Yanerys Shippers, Unite!

Yara and Theon have finally reached their destination: the Meereen throne room. Tyrion is not overly fond of Theon, as the last time they met, the Greyjoy heir made quite a few lame jokes about his height.

But the siblings press on, explaining why they're here (they want Daenerys' help) and what they have to offer (100 ships from the Iron fleet).

Daenerys interrupts: "Has the Iron Islands ever had a queen before?"

"No more than Westeros," Yara quips.

We proceed to witness the beginning of a beautiful friendship that one can only hopes blossoms into many, many, many versions of fanfiction. These two would-be queens have a lot in common: their fathers were terrible kings, their brothers have been truly disappointing and they both have unapologetic sexual appetites.

Euron, Yara explains, demands an alliance by marriage, whereas, "I never demand but I'm up for anything really." (I could literally hear the tweets flutter by as these words were uttered.)

The final conclusion: Daenerys will back Yara's claim, if she backs her own claim in return. What's more, the Ironborn must stop all raids on Westeros.

"No more."

The two shake hands like the lady bosses that they are. Feminist hearts everywhere explode.

"Come, Bastard."

Up north, the time has come. Both armies stand on the field of battle, separated only by a handful of burning flayed men.

Ramsay approaches the no man's land, holding a rope. Rickon is attached.

He unsheaths a dagger. Jon dismounts.

After a tense moment, Ramsay cuts the rope that binds the youngest Stark child. "Do you like games little man?" he asks. "Let's play a game. Run to your brother." This cannot be good.

Rickon starts walking towards the Stark camp, obviously confused.

"No, you have to run remember, those are the rules." Rickon, along with the audience, suddenly realizes what this game is all about as Ramsay grabs a bow and arrow.

At this, Jon loses his cool and gallops forward. Ugh. SANSA TOLD YOU NOT TO FALL FOR IT.

The arrows miss Rickon until the last possible second. As Jon is getting to him, the final arrow goes right through the boy. Rickon dies in front of a distraught Jon.

At this point, Tormund, who knows his friend, whispers: "Don't."

In vain. Jon charges like the brainless, loyal fool he is. Will he never learn? Davos spent the entire battle planning session repeating that it was essential that Bolton charge first.

The Stark army follows into what is possibly the most gruesome battle ever captured on television. There are bodies everywhere, literally mountains of them. And the living are fighting on the mounds of the dead.

I won't give you the play-by-play of the battle, because I admit that I spent most of it hiding behind splayed fingers trying to avoid the squelching gut zoom-ins. But it suffices to say that what must happen happens. The Bolton army surrounds the Starks. It looks like the end. Jon almost gets trampled to death and emerges into a teaming mass of men, cornered and about to die a terribly violent death.

BUT THEN!