On Mystery and Pay Off

LoudKingCrow

[A big misconception is] that every little tidbit that [GRRM] drops is some great mystery or clue. A lot of it is just generic lore and window dressing to make the world feel bigger. Everything isn’t a mystery to unravel.

applesanddragons

Depends on the mystery, I suppose. I know the “answers” to many. (GRRM 2008)

There’s always the question, you know, when do you reveal something? How long do you draw it out? And the books are full of little puzzles and enigmas and reversals and, you know, how do you place those? You don’t want to give it away too soon but if you stretch it out too long everybody’s going to guess it anyway. So, at what point is that? I kind of like having the puzzles. And you need to keep at least some of the puzzles until the end. (GRRM talks at Google)

LoudKingCrow

Having mysteries that only he knows the answer to is perfectly fine. Because it is fun for the reader to use their imagination.

But a fair chunk of it has to also just be window dressing/setting filler. Everything doesn’t have to have some big pay off and can just be there for the sake of it.

I believe that one factor in the delay on the books is that George has too many mysteries planned that he is now struggling to bring to a satisfying conclusion.

applesanddragons

True, everything doesn’t have to have some big pay off. But also, false. A good story has to have one unifying theme running through it in order for it to be good. GRRM has said so himself with the phrase “Everything serves the almighty theme.” So no matter what piece of the story you pick out, the safest bet is always that whatever role its presence is serving for the story, it absolutely relates to that theme.

A cheap counterpoint is to say something like ‘When Tyrion and The Old Bear are talking at the Wall, they’re eating crabs. How do those crabs serve the one unifying theme of the whole story?’

To simplify the demonstration, let’s assume the one unifying theme of the story is “War is bad” and that we all can agree on that.

Crabs don’t relate to war or its badness in any way. But they are tasty and rare at the Wall. And since Old Bear is sharing them with Tyrion, it supports the scene as a whole by showing that he’s vying for Tyrion’s favor. Why is Jeor vying for Tyrion’s favor? Look at what they’re talking about. Jeor wants Tyrion to entreat the king and council for aid at the Wall. Aid to do what? To defend the realm against the threats beyond the Wall. What’s the biggest threat beyond the Wall? The Others.
That sequence perfectly satisfies as a majority answer to the question “How do those crabs serve the one unifying theme of the story?” The crabs don’t directly relate to the theme of war, but they are playing a supporting role to a scene that relates to the theme of war. Likewise, the scenes support the chapters. The chapters support the books. And the books support the series.
If GRRM had written Tyrion and Jeor eating salt pork instead of crab, the scene would have done a worse job conveying that Jeor wants Tyrion’s favor, and therefore a worse job conveying the seriousness of the threat beyond the Wall, and therefore a worse job conveying the theme about war. Because salt pork is common and crab is rare.
So if supporting roles are invalid proofs that every little thing in the story matters, then so must be entire scenes, chapters, and books. Those are all “pieces of the story that support the rest of the story.” But of course, most of us would not say an entire scene doesn’t matter. Fewer an entire chapter. Fewer an entire book. We know that saying those things would discredit ourselves exponentially more with each step.
This word is totally unnecessary.
Yes.
This scene is totally unnecessary.
Maybe you’re right, but some people liked it.
This chapter is totally unnecessary.
But I liked it…
This book is totally unnecessary.
Wow you’re so edgy… (Idiot) Maybe he was an idiot from the start. Then I was an idiot where I agreed with him.

After the story concludes, so will the question of its theme. Then all the readers will learn its theme who haven’t learned it yet. When the reader is able to re-read the story with a full knowledge of the theme, creative choices as small as a single word and even a punctuation can and will gain more and/or different meaning to the reader. In this example, when he re-reads “crab” he will no longer understand it as “interchangeable-with-anything-food”, he will understand it as “tasty and rare and indicative of the danger beyond the Wall according to Lord Commander Jeor The Old Bear Mormont.”

If that doesn’t count as a “big pay off” for one little word, nothing could.


Created Feb 16, 2024

Aegon the Unworthy, A Study in Historiography – Chapter 3

Previous: Chapter 2 – The World of Ice and Fire

Plumming the Depths

I’ll begin with the situation I referenced in chapter two as an example of a “Misrepresentation” kind of unreliable narration.

Aegon soon filled his court with men chosen not for their nobility, honesty, or wisdom, but for their ability to amuse and flatter him. And the women of his court were largely those who did the same, letting him slake his lusts upon their bodies. On a whim, he often took from one noble house to give to another, as he did when he casually appropriated the great hills called the Teats from the Brackens and gifted them to the Blackwoods. For the sake of his desires, he gave away priceless treasures, as he did when he granted his Hand, Lord Butterwell, a dragon’s egg in return for access to all three of his daughters. He deprived men of their rightful inheritance when he desired their wealth, as rumors claim he did following the death of Lord Plumm upon his wedding day. (—Maester Yandel, TWOIAF: The Targaryen Kings: Aegon IV p95)

The last sentence is the only one I’ll examine for the duration of this whole chapter.

First, I want to quickly point out that this criticism comes as part of a group. The group creates the sense that we need not bother looking into the specifics of any one particular criticism, because even if only one of them is true then Aegon IV was a very bad person, and because that general assessment of Aegon is constant with almost everything else that can be read about him. But for now, let’s pluck this one accusation out of the group and see how it holds up to scrutiny.

He deprived men of their rightful inheritance when he desired their wealth, as rumors claim he did following the death of Lord Plumm upon his wedding day. (—Maester Yandel, TWOIAF: The Targaryen Kings: Aegon IV p95)

The accusation is that, following the death of Lord Plumm upon Lord Plumm’s wedding day, Aegon IV desired the wealth of men and deprived those men of their rightful inheritance. The first thing I want to find out is who those men were.

A Victimless Crime

Who were the men or man that was deprived of his rightful inheritance?

House Plumm arms sigil

Presumably, the man who was deprived of his rightful inheritance was a son of Lord Plumm, but possibly not, so it’s good to check and make sure. When I look at the House Plumm family tree on the Westeros.org wiki, I can see that the name “Lord Plumm” is referring to Ossifer Plumm, because Ossifer was the lord of House Plumm at the time. And since Ossifer is already the lord, he can’t be the Plumm who was deprived of his rightful inheritance, because he already inherited the lordship. So the man who was deprived of his rightful inheritance must have been Ossifer Plumm’s son, Viserys Plumm.

When I check Viserys Plumm’s wiki page, I can see that Viserys Plumm became Lord Plumm next after his father Ossifer. So Viserys Plumm can’t be the man who was deprived of his rightful inheritance, either.

House Plumm family tree

Then who was the man or “men” who was deprived of his rightful inheritance? Ossifer Plumm didn’t have any other children, and Viserys Plumm didn’t have any siblings. What the heck is going on?

The next Plumm in the line of succession after a son is a brother. But Ossifer Plumm didn’t have any brothers, either.

There are two Plumms on the Plumm family tree who are not connected to any other Plumms. Those are Petyr Plumm and Maynard Plumm.

When I look into Petyr Plumm, I learn that Petyr Plumm is not a real character. Nothing about him is written and he’s nothing more than a drawing in a graphic novel who needed a name.

Since I’ve read the three Dunk and Egg books, I know that Maynard Plumm is a real character, but he’s not a real Plumm. Maynard Plumm is the made up identity of Brynden Rivers, who you might know better as Bloodraven. So Maynard can’t be the man who was deprived of his rightful inheritance either, because since he’s not a Plumm it wouldn’t have been rightful for him to inherit House Plumm.

With all the existing Plumms ruled out as the man who was deprived of his rightful inheritance, I’m feeling lost and confused.

I remember that there was a situation with Ossifer Plumm that was described in King Baelor’s section, so let’s turn back to page 92 and look at that.

A Scurrilous Rumor

Elaena outlived her siblings and led a tumultuous life once freed from the Maidenvault. Following in Daena’s footsteps, she bore the bastard twins Jon and Jeyne Waters to Alyn Velaryon, Lord Oakenfist. She hoped to wed him, it is written, but a year after his disappearance at sea, she gave up hope and agreed to marry elsewhere.

She was thrice wed. Her first marriage was in 176 AC, to the wealthy but aged Ossifer Plumm, who is said to have died while consummating the marriage. She conceived, however, for Lord Plumm did his duty before he died. Later, scurrilous rumors came to suggest that Lord Plumm, in fact, died at the sight of his new bride in her nakedness (this rumor was put in the lewdest terms— terms which might have amused Mushroom but which we need not repeat), and that the child she conceived that night was by her cousin Aegon—he who later became King Aegon the Unworthy. (—Maester Yandel, TWOIAF: The Targaryen Kings: Baelor I p92)

Here I encounter two conflicting versions of Ossifer Plumm’s wedding night, when Viserys Plumm was conceived. The official version says that Ossifer died after impregnating Elaena, and a rumor says that Ossifer died without impregnating Elaena and that Aegon impregnated her instead.

Both versions agree that Ossifer died on his wedding night at the bedding, that Elaena was impregnated on her wedding night at the bedding, and that the baby that came from that pregnancy was the person now known as Viserys Plumm. The main point of disagreement is whether the real father of Viserys Plumm is Ossifer Plumm or Aegon Targaryen.

But there are more points of agreement than those three that I can infer from this situation. For instance, both versions seem to agree that Aegon was present at the wedding, otherwise the rumor would have been discredited already by the simple fact that Aegon was not there. Likewise, both versions seem to agree that Mushroom was present at the wedding, otherwise the rumor would have been discredited already by the simple fact that Mushroom was not there, because Mushroom is apparently the source of the rumor. Both versions agree that the cause of Ossifer Plumm’s death was his arousal. Both versions agree that Ossifer Plumm remained in the bedroom for the bedding, though disagree about for how much time he was alive in there. With these recognitions, we can start filling in some of the surrounding information that’s missing from the story, and see what we can learn from the bigger picture.

It makes sense that Aegon was present at the wedding, because the bride is his cousin. And it makes sense that Mushroom was present at the wedding, because Aegon is the king and Mushroom is the court fool, and the king could reasonably take the court fool with him to a wedding celebration.

The crucial issue is about what really happened in that bedroom. Now that you know the gist of both versions of the story, how do you imagine that scene in the bedroom played out? I call this kind of analysis Scenes That Must Have Happened. The way I do it is I hold the scene in my mind, and watch what my imagination places into the gaps. Whatever appears is probably what the history book was meant to suggest. Then I ask myself one basic question and hold onto it for the rest of the investigation: Does that suggestion make sense?

The way the scene fills out for me is that Aegon probably weaseled his way into that bedroom somehow to take advantage of the situation. Maybe he snuck in through the window or maybe when Elaena was freaking out about her dead husband Aegon went into the room with her and locked the door behind them. He would probably tell the other wedding attendees later that Elaena just needed some emotional support from her dear cousin on her big day, and that Ossifer was alive and well at the time. With Elaena’s husband dead, Aegon probably saw it as an opportunity to slake his lusts upon yet another woman with no regard for anyone but himself, while Ossifer’s corpse wobbled morbidly on the bed beside. Being the king, Aegon can pretty much do whatever he wants and everybody just has to do what he says, or else pretend like they don’t know what’s happening.

Now that I’ve allowed my imagination to fill in the details, roles and tone, I can consider if the picture as a whole makes sense. It certainly makes sense with Aegon’s characterization as a cruel and insatiable glutton, so let’s keep this scene as it is and test how much sense it makes by seeing what it means for the original question: Who was the man or men that Aegon deprived of their rightful inheritance?

Supposing that the scene played out mostly as described above, the real father of Viserys Plumm is Aegon Targaryen. And if the real father of Viserys Plumm is Aegon Targaryen, then Viserys Plumm can’t possibly be the man who was deprived of his rightful inheritance, because Viserys Plumm did inherit House Plumm.

Unless . . .

When the historian says “deprived men of their rightful inheritance”, could he mean the thing that the men were deprived of was the rightfulness of the inheritance, rather than the inheritance?

He deprived men of their rightful inheritance when he desired their wealth, as rumors claim he did following the death of Lord Plumm upon his wedding day. (—Maester Yandel, TWOIAF: The Targaryen Kings: Aegon IV p95)

In that interpretation, the historian’s words still technically allow that the man who Aegon wronged did receive an inheritance, but he received it wrongfully because he’s a Targaryen and not a Plumm.

After you’re finished rolling on the floor laughing, let’s take a moment to appreciate the art of the lie.

I finally understand why the historian used the word “men” instead of “man.” At the time the historian is writing this book, there have been five generations of Plumms since the time of Viserys Plumm’s birth, and every Plumm man including and after Viserys can truthfully be called a “man who was deprived of his rightful inheritance,” emphasis on rightful, because Viserys Plumm’s father was not really Ossifer, and all of Viserys’s descendants are therefore descendants of not-Ossifer, too.

The hilariously glaring omission? Neither Viserys Plumm nor any of his descendents would exist at all if Aegon hadn’t fathered Viserys, because Ossifer Plumm didn’t have an heir, and he died on his wedding night before he could conceive one. House Plumm went extinct.

So Aegon the Unworthy is guilty as charged. Aegon caused rightful inheritances to be deprived from many Plumm men, none of whom would have ever been born to inherit anything if Aegon had not been so darn Unworthy. That rascal!

Honesty Tooled For Dishonesty

That was a good example of how these histories are laden with unreliable narrations. In this case, the unreliability is misrepresentation. The historian is using language in a sneaky way to tell a technically true statement that, upon closer inspection, is meaningfully false, and that does a lot of work to depict Aegon IV as a depraved monster.

As if to drive home the nail, the historian ends the story with a tactically placed reminder.

and that the child she conceived that night was by her cousin Aegon—he who later became King Aegon the Unworthy.

‘Yes, this man Aegon who I just mentioned is the same Aegon you’ve heard about, and who you’ll probably recognize better as Aegon the (officially) Unworthy.’ [Ominous screech]

Through this revelation we can begin to develop an understanding of what all did really happen in this situation, and what really was the true tone of these events and characters.

Inferring Cause From Effect

Why did Maester Yandel include the rumor at all? The effect of the rumor’s inclusion was that it caused me to imagine that Aegon raped Elaena. In other words, it caused me to imagine Aegon being a villain. So a simple way to infer cause from effect is to invert the effect: Maybe Aegon was really the hero in the situation. And maybe the reason the historian needs to depict him as a villain is because Aegon’s heroism is problematic for the royal narrative. Then I can start imagining how Aegon being the hero in the situation could be possible.

The effectiveness with which this piece of history hides the potential for Aegon to be the hero in the situation leads me to wonder if Aegon was really the hero in the situation. If nothing else, by having sex with Elaena on her wedding night and denying it, Aegon rescued the Plumm name from extinction. House Plumm is among the oldest Houses in Westeros, tracing their history all the way back to the Age of Heroes. It would be a shame for such an ancient House to fade away just because one generation had a stroke of bad luck.

In addition to being ancient, House Plumm is also rich. Remember, Elaena’s history describes Ossifer Plumm as being wealthy.

Her first marriage was in 176 AC, to the wealthy but aged Ossifer Plumm, who is said to have died while consummating the marriage.

Come to think of it, the accusation against Aegon mentioned wealth, too.

He deprived men of their rightful inheritance when he desired their wealth, as rumors claim he did following the death of Lord Plumm upon his wedding day. (—Maester Yandel, TWOIAF: The Targaryen Kings: Aegon IV p95)

A desire for wealth was supposedly Aegon’s motivation for depriving men of their rightful inheritance. But since Viserys Plumm did inherit House Plumm, then the wealth of House Plumm didn’t go to Aegon, it went to Viserys Plumm. I mean, if Aegon is not really the person who ended up with House Plumm’s wealth, that should cause us to doubt whether Aegon really had his sights set on House Plumm’s wealth at all, shouldn’t it?

I call this kind of analysis Follow The Money. It can be a good way to discover and correctly assign motivations in situations that involve money. The way I do it is I ignore everything I’m told about what peoples’ motivations are, then I look at whose control the money is moving out of and into, and then I infer peoples’ motivations based on who gained and who lost money. Let’s try it.

Before Ossifer Plumm died on his wedding night, House Plumm’s gold was in the control of Ossifer Plumm. Then Ossifer Plumm died on his wedding night, and at the same time Viserys Plumm was conceived (by Aegon). Nine to ten months later, Viserys Plumm was born. But a baby can’t be the lord of a House in any way but name. He’ll have to wait until he’s grown before he can be the acting lord.

So, who really controls House Plumm and its gold for the fourteen to seventeen years between Viserys Plumm’s conception and Viserys Plumm’s ascension to acting lord?

His mother, Elaena Targaryen.

