#1 Varys (last week: not ranked)
Clearly, any week that finds big bald Varys of all people not only at the peak of the rankings but also as the main purveyor of ownage will be an unusual one at best (much like Varys himself). When Tyrion enters the spiders lair, he begins by asking for proof of Cersei’s attempt to kill him which somehow segways into the upsetting conclusion to the worlds most bollock curdling tale of magic and braziers which was cut short (poor choice of words) by the pretty kickass battle of Blackwater.
Anyway, Tyrion pleads that he wants actual revenge, tangible pain and woe wrought upon the actual person who wronged him rather than a wildfire proxy revenge on an army of rapey pirates and fire fancying grammar nazis – a concept he feels the V-dog doesn’t quite grasp.
With a knowing gleam of his baldy head, Varys reveals that he indeed does savour a starter of frozen revenge followed by some nice chilled vengeance. In a move the Count of Monte Cristo would relish, Varys unveils the spoils of his influence and patience. Casually prying off the lid of his latest Amazon order, Varys HAS HAD THE SORCERER WHO UNMANNED HIM STUCK IN A FUCKING WOODEN BOX, SHIPPED FOR MONTHS ALL THE WAY FROM THE GOD DAMNED ASS END OF NOWHERE ACROSS OCEANS AND DESERTS DIRECTLY TO HIS FUCKING APARTMENT IN KINGS LANDING.
Balls out (sorry) ownage isn’t typically his style, we’re more accustomed to seeing Varys and Baelish snipe at each other like the head boys of Hufflepuff and Gaywhiffle bickering about whose dad has the bigger potions collection than say, strangling a guy with his own intestines – but that makes him no less dangerous. Varys may have appeared to be sitting the start of the season on the bleachers, content to stay on the sidelines, chat with his spies, smirk and generally Frasier it up on the fringes – but he’s playing a deeper game filled with more intricacy and machinations than Stephen Hawkings sat-nav could comprehend. Both Tyrion and Varys are half men in their own ways, and it’s their shortcomings that afford them their edge. The power rankings respect this more subtle, considered brand of ownage. We have the stomach (and the brains) for it.
#2 Daenerys Targaryen (last week: not ranked)
She spoke the language all along and dragons are not slaves. Daenerys casually has her dragon bathe the human goatee in flames, burning him for every snarky comment about her ass, the dothrakis unfortunate odour, every dead baby, sliced nipple, pinched buttcheek and wet willie.
While the man from hell Monte flaps about getting nicely crisp, Dany’s newly freed slave army get all Podrick on their former captors, clinically spearing them before falling in behind Ted Danson while JMor and Old Man Ownage stand in awe, swapping silly eyebrow raises with one another like they’re in some fucking buddy cop movie.
So cheeky slavers get toasted, dragons reclaimed and armies gained. Daenerys closes out the episode marching out upon the free cities, dragons swooping overhead, elderly bodyguards by her side and eunuch armies rolling up behind her. The girl deserves her props, as does Peter Mannion MP, whose dragon eggs continue to shame every other wedding present ever gifted by anyone anywhere.
#3 Old lady Tyrell (last week: not ranked)
Some more unconventional ownage this episode coming in the form of Olenna Tyrell, Grandmother of the Tyrell house and terror of cheese bearers everywhere. Olenna sets about just about everyone within earshot Downtown Abbey style, from eviscerating uninspired rose weaving hand maidens to singling out little dove Sansa Stark as the boring plot contrivance she is. Even the spider in the garden gets pricked by her saucy barbs.
“The city is made brighter by my presence. Is that your usual line old Varys? Are you here to seduce me, seduce away it’s been so long.”
And while Cersei Lannister is bitching about male dominance, Olenna accepts the situation, twisting it to her advantage and playing the game harder than a Lannister family game of Monopoly.
This rose has thorns.
#4 Tywin Lannister (last week: #3)
Tywin dips his quill into the thick black pool of ink, the tip glistens with a dark alluring sheen. Cersei watches him expectantly. His implement flickers quickly, certainly across the parchment.
Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Hand of the King
To all acting Lannister war parties, Lannsiter bannermen and sworn houses of Casterly Rock. Robb Starks consolidation of power at Harrenhall has been a significant yet expected setback for the war effort. At this time it is imperative that all battle plans and stratagems are followed exactly as instructed, even in my absence from the field.
Cersei looks around the room impatiently, baiting her father’s attention like a small girl.
Additionally, it has been brought to my attention that my son and heir Jaime Lannister may be in the custody of house Bolton, a Stark vassal. It should be clear to you that all necessary steps should be taken to secure Jaime Lannister safely. Failure is a punishable, personal affront to me, and success will be rewarded handsomely.
“You wanted to speak to me?” Tywin asks, already knowing the answer.
“Yes about Jaime. I wanted to make sure we were doing everything in our power to get him back”
Tywin blows the dust from his parchment.
“When Catlyn Stark took Tyrion prisoner, what did I do in response?”
“You started a war”
“And if I would start a war for that lecherous little stump, what do you think I’m doing for my eldest son and heir?”
“Whatever you can”
“Whatever I can” replies Tywin with the certainty of the richest and most influential man in the land.
Tywin seals his battle address with his hot, waxy insignia.
All of these letters seem trivial, he must write to her.
You are in Kings Landing. I ache at the thought of your body, so close to mine now and yet still separated by so much. I need you.
When we began this tryst at Highgarden, you spat upon a regular vanilla relationship with no kinky fuckery at all. In fact, you my rose, my floral goddess, descended to your knees, hands clasped around my lionhood, begging for kinky fuckery. Growing strong indeed.
Cersei is blabbering on now about confidence, or family legacy or some other such nonsense.
My queen of thorns we must meet. I am a patient man but Little Tywin is wrought with anticipation and your flowers are surely blooming for my
Cersei is staring at Tywin, awaiting his response. This is distracting.
“All right” Twin proposes, crossing his legs in an attempt to hide the turgid thing lurking beneath his bureau.
#5 Marjory Tyrell (last week: not ranked)
Marjory demonstrates the political shrewdness her house is fast becoming known for as she shepherds Pete Campbell’s shitty nephew Joffrey through the Targaryen tombs with feigned enthusiasm and not inconsiderable cleavage.
Joff saunters through the tombs giggling like a psychopath, extolling the morbid details of the late Targaryen’s. Seriously, an in depth historical tour through a cemetery is the least appealing date that could humanly be conceived, and yet Marjory convinces little Joff that she’s way into it. Not only that, but Madge is such a skilled manipulator that she has the King out among the public, even though the last time he was this close to the city’s populous they were flinging cow shit at him and tearing off arms out of pure hatred for the preening, crossbow wielding little shit.
I like the way she thinks.
#6 Mysterious Archer Guy (last week: not ranked)
Last week, Mysterious archer guy (henceforth referred to as Sterling Archer) let fly some pretty stellar archery (though it was neither the best nor the worst marksmanship of the night) on some enthusiastic torturers who, truth be told, really were in the right profession.
However, any man saving Theon Greyjoy from a lifetime of brutal torture is no friend of mine. Sterling went unranked, and if you’d asked me I would have told you the only way he would ever, ever find his way into the top ten would be if he somehow wasn’t actually saving Theon, but was really stealing him away to some greater more barbaric torture after instilling him with a faulty sense of hope for a life without pain. The impish grin he displays as Theon gets strung up again (which was also plastered on my face) and prepped for another round of stretching and screwing sealed his place at number six.
Much like child molesters, Theon Greyjoy has given up the right to a life without pain.
#7 Old Man Mormont (last week: not ranked)
While his skirt wearing, slave trading son is off across the narrow sea babysitting the queen of dragons, old papa Mormont is about as far away from that sunny pleasure assignment as you could imagine. Old man Mormont is in the icy tundra beyond the wall, leading a band of convicts, bastards and plump stewards back South after a fairly disastrous clash with an Iron Maiden album cover.
