Baking with Dragon Fire

Wow, House of the Dragon is good. I baked some fresh bread, which came out really well, and was eating it as I watched a guy's head getting bashed against the floor. And I thought, "Life just doesn't get any better than this." How sweet it is.

The episode begins and ends with murder. We finally meet Daemon's wife who, in just a few minutes, manages to come off as really cool before he first paralyses her and then murders her, all without a word.

He doesn't speak at first when he shows up to Rhaenyra's wedding feast so I thought maybe the episode was going to be an exercise in how menacing Matt Smith can be with silence. And menacing he was.

The big wrinkle in this story is Ser Criston, whose honour matters more to him than Rhaenyra counted on when she decided to make him her boytoy. He finds an unexpected, and unsought, ally in Queen Alicent.

The predicament she's in is so logically put together and so horrific. I loved the scene in the rain, at the entrance to the Red Keep, when her father laid it all out for her. Not only will Rhaenyra fight for her kid to be heir over Alicent's, Rhaenyra will have no choice in doing so.

So Alicent brings her cleavage to the party, wearing no chemise under her gown. It's her battle array, worn as she confronts Viserys and Rhaenyra for the first time since she came to believe they both betrayed her. And she has good reason to think that, from the moment Richard III let slip the skinny about Rhaenyra's tea.

I thought he was Ben Whishaw at first but it's an actor called Matthew Needham playing Larys Stong, son of the new king's hand who's replaced Alicent's father. He seems to be the arch-schemer type, a Tyrion or a Littlefinger. Ah, happy days are here again.

House of the Dragon is available on HBOMax.

Twitter Sonnet #1623

The missing egg has hid an Easter Day.
Again the saggy river clogs the freight.
A bouncing barrel yet surpassed the tay.
Expensive elves and dwarves have nothing ate.
A glassy beard allowed a view of chin.
When time's a watch, the drum's an ear of corn.
We gather lead below the metal bin.
The party pitched below the mark of scorn.
The B balloon could still traverse the C.
The tea lagoon could still revive the man.
A gentle chime confined the tuner key.
We beat the band to buy a muffin pan.
The twisting lizards lock in wedding chains.
The clumsy club has broke the bloody mains.