Game of Thrones spin-off Knight of the Seven Kingdoms takes a big risk that pays off

The world of Westeros expands ever further in brand new spin-off series A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, set 100 years between Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon…

Irish actor Peter Claffey has giant shoulders – and it’s fortunate that he does, considering HBO’s fate in the hotly contested streaming wars may well have been placed upon them.

The Vikings: Valhalla star and former rugby union player, 29, is Dunk in the new Westeros TV tale, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. The series takes its name from a trilogy of George RR Martin novellas that spin off from the main A Song of Ice and Fire books.

Only, unlike Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms begins – and stays – far away from the lords and castles of the two other shows, during a time of relative peace.

Dunk is a houseless knight, left to roam the countryside alone after the death of his mentor, Ser Arlan. With only the clothes on his back (and three horses), Dunk plans to enter a knight’s tournament in the nearby town of Ashford, believing he has nothing to lose.

The familiar strings from Ramin Djawadi’s Game of Thrones theme tune wind up, the hairs on your arms stand in anticipation of the journey ahead, and you begin to visualise Dunk striking down evil foes, rising from the fringes of Westerosi society to the very top.

But then the Game of Thrones music judders to a halt, and we’re shown Dunk defecating violently behind a tree. Yep. Just in case that’s too subtle: things are different on A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. Initially, at least.

We’re soon introduced to Egg (Dexter Sol Ansell), a 10-year-old whose wisecracks, naïve eyes, and shiny bald head quickly soften Dunk’s heart and establish a lighter tone than we’re used to in this world. Not so light that the show will feel alien, but enough to provide contrast.

Dunk and Egg’s dynamic is hardly original – they’re Lone Wolf and Cub or, a little closer to home, Sandor Clegane and Arya Stark – but their chalk-and-cheese buddy cop chemistry is quickly infectious. Each emotional beat of their deepening connection is earned.

Claffey plays Dunk as though he’s weighed down by a deep absence of purpose, and a sadness he can’t put his finger on – his shoulders may be strong, but his heart beats with reluctant tenderness. Ansell’s adorable line readings can be hit and miss, but he still communicates Egg’s combination of know-it-all confidence and childlike innocence. They match.

Some argue that, with A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, HBO is beginning to desperately scrape the barrel for Game of Thrones content. The streaming wars require recognisable IP for ammunition, but the risk of brand fatigue is being run here.

In addition, Dunk and Egg’s tales are somewhat supplementary and disconnected from what TV audiences have previously demanded of this world. A lack of court intrigue and dragons could turn floating voters away.

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms is hardly the most unique idea, either. Its success will come down to whether potential viewers are willing to forgive its unoriginality in the wider context of TV in order to experience its refreshing perspective on the world of Westeros.

Because for those who are receptive, this series works hard to justify itself. The results are rewarding. The breezier atmosphere established early on remains – 35-minute episodes help that – but it’s slowly, and appropriately, weighed down as the stakes rise.

By staying at Ashford throughout, it confidently performs an ostensibly simple trick that Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon only occasionally deploy: the camera moves down the social hierarchy and turns its gaze upward.

Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon are both socially conscious, but they’re stories told from the backs of dragons and tall horses – high above the streets in castles, observing the commoners from above. They’re made up of the aristocracy, despotic rulers, royal banquets, and lavish parties.

Conversely, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms is made up of lonely soldiers, innkeepers, second sons, blacksmiths, prostitutes, and stable boys, who sleep under the stars (or under trees), fight for what little they own, and are always at risk of being trampled by said horses, dragons, and rulers.

It’s also refreshing to sit with this show’s dialogue in comparison to House of the Dragon’s, which developed a tendency – during its otherwise solid second season – to become too formal and stuffy for its own good. It’s great to hear characters in this world talk like real ale drinkers once again.

We do encounter lords and divine rightists bearing the sigils of regal houses we recognise – a spoilt Targaryen prince, a friendly but ultimately cavalier Baratheon, a few Kingsguard – and it’s during these interactions that A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms allows its big questions to percolate.

Among many other things, this is a show about the gap between those who are given the entire world by circumstance of birth and those who have to work twice as hard just to claim a small piece of it.

Pompous rich princes enter Ashford without much care. Meanwhile, Dunk has to trust that potentially lethal lords will take pity on him. Westeros’ downtrodden majority have their lives and fates totally controlled by a select group of volatile feudalists. Even with a lighter tone, the threat is constant.

One funny look, one word spoken out of turn, one misunderstood joke, and that could be it: a hanging, a beheading, or, as one poor peasant finds out, a horrendously broken finger.

Its script raises doubts not just over the nature of destiny, but whether destiny can even exist for those without. Maybe it’s only something granted to those on the fortunate side of the class divide.

It’s also a show about how poverty can do serious damage to the psyche of its victims. Was your cosmically random hand of cards preordained? Is the world not yours to see or experience? Is a miserable death in a King’s Landing alleyway all you might be good for? Why would the gods choose you above others?

The story of Dunk – and other characters in this show who sit on the bottom rung of the Westerosi ladder – is one of trying to break that cycle. His aim is to pass a degree of hope onto kids like Egg, who might face the same life as Dunk if he doesn’t intervene.

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Egg’s bald 10-year-old head has an in-world explanation, but the sight alone of a child’s skull being exposed to the Westerosi elements – and all horrors that entails – is enough to make you wince in fear. He’s even nicknamed Egg, for goodness sake. I don’t think the show could point more red arrows at the metaphor if it tried.

Dunk’s giant shoulders are strong (maybe strong enough to carry the future of this franchise), but bald 10-year-old heads – and the lives of Westeros’ ordinary folk – are incredibly fragile. It’s up to those with broad shoulders and tender hearts to protect them, and that’s the soul of A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms right there.

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms will be available on Sky Atlantic and NowTV from January 18

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