And just like that, the biggest new show on the planet closed out its enthralling first season with — what else? — a blood-soaked dance of dragons in the sky. A beloved (and largely innocent) character died a grisly death, and in all likelihood his death will now trigger full-scale war in Westeros. For now, House of the Dragon fans can revel in a season that began somewhat sluggishly before finding its bearings and delivering a knockout home stretch — each of the last episodes were near-perfect hours of TV, full of dramatic tension, superb character evolution and gorgeously-mounted action scenes.
In the finale, there were two equally powerful scenes that will linger in the memory. First was Prince Daemon (Matt Smith, whose swagger throughout the season contained a core of tightly wound-up violence) crowning his wife Rhaenyra (Emma D’Arcy, whose performance in the finale surely deserves all the awards nominations) Queen in public—and almost choking her in private, when she expresses reservations about his ultra-violent plan of action. When Daemon finally releases Rhaenyra from his grip, we see that something has shifted between the two — but they also realise they don’t have the time to process their emotions right now, and therefore strike a temporary truce of sorts.
The second exemplary scene was between Princess Rhaenys Targaryen (Eve Best) and her husband Lord Corlys Velaryon (Steve Toussaint), after the former returns, war-weathered and wounded from his battle against the resurgent Triarchy. Lord Corlys reminds his wife that Rhaenyra had hurt their family in the past — only for Rhaenys to remind him that Rhaenyra was the only one in the realm who was showing any restraint at all. Without her steering the wheel, Westeros would descend into all-out bloodshed and ultimately, anarchy.
This was a very powerful moment precisely because it strikes at the heart of one of the overarching philosophical dilemmas of the Game of Thrones universe — how do you choose between your realm and your family’s interests? What is a wise ruler to do in situations like these? Not only does House of the Dragon handle questions like this much better than Game of Thrones ever did, it accomplishes this with none of the often-problematic stances and narrative choices of its illustrious predecessor. Quite simply, this is a much better show than Game of Thrones ever was, even at its peak.
Tapping into the source code
Let’s not beat around the bush on this one: George RR Martin’s direct involvement on House of the Dragon (he’s the co-creator and executive producer alongside Ryan Condal, who’s the showrunner and solo writer on the first and last episodes) was one of the biggest reasons behind the show’s superiority to Game of Thrones. House of the Dragon is based on Martin’s 2018 book Fire & Blood, set 300 years before the events of Game of Thrones. The narrative follows House Targaryen (whose ‘chosen words’ are ‘fire and blood’) and tells us the history of how the once dominant kingdom ruled over all of Westeros thanks to the fear inspired by their dragons.
There are two clear, massive improvements that Martin’s involvement has brought with it in House of the Dragon vis-à-vis Game of Thrones. The first—and female fans, especially, have confirmed this—is that the women are written so much better here. The second is that House of the Dragon understands the workings of both contemporary and medieval politics much better than Game of Thrones ever did.
Look at the awful treatment of female characters in the last two seasons of Game of Thrones. Missandei, a super-intelligent, funny and empathetic woman, was given a horrible, pointless, shitty death at the hands of The Mountain. The Queen of Thorns, Lady Olenna Tyrell, was similarly out-manoeuvred by Jaime Lannister—hardly a military mastermind, and yet we see him outsmart one of the sharpest minds in Westeros without much effort.
And then there was Daenarys Targaryen, the Dragon Queen herself. Her ‘madness’, seemingly provoked by the murder of Missandei (which she is forced to witness) feels so abrupt and forced. Two episodes before the finale, she was adamant about “not ruling over a kingdom of corpses” as her advisor (called ‘The Hand’ in the Westeros argot) Tyrion Lannister put it. And yet, in the penultimate episode ‘The Bells’ we see Daenarys having little to no hesitation before killing hundreds, maybe thousands of innocent, fleeing civilians—her dragon simply incinerates them in one fell swoop, even after Cersei and the Lannisters are waving the white flag (or in this case, ringing the church bells; hence the name of the episode) in surrender.
Compare that to the smart, methodical, well-thought-out approach to writing women in House of the Dragon. Let’s consider Princess Rhaenys (Eve Best), for example, who we meet at the beginning of the show as a contender for the throne. She is smart, strong and a legitimate dragonrider—none of which is true for the man who eventually becomes King, ie Viserys Targaryen (Paddy Considine). And yet, Rhaenys swallows her disappointment and pride and makes her peace with the unfairness of the situation. Now, in a much sillier show than this one, this ‘betrayal’ would have led to a villainous turn for Rhaenys.
Not so for House of the Dragon: Rhaenys goes on to become one of the show’s wisest characters—and never in a saccharine or boring way. She is a compelling mixture of pride and pragmatism: she knows that her dragons can rain fire on all her enemies, but she is also weary after a lifetime of conflicts and wants peace in Westeros, much more so than all the unstable, bloodthirsty men around her (like Prince Daemon or even her own husband Lord Corlys). The scene where she confronts her husband for cloaking his own ambition with wanting to see her as Queen — that whole sequence is one for the ages and should snag plenty of nominations for Eve Best, who excels throughout.
Of debates and dragons
Another obvious strength for House of the Dragon is, of course, its political finesse. The problem with Game of Thrones was that it was always trying too hard to channel a specific mode of politics—namely, the Machiavellian mode, replete with double crosses, ruthlessness and people stabbing each other in the back (literally and figuratively). There was virtually no difference, say, in the way Ned Stark dies in the first season and his son Rob Stark dies in the third. They were both let down by allies, both invited to foreign lands before realizing they have walked straight into a trap.
House of the Dragon, on the other hand, presents us with several different models of political leadership and lets us make up our own minds about the efficacy of each. The Machiavellian mode is personified by Otto Hightower (Rhys Ifans), the Hand to King Viserys. From the first episode itself we see that Otto plays the long game and is willing to do whatever it takes to rise to power, even if it means nudging his daughter Alicent (Olivia Cooke) to seduce the King.
However, not every character here is like Otto and they don’t share his ruthlessness. There’s Rhaenyra, who starts off as a wide-eyed idealist, but who becomes a hard-nosed pragmatist by the end of the series. Of course, the events of the finale have made it clear that she’s now out for good old-fashioned revenge, so that will mark yet another interesting turn for her character in season two. Lady Alicent herself, who rises to become Queen, is guided by a lot of things, but as her spat with Rhaenyra makes clear, jealousy is near the top of the list. “What about honor, what about duty? You only ever did what you wanted,” she tells Rhaenyra in a sneering tone, but you can see the hurt and the frustration in her voice and in her eyes. Alicent’s political decisions are guided by the fact that she never wanted power in the first place—her manipulative father convinced her that she or her children would never be safe if Rhaenyra (once her best friend and confidante) ascends to the throne.
And then there’s the political wildcard, Prince Daemon (Matt Smith), who represents the oldest kind of politician in the world—the conqueror. Through naked aggression and military prowess (both of which are represented by the massive dragons that he commands) Daemon feels that he can bring the world to its knees. As the season progresses, he sees the limitation in this approach but only up to a point, of course—he cannot fundamentally change who is or how he reacts to certain situations. George RR Martin therefore ensures that we get a ‘loose cannon’ character who’s nevertheless in complete control of his intellectual faculties, as contradictory as that might sound.
House of the Dragon now faces an immense task—to build upon the promise of its outstanding first season. This is where so many good shows fall by the wayside. But I get the feeling that Martin, Condal and co. will be up to the task.
Aditya Mani Jha is a Delhi-based independent writer and journalist, currently working on a book of essays on Indian comics and graphic novels.
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