The effectiveness with which this piece of history hides the potential for Elaena to be the villain in the situation leads me to wonder if Elaena was really the villain in the situation. I mean, since the person who really ended up with House Plumm’s wealth is Elaena, then maybe wealth was her motivation from the very beginning, rather than Aegon’s. Marrying someone for their wealth does not seem like an especially villainous thing to do, but it seems cold and calculating. But maybe that’s just because I’m not a Westerosi person.

If nothing else, this answers a question that I only now just realized I would have asked from the beginning if the situation were introduced to me differently. Why did the twenty-six year old Elaena Targaryen marry the “aged” and apparently frail of health Ossifer Plumm? To get the Plumm fortune.

Rhyme As Witness

But even that is the wrong question. Because you see, in context of Westerosi norms, Elaena’s marriage to Ossifer does not demand as much explanation as does Ossifer’s marriage to Elaena. Being the lord of a rich and ancient House with no heirs to speak of and few years left to live, Lord Ossifer Plumm was the juiciest plum in the seven kingdoms.

”This old Plumm was a lord, though, must have been a famous fellow in his day, the talk of all the land. The thing was, begging your royal pardon, he had himself a cock six foot long.” (—Brown Ben Plumm, ASOS Daenerys V)

And not because of his giant cock. We’ll arrive at that later.

This next mode of analysis I call Complete the Rhyme (taken from George R. R. Martin’s quote that History doesn’t always repeat but it does rhyme.). The way I do it is when I find a situation in the present day characters that mirrors (or rhymes with) the historical characters, or vice versa, I let knowns from one era fill in unknowns from the other era. In this case, Elaena Targaryen’s marriage to Ossifer Plumm rhymes with Lysa Tully’s marriage to Jon Arryn. That is, young noble princess marries rich old lord who desperately needs an heir before he dies.

In Elaena’s situation, we’ve arrived at a conflict of interpretation. Some readers will argue that Elaena was the bigger prize in the marriage, and other readers will argue that Ossifer was the bigger prize in the marriage. To fill in this unknown in the past, I can refer to Lysa’s situation nearer to the present, and try to get a sense of the actual opinion of Westerosi people and nobles. Then I will have good grounding to suppose that the opinion in the past would have been the same as the opinion in the present.

Catelyn rose, threw on a robe, and descended the steps to the darkened solar to stand over her father. A sense of helpless dread filled her. “Father,” she said, “Father, I know what you did.” She was no longer an innocent bride with a head full of dreams. She was a widow, a traitor, a grieving mother, and wise, wise in the ways of the world. “You made him take her,” she whispered. “Lysa was the price Jon Arryn had to pay for the swords and spears of House Tully.”

Small wonder her sister’s marriage had been so loveless. The Arryns were proud, and prickly of their honor. Lord Jon might wed Lysa to bind the Tullys to the cause of the rebellion, and in hopes of a son, but it would have been hard for him to love a woman who came to his bed soiled and unwilling. He would have been kind, no doubt; dutiful, yes; but Lysa needed warmth. (—Catelyn Stark, ASOS 2 Catelyn I)

As Catelyn’s thoughts indicate, the general attitude of Westerosi nobles about Jon Arryn’s marriage to Lysa Tully is that Jon Arryn is the bigger prize, with one reason being that Lysa’s maidenhead is soiled. Westerosi people do not weigh passion as heavily nor wealth as lightly as we do in the real world where, under capitalism for instance, fortunes rarely last for hundreds of years, but are most often made and lost within the space of a few generations.

A century earlier, Ser Duncan the Tall exhibited the same attitude about marriages between old lords and soiled brides that Catelyn does.

Lord Butterwell had broad lands, and pots of yellow gold. Why would he wed a girl who’d been soiled by a kitchen scullion, and give away his dragon’s egg to mark the match? The Freys of the Crossing were no nobler than the Butterwells. They owned a bridge instead of cows, that was the only difference. Lords. Who can ever understand them? (—Thoughts of Dunk, AKOTSK: The Mystery Knight p277)

Not so unlike Ambrose Butterwell, Lady Frey, Elaena Targaryen, Jon Arryn, Hoster Tully and even Lysa Tully, Ossifer Plumm is not as concerned with desire in the marriage as he is with the socio-political needs of his House. House Plumm desperately needs an heir, and fast, or else House Plumm will fall into ruin or disappear forever with the death of Ossifer Plumm. Every great House in the kingdom would know that, because lines of succession are integral to the political machinery of Westeros. And that’s why Ossifer Plumm was “a famous fellow in his day, the talk of all the land.” Elaena Targaryen would know about House Plumm’s situation, too.

Additionally, just like Lysa’s soiling made her a perfect candidate for marriage to an heirless old Lord who can’t afford the risk of marrying an infertile bride, so did Elaena’s soiling.

Elaena outlived her siblings and led a tumultuous life once freed from the Maidenvault. Following in Daena’s footsteps, she bore the bastard twins Jon and Jeyne Waters to Alyn Velaryon, Lord Oakenfist. She hoped to wed him, it is written, but a year after his disappearance at sea, she gave up hope and agreed to marry elsewhere. (—Maester Yandel, TWOIAF: Baelor I)

So when Ossifer Plumm died on his wedding night before conceiving an heir, Elaena knew that without a Plumm heir to show for it she could assume no claim to House Plumm’s wealth.

At the end of the Plumm puzzle, a whole different picture of the bedroom scene is beginning to take shape. It was not Aegon who seized upon the tragedy to slake his lusts upon Elaena, it was Elaena who urged Aegon to slake his lusts upon her, helping her to prevent her own tragedy of failing to secure House Plumm’s wealth for herself.

I can almost write Elaena’s lines in the bedroom scene myself.

  • The kings of old practiced the First Night, this is no different.
  • The Targaryens have wed brother to sister for hundreds of years.
  • No one will ever know.
  • We can save the old man’s memory from humiliation.
  • How often do you get to rescue a House by fucking your cousin?

Everywhere that Ossifer Plumm’s name is mentioned in the main series, there can be found a Complete The Rhyme clue. Let’s find Ossifer Plumm’s name in a Cersei chapter in A Feast for Crows on page 172.

To break her fast the queen sent to the kitchens for two boiled eggs, a loaf of bread, and a pot of honey. But when she cracked the first egg and found a bloody half-formed chick inside, her stomach roiled. “Take this away and bring me hot spiced wine,” she told Senelle. The chill in the air was settling in her bones, and she had a long nasty day ahead of her.

Nor did Jaime help her mood when he turned up all in white and still unshaven, to tell her how he meant to keep her son from being poisoned. “I will have men in the kitchens watching as each dish is prepared,” he said. “Ser Addam’s gold cloaks will escort the servants as they bring the food to table, to make certain no tampering takes place along the way. Ser Boros will be tasting every course before Tommen puts a bite into his mouth. And if all that should fail, Maester Ballabar will be seated in the back of the hall, with purges and antidotes for twenty common poisons on his person. Tommen will be safe, I promise you.”

“Safe.” The word tasted bitter on her tongue. Jaime did not understand. No one understood. Only Melara had been in the tent to hear the old hag’s croaking threats, and Melara was long dead. “Tyrion will not kill the same way twice. He is too cunning for that. He could be under the floor even now, listening to every word we say and making plans to open Tommen’s throat.”

“Suppose he was,” said Jaime. “Whatever plans he makes, he will still be small and stunted. Tommen will be surrounded by the finest knights in Westeros. The Kingsguard will protect him.”

Cersei glanced at where the sleeve of her brother’s white silk tunic had been pinned up over his stump. “I remember how well they guarded Joffrey, these splendid knights of yours. I want you to remain with Tommen all night, is that understood?”

“I will have a guardsman outside his door.”

She seized his arm. “Not a guardsman. You. And inside his bedchamber.”

“In case Tyrion crawls out of the hearth? He won’t.”

“So you say. Will you tell me that you found all the hidden tunnels in these walls?” They both knew better. “I will not have Tommen alone with Margaery, not for so much as half a heartbeat.”

“They will not be alone. Her cousins will be with them.”

“As will you. I command it, in the king’s name.” Cersei had not wanted Tommen and his wife to share a bed at all, but the Tyrells had insisted. “Husband and wife should sleep together,” the Queen of Thorns had said, “even if they do no more than sleep. His Grace’s bed is big enough for two, surely.” Lady Alerie had echoed her good-mother. “Let the children warm each other in the night. It will bring them closer. Margaery oft shares her blankets with her cousins. They sing and play games and whisper secrets to each other when the candles are snuffed out.”

“How delightful,” Cersei had said. “Let them continue, by all means. In the Maidenvault.”

“I am sure Her Grace knows best,” Lady Olenna had said to Lady Alerie. “She is the boy’s own mother, after all, of that we are all sure. And surely we can agree about the wedding night? A man should not sleep apart from his wife on the night of their wedding. It is ill luck for their marriage if they do.”

Someday I will teach you the meaning of “ill luck,” the queen had vowed. “Margaery may share Tommen’s bedchamber for that one night,” she had been forced to say. “No longer.”

“Your Grace is so gracious,” the Queen of Thorns had replied, and everyone had exchanged smiles.

Cersei’s fingers were digging into Jaime’s arm hard enough to leave bruises. “I need eyes inside that room,” she said.

“To see what?” he said. “There can be no danger of a consummation. Tommen is much too young.”

“And Ossifer Plumm was much too dead, but that did not stop him fathering a child, did it?”

Her brother looked lost. “Who was Ossifer Plumm? Was he Lord Philip’s father, or … who?”

He is near as ignorant as Robert. All his wits were in his sword hand. “Forget Plumm, just remember what I told you. Swear to me that you will stay by Tommen’s side until the sun comes up.” (AFFC 12 Cersei III p172)

prettty blonde small

In this passage, Cersei references Ossifer Plumm as an example from history of a dynasty being hereditarily usurped, because any pregnancy conceived on the bride during or near her wedding night will be assumed the child of the husband. The baby will go on carrying the dynasty name without a drop of the blood in his veins.

Jaime doesn’t know this bit of history, so he doesn’t understand the reference. He guesses that Ossifer was the father of Lord Philip Plumm, who is the current Lord of House Plumm at the time of Jaime and Cersei’s conversation. Jaime’s guess shows me that the history-ness of the reference is definitely the reason Jaime doesn’t know it. He was more interested in swordfighting than history.

As if to settle the debate about whose idea it was — between Aegon IV and Elaena Targaryen — to pass off Aegon’s baby as Ossifer’s baby, A Song of Ice and Fire chooses a side by showing me that the same idea occurred first to our present day woman, and not at all to our present day man.

By traveling from one era to the other along the dimension of gender, this instance of Complete The Rhyme points to the differences between men and women as somehow containing the explanation for why such an idea occurs to Elaena and Cersei before Aegon and Jaime. The idea for pregnancy sneakiness would reasonably occur sooner to a person who is capable of pregnancy than to a person who is not.

History Written With The Sword

Let’s take another moment to appreciate the art of the lie. In order to completely reverse the hero and villain roles of this part of history, the historian had to do little more than lift the villain’s motivation from off the villain and place it onto the hero. “He deprived men of their rightful inheritance when he desired their wealth, (…)”

When a house goes extinct, all of its land, wealth, property and titles are returned to the king. The king can then do with them as he likes. Far from desiring House Plumm’s wealth, by making a baby with Elaena, Aegon prevented himself from receiving House Plumm’s wealth and enabled Elaena to receive it instead.

Aegon knew that because he was king at the time and that he would likely remain king for many years to come, House Plumm’s extinction would remain a secret, allowing its name to live on. Few are the people who would dare to publicly accuse the king of lying about such a thing. So, House Plumm’s secret was safe. Far from abusing his kingly power to gratify himself free from criticism, Aegon managed to put his kingly freedom from criticism to work toward a selfless and sentimental result, sealing House Plumm’s secret full Targaryen-blooded heritage in the annals of history with the duration of his reign.

With the historian’s reconfiguration, the memory of Elaena enjoys an undeserved boon, and the memory of Aegon suffers an undeserved curse. Why? Because history is written by the victors, and the victor of history was Daeron II Targaryen.

After Aegon’s death, Elaena became Daeron’s highly capable master of coin during his reign as king.

Her second marriage was at the behest of Aegon the Unworthy’s successor, King Daeron the Good. Daeron wed her to his master of coin, and this union led to four more children … and to Elaena becoming known to be the true master of coin, for her husband was said to be a good and noble lord but one without a great facility for numbers. She swiftly grew influential, and was trusted by King Daeron in all things as she labored on his behalf and on that of the realm. (—Maester Yandel, TWOIAF: The Targaryen Kings: Baelor I p92)

Calculating, indeed. How did Elaena get so much practice with numbers, anyway?

The quality of a king’s court reflects the quality of the king, and since Elaena was a key member of King Daeron’s trusted court, her villainy was an annoyance to historians. So whenever Daeron and his descendants conscripted a history book, the historian found better use of Elaena by hiding her unflattering motivations and deeds and instead allowing suggestion to grant her the role of victim. Therein lies much of the historian’s reason for including Mushroom’s version of the story.

If Mushroom’s version had been left out, the passage would not have conjured in my mind that awful bedroom scene of Aegon the Unworthy’s unworthiness. As references to Ossifer Plumm in the main series indicate, it’s an open secret that Aegon IV rather than Ossifer Plumm fathered Viserys Plumm. The “cock” in Brown Ben Plumm’s “he had a cock six foot long” quote is, of course, referring to the “length” (height) of King Aegon IV, implying that Aegon rather than Ossifer impregnated Elaena, and with double entendre where “cock” also works as an insult to Aegon.

Indeed, it would seem that evoking the image of Aegon forcing or insisting himself upon Elaena in the in-story reader’s mind was the historians’ only reason for including Mushroom’s version at all. It’s the specifically sexual and self-gratifying kind of villainy that history has branded Aegon with to great effect in the public consciousness. Thus concludes our game of Scenes That Must Have Happened. In light of everything we’ve learned, the scene that the histories evoke through suggestion does not make sense with the facts.

At the same time, we should be careful not to underestimate the historians. Like Maester Yandel, a person generally doesn’t come to write history without having in his heart a genuine love and commitment to true knowledge. While it’s true that, in the context of the “Unworthy” theme of Aegon the Unworthy, the inclusion of Mushroom’s version of this piece of history will predictably cause an in-story reader to imagine the bedroom rape scene, it’s also true that without the inclusion of Mushroom’s version, it would not have been possible for we sleuthing readers or maesters to have researched and reasoned our way to the true history. The “rumor” that Viserys Plumm was really sired by Aegon rather than Ossifer is what enabled us to discover everything else. Without it, there wouldn’t have been two competing accounts, and we would have gone on believing the official one that Viserys was sired by Ossifer. So it’s conceivable that Maester Yandel was counting on smart readers to be unsatisfied with the uncertainty and to dig out the true version.

A Memory Accursed

On the topic of public consciousness, let’s look at another Complete the Rhyme from the present day characters.

Viserion spread his pale white wings and flapped lazily at his head. One of the wings buffeted the sellsword in his face. The white dragon landed awkwardly with one foot on the man’s head and one on his shoulder, shrieked, and flew off again. “He likes you, Ben,” said Dany.

“And well he might.” Brown Ben laughed. “I have me a drop of the dragon blood myself, you know.”

“You?” Dany was startled. Plumm was a creature of the free companies, an amiable mongrel. He had a broad brown face with a broken nose and a head of nappy grey hair, and his Dothraki mother had bequeathed him large, dark, almond-shaped eyes. He claimed to be part Braavosi, part Summer Islander, part Ibbenese, part Qohorik, part Dothraki, part Dornish, and part Westerosi, but this was the first she had heard of Targaryen blood. She gave him a searching look and said, “How could that be?”

“Well,” said Brown Ben, “there was some old Plumm in the Sunset Kingdoms who wed a dragon princess. My grandmama told me the tale. He lived in King Aegon’s day.”

“Which King Aegon?” Dany asked. “Five Aegons have ruled in Westeros.” Her brother’s son would have been the sixth, but the Usurper’s men had dashed his head against a wall.

“Five, were there? Well, that’s a confusion. I could not give you a number, my queen. This old Plumm was a lord, though, must have been a famous fellow in his day, the talk of all the land. The thing was, begging your royal pardon, he had himself a cock six foot long.”

The three bells in Dany’s braid tinkled when she laughed. “You mean inches, I think.”

“Feet,” Brown Ben said firmly. “If it was inches, who’d want to talk about it, now? Your Grace.”

Dany giggled like a little girl. “Did your grandmother claim she’d actually seen this prodigy?”

“That the old crone never did. She was half-Ibbenese and half-Qohorik, never been to Westeros, my grandfather must have told her. Some Dothraki killed him before I was born.”

“And where did your grandfather’s knowledge come from?”

“One of them tales told at the teat, I’d guess.” Brown Ben shrugged. “That’s all I know about Aegon the Unnumbered or old Lord Plumm’s mighty manhood, I fear. I best see to my Sons.”

