A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms is the second prequel series in Game of Thrones franchise, chronologically falling after House of the Dragon
With a second season underway, the show adapts from George R.R. Martin's Tales of Dunk and Egg novellas
Full of grounded charm, warmth and humour, this is a refreshing, confident departure from Westerosi renditions
A Westerosi show sans dragons, magic, excess sex or gore? A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms swerves away from textural familiarity into something snug and genially grounded. This is a humbler, pared-down entry in George R.R. Martin’s ever-expanding A Song of Ice and Fire canon. Its modesty becomes its true delight, dangling small rewards that are every bit tender and compassionate. Here, the lead up to a single joust steers the narrative. There are no epic feuds. The action is tightly contained to just a few days while also being loose-limbed. A shape of promise kicks off the plot, fading into direr rites of passage. An early exchange distils its spirit. An innkeeper succinctly schools a beady-eyed knight eager for tourneys. Does any good come out of those? After all, no joust ever changed the price of eggs.

Co-created with Ira Parker, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms is an amusing, audacious break from grotesque politics and power games synonymous with Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon. Yes, the silver-haired, dragon-riding Targaryens show up, but Martin and Parker choose fresh angles. In contrast, this has a diminutive scale, more measured bearings. It’s not so much a step down as an amiable microscopic outing. It might annoy viewers dashing for replicated impulses, though a latter joust is just as eye-splittingly visceral. But this show has a different register and tempo altogether. Martin’s Tales of Dunk and Egg novellas lay the contours for A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. Parker capitalises on the smaller canvas, a gently compressed backdrop, keener to listen to the smallfolk than vain tales of kings. Right off the cuff, an idyllic adventure and muddy slapdash mess twine, embodied in the fledgling hedge knight’s frustrated efforts. What were slight diversions in those shows are channelled into this one’s fabric. A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms doesn’t trade in lofty ambitions, rather a right to dream and ascend. Of course, class and kinship jut in between. Pint-sized it might be, there’s no denying what a confident, tonally original treat this show is.

The knight-squire duo of Ser Duncan “Dunk” The Tall (Peter Claffey) and Egg (Dexter Sol Ansell) is instantly endearing. Dunk trained under Ser Arlan, whose death sends him trying his luck in a tourney and cementing his reputation. The young Egg presses himself forth for squiring with Dunk. The latter dodges but caves under persistence. Resourceful and flexible, Egg quickly demonstrates he’s worldly wise, far beyond his years. The bald-headed boy has none of Dunk’s bumbling naivete. This season ostensibly inaugurates the unlikely pair of heroes crossing the breadth of Westeros. It’s only the beginning. Both are bound by outward gaze toward bigger pursuits.
The show coasts on a pleasing levity. Visual gags abound, especially scatological. A weary Dunk confesses his impulse to endlessly agonise. Lyonel Baratheon (a brightly teasing, rip-roaring Daniel Ings) chides him for slouching: “Be tall”. Ings is such a barn-stormer he lifts entire craggy scenes. Baratheon’s party trooper energy pops off gloriously in an early bit where he pushes Dunk for a dance. It’s hot, very queer and a total blast, a reminder the show can electrify beneath mild manners.

Dunk’s journey subtly traces ideals colliding with reality. It’s a steady arc of disillusionment, a movement towards accepting life beyond fables and fanciful homilies. Dunk re-negotiates honour and nobility, both which he has long sought. He needs the backing of a lord to enter the tourney lists. He sees triumph as his only ticket to accessing one of the mighty houses. Dunk begins from a place of heightened optimism. He’s witnessed casual violence as a teenager yet his perspective hasn’t been wholly blighted. He believes in justice, oblivious to cruel, easily vindictive whims of lords and princes. Neither does A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms fall back on Ramin Djawadi’s exalted score. Dan Romer’s folksy compositions spruce flickering interludes.
Egg works as a tempering force, attuning Dunk to what he’s really up against. It’s not all doomed and jaded though. There are leavening patches of sincerity and magnanimity. Dunk does meet few good men, heroes in royalty, who reassure him the upright can still go forth and win. Baelor Targaryen (Bertie Carvel) is such a symbol, propping up Dunk with hope and moral conviction. He’s someone who’d fight against his own family defending the just. The show keeps gently asking what constitutes true valour and chivalry. Can it be innate or accrued through fine lineage? Claffey is absolutely lovely, nailing a perfect balance of sweetness, awkwardness and firm principles. His hapless expressions are comic treasure. Ansell’s tartness nicely bounces off him. As Dunk grudgingly and tentatively lets Egg into a bond of mentorship and friendship, its radiant warmth suffuses lushly lensed verdures.

With Dunk making his way from Flea Bottom to chambers of power, Westeros comes alive as a site of unchecked discovery. The edges of a world don’t seem rigid but permeable to how Dunk navigates. This is a man so pure-hearted and honest betrayal seems unfathomable. He’s equally astonished when his merit-based appeals keep being snubbed. His forging a destiny isn’t as pristine as his initial folly impresses. There’s so much prejudice, undisguised hostility and class-inflected resistance fomenting lies to drag him down. Claffey quietly remoulds a simpleton’s gradual hardening of defences. Beyond an incipient slow-burn façade, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms satisfyingly trots ahead. The storytelling is neat and contained whilst retaining traces and cheeky winks at larger histories. Egg’s future arrives in a shocking premonition. Present characters aren’t subtracted into silos but unfurl within knowledge and anticipation around the canon. You get glimpses of wider churn, epic tussle rippling past seemingly narrow orbits of Dunk and Egg. A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms reframes supposedly minor players not as pawns but agential and with clear demands. Get on the saddle and join these adorable heroes.























