionally downgraded by everyone around her. They also share the pain of not being able to openly love the ones they truly fancy—in Tyrion's case, it's his behind-closed-doors girlfriend, Shae, and for Sansa, it's Loras Tyrell, the long-haired stud who, unfortunately, is both involuntarily engaged to Cersei Lannister and privately gay. Poor, poor Sansa.

Who else knows a thing or two about booze? That's right, your boy Tyrion. An excessive amount of liquor inspired his best moment of season 3, also Peter Dinklage's showcase of bravura thespian work: the imp's drunken stupor as seen in the episode "Second Sons." At his and Sansa's wedding, Tyrion, unable to hide his disdain over the arrangement, consumes mass quantities of wine.

Game of Thrones characters, Tyrion himself included, often talk about how he's a known drunkard, yet little had been seen of Tyrion's hammered ways until "Second Sons." It was well worth the wait.

All hail the god Peter Dinklage.

With one 10-minute act of deceit, Lord Walder Frey put an end to the Stark family's chances of running things in Westeros, and he did so in excessively convincing fashion.

The narrative pieces leading up to the now-infamous (within the TV show's lore, at least) "Red Wedding" were laid out nicely throughout the eight episodes preceding "The Rains of Castamere." By marrying Talisa last season, Robb Stark broke the oath his mother, Catelyn, made to Walder Frey, which promised the latter that Robb would marry one of his daughters, and, thus, give the Frey family some much-needed power. Robb didn't expect to ever need Walder's help, at least not in a way that would put him directly in the man's crosshairs. But with the House Tyrell, thanks to Margaery's pending nuptials with Joffrey, now linked up with the Lannisters, Even worse, Robb has Richard Karstark executed after Karstark wrongfully killed two of their Lannister prisoners, causing the Karstarks to withdraw their soldiers from Robb's forces.

At that point, Robb's royally fucked—unless he can align himself with Frey's men, make amends for betraying him, and strengthen his regime before taking Tywin Lannister on in full force. Hence, the Red Wedding, a shocking, grisly slaughter of Robb, Catelyn, and the pregnant Talisa after Edmure Stark marries Roslyn Frey, a consolation move that, as Walder's well aware, is a pittance compared to welcoming Robb into his family.

Back in season 1, when Ned Stark was beheaded, Game of Thrones co-creators D.B. Weiss and Dave Benioff announced to the world that their show wasn't playing by anyone else's rules, just like George R. R. Martin's original books. Major characters can die whenever, however, and fans will have to accept that the Thrones story will play out with reality in mind, not some archaic superhero movie conceit that, no matter how dire their situations become, the good guys will always live.

Because in George R. R. Martin's universe...

Watching Robb, Catelyn, and Talisa get gutted, throat-sliced, and belly-jabbed to death, respectively, was a whole different level of sensory punishment than the great Ned Stark death of 2011. Aside from being masterfully directed by episode helmer David Nutter, the Red Wedding's events powerfully altered the entire course of Game of Thrones, eradicating the entire Stark army in sequence and re-enforcing Tywin Lannister's muscle with one single line, uttered by Roose Bolton to Robb right before he terminates him: "The Lannisters send their regards." Robb's decision to choose love over political smarts sent his one potential ally, Walder Frey, into Tywin's clutches.

Now, the Stark name is dependent on Bran, Sansa, and Arya, none of whom are in great positions themselves—season 4 won't be pretty for any of them, guaranteed.

The most resounding lesson learned from Game of Thrones season 3: One must respect Tywin Lannister's gangster.

Whether he's in front of the camera or just talked about through secondhand, the Lord of Casterly Rock (wonderfully played by Charles Dance) exerts dominant power throughout all of Westeros, and this year, in particular, he's made some devastating boss moves.

First, there's the coldness with which he assigned son Tyrion and daughter Cersei—neither of whom deserve much empathy from daddy, frankly—to marry people they have no interest in simply to enhance the Lannister family's clout. For Tyrion, there's the forever-pushed-around Sansa Stark, who's much younger than he and whom his actual lady love, Shae, takes care of as her maiden; Cersei, meanwhile, gets connected to the Tyrell brood, via her newfound fiancé, Loras (who's secretly gay, mind you).

And then there's that little matter known as the Red Wedding, a full-scale Stark massacre privately orchestrated by Tywin. By eliminating the Starks so quickly and efficiently, Tywin once again proved that it's he, not that sniveling pint-sized twat Joffrey, who runs things in the Lannister/Baratheon circle. Which leads into another great part of Tywin's season 3 presence: how he so unsubtly punks Joffrey right to the young king's face. As he told the boy's mother, Cersei, at one point this year, somebody needs to put Joffrey in his place, and it clearly won't be the overly apologetic Cersei.

And if nobody else will show Joffrey the disrespect he very much deserves, leave it to Tywin, his stern grandfather, to humble him whenever possible. As in the season finale, when he tells Joffrey, who's just reminded the disrespectful Tyrion about his status, "Any man he must say, 'I am the king,' is no true king. I'll make you understand that when I win your war for you." Feel the burn.

And keep in mind, there's always the chance that Tywin can stunt on Joffrey with a bit of this:

Early into the season finale, Tywin asks Tyrion, "You really think the crown gives you power?" And with that, the real ruler of King's Landing explains our Watching the Throne conceit in eight simple words: Just because Joffrey and Robb were technically the kings this year, they weren't ever the true dons. Intelligence, cold-heartedness, and an unwavering taste for blood far outweigh mere titles and shiny headgear.