“Go do that,” Dany told him. (ASOS Daenerys V)

In this passage, Daenerys’s dragons show a liking for Brown Ben Plumm, suggesting that Mushroom’s version of the Ossifer Plumm story is true, and contradicting the recurring insistences from Maester Yandel and other historians that Mushroom’s versions of history are probably wrong.

Brown Ben Plumm claims to have a little bit of Targaryen in his heritage, referring to the same rumor we heard from Mushroom and Cersei that King Aegon IV the Unworthy was the biological father of Viserys Plumm.

Dany can see that Brown Ben has none of the traditional Targaryen features — not the silver hair, purple eyes, or pale skin. But since dragons are magical sorts of animals and animals have ways of sensing things that humans can’t sense, I’m left with the impression that the behavior of the dragons is a more reliable test than Brown Ben’s appearance.

I can be sure that the “old Plumm who lived in the Sunset kingdoms,” “wed a dragon princess” and “lived in Aegon’s day” is Ossifer Plumm, because Ossifer Plumm is the only Plumm who matches all of those descriptions.

Brown Ben credits his “drop of Targaryen blood” to a Targaryen princess, who I know was Elaena Targaryen. Both the official and rumor versions of history agree that Viserys Plumm’s mother was Elaena Targaryen. But Brown Ben is more right than he knows, because Viserys Plumm’s father was a Targaryen, too, none other than the king Aegon. Comically, Brown Ben takes his grandmama’s story too literally, not understanding that Ossifer Plumm’s “cock six foot long” is referring to Aegon the man rather than to Ossifer’s literal endowment.

In the Ossifer Plumm situation from history, there is some disagreement in the interpretation. Some readers will say that the history is not really lying that a deprivation occurred, because Aegon did in fact deprive Plumm men of their rightful ineritances, meaning their inheritances being rightful, and that those Plumm men would prefer it if they were real Plumms so that they don’t have to live a lie. And some readers will say that the Plumms would feel bad about being a descendent of such an Unworthy king, saying that House Plumm lost more than it gained when it was hereditarily usurped by House Targaryen.

As if to settle those disagreements, A Song of Ice and Fire chooses a side by showing me in this passage that the Plumm family themselves preserved the knowledge of Aegon’s contribution to the Plumm line in a funny and memorable story, passing it down through the Plumm generations to arrive to us and Daenerys in the present day.

As wealthy as House Plumm may be, House Targaryen is wealthier and more powerful. And as desirable a position as Lord of House Plumm may be, it struggles to compare to the positions that are possible as a Targaryen descendent of a king— Heir Apparent, Crown Prince, King. For the noble Houses of Westeros, royalty is the last and most elusive rung to climb on the socio-economic ladder. Once your family gets into the Targaryen club, it’s a permanent member. The more your family gets into the Targaryen family, the more chances your family has of being the lucky spot on the Targaryen lineage tree where the royal succession lands.

This passage further demonstrates that maester historians rely upon the “Aegon the Unworthy” narrative to do most of the work of misleading the in-story audience from the truth. Likewise, George R. R. Martin relies upon it to do most of the work of misleading us from the truth. Had I done a better job of leaving my real world attitudes at the door and adopting in-story attitudes, I would have noticed sooner that, far from deprivation of their rightful inheritance, it’s better to be a real Targaryen Prince disguised as a real Plumm than to be simply a real Plumm. As simply a real Plumm you get House Plumm, but as a real Targaryen Prince disguised as a real Plumm you get all the same things as a real Plumm plus the chance of winning the Kinghood by the ever-unfolding lottery of unpredictable events. In this way, the Aegon the Unworthy narrative is symbolic of our tendency to slide into our real world attitudes, inappropriately abandoning the in-story attitudes in which the attraction of moving one’s family into the line of royal succession far outweighs the repulsion of being associated with a king who has a bad reputation.

The Lewdest Terms

This next instance of Complete the Rhyme can be found in the Alayne chapter (Sansa II) of A Feast for Crows (p618), where Myranda Royce tells Alayne a shocking story that should sound familiar to us.

Lady Myranda snorted. “I pray he gets the pox. He has a bastard daughter by some common girl, you know. My lord father had hoped to marry me to Harry, but Lady Waynwood would not hear of it. I do not know whether it was me she found unsuitable, or just my dowry.” She gave a sigh. “I do need another husband. I had one once, but I killed him.”

“You did?” Alayne said, shocked.

“Oh, yes. He died on top of me. In me, if truth be told. You do know what goes on in a marriage bed, I hope?”

She thought of Tyrion, and of the Hound and how he’d kissed her, and gave a nod. “That must have been dreadful, my lady. Him dying. There, I mean, whilst … whilst he was …”

“… fucking me?” She shrugged. “It was disconcerting, certainly. Not to mention discourteous. He did not even have the common decency to plant a child in me. Old men have weak seed. So here I am, a widow, but scarce used. Harry could have done much worse. I daresay that he will. Lady Waynwood will most like marry him to one of her granddaughters, or one of Bronze Yohn’s.” (AFFC 41 Alayne p618)

Sansa is immersed in her fake identity Alayne Stone and pretending to be Petyr Baelish’s bastard daughter. Myranda says she needs a new husband because she killed her last one. The rhyme with the Ossifer and Elaena situation goes like this: Old lord dies from arousal at the bedding of his wedding to his noble bride and fails to impregnate her. With these unifying principles, Myranda is symbolizing Elaena Targaryen, and Myranda’s old lord husband is symbolizing Ossifer Plumm.

Sansa says that the experience must have been dreadful for Myranda, but Myranda’s “It was disconcerting” response stops short of dread, indicating that although the experience was unpleasant, it was not traumatic for her. To complete the rhyme, Ossifer Plumm’s death was not traumatic for Elaena Targaryen, either.

Myranda’s comment “He did not even have the common decency to plant a child in me” suggests that Myranda would have preferred if her husband had been successful at impregnating her, even though he died while doing it, and even though Myranda would still come out of the situation a widow, and even though the baby would have been fatherless. It’s a sentence that shows me again that Myranda’s main interest in her marriage was in inheriting control of her husband’s house, wealth and properties.

To complete the rhyme, just as Myranda would have preferred that her impregnation happened at the same time as her husband’s death, the story is suggesting that so, too, would have Elaena preferred it, and for the same reason. In this way, Myranda’s husband’s infertility is paired with Ossifer Plumm’s frailty of heart from arousal, triangulating impregnation by a wealthy and expiring old lord as the essence of these womens’ wishes.

[Spoilers TWOW Sample Chapters: Skip to the last paragraph.]

This rhyme continues in The Winds of Winter sample chapter, Alayne I, where a new character named Ossifer is introduced. Let’s read it and find the new Ossifer, and see how the situation is a clue about the Ossifer Plumm situation from history.

Petyr was not at the quintains, nor anywhere in the yard, but as she turned to go a woman’s voice called out. “Alayne!” cried Myranda Royce, from a carved stone bench beneath a beech tree, where she was seated between two men. She looked in need of rescue. Smiling, Alayne walked toward her friend.

Myranda was wearing a grey woolen dress, a green hooded cloak, and a rather desperate look. On either side of her sat a knight. The one on her right had a grizzled beard, a bald head, and a belly that spilled over his swordbelt where his lap should have been. The one on her left was no more than eighteen, and skinny as a spear. His ginger-colored whiskers only partially served to disguise the angry red pimples that dotted his face.

The bald knight wore a dark blue surcoat emblazoned with a huge pair of pink lips. The pimply-ginger lad countered with nine white seagulls on a field of brown, which marked him for a Shett of Gulltown. He was staring so intently at Myranda’s breasts that he hardly noticed Alayne until Myranda rose to hug her. “Thank you, thank you, thank you” Randa whispered in her ear, before she turned to say, “Sers, may I present you the Lady Alayne Stone?”

“The Lord Protector’s daughter,” the bald knight announced, all hearty gallantry. He rose ponderously. “And full as lovely as the tales told of her, I see.”

Not to be outdone, the pimply knight hopped up and said, “Ser Ossifer speaks truly, you are the most beautiful maid in all the Seven Kingdoms.” It might have been a sweeter courtesy had he not addressed it to her chest.

“And have you seen all those maids yourself, ser?” Alayne asked him. “You are young to be so widely travelled.”

He blushed, which only made his pimples look angrier. “No, my lady. I am from Gulltown.”

And I am not, though Alayne was born there. She would need to be careful around this one. “I remember Gulltown fondly,” she told him, with a smile as vague as it was pleasant. To Myranda she said, “Do you know where my father’s gotten to, perchance?”

“Let me take you to him, my lady.”

“I do hope you will forgive me for depriving you of Lady Myranda’s company,” Alayne told the knights. She did not wait for a reply, but took the older girl arm-in-arm and drew her away from the bench. Only when they were out of earshot did she whisper, “Do you really know where my father is?”

“Of course not. Walk faster, my new suitors may be following.” Myranda made a face. “Ossifer Lipps is the dullest knight in the Vale, but Uther Shett aspires to his laurels. I am praying they fight a duel for my hand, and kill each other.”

Alayne giggled. “Surely Lord Nestor would not seriously entertain a suit from such men.”

“Oh, he might. My lord father is annoyed with me for killing my last husband and putting him to all this trouble.”

“It was not your fault he died.”

“There was no one else in the bed that I recall.”

Alayne could not help but shutter. Myranda’s husband had died when he was making love with her. (TWOWSC 10 Alayne I)

Alayne finds Myranda Royce sitting between two suitors and in need of rescue from them, and one of those suitors is named Ossifer Lipps.

Since I know by now that Elaena Targaryen’s reason for marrying Ossifer Plumm was that she meant to intercept the Plumm fortune by becoming pregnant with a male Plumm heir, one thing Elaena’s defenders in the audience are likely to say is that it wasn’t Elaena’s fault that Ossifer Plumm died from his arousal.

As if to echo the audience’s defense of Elaena, Alayne offers the same defense to Myranda after Myranda describes her husband’s death as a killing.

“My lord father is annoyed with me for killing my last husband and putting him to all this trouble.”

“It was not your fault he died.”

“There was no one else in the bed that I recall.”

Myranda seems to take pride in causing her husband’s death, and that feeling of pride seems entangled with the satisfaction of annoying her father, because her father arranged her marriage to the old lord. Now that the old lord is dead (along with her father’s political arrangements) her father has to find and arrange a new marriage for her and House Royce.

This passage informs the Ossifer and Elaena situation with a twist I suspected ever since I learned that Elaena was vying for House Plumm’s wealth. Elaena was trying to kill Ossifer Plumm on purpose by overexciting him so that she wouldn’t have to wait for him to die of old age before she could inherit House Plumm’s wealth. (Or before people learned that the baby was a girl, in the event that the baby was a girl.)

Now I have a good clue to the answer to a question I’ve secretly been wondering about since I first read about it.

Later, scurrilous rumors came to suggest that Lord Plumm, in fact, died at the sight of his new bride in her nakedness (this rumor was put in the lewdest terms—terms which might have amused Mushroom but which we need not repeat), and that the child she conceived that night was by her cousin Aegon—he who later became King Aegon the Unworthy. (—Maester Yandel, TWOIAF: Baelor I)

What did Mushroom write about Elaena’s nakedness that was so lewd that Maester Yandel felt he had to exclude it from the official record?

If Elaena was trying to kill Ossifer Plumm on purpose by overexciting him, the lewdness of Mushroom’s terms are probably a more truthful description of what happened. In that case, Maester Yandel is characterizing Mushroom as a silly pervert in order to hide the real reason for excluding the detail of Elaena’s nakedness. If the lewdness resides as much or more-so in Elaena’s actions while naked than in her nakedness itself, then it’s a detail that’s troublesome for an official narrative that relies upon Elaena seeming like a victim.

Uther Shett’s fixation on Myranda’s and Alayne’s breasts directs my attention to breasts in general, perhaps signaling which part of Elaena’s nakedness attracted Ossifer Plumm’s attention, too.

With the purple fruits of our labor in hand, let’s carry all that we’ve learned about the Plumm situation in this chapter on to the next chapter, where we’ll dive into another sentence from that original paragraph in The World of Ice and Fire.

Next: Chapter 4 – Butterwell and Eggs


Acclaim

“I had a quick look at your account and I have to say my mind is already blown by your style and analysis. Well met, I promise I will read your essays in depth and hope to read more of you.”


Update History

Updated Dec 5, 2023 – added The Lewdest Terms section
Updated Dec 19, 2023 – small additions and changes

Aegon the Unworthy, A Study in Historiography – Chapter 2

Previous: Chapter 1 – History is Written by the Victors (ish)

The World of Ice and Fire

For this essay as a whole I mean to focus my attention primarily on the parts of history surrounding Aegon IV the Unworthy. But before I hone in on that most terrible of kings I should say some words about The World of Ice and Fire, to show you how the book invites the reader to challenge the histories contained within it. Because:

(a) If, like me, you primarily use The World of Ice and Fire as a reference book, rather than reading it from cover to cover as one would read a story book, the book’s conceits to unreliability through unreliable narration are easy to miss, because they appear primarily in the introduction.

(b) Because the unreliability in The World of Ice and Fire’s unreliable narrations usually require challenges more involved than the ones in the main series do. In The World of Ice and Fire, the reader has to trek much deeper into the weeds of detail and uncertainty before the story-behind-the-story will yield itself up. And because of that, even for those readers who’ve accepted the book’s conceit to unreliability through unreliable narration, it can be easy to lose faith in the destination and question if we’re meant to be treating the story this way *to such an extent* or looking for unreliability *of this kind*. But rest assured that if, with me, you aren’t in good hands, you’re at least in capable ones.

Kinds of Unreliable Narration

I referred to the existence of more than one kind of unreliability in unreliable narration, so I should elaborate on what those are and show an example of each from the books. I plan to expand this section into its own essay in the future, but in the mean time here’s a quickly drafted list of some different kinds of unreliability of narration that can and do exist in the story, with examples referenced in shorthand in parentheses.

* Misremembering (Arya: “Lion’s Paw”, Sansa: Unkiss)
* Misrepresenting (Yandel: “deprived men of their rightful inheritance”)
* Misinformed (Cersei: Dead Davos)
* Ignorant (Arya: “To the east Gods Eye was a sheet of sun-hammered blue”)
* Illogical (Cersei: Shrinking Dress)
* Unseen or unheard (Daenerys: Rhaego Kidnapping)
* Misseen or misheard (Samwell: Arya’s “knife”)
* Lost in Translation (Daenerys: “I want no rape.”)

The kind of unreliability that mostly concerns us for the purposes of this essay is Misrepresentation.

A Book In A Book

The World of Ice and Fire is a book. (Duh!) I mean, it’s a book in the real world. But it’s also a book in the A Song of Ice and Fire world. Yeah, like right now during book five, A Dance with Dragons. It’s probably in a library in the Red Keep. To imagine what the in-story version of the book looks like, you will probably have to imagine it without (among other things) George R. R. Martin’s name on the cover (or replaced with Maester Yandel’s name). But, for the most part, The World of Ice and Fire is a book that canonically exists within the story.

Maester Yandel began writing it during the reign of King Robert I Baratheon for the Baratheon dynasty, and completed it during the reign of King Tommen I Baratheon. Turn to the page directly after the table of contents and you can see where Maester Yandel dedicated the book to Tommen. And in faded half-erased letters beneath that you can see the name Joffrey. And faded beneath that you can see the name Robert. Maester Yandel was probably thinking ‘I wish these annoying kings would stop dying long enough for me to finish this confounded book.’

On the page after that, Maester Yandel wrote a Preface. In it, Yandel introduces himself, gives a little of his credentials and background, his love of academia and history, and his purpose to contribute to historical knowledge. Setting aside Yandel’s (rather unique and relevent) personal history for now, I want to draw attention to how this Preface can be read as a confession that the book as a whole contains unreliable narration.

>It is said with truth that every building is constructed stone by stone, and the same may be said of knowledge, extracted and compiled by many learned men, each of whom builds upon the works of those who preceded him. What one of them does not know is known to another, and little remains truly unknown if one seeks far enough. Now I, Maester Yandel, take my turn as mason, carving what I know to place one more stone in the great bastion of knowledge that has been built over the centuries both within and without the confines of the Citadel—a bastion raised by countless hands that came before, and which will, no doubt, continue to rise with the aid of countless hands yet to come. (—Yandel, TWOIAF: Preface)

A unique feature of fiction writing, as contrasted with non-fiction writing, is that the words and thoughts of the characters can be read in the voice of two people rather than one: the character and the author. Of course, as with anything, this feature can be mishandled. Sometimes I’m annoyed when I see that a famous author’s fictional story has been quoted in a way that bears no indication or acknowledgement that the quote was taken from a story. While it’s true that George R. R. Martin is the ultimate source of the words “Explain to me why it is more noble to kill ten thousand men in battle than a dozen at dinner,” to credit those words to Martin as though they reflect his attitude rather than Tywin Lannister’s attitude, the character who said them, and without noting that Martin wrote them in the voice of the fictional character Tywin Lannister for the purpose of telling a grand epic story… is almost always either incredibly irresponsible or dishonest. The rare instance when such a quote is fairly credited to the author is when the quote does unquestionably reflect the attitude of the author. But, when this feature of fiction writing is handled properly, it is a lot of fun.