Conditions in the incest hut are less than desirable, and when “daughter fucking wildling bastard” Craster gets pissy and rushes the watch, big Jeor gets shived Gorbals style by Rast the rapey. It’s a killing blow, but Commander Jeor leaves Rast with a good strangling to remember him by, a fitting end for Teddy Roosevelt. Unfortunately this leaves the lording of Bear Island up to his estranged son Jorah, who seems more interested in stealing vases with horse warriors and immuring half the black population of the thrones world in a vault in service of “Kaly-C” than freezing his tits off back home.
#8 Tyrion (last week: #6)
He may not have much influence (yet), but Tyrion does have a befuddlingly sexually adept squire and half of an astoundingly bad English pop duo at his disposal. It’s a quiet week for the half man, but he has his eyes firmly set on some actual revenge as he puts it, and is taking pointers from the apparent maestro of avengement, so we can expect some serious Mel Gibson worthy payback for his scarred face, and perhaps for his brother’s hand.
Speaking of which…
#9 Jamie Lannister (last week: not ranked)
Of all the character in Game of Thrones who have found themselves in the shit, Jamie finds himself exploring faeces, mud and horse piss in the most literal sense this episode. After chucking up a jug of horsepiss faster than, well… faster than anyone’s ever ingested a jug of horsepiss, the Sister Fucker nabs a sword and takes on his captors Southpaw.
It’s a pretty futile effort, Jamie has fallen far from the man who polished off ten northern soldiers like a breakfast at Casterly rock. But he’s still a man who, after you cut off his sword hand will grab a blade with the other hand and try to kill you with it. He’s not content to lay back and think of Renly, and if the determination with which he chomps into his loaf of bread is any indication, he’ll find his way back into the rankings in time.
# 10? Lord Baelish
Lord Baelish may well be the most dangerous man in the seven kingdoms, he would watch the whole world burn just to rule over the ashes. You know… as long as he could do so from his feather bed, and never had to unsheathe a sword.
YOU KNOW WHAT FUCK THIS PETYR BITCHLISH IS NOT RANKED THIS WEEK GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.
# 10? Sam
Samwell Tarly has never seen a fight he couldn’t run away from, despite that he…wait.
We don’t rank fat fucks for successfully fleeing a perfectly good dust up while saving a woman and small child. Good hustle Tarly, but next time take a page out of your buddy Jon Snow’s book and drop a few dudes on the way. Until you do something properly badass that’s worth my time, you’re a well intentioned feast of a man. NOT RANKED.
# 10 The Hound (last week: not ranked)
Yes now we’re getting somewhere. The Hound wasn’t at the Momas fjord raping preteens and slicing babies like King Solomon. He was knocking back fools at the battle of Blackwater like canteens of black strap rum. Tied up and outnumbered by dozens of men he’s still the hardest, most intimidating motherfucker in the room (cave). Untie him and find out who’s running. He won’t beg for his life, just that you get on with it without the pretentious speeches and moaning.
Sentencing the hound to trial by combat will be about as successful as sentencing Homer Simpson to death by doughnuts in hells ironic punishment division. Actually, this is a man who endured Joffrey for most of his adult life, I have no idea what could make him beg for mercy. These rankings look forward to next episode, when The Hound presumably gets let off the leash and goes about sorting the Brothers without Banners into ‘bleeders’ and ‘not bleeders’.
Not ranked: Podricks indescribably prodigious talents, Baelish’s feather beds, Robert Baratheon’s remains, the banquet table in the command tent, Marjory’s cleavage, Stormsend, black strap rum, Olenna Tyrell’s rosy (looking not smelling) chamberpot, Downton abbey, where the fuck is Bronn?, Jon Snow, cities ripe for a sacking, Highgarden, Whiteharbour, starving in the snow, Kaly-C, the butcher’s boy, Scott’s Porridge Oats, Peter Mannion MP.