“Game of Thrones” was often about believing in the impossible. Accepting that heroes could return from the dead, that fire-breathing beasts could patrol the sky, that the fairy tale rhythms of old could be used for less-storybook ends. With its final stroke, “Game of Thrones” added something to that list. It delivered an ending that fit.
Its final episode, “The Iron Throne,” saw a conclusion that didn’t so much serve as a corrective for the narrative shortcomings of its preceding installments as much as it reframed the last few dozen hours spent in Westeros. A punctuation of sorts to one of TV’s most massive installments, it cut through the myriad expectations and offered up an impressive closing chapter, balancing a litany of character sendoffs with a parting thematic statement on the nature of power.
The dread that pervaded the