Read in the voice of Maester Yandel, the line “little remains truly unknown if one seeks far enough” can mean Maester Yandel is referring to a literal distance in space, such as the space between one historian and another, or between King’s Landing and Oldtown. Or, Yandel can be referring to a distance in words, such as the distance between the title on the cover of the in-story book and the information within the book that an in-story reader came seeking. Or, Yandel can be using the phrase figuratively — to go far — referring to the difficulty of finding information in general. This last interpretation includes the previous ones, as well as all the others we can imagine, such as the difficulties of discerning truth from untruth.

When read in the voice of George R. R. Martin, on the other hand, the line “little remains truly unknown if one seeks far enough” can be read as though Martin is implying that The World of Ice and Fire is worth reading for “one who seeks.” Who are we, enraptured by countless of A Song of Ice and Fire’s mysteries, if not ones who seek? To the reader who has caught on to the way in which A Song of Ice and Fire’s unreliable narrations are used by the author as hiding places to hide important information in plain sight, this line will sound as though Martin is saying ‘You know that mystery for which you’ve come sniffing for clues? You’re on the right track.’

An attentive reader may also notice that this interpretation through Martin’s voice is a viable interpretation of the line when the line is read through Maester Yandel’s voice. It’s conceivable that Maester Yandel is well aware of how and where his book misrepresents the truth of history, and that he wrote it that way on purpose. It’s also conceivable that, being a Maester and having a genuine love of knowledge and history, he didn’t want to write it that way, but he felt he had to. If that’s the case, Maester Yandel might have written into his book a subtle trail of bread crumbs that could lead an especially astute reader (such as another maester or “humble but lettered men”) to the truth, thereby enabling the truth’s rescue so that future peoples might have a chance to extract it and save themselves from the kingdom of lies they surely live in.

Well, that’s a lot of ‘What-ifs.’ The questions of Maester Yandel’s intentions, motives and influences will not become particularly interesting until after you’re convinced that these histories are as misrepresentative of the characters and events they describe as I’m suggesting they are. But when they do become of interest, you’ll see that Yandel’s intentions are just as I’ve described above, because that description is the only possibility that can explain all of the unreliable narrations Maester Yandel wrote. Other explanations for Maester Yandel’s intentions, motives and influences such as nefariousness, incompetence and prejudice are ruled out by the nature of the unreliable narrations themselves. But, until we reach that point in the essay, it will be easier and quicker if I ask you to temporarily adopt my description of Maester Yandel’s intentions, motives and influences (He’s doing his best under extreme circumstances to strike a balance between preserving the truth and preserving his own life), supposing that it’s correct and allowing proofs to come later when they will be shorter for me to write and you to read. Otherwise, each individual instance of unreliable narration that we’re going to look at would necessitate as many essay versions as there are conceivable intentions, motivations and influences of Maester Yandel.

say something about yandel represents grrm by the principle: author. and point out the path we took from text to metatext and back to text, drawing from meta to inform text. seeing the potentiality for a-symbolism (subtext) in symbolism (metatext).

Returning now to the passage:

>What one of them does not know is known to another, and little remains truly unknown if one seeks far enough.

The phrase “if one seeks far enough” alludes to the figurative phrase “to go far,” meaning to achieve much. With this allusion, Martin and Yandel hint that their readers can achieve much by seeking far for answers, understanding that their readers — especially ones who come seeking clues to a specific mystery from the main books that intrigued them — will have doubts about investing the time and effort required to read a companion book (in the case of Martin’s readers) and to read period (in the case of Yandel’s readers). In each case, the reader will feel like he’s seeking answers far from the place and time period from which his interest originated. Or as a school classmate once shouted to his history teacher, “Why should I care about a bunch of old dead guys?”

Two Theories of Knowledge

Maester Yandel’s Preface, and especially its first paragraph, is saturated with a theory of knowledge (epistemology) that is common in-story and out, especially among maesters. It’s the idea that knowledge accumulates, like a trove of treasure, or like books in a library, and that when a person contributes some knowledge he is growing the trove. Accompanying this theory of knowledge is the attitude that the task of accumulating all the knowledge available in the universe will one day be completed, at which point (and this part is usually left unspoken but inescapably implied) a utopian society will be achieved.

On to the next sentence:

>Now I, Maester Yandel, take my turn as mason, carving what I know to place one more stone in the great bastion of knowledge that has been built over the centuries both within and without the confines of the Citadel—a bastion raised by countless hands that came before, and which will, no doubt, continue to rise with the aid of countless hands yet to come.

The “I, Maester Yandel” part reflects that this theory of knowledge is tied up in Maester Yandel’s identity. He sees himself immortalized in his contributions to knowledge, and takes pride in becoming a part of that intergenerational community of great minds. This does not indicate that this theory of knowledge is in error, because people can naturally come to identify with all sorts of ideas, but what I mean to draw attention to is that people who most strongly adhere to this theory of knowledge are deeply unsettled by the possibility that contributions to knowledge do not grow the treasure-trove, and that the nature of human knowledge may be such as to render a completion state nonexistent or impossible.

A different theory of knowledge says that the question of whether or not there is or can be a completion state for knowledge is beside the point, the point is that a person needs to *behave as though* there are things he doesn’t know yet, or else his mind will be inoperable outside of current knowledge frames and therefore incapable of discovering new knowledge. That is to say, you can’t think outside the box if you can’t acknowledge that there is anything outside the box. When an information gatherer or contributor supposes that a completion state for knowledge is possible, he is acknowledging that unknown knowledge exists (what is he gathering or contributing otherwise?) but he’s doing so in a superficial way, because as he’s working he is still holding in his mind the image of his goal: a knowledge-set completed. And as long as he harbors that image, it is a box, and it will prevent him from *behaving as though* there is knowledge outside that box.

Additionally in this theory of knowledge, when you contribute to knowledge you are not necessarily growing the treasure-trove. Surely there is a world of knowledge contained within the books in a library that is not reflected in the behaviors and attitudes of the living society who the library serves. Instead, knowledge is more like a conversation happening in a bubble, and when you contribute some knowledge you are slightly moving the bubble so that it will encompass different knowledge at the expense of unencompassing other knowledge at the opposite end of the bubble. That is to say, for every knowledge gain there is some knowledge loss. Taking this description to its most extreme (and I think truest and most unsettling) form, the loss is always equal to the gain.

So, it is a zero-sum theory of knowledge, and it was expressed by many of the greatest philosophers, leaders, thinkers and artists of history such as Nietzsche, Jung and Twain.

>“Education: that which reveals to the wise, and conceals from the stupid, the vast limits of their knowledge.” —Mark Twain

Here, Twain expresses that to believe there can be a completion state of knowledge is the height of stupidity; to not believe it, the height of wisdom.

>”Where love rules there is no Will To Power, and where power predominates love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other.” —Carl Jung

Here, Jung expresses that where people know how to love they’ve forgotten their will to power, and where people know their will to power they’ve forgotten how to love.

That this theory of knowledge is optimized for the *acquisition of new knowledge*, rather than for one’s existential comfort, probably had something to do with how those great minds became great.

Born A Maester

Maester Yandel continues:

>”I was a foundling from my birth in the tenth year of the reign of the last Targaryen king, left on a morning in an empty stall in the Scribe’s Hearth, where acolytes practiced the art of letters for those who had need. The course of my life was set that day, when I was found by an acolyte who took me to the Seneschal of that year, Archmaester Edgerran. Edgerran, whose ring and rod and mask were silver, looked upon my squalling face and announced that I might prove of use. When first told this as a boy, I took it to mean he foresaw my destiny as a maester; only much later did I come to learn from Archmaester Ebrose that Edgerran was writing a treatise on the swaddling of infants and wished to test certain theories.”

Maester Yandel tells the story that when he was a baby he was abandoned near or in the Citadel, where he ended up being raised by Archmaester Edgerran. Comically, Archmaester Edgerran’s motivations were less pure than they seemed. The baby was a convenient opportunity for Edgerran to test his theories and better inform his research about infants. Nevertheless, one parent is almost certainly better than no parent, and whatever sort of parenting Yandel received from the Archmaester seems at least to have resulted in an accomplished and well-adjusted Yandel.

This backstory illustrates why Yandel so strongly identifies with his epistemology, and why his descriptions of learning insist that learning is a purely constructive and lossless process, in which knowledge is “constructed stone by stone” and “builds upon the works of those who preceded” us. Maester Yandel grew up surrounded by maesters!

If the person who is the most indoctrinated in the entire world with maesterly attitudes and sensibilities is *not* Yandel, then it’s hard to imagine who else it would be. Even Bran Stark did not have to rely mostly on the viewpoints of maesters or people who live in the Citadel’s shadow when developing his own viewpoints as a child. I can see Bran going between a castellan, a kennelmaster, a cook, a maester, a wildling, a septon, a crone, and a stableboy to ask questions and investigate his own doubts about what he has been told about the direwolves and comet.

>Summer’s howls were long and sad, full of grief and longing. Shaggydog’s were more savage. Their voices echoed through the yards and halls until the castle rang and it seemed as though some great pack of direwolves haunted Winterfell, instead of only two . . . two where there had once been six. Do they miss their brothers and sisters too? Bran wondered. Are they calling to Grey Wind and Ghost, to Nymeria and Lady’s Shade? Do they want them to come home and be a pack together?
>
>“Who can know the mind of a wolf?” Ser Rodrik Cassel said when Bran asked him why they howled. Bran’s lady mother had named him castellan of Winterfell in her absence, and his duties left him little time for idle questions.
>
>“It’s freedom they’re calling for,” declared Farlen, who was kennelmaster and had no more love for the direwolves than his hounds did. “They don’t like being walled up, and who’s to blame them? Wild things belong in the wild, not in a castle.”
>
>“They want to hunt,” agreed Gage the cook as he tossed cubes of suet in a great kettle of stew. “A wolf smells better’n any man. Like as not, they’ve caught the scent o’ prey.”
>
>Maester Luwin did not think so. “Wolves often howl at the moon. These are howling at the comet. See how bright it is, Bran? Perchance they think it is the moon.”
>
>When Bran repeated that to Osha, she laughed aloud. “Your wolves have more wit than your maester,” the wildling woman said. “They know truths the grey man has forgotten.” The way she said it made him shiver, and when he asked what the comet meant, she answered, “Blood and fire, boy, and nothing sweet.”
>
>Bran asked Septon Chayle about the comet while they were sorting through some scrolls snatched from the library fire. “It is the sword that slays the season,” he replied, and soon after the white raven came from Oldtown bringing word of autumn, so doubtless he was right.
>
>Though Old Nan did not think so, and she’d lived longer than any of them. “Dragons,” she said, lifting her head and sniffing. She was near blind and could not see the comet, yet she claimed she could smell it. “It be dragons, boy,” she insisted. Bran got no princes from Nan, no more than he ever had.
>
>Hodor said only, “Hodor.” That was all he ever said. (ACOK 4, Bran I)

Maester Luwin teaches Bran that magical creatures don’t currently and never did exist, shortly after the reader has watched magical creatures walk onto the stage and slay brothers of the Watch in descriptive detail. By the fifth book, another sort of magical creature that isn’t real according to Luwin walked onto the stage and served weirwood paste to Bran. Plainly, the maesters are wrong about magic and magical creatures not being real.

What I hope I’m highlighting is that the maesters’ denial of magic comes from the same characteristic in them that is exhibited by their epistemology: They’re bad at operating in an environment of unknown knowledge. Because of that, the maesters are afraid of and disgusted by the prospect of knowledge being unknowable to completion, and “unknowable knowledge” happens to be approximately the definition of magic.

In a typical maester’s psyche, to say that magic is real is to commit blasphemy. Indeed, their belief that knowledge is knowable to completion is a precept of faith, because such a completion point cannot be shown to exist without, of course, achieving it.

So, the maesters believe this theory of knowledge with religious instinct. The psyche of the maester zeitgeist is always saying ‘Just you wait. You’ll see. When I finish my research it will bring mankind three steps closer to complete knowledge and then the pressure will be on! And all of those arrogant hedge wizards will have to say the completion point of knowledge is real and fast approaching… or else seem the fools they are!’

On balance, this characteristic of maesters makes them phenomenal operators and guardians of knowledge in environments where much knowledge is known. Being so unwilling or unable to think outside the biggest boxes, disgusted by and fearful of the mere reminder that knowledge exists where they can’t reach it, this type of person can be relied upon to operate a functional system in a uniform way every time, never deviating from protocol merely to satiate an “irresistible longing to escape from his noisy, cramped surroundings into the silence of high mountains, where the eye ranges freely through the still, pure air and fondly traces out the restful contours apparently built for eternity,” as Albert Einstein said of Max Planck in 1918.

Just as the most maesterly minds have trouble thinking outside the box, the most hedge wizardly and woods witchy minds have trouble confining their thinking to inside the box. Inside the box, society needs people to operate what knowledge-born systems are already established.

So, while I’m sure I have by now involuntarily confessed to my personal bias about which kind of person I usually prefer, my point is not to denigrate or sanctify one kind or the other. I think a great majority of people are nearer to a happy medium than to an extreme end of the spectrum, rendering them with some versatility despite their tendency. I think both kinds of people have their strengths and weaknesses in equal proportion, play their crucial role, and that everyone is worse off when one kind holds an upper-hand over the other for very long.

What I mean to point out is that any book written by a human being can be a species of involuntary autobiography. A writer who is committed to knowledge like Maester Yandel often prefaces his book with a story about his life and the reasons (or causes?) that led him to write the book. Maester Yandel’s preface leaves not an ounce of doubt that his life story is the cause of the book.

Had Yandel been abandoned anywhere other than the Citadel, he probably would not have been adopted by an archmaester. And had Yandel not been adopted by an archmaester, he probably would not have been taught to read by a maester. And had Yandel not been taught to read by a maester, he probably would not have been taught to read at all. And had Yandel not been taught to read at all, he certainly would not have been able to write this book.

So, in true fantasy form, George R. R. Martin has turned the dial up to eleven and amplified the involuntary autobiography-ness of The World of Ice and Fire’s authorship, by glueing together the reason and the cause.

Martin could have placed baby Yandel anywhere, even into the arms of Yandel’s own mother and father. But he placed him directly in the middle of maester town — where the acolytes practice their letters, no less — to remove any uncertainty in the interpretation about whether or not, or to what extent, maesterly attitudes shaped the in-story writing of the book. Therein resides some of The World of Ice and Fire’s confession to containing unreliable narration. I should expect the book to be wrong in the same way, and to the same extent, that maesters in general are wrong.

>”There are some who call my order the knights of the mind,” Luwin replied. “You are a surpassing clever boy when you work at it, Bran. Have you ever thought that you might wear a maester’s chain? There is no limit to what you might learn.”
>
>”I want to learn magic,” Bran told him. “The crow promised that I would fly.”
>
>Maester Luwin sighed. “I can teach you history, healing, herblore. I can teach you the speech of ravens, and how to build a castle, and the way a sailor steers his ship by the stars. I can teach you to measure the days and mark the seasons, and at the Citadel in Oldtown they can teach you a thousand things more. But, Bran, no man can teach you magic.” (AGOT 53 Bran VI)

Included in Yandel’s life are the authoritative pressures that he lived and wrote under. By pointing to the involuntary autobiography-ness of the book’s contents, Yandel may be pointing to those authoritative pressures, but doing so in a sneaky way that outwardly looks unthreatening to the royal narrative and interest. ‘I was writing about *me* not you, Your Grace.’ To minds that come visiting these histories with suspicion, it may be noticed that Yandel could hardly have pointed more directly at royalty’s influence over the book’s contents without bringing great risk upon himself. And when better to point the finger than immediately after you’ve made a glowing dedication to that “most esteemed and gracious” King (whichever blighter has the seat now), and wished him “thousandfold prosperity, now and forever, and wisdom unmatched?”

Whispered concessions heard and invitation accepted, let’s dive into the deep end of this confounded tome, at the reign of Aegon IV the Unworthy, and see what there is to see.

