The final season of Game of Thrones starts where this whole madcap, fire-infatuated, snow-covered, incest-propaganda-film of a series originally began: at Winterfell, with a royal procession, and a small boy [ not Bran this time; lol ] climbing to take in the sights, his eyes large at the sight of thousands of Unsullied marching through the gates.
Of course, the main thrust of the episode, if you’ll pardon the expression, centres on the unbridled lust that links Jon and Daenerys, despite their similar DNA.
Unfortunately, the episode’s two greatest problems hover around the following. The first is that Bran practically gave himself a headache in season seven when he told Sam that Jon must know the truth about his parentage as soon as possible, but then lets enough time go by that Jon goes off on a dragon-riding adventure before egging Sam on to spill the beans. What were they waiting for? How did Sam move about Winterfell without Jon knowing he was there?
The other oddity is that Jon doesn’t immediately worry about the fact that he’s been committing incest. Yes, such behavior is tolerated slightly better in Westeros, and the news that his whole life is a lie does take top billing, but still. Who wouldn’t eventually clap a hand to his mouth and sputter something about how the two have been intimately acquainted in a very unfortunate way?
This is all I have for now; but let’s not forget the beautiful dragon ride [ Jon & Dan ] – best part of the premier to meeeeeeeeeee.