I just re-watched Game of Thrones' The Winds of Winter and honestly the background score (Light of the Seven) makes it even more haunting

I just watched the Season 6 finale of Game of Thrones again, and while I knew exactly how it was going to go down, I was still on the edge of my seat. It's not just the visual narrative that hit me all over again—it was that score. Light of the Seven is quite unlike anything else in the series. It doesn't shout, it whispers. It doesn't rush, it stays. And yet, it is more powerful than any sword fight or dragon roar could possibly hope to be.

One thing that did hit me this time was something I hadn't quite grasped until now: Light of the Seven was the first time composer Ramin Djawadi ever used the piano in the entire Game of Thrones score—and it makes a difference. That minimalist, alien sound at first seemed jarring, but not so much as to break the image. Instead, it drew everything together.

In his interview with The Hollywood Reporter, Djawadi described that the intention was to employ the versatility of the instrument:

"The piano has a huge dynamic range that almost no other instruments have. It can play very low and it can play very high. It has the attack of the note and the long decay of this haunting feel. It all felt like a perfect fit."

He added,

"What’s great about the scene, too, is there’s hardly any dialogue. It’s nine minutes long. I knew I had to start minimal and give it space. Let notes ring, then give it space, and build up the anticipation from there, without tipping in either direction."

It hit me that the unease I experienced was not random—it was deliberately designed, note for note.

The scene of Game of Thrones that broke the rules

The season finale, titled The Winds of Winter, begins in complete quiet—no fanfare, no chaos. Just silence. The piano edges in slowly. The visuals are precise: Cersei getting dressed, Tommen looking out the window, Loras led before the High Sparrow. The tempo is much slower than usual for Game of Thrones, and it's clear from the start that something is brewing. The score complements that slow burn perfectly. There isn't a single line of dialogue for almost ten full minutes. The score carries all of the emotional weight by itself instead.

As the piano swells, Djawadi adds to it—a shivering boy soprano, an organ, a cello. Layer upon layer, each stringing the tension higher, yet never crackling into pulpy overdrive. It's precise, almost surgical. By the time the wildfire rages beneath the Sept of Baelor, no screams, no sound effects are necessary. The music had already prepared you: this will not have a happy ending.

A musical language of power and control

There’s something deeply unsettling about how controlled the whole thing feels. Cersei doesn’t speak. She simply watches. She sips wine. She waits. And Djawadi’s score echoes her every move.

It’s not angry music, or triumphant. It’s cold. Calculated. Emotionless. That’s what makes it more haunting than any other piece in the series. Even the explosion doesn’t come with a grand swell of sound—it happens mid-composition, as if it's just another beat in the rhythm of Cersei’s plan.

I watched how the music dictates how we're seeing all of these characters at this point. Margaery catches up to the trap too late. Loras is past being broken. The High Sparrow remains obstinately confident. But they're all helpless against what's about to happen—and the music makes us feel that helplessness long before we understand why.

Why this scene stands out years later

For me, this episode redefined what Game of Thrones was capable of. It demonstrated that subtlety and silence could be stronger than spectacle and gore. Light of the Seven isn't just a great piece of music—it's one of the only times that the music is louder than words. It tells the story without ever requiring dialogue to fill the space.

That decision to use the piano wasn't stylistic flair—it was a whole new way of thinking about how the show used music. Up until this point, the Game of Thrones theme had been big, orchestral, and generic. After this, Djawadi gave himself permission to stretch his emotional reach in new ways. The music had grown more personal, more intimate.

In later episodes, especially in Season 8, the echoes of Light of the Seven can already be heard from the scores of climactic sequences like The Long Night and Daenerys' dying moments.

The effect on the audience and the series

When the episode originally aired in 2016, comments rolled in. Critics praised the scene for tension and composure, but it was the music that no one could stop talking about. It broke the mold of what viewers believed fantasy TV was capable of doing. Re-watching, I was struck by how much of that finale rode on it. It's not often that a soundtrack alone makes a moment impossible to forget, but that's what occurred here.

Even now, I meet individuals who may not remember everything from the show but can remember that creepy piano. It's iconic these days, featured in fan edits and live performances. And it's not just a favorite of the fans, either—Ramin Djawadi himself has mentioned that this piece is very close to his heart. He's played it on his live Game of Thrones tours, and every time, it brings the house to complete silence.

Seeing it now hurts more

Looking back and listening to Light of the Seven today, years after the finale, strikes me more. With the entirety of Cersei's story now revealed to us, this feels like a tipping point. This is the last time she actually wins. And the music lets you know that, too. There's no celebration, no fanfare of victory. Just muted devastation. I'm not sure I appreciated how sad it was the first time. Now, it's the most human moment in a story about monsters and heroes.

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The ugliness of what is occurring, contrasted with the beauty of how it sounds, is what lingers. That tension—that contradiction—is what makes it so emotionally striking. And this is why, all these years later, I can still say without hesitation that this one song, in this one episode, is the most haunting experience that Game of Thrones ever offered.

Also read: "Was a mistake": When HBO accepted Game of Thrones' obvious 'coffee cup error' and Emilia Clarke revealed "the truth" behind it

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