Next: Chapter 3 – Plumming the Depths

Aegon the Unworthy, A Study in Historiography – Chapter 1

Previous: Chapter 0 – Introduction

History is Written by the Victors (ish)

>“The history is right perhaps, but let us not forget, it was written by the victors.” —Alexis Guignard de Saint-Priest, 1842

>“Vanquished—his history written by the victors—Robespierre has left a memory accursed.” —George Sydney Smythe, 1844

>“The history of these events was written by the winners.” —Atto Vannucci, 1852

>”John Mark Burigozzo, a Lombard shopkeeper, was the last annalist who recorded the sorrows of the people. Then came classic, courtly and salaried historians—history written by the victors. There is need of great caution in reading the verdict of a history written with the sword.” —Emanuele Celesia, 1866

>”How many Gordons perished in the butcheries and the burnings that followed the defeat of the clans at Culloden will never be known: it is the victor who writes the history and counts the dead, and to the vanquished in such a struggle there only remains the dull memory of an unnumbered and unwritten sorrow.” —Sir William Francis Butler, 1889

>“The victor will always be the judge, and the vanquished the accused.” —Hermann Göring, WWII Axis, 1946

>”History is written by the victors.” —Commonly attributed to Winston Churchill, WWII Allies, never

>“For my part, I consider that it will be found much better by all parties to leave the past to history, especially as I propose to write that history myself.” —Winston Churchill, 1948

As can be seen in these quotes, the idea that history is written by the winners is not especially new. People have been saying it for at least a couple hundred years. It might even seem obvious, because of course, wherever a conflict was fought to the death, the losers will have been at a greater loss for words than the winners, being dead. Nevertheless, the idea strikes people in a profound way in history classrooms the world over. And it’s no wonder why it does, because it wakes the history student out of a passive acceptance of whichever account of history he’s studying, and imposes upon the interpretation the requirement that it account for the fact that the person who wrote it was alive when he wrote it, and therefore subjected to and influenced by the interests, impulses, desires, prejudices, demands and fears of being a living person in his era, place and situation.

Every interest, impulse, desire, prejudice, demand and fear that human beings have the capacity for can influence the writing of history, but foremost of them are those relating to the ruling monarch of the time when the history was published. When a king wants a fact of history omitted from a history book, historians will omit it. When the king wants a fact of history fabricated, historians will fabricate it. And when the king wants a fact of history changed, historians will change it. If the king doesn’t like what the historian changed it to, he may command the historian to change it to something different, to something of the king’s specifications, to something of the king’s councilor’s specifications, or the king may simply have the historian dismembered of his hand or head. Your mileage will vary depending on the king, but even the kindest of kings stands to lose everything if certain inconvenient facts of history are allowed to spread freely.

So, every king must play the game of thrones, not least of all by shoring up the legitimacy of his claim and the legitimacy of the claims of all the ancestors that his claim rests upon, by assigning a highly respected historian the task of reshaping history to suit that need. An expertly reshaped history leaves the most well-known facts and events in place, fabricates as little as possible, builds lies on foundations of truth, and is a master work in the art of suggestion.

The recognition that an interpretation of history must fit with the day-to-day life-and-death interests of the person who wrote it is so obviously critical to the study of history that the revelation loses its savor. How could I have been so stupid to receive history as though it were the pure unequivocal truth narrated by the disembodied voice of some infinitely trustworthy, unbiased and infallible being? As if “history” were one objective thing, when it must obviously be some staggeringly complex mish-mash of subjective and motivated things that reach all the way back to the origin of the written word. I’m left with the sense that this recognition is really a staggering oversight, and any interpretation of history that cannot fit with the most basic survival interests of the living person who wrote it must be discarded on those grounds alone.

The Exception That Proves the Rule

The phrase ‘history is written by the victor’ is a short and punchy way to highlight the intrinsically motivated nature of history writing that I described above, but it should not be taken too literally. Indeed, critics of the phrase center their criticisms around that very tendency.

1. They point out that history need not be written, because history can be passed down verbally, too. (Aemon the Dragonknight)

2. They point out that the victor need not be the person who won the war, it need only be the person whose interests survived the war. (Daeron I)

3. They point out that the victor need not be one single person or faction, because a war can have multiple victors or beneficiaries. (Baelor I)

4. They point out that the victor need not be remembered more fondly than the vanquished, because sometimes being remembered fondly conflicts with the victor’s more important interest of writing history to be believable. (Viserys II)

5. They point out that the victor need not be the person who fought the war, because the victor’s interests will have survived through his child when the child’s own claim to power derives from and depends upon the legitimacy of his father’s claim. (Viserys II)

6. They point out that the victor or his child need not have received a happier story than the vanquished or his child, because writings that threaten the legacy of the victor’s happiness are less threatening to the victor’s hold on power than writings that threaten the legacy of the victor’s legitimacy. (Aegon III)

7. They point out that the writing of history has as much to do with history’s destruction as its creaton, because a new ruler will often destroy narratives that are especially inconvenient for his hold on power. (Lives of Five Four Kings)

8. They point out that the pressures need not have influenced the historian himself, such as when the historian is merely repeating information he acquired from the work of an older historian. (Gyldayn)

9. They point out that some accounts of history can survive the likelihood of destruction if they’re written in secret, hidden well and found long after the reigns of the rulers they threaten have concluded. (Mushroom)

To accommodate these valid criticisms of the phrase ‘History is written by the victors,’ we can expand the phrase as much as necessary. For example, an improvement would be ‘History is written and passed down by the victors,’ because it corrects for criticisms 1, 5 and 8.

A better improvement would be ‘History is written, shaped, and passed down by and for those whose interests in power survived,’ because it corrects for criticisms 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 and 8.  In this formulation, we can more easily see that power is the main pressure to which everyone who lives under the powerful must acquiesce, in order not to contradict the needs of the powerful. Kings fit neatly into the category of powerful people, and historians into the category of people who live under them. But of course, the same relationship will be observable between a Great Lord and the lesser lords subordinate to him. And again between a lesser lord and the guards subordinate to him. And again between a lord and a commoner. And so on, all the way down the hierarchy.

For example, the in-story author of The World of Ice and Fire, Maester Yandel, will not have needed to be commanded by King Robert Baratheon not to depict Rhaegar Targaryen as the well-loved person that so many other accounts of Rhaegar do. It’s more than reasonable to assume Maester Yandel would have known without being told that depicting Rhaegar as anything much better than a kidnapper and raper of Robert’s betrothed Lyanna Stark is a stupid and dangerous thing to do when publishing the histories of Robert’s Rebellion during Robert’s reign as king.

With multiple tiers of powerful people each imposing unique pressures upon different historians (often passively) to shape their writings of history in ways that are nonthreatening to all those in power, the task of simply finding out what really happened in history can become quite complex, and quickly.

If the sentence ‘History is written, shaped, and passed down by and for those whose interests in power survived’ is a rewrite of the phrase ‘History is written by the victor’ sufficient to correct for criticisms 1 through 8, then you might be wondering, ‘What about criticism number 9? How do we change the sentence to correct for that one?’ And the answer is that criticism number 9 demands no correction.

In the event that a person writes his own account of history privately and those writings are discovered much later, the fact that the person wrote them privately, did not publish them, or stowed them away for safekeeping sufficiently accounts for his basic survival interests. Or, in other words, considering that the king and all of his successors have the maximum amount of power to shape history as suits their interest in retaining power, the only accounts of history that threaten that power and that anyone should ever expect to find intact are ones that the king and the general public never knew about. So, such writings are the exceptions that prove the rule that history is written by the victors. And you can imagine how precious those writings are to present day historians who only want to find out the truth of the past.

Though criticisms of the idea “history is written by the victor” need to be taken seriously to help us avoid making the opposite mistake as the critic, I can see that the critic is missing the forest for the trees. Take for instance the common saying, “What goes up must come down.” The statement is not literally true in every situation. Obviously a rocket ship is something that goes up and need never come down. But regardless how easy it might be to think up situations where the statement can be false, it still retains a general kind of truth in many schools of thought. In a physical school of thought, it’s true of gravity. And in a psychological school of thought, it’s true of the ego. So it’s important not to make the mistake of invalidating the truths in a truism simply because we can show it to be false in some ways. Therein lies the critic’s common kind of mistake.

As I alluded to in parentheses on the list, our journey through the histories of A Song of Ice and Fire’s Targaryen Kings is going to take us through every wrinkle, turn and twist of the phrase ‘History is written by the victor,’ before the story will surrender all of its hidden truths to us about what really happened in the past.

Next: Chapter 2 – The World of Ice and Fire

On “That Dothraki Horde” by Bret Devereaux

Every once in a while in my A Song of Ice and Fire journeys I come across an essay that I feel I must respond to. This time, it was part one of four of an essay about the Dothraki people, posted three years ago by a genuine historian on his blog.

Collections: That Dothraki Horde, Part I: Barbarian Couture by Bret Devereaux, Ph.D. at UNC History, Dec. 2020

The essay is prompted by a quote from the author of ASOIAF, George R. R. Martin, that Martin made in the year 2012. Here’s the quote.

The Dothraki were actually fashioned as an amalgam of a number of steppe and plains cultures… Mongols and Huns, certainly, but also Alans, Sioux, Cheyenne, and various other Amerindian tribes… seasoned with a dash of pure fantasy. (GRRM)

The thesis of the essay is that Martin is a big fat dumb liar. Okay, here were the historian’s own words.

Because – and this is going to surprise literally no one who reads this blog – that claim to historicity is fundamentally empty. The Dothraki are not an amalgam of Steppe and Plains cultures, they are an amalgam of stereotypes about Steppe and Plains cultures. There it is, that is the thesis for the next three to four weeks of the blog! All of the angry hurt-fan-commenters can just go shout angrily into the void of comment moderation right now.

For the rest of us grown-ups, we can start with how the Dothraki dress.

And here’s the line where I decided I would respond.

But we’re given some context to interpret that description in the passage that surrounds it, the event has “barbaric splendor” (AGoT, 82; this is a statement, I should note, delivered by the narrator, not a thought of Daenerys’),

This comment demonstrates that, while it may be true that Bret Devereaux has read ASOIAF entirely, he is not especially familiar with ASOIAF. Because everyone who has pored over the story and its mysteries for a length of time sufficient to earn the moniker of die-hard fan can tell you that, excepting for exactly one moment (and possibly not even that one) [Victarion Greyjoy’s transformation], every single word and sentence in ASOIAF must be understood to be occurring in perception of, or the mind of, the POV character of the chapter in which it appeared.

In other words, ASOIAF does not have a storytelling narrator the way Bret means it. Ever. The “barbaric splendor” line is, in fact, happening in the thoughts of Daenerys herself. Which means that, for the purposes of the story, we must treat it as though Daenerys, rather than George R. R. Martin, formulated it in her thoughts.

With the story written this way, the very structure of the story depends upon the reader either forgetting or not consciously noticing that every unspoken word is happening in the thoughts of the POV character (insofar as it’s fair to call un-articulated thoughts words), and is therefore suspect unreliable narration. Recognizing this characteristic of the story is often revelatory for the reader, because it demands a radical transformation to the way he engages with the story. Suddenly he is questioning every sentence he reads, challenging and testing each line and word for ways that its truth might be compromised by the POV character’s particular perspective, misunderstandings, biases and more. In order to find out what’s really going on, the reader has to seek a second opinion or perspective from a different character’s point-of-view and reconcile the conflicting perspectives to produce a third and more complete canon of the situation. This is how ASOIAF conveys its core ethic and trains its readers to become better at conflict resolution.

Coming to grips with this feature of ASOIAF is considered a rite of passage by its veteran readers, because we all went through the same transformation ourselves. Resisting the tendency to slide back into a passive acceptance of the narrative as though it were a factual, objective and omniscient account of events is an everlasting challenge in both the academia of ASOIAF interpretation and the game of predicting its futures and conclusions.

As one such ASOIAF academic and fan, I can’t let Bret Devereaux off the hook for this one. This misapprehension of ASOIAF is the biggest deal of all big deals in ASOIAF interpretation. Though not particularly uncommon or damning in a casual environment, it’s the most reliable marker of unfamiliarity with the story that exists in ASOIAF discourse. There’s no question in my mind that as I continue reading his essay, I’m going to find him criticizing his misinterpretation of events, where he has taken events at face value unquestioningly while the truth of them is actually quite different when unearthed, rendering his criticism off-point at best, and opposite to the truth at worst.

Another thing I notice is an irony happening between Bret’s not noticing that the story requires its reader to read it critically in order to fully understand it, and his purpose to inoculate people against misinformation by teaching them critical reading skills.

(Of course, more broadly, doing this as a practice exercise is a key part of building up that skill – what we may term ‘critical reading’ – more generally, rendering the alert reader more resistant to this sort of thing, both in its unintended form (as, I suspect, in this case) or in its more dangerous intended form. Put another way, developing critical reading skills is one important way to make one’s self a harder target for misinformation, including historical misinformation.)

It’s a contrast that shows me that the critical component in Bret’s critical reading is aimed more outward than inward, where his preoccupation with historical accuracy is, in the most significant of ways, causing him to miss the point of fiction — that fiction is ultimately an exploration of the self, the reader’s internal world. It has to be, because at the end of the day the people and worlds in fiction do not really exist, no matter how much or how little they were inspired by things in the real world. This remains true regardless of any of the author’s utterances. Had the author said outright that his story is an accurate depiction and account of the real history of steppes and plains people, it would not change the fact that it is not.

When a reader of fiction comes across a part of Dothraki culture that is at odds with the real world history of comparable people, it is more appropriate to ask ‘In what ways is this change from reality doing a better job of conveying the story’s philosophies,’ rather than ‘In what ways is it making the story worse?’ More often than not, a complementary consideration of the change will yield a better understanding of the story’s philosophies than a noncomplementary consideration. A noncomplementary consideration often leads to a complete abandonment of canon in favor of historical record, as Bret does throughout his essay. The underlying recognition is that fiction is meant to convey values, while history is meant to relate what happened. The authors of fiction and history are working from two different purposes, so comparisons of their works leave most audiences with a sense that the comparer is, in some meaningful way, missing the point of the fiction.

On balance, historians such as Bret feel the same way when fiction readers laud historically inaccurate depictions for their historical accuracy, or the historically inaccurate story as a whole. They feel as though the more important lessons reside in real history, and that fiction writers damage those lessons and our accessibility to them when they change things, especially for a purpose as nonessential as entertainment.

Well, try convincing the millions of ravenous ASOIAF and Game of Thrones fans that their beloved piece of entertainment is nonessential, and you might have a war on your hands. The sheer magnitudes of the audience and its passion for the story should indicate to even the stuffiest of historians that something other than historical accuracy is at the heart of peoples’ love of it. Of course, the thing they’ve fallen in love with is the story’s ethic. A critique of the story’s historical inaccuracy as “misinformation” threatens the survival of the ethic by threatening the survival of the story. Because when you call something misinformation you’re calling it harmful. And when you call information harmful you imply that it should be changed or censored.

Bret Devereaux would probably not say that the story should be censored, but his criticisms suggest loud and clear that the story would necessarily be better if it were changed to be more of a one-to-one copy of history. If the Dothraki wore linens and buckskin in place of leather, for example, Bret’s contention appears to be that that would be an all-around improvement to the story. But a good storyteller knows that it’s just as important to omit details from a story as it is to include them, because a story is supposed to show the audience only the information that matters for the purpose of conveying its ethic. Or as George R. R. Martin once put it, “everything serves the almighty theme.” You don’t want to waste the audience’s time with details that don’t matter toward that end, or else you’ll dilute the story’s efficiency to convey its ethic to people like us.

But changing the story to be more historically accurate doesn’t necessarily need to make the story longer. It might make the story shorter, or leave it the same length. So to give Bret’s implicit prescription for ASOIAF a full consideration, let’s set aside concerns about length by assuming Bret would only prescribe changes that do not make the story longer. Even in that case, changes in favor of historical accuracy can make the story worse, because the things Bret describes as harmful stereotypes are actually timeless archetypes.

His inability or neglect to distinguish between stereotypes and archetypes is unsurprising in some ways, because it’s constant with his overall attitude that quasi-racist impulses are the root explanation for a “stereotype’s” existence. And it is surprising in some ways because it is inconstant with his complaints that, when the author gives the Dothraki dull clothing, the author is treating historical steppes and plains people as though they lacked our sophistication and means rather than just our means. (And even our means they lacked less-so than most people think.)

It is not difficult to see how this assumption flatters the person who holds it, nor to identify the impulse to self-flatter as a likely explanation for the assumption’s existence. However, self-flattery explains Bret Devereaux’s treatment of fiction and ASOIAF more than it does yours, mine, or George R.R. Martin’s “treatment” of historical people, as I’ll highlight in a moment.

