I came to 'Game of Thrones' late in the game. I read the hype. I bought the books. I began to read. Then I began to watch.
When I first began to read George R.R. Martin's 'Game of Thrones' it hooked me and since I knew that HBO had always been faithful to most of their television productions, I decided to watch. Thanks to a knee injury that gave me countless hours of recovery time and the wonderful invention of HBO GO, I quickly caught up. It is superb. It was the end of my journeys viewing and the fourth season finale that gave me pause to pen my emotion.
Last night with the entrance of "The Children" the series passed into an even more mythic realm.
A place where Tolkin as well as King Arthur dwell. The army of the dead was a sight to my 52 year old fan girl eyes. Master Harryhausen would be proud. Bran and company have been lead to a rooted place of legend.
Arya Stark has her iron coin, Cersei Lannister her blind, incestuous glory, Jon Snow his bittersweet sense of duty, Stannis Baratheon an occult flamed path to his one true throne, and Tyrion Lannister his hardened heart justice afloat to who knows where. It is this and much much more that made the final act of this four season creation a heart skipping sight to behold. But as the title of this slight article states it was the sight of Daenerys Targaryen, heart broken, chaining her children in the darkness that touched me most. Yes the dragons made me cry.