The “Fremen Mirage” trope that Bret Devearux references, and that is at the heart of his criticisms of ASOIAF, contains most densely the richest ironies between what Bret thinks ASOIAF is like and what ASOIAF is actually like. He summarizes The Fremen Mirage this way:

“The Fremen Mirage is a literary trope, unconnected to historical reality, which presents societies as a contrast between unsophisticated, but morally pure, hyper-masculine and militarily effective ‘strong men’ societies honed by ‘hard times’ (that is, the Fremen of the term) and a sophisticated but effeminate and decadent ‘weak men’ societies weakened by ‘good times,’ frequently with an implicit assertion of the superior worth of the former.”

That Bret could not even describe this trope without using the words strong and weak is noteworthy in relationship to the criticism in its conclusion. Between the two traits strong and weak, which one is superior? Which one would you rather be? And which one do you admire? The answer is the same across the board. So what are the derangements that blind Bret to the obvious fact that being strong is intrinsically and universally better than being weak? What does he think is wrong about asserting that strong men are higher quality than weak men?

Apparent to most people, the reason the author dressed the Dothraki people in leather rather than linen and buckskin is because the author knows that a modern American audience sees history through The Fremen Mirage, and he’s writing his story to convey its ethic specifically to a modern American audience. Had George R. R. Martin lived and written this story hundreds of years ago as a member of Mongolian society, he would have tailored the story to Mongolian attitudes instead, in order to convey its ethic to the Mongolians. Perhaps the Dothraki would have worn loincloths instead of leather vests.

As so often happens in critiques like Bret’s, the acknowledgements that should have been central to the essay were made and haphazardly discarded right at the beginning of it. The purpose of dressing the Dothraki in leather rather than linen and buckskin was obviously to better convey the archetype of ‘strong men during hard times’ to modern people. Likewise, the purpose of dressing the Qartheen in silks and satins was obviously to better convey the archetype of ‘weak men during good times’ to modern people. The specific details such as the materials, their acquisition, the crafting process and ubiquity are all interchangeable with any other details that can convey the same archetype to the same audience, because the essential point of them is that ‘the Dothraki are strong people during hard times.’

So whether you lived in 12th century Mongolia or 21st century America, the archetypes of ‘strong man during hard times’ and ‘weak man during good times’ survive. While it’s certainly true that the abstraction itself is in some ways “unconnected with history” because it never existed at any pin-pointable place and time, it’s also profoundly connected with history because it depicts what everybody in history at all places and times had in common. Every people at every time was able to look back into history and see harder men who lived in harder times, and look at the present and forward into the future and see weaker men who live in better times. This centuries-long progression from strength to weakness is depicted in every culture in ASOIAF, because it’s part of the story’s built-in commentaries on real world civilizations and its audience — commentaries that shed some light on Bret Devereaux’s inexplicable contempt for strength and over-sensitivity to stereotypes.

Bret is trying to preserve the lessons that reside in factual history. If we forget history, those lessons will be lost. That is, unless you can convey the same lessons in a more memorable form, like a colorful story. And that’s what fiction inspired by history is. When you want to preserve a lesson of history so that future generations can better access it, you have two options. You can record every painstaking detail that your little hands can record in one lifetime, or you can distill history down to its gist — its ethic — and you convey the gist. Future people will be much more likely to read and remember it when it’s fun and to the point. In the end, The Fremen Mirage is really The Devereaux Mirage — an insistence that, despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, people across vast spans of time can and should be expected to remember, learn and be interested in every detail of history that anybody ever cared to record. What conception of the written tradition could be more flattering to a historian than that one? Compared to A Song of Ice and Fire, The Devereaux Mirage is the bigger fantasy.

Bret Devereaux’s awareness of this shortcoming in his ASOIAF criticisms is demonstrated by his need to move between criticizing the books and criticizing the show in order to keep his criticism alive.

And of course, that is exactly how the show has opted to read Dothraki clothing:

An honest broker would handle the books and the show separately, and with consideration to the differences in format, author and audience. Though he promised to do that very thing at the beginning of his essay, he has done little or none, and comments like this one show me that his true intention with including the show is to play musical chairs with the goalposts.

His awareness of the shortcomings of his criticisms is demonstrated again by his need to move between condemning the depiction of barbarians as morally pure, and condemning the depiction of modern people as morally impure. Which is it, Bret? Are modern authors bad people for implying that modern people are less moral than historical people? Or are they bad people for implying that historical people are less moral than modern people? They can’t be implying both, not as a generalization the way you mean it. That doesn’t make any sense. You need to either distinguish one author from another, one work from another, and stop generalizing, or keep the generalization and decide which of these completely opposite criticisms you want to make.

One of Bret’s criticisms of George R. R. Martin’s Dothraki people is that horsehair leggings are “deeply improbable.”

This is, in terms of material, very clearly not what the ‘vests’ the Dothraki in the show are wearing. Buckskin would also be used to make trousers, as opposed to the “horsehair leggings” of Martin’s wording, which also strike me as deeply improbable. Haircloth – fabric made from horsehair (or camel hair) – is durable, but typically stiff, unsupple and terribly itchy; not something you want in direct contact with your skin (especially not between your rear end and a saddle), unless you just really like skin irritation. It is also a difficult material to get in any kind of significant quantity – and you would need a significant quantity if you intended to make most of your trousers out of it.

To someone who thinks writing a good fiction story is mostly about copying and pasting historical facts into your own book, the deep improbability of horsehair leggings is a big problem. But to someone who thinks writing a good fiction story is mostly about expressing philosophical truths about human life, the deep improbability of horsehair leggings is little or no problem. To the former type of person, the hypothetical leggings are interfering with reality. To the latter type of person, the significance of the leggings does not seem to reside in their material relationship to reality at all. It must reside somewhere else. And it does. So let’s walk through the reasons why the story is better with horsehair leggings rather than linen or buckskin leggings.

The first question is, what is the effect of the leggings being made out of horsehair rather than linen or buckskin? It makes the Dothraki people more dependent on horses. Absent a lot of horses, the Dothraki won’t know how to make pants anymore, and will have to learn a new way or be pantless.

Now the question is, why does the author need the Dothraki to be extremely dependent on horses? Because it adds validity to the Dothraki peoples’ fear of the ocean and their belief that bodies of water that their horses can’t drink are poisoned. Though ocean water is not technically poisoned, drinking it is deadly nevertheless. Additionally, no other place in the world has wild horses as abundantly as the Dothraki sea. So this Dothraki superstition is true enough to protect the Dothraki people from being deprived of pants, among other things, whether by preventing their horses from drinking salt water or preventing the Dothraki from traveling outside the environment they’re adapted for, regardless that the superstition is false in a technical way.

Now the question is, why does the author need to add validity to the Dothraki peoples’ fear of the ocean? Because Daenerys is dismissive of their fear of the ocean.

Savage beasts he did not fear, nor any man who had ever drawn breath, but the sea was a different matter. To the Dothraki, water that a horse could not drink was something foul; the heaving grey-green plains of the ocean filled them with superstitious loathing. Drogo was a bolder man than the other horselords in half a hundred ways, she had found … but not in this. If only she could get him onto a ship … (AGOT Daenerys VI)

She considers it a silly superstition, and insists on compelling the Dothraki people to cross the ocean anyway. How do you think the Dothraki people are likely to fare when removed from the plains and the abundance of horses that their expertise is centered around?

Dothraki were wise where horses were concerned, but could be utter fools about much else. (ADWD Daenerys I)

With this topic recurring across five books, it didn’t take long to see that a complementary consideration of the story’s break from historical reality was more useful in developing my understanding of the story than an uncomplementary one. The horsehair leggings are one ingredient in the recipe of this cautionary tale about being too dismissive of long-standing cultural beliefs that you don’t fully understand yet. If someone were deliberately trying to reduce the clarity of that lesson, changing the horsehair leggings to linen or buckskin would be a good start. Because linen leggings are never made out of horse products, buckskin leggings may or may not be made out of horse products, and horsehair leggings are always made out of horse products. In other words, horsehair leggings remove any possible ambiguity in the interpretation about the Dothraki’s dependence on horses for leggings.

I am not a formal student of literature. I dropped out of college after one semester. But I actually think, in a strange sense, this is useful, because my own initial unfamiliarity with the topic has demonstrated to me just how basic the level of understanding and reading necessary to avoid the failures of Bret’s interpretation are.

In the comment by George R. R. Martin that Bret has set his crosshairs upon, Martin was obviously relying upon a shared understanding that fiction is, by definition, not real. At least, not in the same way we mean real when we say history is real. Martin was describing the Dothraki within the confines of that shared understanding, which is most prominent in his own mind, as the person who conjured every bit of the story, and to whom the cracks in its hypothetical reality look like canyons.

Unfortunately, Martin didn’t account in his “dash of pure fantasy” comment for the reality that there are people like Bret Devereaux out there who will ignore the obvious to complain for the length of an eighth of A Game of Thrones on the basis of an offhanded cooking metaphor. When Bret is missing the point of fiction this severely, I don’t have to wonder from where his frustration originates about the masses of “angry hurt-fan-commenters” who would rather reread an eighth of A Game of Thrones for the eighth time than read his critique of it so that, ostensibly, they may finally mature into the intellectually liberated “grown-ups” that Bret Devereaux and the disciples of materialism everywhere believe themselves to be. The origin of his frustration and criticisms alike is plain old fashioned envy. If you can’t write something great that millions of people want to read, the next best thing is criticizing something great that somebody else made.

I have no doubt that after I’ve read Bret’s essay in its entirety and if I absorb it unquestioningly, two things will happen to me: I will become smarter about the real world history of steppes and plains people, and I will become dumber about whichever philosophies are being seductively conveyed by, and that attracted me to, A Song of Ice and Fire.

If the lives of historical people contain valuable lessons for modern people to learn, surely a better way to honor those heroes and villains of history is to preserve the lessons for as many generations as possible, even though that means that one day so many details will have been lost that all that remains is an “inaccurate and demeaning stereotype.” If a culture as colorful and complex as the Dothraki are a depiction that’s demeaning to historical nomads, how much more complex or historically accurate must a fictional culture be to escape a category so damning? And who made Bret king to dictate how complex or culturally accurate somebody else’s fictional culture has to be? How many fictional cultures has Bret written? To somebody who sees and has taken it upon himself to remedy the ‘dangerous unconscious prejudices’ behind the most popular story of this moment in history, there must hardly exist a history-inspired story that does not look like an existential danger in his eyes. It’s either that, or the rest of us have been terribly misled by our senses that this story is great.

The conflict that is happening between Bret’s and my approach to the story is not new. It’s ancient, as old as recorded history itself. It has never resolved, and it never will, because it never can. Both Bret and I are championing values that absolutely cannot be abandoned when human well-being is the priority. Well-being for human beings is a rare and precious condition that emerges from these two approaches to story being at an irreconcilable equilibrium, each unable to completely dominate the other, such that neither mode of interpretation can carry its humans with it off the cliff of its pathology.

To give Bret’s approach its due credit, stories effect how we imagine history to have really been. The things people believe about the past effect how they perceive the present and envision the future. So the problems of and associated with forgetting the factual version of history in favor of a popular fiction are real, and they happen all the time. Some of the things about history that the best historians consider the hardest of hard facts are fictions that replaced the facts through popular belief. That is the pathology and fate of societies and people such as myself who readily suspend interest in the real world in order to explore value in a hypothetical one. To put it simply, people like me need people like Bret, and people like Bret need people like me, to keep one another’s ideas accountable to the human beings who employ them to solve a problem set that is never entirely literal or entirely philosophical.

So what should we weigh more important? Fact or myth? The answer always depends on what you mostly want to know. What happened? Or why? Each inquiry is indispensable for fully understanding the other, so enjoy both if you can. But don’t fall for the rhetoric that either nonfiction or fiction is a superior mode of study for a superior kind of person. They’re as different and as married as men and women, light and shadow, and ice and fire.


Created Apr 4, 2023
Updated Apr 6, 2023

Aegon the Unworthy, A Study in Historiography – Chapter 0

Introduction

Who was the worst Targaryen king of all time? Aerys II Targaryen, The Mad King, might be the first answer that comes to mind. Scarcely could there have been a worse Targaryen king than the one whose villainies prompted the overthrow of the Targaryen dynasty. Or, if you’re extra familiar with the Targaryen kings, you might be thinking of Maegor I Targaryen, the Cruel, who, in 42 AC, cooked the Sept of Remembrance in dragonflame, along with hundreds of Faith Militant with it. Still, some few readers maintain that Maegor was only doing what he had to do to defend the family dynasty. Whichever terrible Targaryen king comes to mind for you, it can safely be said that Aegon IV Targaryen, now remembered as Aegon the Unworthy, is not far from readers’ tongues.

So, what did Aegon the Unworthy do that made him so unworthy of a king? Where do I even begin? Aegon coveted the throne so badly that, as rumor has it, he killed his father with poison to speed up his own succession. Aegon the Unworthy tortured his own Kingsguard knight to death, Ser Terrence Toyne, for giving comfort to one of Aegon’s mistresses who was distressed by his… loving embraces. Worse, he made the mistress watch the torture, and executed her too. Aegon delighted in humiliating his wife and brother. He envied his brother, Aemon the Dragonknight, who was better loved than himself. He tormented and spurned his sister, sired countless bastards on who knows how many women. And, before Aegon’s death, he bookended this awful reign by “legitimizing all of his natural children, from the most baseborn to the Great Bastards,” setting the groundwork for what would become five generations of rebellion over the rightful royal succession. That is, to name just a few things.

If Aegon the Unworthy had only done half of the horrible things that the histories say and suggest he did, his position as one of the top contenders for the title of Worst Targaryen King of All Time would remain unthreatened. Indeed, the only other Targaryen king for whom this is comparably true is Aerys the Mad, whose villainous deeds, like Aegon the Unworthy’s, are so numerous and extreme as to render his villainy inexplicable, absent the existence of some profound will to evil within him.

But, what if I were to tell you that this is no accident of history? What if I told you that Aegon and Unworthy and Aerys the Mad are mirrors of one another across a century, and that almost all of the explanation for both Aegon the Unworthy’s and Aerys the Mad’s evilness, as depicted and described in the histories, is just that — a story? *His* story, in the literal meanings of the root words, where “his” refers to mankind, and “story” means that the facts have been simplified and arranged to depict people and events in terms of hero or villain, right or wrong, good or evil. And what if I told you that Aegon the Unworthy and Aerys the Mad were, in the final assessment, actually between ordinary and good kings, and that their histories constitute a giant history puzzle that’s waiting for some sufficiently astute and brave reader to piece it together, giving Aegon the Unworthy and Aerys the Mad the fair trials that everybody deserves, if only to rescue their reputations in the eyes of the A Song of Ice and Fire audience?

Well, if I said any of that, you might think I’m as mad as old King Aerys. So, I won’t say it. Instead, I’ll show you. I’ll undertake this massive A Song of Ice and Fire project myself and prove, one situation at a time and one king at a time, that these terrible kings and their histories are as I described. I will begin with Aegon the Unworthy, whose temporal distance from the present day characters of A Song of Ice and Fire that we know and love might render the persuasion inoffensive enough that emotion will yield to reason.  And I’ll leave Aerys the Mad for a future essay that relates more directly with the present.

Next: Chapter 1 – History is Written by the Victors (ish)


Table of Contents

Chapter 0 – Introduction

Chapter 1 – History is Written by the Victors (ish)

Chapter 2 – The World of Ice and Fire

Chapter 3 – Plumming the Depths

Chapter 4 – Butterwell and Eggs

Chapter 5 –

Chapter 6 –

Chapter 7 –


Update History

Created Mar 16, 2023 – Intro draft
Updated Mar 18, 2023 – Minor changes
Updated Apr 18, 2023 – Small addition
Updated Sep 7, 2023 – truism
Updated Sep 8-13, 2023 – Ch. 2 TWOIAF
Updated Sep 13-19, 2023 – Ch. 3 Plumm
Updated Sep 20, 2023 – Split chapters into separate pages and made TOC

ADWD 15 Davos II

Queen Selyse had feasted Salla and his captains, the night before the fleet had set sail. Cotter Pyke had joined them, and four other high officers of the Night’s Watch. Princess Shireen had been allowed to attend as well. As the salmon was being served, Ser Axell Florent had entertained the table with the tale of a Targaryen princeling who kept an ape as a pet. This prince liked to dress the creature in his dead son’s clothes and pretend he was a child, Ser Axell claimed, and from time to time he would propose marriages for him. The lords so honored always declined politely, but of course they did decline. “Even dressed in silk and velvet, an ape remains an ape,” Ser Axell said. “A wiser prince would have known that you cannot send an ape to do a man’s work.” The queen’s men laughed, and several grinned at Davos. I am no ape, he’d thought. I am as much a lord as you, and a better man. But the memory still stung. (ADWD Davos II)

I think the metatext of this passage is that it’s an example of a character, in this case Axell Florent, interpreting a story wrong. And it’s funny because it’s his own story. More specifically and I think importantly, it’s showing the way he’s interpreting the story wrong.

Axell’s last comment frames the situation as though the ape is being sent to do a man’s work. But that interpretation reveals that Axell hasn’t adequately put himself in the mind of the Targaryen prince. To the prince, the ape is his son rather than an ape. And the prince is not trying to send the ape to do work (marriage / sex), rather, the prince is trying to attract human women to marry his son. Then Axell’s audience / the reader / Davos are able to translate “son” back to “ape”, because we aren’t delusional like the prince.

So the first part of Axell’s interpretation is perfect, and the second part is contrived, apparently for the purpose of insulting Davos, who, unlike the ape, was actually “sent” by Stannis to do a “man’s work” (find allies for Stannis).

In the process of looking closely at Axell’s interpretation of a story, we’re able to identify the motivation and impulses within Axell that are driving his interpretation.

Perhaps a metatext of this passage is that it directs the reader to do a better job of putting himself into the mind and situation of the characters in the story.

Perhaps another metatext is that the passage directs the reader to look closely at the interpretations he himself and the other readers make of the story, with a mind to sussing out the reader’s underlying motivations and impulses that are driving the interpretation.


Created Nov 24, 2022

Forest Love and Forest Lass – Chapter 10

Previous: Chapter 9 – Eddard Stark

Rhaegar Targaryen

Whatever you think about Rhaegar Targaryen, it can fairly be said that, between the characters and the audience, Rhaegar is the most polarizing character to have never lived on page.

u/valsavana

0 pt 2022

Prophecy obsessed, cheating, child predator*.

I don’t like Robert either but I do like that he caved in that fucker’s chest during the war.

*No, I will not be arguing this point. [1]

u/returnatyourperil

1 pt 2022

oh yea he definitely has his shooters. whats funny is that i think his amount of fans have reduced, at least from what ive seen in recent years, im guessing because some aspects of ASOIAF seem outdated by now and he is one of them [1]

u/Middle-Tradition2275

4 pts 2022

delusional weirdo asshole with ephebophilia who ditched his wife and kids for the most colossally moronic reason [1]

u/AncientPomegranate97

2 pts 2022

“It seems I must become a warrior”

I don’t know shit, but he seems like the hero of another story who misinterpreted the prophecies and lost the “here and now” stuff like his family and kingdom. He really can be interpreted so many ways [1]

Like Ned, Howland and Lyanna, Rhaegar is one of few characters who should know much of what we wish to know about the story’s central mysteries. So, in my journey to discover the true identity of the Knight of the Laughing Tree, why Rhaegar crowned Lyanna the queen of love and beauty, and The Relationship Between Those Two Mysteries, a thorough understanding of Rhaegar will be vital.

The reader’s perspective on Rhaegar develops according to the order that information about him is revealed. First, a conversation between Ned and Robert tells me that Rhaegar raped Ned’s sister Lyanna.

Unspeakable?” the king roared. “What Aerys did to your brother Brandon was unspeakable. The way your lord father died, that was unspeakable. And Rhaegar . . . how many times do you think he raped your sister? How many hundreds of times?” (—Robert to Ned, AGOT Eddard II)

Further along, Ned’s thoughts about Rhaegar suggest that Ned doesn’t harbor much or any negative feelings toward Rhaegar, specifically regarding Rhaegar’s sexual conduct.

For the first time in years, he found himself remembering Rhaegar Targaryen. He wondered if Rhaegar had frequented brothels; somehow he thought not. (—Thoughts of Ned, AGOT Eddard IX)

On the surface, Ned seems to hold Rhaegar in high esteem, which is very weird if Rhaegar really raped Ned’s sister like Robert led me to believe.

At this point, I have enough information to know that either there’s a lot more substance to the Rhaegar and Lyanna situation that I don’t know yet, or that the rape narrative is plain false. But I can’t be sure which one it is.

When I look at the situation from Ned’s point of view, I can’t imagine any conceivable way that Rhaegar could have regained my respect if Rhaegar truly did rape my sister. But it’s conceivable that ‘Ned respects Rhaegar’ is not a perfect interpretation of Ned’s thought that Rhaegar probably didn’t frequent brothels. Maybe the reason Ned thinks Rhaegar wouldn’t frequent brothels is just because Rhaegar was a solitary kind of guy, or not a very sexual kind of guy, or some simple explanation like that. Not frequenting brothels is not a particularly high standard of good behavior.

So the situation leads me to reserve my judgement. Perhaps the reason I shouldn’t read too much into Ned’s thought about Rhaegar, here, is not because of a possibility that I can imagine, but because of the possibilities that I can’t imagine.

The Mysterious Rhaegar

Everywhere I look, Rhaegar Targaryen is shrouded in mystery. According to Barristan Selmy, who served in close proximity to child Rhaegar for many years as a knight of King Aerys’s Kingsguard, it was said that no man ever knew Prince Rhaegar, truly.

No Man Ever Knew Prince Rhaegar

“Did you know my brother Rhaegar as well?”

“It was said that no man ever knew Prince Rhaegar, truly. I had the privilege of seeing him in tourney, though, and often heard him play his harp with its silver strings.”

Ser Jorah snorted. “Along with a thousand others at some harvest feast. Next you’ll claim you squired for him.”

“I make no such claim, ser. Myles Mooton was Prince Rhaegar’s squire, and Richard Lonmouth after him. When they won their spurs, he knighted them himself, and they remained his close companions. Young Lord Connington was dear to the prince as well, but his oldest friend was Arthur Dayne.”

“The Sword of the Morning!” said Dany, delighted. “Viserys used to talk about his wondrous white blade. He said Ser Arthur was the only knight in the realm who was our brother’s peer.”

Whitebeard bowed his head. “It is not my place to question the words of Prince Viserys.” (—Barristan, Daenerys and Jorah, ASOS Daenerys I)

Barristan says that Rhaegar loved to play the harp, that Myles Mooton and Richard Lonmouth were Rhaegar’s squires, and Rhaegar’s oldest friend was none other than Ser Arthur Dayne — another knight of Aerys’ Kingsguard, and who is widely considered the best swordsman of the era. My impression is that Rhaegar was a private man, and that he had many loyal friends and admirers.

Isn’t that a strange combination of characteristics? How can a man be so private that a common opinion of him is that no man ever truly knew him, yet still accumulate such a large and loyal entourage of friends and admirers?

Maybe it’s to be expected, if for no other reason than that he’s the crown prince. Who in his right mind wouldn’t want to be friends with the future king?

Still, it has been my experience in life that people who keep to themselves also tend to keep few friends. The reputations that shine far and wide are usually those of people who share their deeper selves openly and often. Because of these things, I have never been able to shake the feeling that Rhaegar’s privateness is somehow at odds with his shining aura of a reputation.

I notice, too, that the paradox of Rhaegar’s privateness and popularity characterizes the dissonance between what the characters think about Rhaegar and what the readers think about Rhaegar. Rhaegar is loved by all the characters who express an opinion about him except for Robert Baratheon, yet reviled by all the readers who express an opinion about him except for those who are reserving their judgement.

u/djjazzydwarf

15 pts 2022

a piece of shit who cheated on his wife with a teenage girl he kidnapped and got his whole family except for his mom and two siblings killed. [1]

In this way, the story may be written so that readers who are reserving their judgement about Rhaegar find themselves sharing the category of outlier with Robert Baratheon. Perhaps the reader’s unwillingness to condemn Rhaegar is a bit of villainy that A Song of Ice and Fire is retroactively exposing in those readers, just as it retroactively exposed the villainy in Robert when we and Ned progressively learned of his failures as a king, father and husband.

On the other hand, the story may be written so that the readers who find themselves sharing the category of outlier with Robert are the ones who condemn Rhaegar. If Lyanna went with Rhaegar willingly, then both Robert’s and the reader’s criticisms of Rhaegar kidnapping and raping Lyanna are misinformed.

Many of Rhaegar’s critics in the readership stop short of accusations of rape, instead criticizing him for statuatory rape (sex with a person below age 18), ephebophelia (sexual attraction to post-pubescent teens), pedophilia (sexual attraction to pre-pubescent children), or statutory kidnapping (transporting a person who is not capable of consenting to transport).

So, my first takeaway is that A Song of Ice and Fire may be hiding how or why Rhaegar can be so popular yet so private.

It Seems I Must Be A Warrior

Dany turned back to the squire. “I know little of Rhaegar. Only the tales Viserys told, and he was a little boy when our brother died. What was he truly like?”

The old man considered a moment. “Able. That above all. Determined, deliberate, dutiful, single-minded. There is a tale told of him … but doubtless Ser Jorah knows it as well.”

“I would hear it from you.”

“As you wish,” said Whitebeard. “As a young boy, the Prince of Dragonstone was bookish to a fault. He was reading so early that men said Queen Rhaella must have swallowed some books and a candle whilst he was in her womb. Rhaegar took no interest in the play of other children. The maesters were awed by his wits, but his father’s knights would jest sourly that Baelor the Blessed had been born again. Until one day Prince Rhaegar found something in his scrolls that changed him. No one knows what it might have been, only that the boy suddenly appeared early one morning in the yard as the knights were donning their steel. He walked up to Ser Willem Darry, the master-at-arms, and said, ‘I will require sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior.’”

“And he was!” said Dany, delighted.

“He was indeed.” Whitebeard bowed. (—Barristan to Daenerys, ASOS Daenerys I)

Perhaps the most enigmatic moment of Rhaegar happens in this story from his boyhood. He was very interested in books, and then one day he found something in his scrolls that compelled him to become a warrior. So what was it that Rhaegar found in his scrolls that compelled him to become a warrior?

Elsewhere in the story, I can see that Rhaegar may have been interested in prophecy.

“He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire.” (ACOK Daenerys IV)

So maybe what Rhaegar found in his scrolls was a prophecy.

While that explanation makes enough sense by itself, I notice that this story from Rhaegar’s boyhood contains another explanation for why Rhaegar felt compelled to become a warrior. If you like, read it again and see if you can spot it, too.

The maesters were awed by his wits, but his father’s knights would jest sourly that Baelor the Blessed had been born again. Until one day Prince Rhaegar found something in his scrolls that changed him. No one knows what it might have been, only that the boy suddenly appeared early one morning in the yard as the knights were donning their steel.

Rhaegar’s fixation on books was causing him to become the subject of mockery among the knights that serve the royal family.

Mockery from ordinary knights could have a strong influence on a boy, but these knights are no ordinary knights. King Aerys’s knights include the most famous knights in the realm such as Arthur Dayne, Gerold Hightower and Lewyn Martell. Sour jests from famous knights such as these might have a strong influence on young Rhaegar, indeed, if he were to overhear them.

So, maybe Rhaegar’s sudden compulsion to become a warrior was as much or more because of the sour jests than because of something from the library.

I can even see a whisper of the sour jests in the attitudes of the knight Ser Rodrik Cassell.

“My name is Marillion,” the singer said, plucking a string on his woodharp. “Doubtless you’ve heard me play somewhere?”

His manner made Catelyn smile. Few wandering singers ever ventured as far north as Winterfell, but she knew his like from her girlhood in Riverrun. “I fear not,” she told him.

He drew a plaintive chord from the woodharp. “That is your loss,” he said. “Who was the finest singer you’ve ever heard?”

“Alia of Braavos,” Ser Rodrik answered at once.

“Oh, I’m much better than that old stick,” Marillion said. “If you have the silver for a song, I’ll gladly show you.”

“I might have a copper or two, but I’d sooner toss it down a well than pay for your howling,” Ser Rodrik groused. His opinion of singers was well known; music was a lovely thing for girls, but he could not comprehend why any healthy boy would fill his hand with a harp when he might have had a sword. (AGOT Catelyn V)

After the singer Marillion introduces himself to Catelyn, Ser Rodrik wonders why any healthy boy would become a musician when he could become a warrior instead.

Marillion and Rhaegar both being harpists, Rodrik’s attitude applies to Rhaegar just as well as it does to Marillion. In this way, A Song of Ice and Fire may be validating the “knights jested sourly” explanation for Rhaegar’s sudden interest in combat training.

So my second takeaway is that Young Rhaegar’s sudden interest in combat training may have been caused more by sour jests than by prophecy.

He Seldom Entered The Lists

Rhaegar’s mysteriousness even pervades his tourney habits.

“Prince Rhaegar’s prowess was unquestioned, but he seldom entered the lists. He never loved the song of swords the way that Robert did, or Jaime Lannister. It was something he had to do, a task the world had set him. He did it well, for he did everything well. That was his nature. But he took no joy in it. Men said that he loved his harp much better than his lance.” (—Barristan, ASOS Daenerys IV)

Barristan says he seldom entered the lists, meaning the jousting tournaments.

Since I know that Rhaegar competed in the Tourney at Harrenhal, this unassuming piece of information retroactively creates a new little mystery in Meera Reed’s Tourney at Harrenhal story. The new mystery is: Why did Rhaegar compete at the Tourney at Harrenhal?

There are a number of simple answers I could imagine. Maybe Rhaegar was in a good mood, he wanted to have some fun, or he felt a sense of duty to put on a good show for the lords, ladies and commonfolk of the Seven Kingdoms.

Still, with Rhaegar being described by Barristan as a deliberate man, and with Rhaegar’s interest in combat being described as a duty rather than a passion, the fact that Rhaegar seldom entered the lists seems to suggest that he had some motivation for entering the lists at the Tourney at Harrenhal that is more interesting than those ones. It also seems to suggest that we’ll eventually find out what it was.

So my third takeaway is that A Song of Ice and Fire may be hiding a good reason why Rhaegar entered the lists at the Tourney at Harrenhal.

There Was A Melancholy To Prince Rhaegar

As Daenerys waited in her tent for news of the result of the battle of Yunkai, she asked Barristan to tell her a reassuring story about her brother Rhaegar winning a tournament.

Dany did not want to hear about Rhaegar being unhorsed. “But what tourneys did my brother win?”

“Your Grace.” The old man hesitated. “He won the greatest tourney of them all.”

“Which was that?” Dany demanded.

“The tourney Lord Whent staged at Harrenhal beside the Gods Eye, in the year of the false spring. A notable event. Besides the jousting, there was a mêlée in the old style fought between seven teams of knights, as well as archery and axe-throwing, a horse race, a tournament of singers, a mummer show, and many feasts and frolics. Lord Whent was as open handed as he was rich. The lavish purses he proclaimed drew hundreds of challengers. Even your royal father came to Harrenhal, when he had not left the Red Keep for long years. The greatest lords and mightiest champions of the Seven Kingdoms rode in that tourney, and the Prince of Dragonstone bested them all.”

“But that was the tourney when he crowned Lyanna Stark as queen of love and beauty!” said Dany. “Princess Elia was there, his wife, and yet my brother gave the crown to the Stark girl, and later stole her away from her betrothed. How could he do that? Did the Dornish woman treat him so ill?”

“It is not for such as me to say what might have been in your brother’s heart, Your Grace. The Princess Elia was a good and gracious lady, though her health was ever delicate.”

Dany pulled the lion pelt tighter about her shoulders. “Viserys said once that it was my fault, for being born too late.” She had denied it hotly, she remembered, going so far as to tell Viserys that it was his fault for not being born a girl. He beat her cruelly for that insolence. “If I had been born more timely, he said, Rhaegar would have married me instead of Elia, and it would all have come out different. If Rhaegar had been happy in his wife, he would not have needed the Stark girl.”

“Perhaps so, Your Grace.” Whitebeard paused a moment. “But I am not certain it was in Rhaegar to be happy.”

“You make him sound so sour,” Dany protested.

“Not sour, no, but … there was a melancholy to Prince Rhaegar, a sense …” The old man hesitated again.

“Say it,” she urged. “A sense … ?”

“… of doom. He was born in grief, my queen, and that shadow hung over him all his days.”

Viserys had spoken of Rhaegar’s birth only once. Perhaps the tale saddened him too much. “It was the shadow of Summerhall that haunted him, was it not?”

“Yes. And yet Summerhall was the place the prince loved best. He would go there from time to time, with only his harp for company. Even the knights of the Kingsguard did not attend him there. He liked to sleep in the ruined hall, beneath the moon and stars, and whenever he came back he would bring a song. When you heard him play his high harp with the silver strings and sing of twilights and tears and the death of kings, you could not but feel that he was singing of himself and those he loved.” (—Daenerys and Barristan, ASOS Daenerys IV)

In this passage, Barristan describes the Tourney at Harrenhal to Daenerys, highlighting Rhaegar’s impressive performance in the joust. Dany’s response gives voice to one of the concerns heard from the readers.

u/DurranVDragonsBane

12 pts 2022

And don’t forget the kids. People are still gonna romanticise this. It makes wanna puke🤮

My heart breaks for Elia and her children. They were the actual victims and the tragedy 😭 [1]

Dany points out that, to all outward appearances, Elia Martell is the most aggrieved person in the Queen of Love and Beauty scandal. This observation resonates with one of our takeaways from chapter nine.

A Song of Ice and Fire is hiding Elia Martell’s reaction to Rhaegar crowning Lyanna the queen of love and beauty.

Dany wonders if the reason Rhaegar gave the laurel to Lyanna was because Elia treated Rhaegar poorly. Similarly, Viserys seems to think Rhaegar needed Lyanna because he wasn’t happy enough with Elia. It’s curious that both Dany and Viserys presume that Elia is to blame. Maybe their love for their brother Rhaegar is causing them to turn a blind eye to the possibility that Rhaegar is at fault. Or maybe Rhaegar’s glowing reputation reasonably leads them to the conclusion that the rift in Rhaegar’s marriage must be Elia’s fault.

Even though it makes sense for Dany and Viserys to think this way, their tendency to blame Elia is unexpected, ringing uncomfortably in contrast to the audience’s tendency to blame Rhaegar.

Barristan says that Rhaegar had a melancholy to him, a sense of doom about him, that he was born in grief and a shadow hung over him all his days. But Barristan distinguishes all of this from sourness, saying that Rhaegar was not a sour person. It sounds like Rhaegar may have been in touch with the tragic nature of life, and that he felt a connection with tragedy more deeply than most people do.

My takeaway is that Rhaegar felt sensitive to and connected with tragedy.

Rhaegar and Prophecy

The story about Rhaegar’s bookishness and the time he found something in his scrolls that compelled him to become a warrior leads me to consider that Rhaegar was very interested in something that can be found in a book or scrolls. In the following passage, Daenerys is seeing visions in the House of the Undying, and one of them is a vision of Rhaegar speaking to Elia after the birth of their son.

His Is The Song Of Ice And Fire

“Let him be the king of ashes.” Drogon shrieked, his claws digging through silk and skin, but the king on his throne never heard, and Dany moved on.

Viserys, was her first thought the next time she paused, but a second glance told her otherwise. The man had her brother’s hair, but he was taller, and his eyes were a dark indigo rather than lilac. “Aegon,” he said to a woman nursing a newborn babe in a great wooden bed. “What better name for a king?”

“Will you make a song for him?” the woman asked.

“He has a song,” the man replied. “He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire.” He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany’s, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door. “There must be one more,” he said, though whether he was speaking to her or the woman in the bed she could not say. “The dragon has three heads.” He went to the window seat, picked up a harp, and ran his fingers lightly over its silvery strings. Sweet sadness filled the room as man and wife and babe faded like the morning mist, only the music lingering behind to speed her on her way. (ACOK Daenerys IV)

Rhaegar’s speaking parts all show me that Rhaegar was pursuing the fulfillment of prophecy. But how many prophecies is Rhaegar pursuing? He mentions the prince that was promised, and that could be one prophecy. He mentions a song of ice and fire, and that could be either a second prophecy or a second part of the first prophecy. He mentions that the dragon has three heads, and that could be either a third prophecy or yet another part of the first prophecy.

Rhaegar seems to think that the song of ice and fire in some way belongs to or accompanies the prince that was promised. So at least according to Rhaegar, the prince that was promised and the song of ice and fire are parts of the same prophecy.

Then Rhaegar says there must be one more and the dragon has three heads. Apparently, Rhaegar considers his children to be symbolic of the three heads of the dragon on the Targaryen sigil. Since Aegon is only Rhaegar’s second child, he believes he needs to make one more child to fulfill the prophecy.

There are a lot of questions I can ask about this scene. For a start, why does the dragon on the Targaryen sigil have three heads anyway? Real dragons don’t have three heads, so what is it supposed to represent?

The three-headed dragon on the Targaryen sigil represents the three people who conquered the continent of Westeros and the three dragons they used to do it: Aegon rode Balerion, Visenya rode Vhagar, and Rhaenys rode Meraxes. So apparently the Targaryen sigil represents a three-way cooperation of conquest, leadership and heroism in the Targaryen family.

Considering that, it’s no wonder why Rhaegar believes the prince that was promised is three people. Rhaegar believes the prince that was promised will be a Targaryen, and Targaryen heritage is about three people working together as one unit. So, even though the phrase “the prince that was promised” suggests that the hero of prophecy is one person, if I believed like Rhaegar that the hero of prophecy must be a Targaryen, then the three heads on the Targaryen sigil would reasonably lead me to think that the hero of prophecy can be three people.

To conclude this passage, two things I take away from it are:

The Prince That Was Promised prophecy and the Song of Ice and Fire prophecy are part of the same prophecy.

Rhaegar’s interpretation of The Prince That Was Promised prophecy is Targaryen-centric.

A Song Of Love And Doom

In this chapter, Jon Connington has recently captured his home castle Griffin’s Roost.

Yet when they parted, Jon Connington did not go to the sept. Instead his steps led him up to the roof of the east tower, the tallest at Griffin’s Roost. As he climbed he remembered past ascents—a hundred with his lord father, who liked to stand and look out over woods and crags and sea and know that all he saw belonged to House Connington, and one (only one!) with Rhaegar Targaryen. Prince Rhaegar was returning from Dorne, and he and his escort had lingered here a fortnight. He was so young then, and I was younger. Boys, the both of us. At the welcoming feast, the prince had taken up his silverstringed harp and played for them. A song of love and doom, Jon Connington recalled, and every woman in the hall was weeping when he put down the harp. Not the men, of course. Particularly not his own father, whose only love was land. Lord Armond Connington spent the entire evening trying to win the prince to his side in his dispute with Lord Morrigen. (—Thoughts of Jon Connington, ADWD The Griffin Reborn)

Throughout several of Jon’s thoughts involving Rhaegar in ADWD, there’s an unmistakable tone of love and longing. Jon fondly remembers a time when Rhaegar visited Griffin’s Roost as a young man. Jon and Rhaegar visited the top of the highest tower together, where the lands of House Connington are best surveyed. I can see that Jon Connington is plainly in love with Rhaegar, even if his love was unrequited.

u/KingLittlefinger

447 points

He’s secretly in love with Rhaegar, so it was never a hard sell. [1]

Jon’s love of Rhaegar extends to Rhaegar’s son Aegon (Young Griff), who has been in Jon’s care for much of his life in exile. In the same chapter, Jon even harbors some resentment of Elia Martell, no doubt because Jon wanted Rhaegar himself and he’s jealous that she was Rhaegar’s wife.

“A bride for our bright prince. Jon Connington remembered Prince Rhaegar’s wedding all too well. Elia was never worthy of him. She was frail and sickly from the first, and childbirth only left her weaker. After the birth of Princess Rhaenys, her mother had been bedridden for half a year, and Prince Aegon’s birth had almost been the death of her. She would bear no more children, the maesters told Prince Rhaegar afterward. (—Thoughts of Jon Connington, ADWD The Griffin Reborn)

Since the maesters told Rhaegar that Elia would bear no more children after Aegon, that can be a good explanation for why Rhaegar pursued Lyanna. He needed a third baby to fulfill a prophecy, but Elia couldn’t bear it, so Rhaegar turned to Lyanna instead. But Elia gave birth to Aegon after the Tourney at Harrenhal, so this explanation doesn’t make sense with the order of events. Though, it’s possible that Rhaegar noticed Elia’s fragility and assumed that she wouldn’t be able to bear more children after Aegon, before the maesters told him that.

During the feast at Griffin’s Roost, Rhaegar played a song on his harp that Jon describes as a song of love and doom. This description fits with the sense of tragedy and melancholy in other descriptions of Rhaegar and his music. I notice, too, that the description fits with the song from the prophecy that Rhaegar mentioned in Dany’s vision. “His is the song of ice and fire.”

These “song of blank and blank” phrases echo the title of the series. What stronger way than this for a story to signal that something is important?

So maybe “a song of love and doom” informs the meaning of the song of ice and fire. Maybe ice represents love and fire represents doom.

Before I become as obsessed with prophecy as Rhaegar was, my takeaway from this passage is that Jon Connington was in love with Rhaegar.

Images In Indigo

In the House of the Undying, Dany sees a rapid sequence of visions — images in indigo. Indigo is a color that’s blue with a reddish tint, a color I’m more apt to call purple. One of the visions depicts the moment of Rhaegar’s death.

“Help me. Show me.”

. . . help her . . . the whispers mocked. . . . show her . . .

Then phantoms shivered through the murk, images in indigo. Viserys screamed as the molten gold ran down his cheeks and filled his mouth. A tall lord with copper skin and silvergold hair stood beneath the banner of a fiery stallion, a burning city behind him. Rubies flew like drops of blood from the chest of a dying prince, and he sank to his knees in the water and with his last breath murmured a woman’s name. . . . mother of dragons, daughter of death . . . Glowing like sunset, a red sword was raised in the hand of a blue-eyed king who cast no shadow. A cloth dragon swayed on poles amidst a cheering crowd. From a smoking tower, a great stone beast took wing, breathing shadow fire. . . . mother of dragons, slayer of lies . . . Her silver was trotting through the grass, to a darkling stream beneath a sea of stars. A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly. A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. . . . mother of dragons, bride of fire . . . (ACOK Daenerys IV)

Taken literally, this vision shows me that Rhaegar murmured a woman’s name with his last breath. I can’t imagine what it might mean symbolically, so I feel safe to stick to a literal reading of it.

Whose name did Rhaegar murmur? The name of his wife Elia? Maybe it was the name of Lyanna.

If Jon is the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, then the line about the blue flower growing in a wall of ice represents Jon. I know that a blue flower represents Lyanna, and the wall of ice can only be the Wall, and I can see that the Wall is the place in the story where Jon does much of his development, or “growing,” as a person and leader. So Jon Snow can be interpreted as a blue flower growing in a chink in a wall of ice, or, a piece of Lyanna Stark that’s growing at the Wall.

This symbolic meaning being so clear, it is regarded widely by readers as the strongest confirmation of Jon’s maternity.

My takeaway is that A Song of Ice and Fire is hiding the woman’s name that Rhaegar murmured with his last breath.

The Desirable Rhaegar

In A Feast for Crows, Cersei Lannister’s thoughts tell us her version of the story of the time she almost married Rhaegar.

He Was More Than A Man

Margaery’s clumsy attempts at seduction were so obvious as to be laughable. Tommen is too young for kisses, so she gives him kittens. Cersei rather wished they were not black, though. Black cats brought ill luck, as Rhaegar’s little girl had discovered in this very castle. She would have been my daughter, if the Mad King had not played his cruel jape on Father. It had to have been the madness that led Aerys to refuse Lord Tywin’s daughter and take his son instead, whilst marrying his own son to a feeble Dornish princess with black eyes and a flat chest.

The memory of the rejection still rankled, even after all these years. Many a night she had watched Prince Rhaegar in the hall, playing his silver-stringed harp with those long, elegant fingers of his. Had any man ever been so beautiful? He was more than a man, though. His blood was the blood of old Valyria, the blood of dragons and gods. When she was just a little girl, her father had promised her that she would marry Rhaegar. She could not have been more than six or seven. “Never speak of it, child,” he had told her, smiling his secret smile that only Cersei ever saw. “Not until His Grace agrees to the betrothal. It must remain our secret for now.” And so it had, though once she had drawn a picture of herself flying behind Rhaegar on a dragon, her arms wrapped tight about his chest. When Jaime had discovered it she told him it was Queen Alysanne and King Jaehaerys.

She was ten when she finally saw her prince in the flesh, at the tourney her lord father had thrown to welcome King Aerys to the west. Viewing stands had been raised beneath the walls of Lannisport, and the cheers of the smallfolk had echoed off Casterly Rock like rolling thunder. They cheered Father twice as loudly as they cheered the king, the queen recalled, but only half as loudly as they cheered Prince Rhaegar.

Seventeen and new to knighthood, Rhaegar Targaryen had worn black plate over golden ringmail when he cantered onto the lists. Long streamers of red and gold and orange silk had floated behind his helm, like flames. Two of her uncles fell before his lance, along with a dozen of her father’s finest jousters, the flower of the west. By night the prince played his silver harp and made her weep. When she had been presented to him, Cersei had almost drowned in the depths of his sad purple eyes. He has been wounded, she recalled thinking, but I will mend his hurt when we are wed. Next to Rhaegar, even her beautiful Jaime had seemed no more than a callow boy. The prince is going to be my husband, she had thought, giddy with excitement, and when the old king dies I’ll be the queen. Her aunt had confided that truth to her before the tourney. “You must be especially beautiful,” Lady Genna told her, fussing with her dress, “for at the final feast it shall be announced that you and Prince Rhaegar are betrothed.”

Cersei had been so happy that day. Elsewise she would never have dared visit the tent of Maggy the Frog. She had only done it to show Jeyne and Melara that the lioness fears nothing. I was going to be a queen. Why should a queen be afraid of some hideous old woman? The memory of that foretelling still made her flesh crawl a lifetime later. Jeyne ran shrieking from the tent in fear, the queen remembered, but Melara stayed and so did I. We let her taste our blood, and laughed at her stupid prophecies. None of them made the least bit of sense. She was going to be Prince Rhaegar’s wife, no matter what the woman said. Her father had promised it, and Tywin Lannister’s word was gold.

Her laughter died at tourney’s end. There had been no final feast, no toasts to celebrate her betrothal to Prince Rhaegar. Only cold silences and chilly looks between the king and her father. Later, when Aerys and his son and all his gallant knights had departed for King’s Landing, the girl had gone to her aunt in tears, not understanding. “Your father proposed the match,” Lady Genna told her, “but Aerys refused to hear of it. ‘You are my most able servant, Tywin,’ the king said, ‘but a man does not marry his heir to his servant’s daughter.’ Dry those tears, little one. Have you ever seen a lion weep? Your father will find another man for you, a better man than Rhaegar.”

Her aunt had lied, though, and her father had failed her, just as Jaime was failing her now. Father found no better man. Instead he gave me Robert, and Maggy’s curse bloomed like some poisonous flower. If she had only married Rhaegar as the gods intended, he would never have looked twice at the wolf girl. Rhaegar would be our king today and I would be his queen, the mother of his sons.

She had never forgiven Robert for killing him. (—Thoughts of Cersei, AFFC Cersei V)

Cersei’s thoughts about Rhaegar show me how much she desired him. She thinks of him as beautiful and more than a man, regarding his blood as that of dragons and gods. This is high praise coming from Cersei, who is considered more than beautiful even by characters who hate her. If after nearly two decades Cersei still feels so strongly about Rhaegar and the rejection, he must have been quite a vision.

Alternatively, maybe Cersei’s desire for Rhaegar has to do with more than his appearance. As the crown prince and future king, Rhaegar’s attractiveness may involve his status, wealth and power. In this way, Cersei’s attraction to Rhaegar might echo Forest Lass’s attraction to Forest Love.

For you shall be my lady love,

and I shall be your lord.

I’ll always keep you warm and safe,

and guard you with my sword. (ASOS Arya IV)

Forest Love referred to himself as “lord,” suggesting that he is either a lord or a lord’s heir.

At the tourney of Lannisport, the cheers for Rhaegar were twice as loud as they were for Tywin, and four times as loud as they were for Aerys. That reiterates Rhaegar’s popularity and amplifies the intrigue in one of our takeaways about Rhaegar from earlier:

A Song of Ice and Fire may be hiding how or why Rhaegar can be so popular yet so private.

When the ten-year-old Cersei was presented to the seventeen-year-old Rhaegar, Cersei thought that Rhaegar had been emotionally wounded, and she wanted to mend his hurt after they’re wed. It continues Rhaegar’s melancholic characterization.

My takeaway is that Cersei Lannister was in love with Rhaegar.

Rhaegar Targaryen Summary:

  • A Song of Ice and Fire may be hiding how or why Rhaegar can be so popular yet so private.
  • Young Rhaegar’s sudden interest in combat training may have been caused more by sour jests than by prophecy.
  • A Song of Ice and Fire may be hiding a good reason why Rhaegar entered the lists at the Tourney at Harrenhal.
  • Rhaegar felt sensitive to and connected with tragedy.
  • The Prince That Was Promised prophecy and the Song of Ice and Fire prophecy are part of the same prophecy.
  • Rhaegar’s interpretation of The Prince That Was Promised prophecy is Targaryen-centric.
  • Jon Connington was in love with Rhaegar.
  • A Song of Ice and Fire is hiding the woman’s name that Rhaegar murmured with his last breath.
  • Cersei Lannister was in love with Rhaegar.

Next: Chapter 11 – The Dragon Prince


Created Sep 20, 2022 – WIP
Updated Sep 22, 2022 – Cersei, v1.0 complete
Updated Oct 11, 2022 – Few minor changes
Updated Jun 22, 2023 – Minor changes