The fifth episode of House of the Dragon’s second season was bound to be quieter and less action-packed—an emotional comedown after the showy conclusion to last week’s “The Red Dragon and the Gold.” There were no dragon flames or on-screen deaths in Episode 5; the climax involved not a three-way aerial dragon duel, but a conversation in a library room.
The Game of Thrones franchise is at its best when it balances cinematic set pieces and political maneuvering, so as we all—characters and viewers alike—take a moment to breathe after the battle at Rook’s Rest, it’s a good week to focus on the latter. On the military side, Team Black is in decent shape given its dragon advantage even after Meleys’s death.
Even the blacks’ ostensible loss at Rook’s Rest is more like a mutually destructive draw, given the injuries to King Aegon II and Sunfyre. “Strange victory, if it was one,” Gwayne Hightower remarks on behalf of the greens. (The show’s constant refrains this season that neither side truly wins a civil war, along with the regular reminders of dragon deaths—either literal or symbolic, via cups or figurines—have become excessively on the nose.)
But the issue for Team Black is not merely that Rhaenyra is down two dragons after the deaths of Meleys and Arrax, or that Vhagar seems unbeatable, or that the greens currently control the Iron Throne. Her problems aren’t only about the flaws of the people around her, from Daemon’s defiance to Ser Alfred Broome’s prickliness in council meetings.
Rather, Rhaenyra’s overarching issue is this: Viserys’s named heir; the Princess of Dragonstone; and the self-proclaimed Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men is absolutely terrible at politics.
Rhaenyra’s political missteps extend from her interactions with highborns to her dealings (or lack thereof) with smallfolk, from King’s Landing to outside the capital city. And that weakness is costing her dearly in the Dance of the Dragons. Remember, Rhaenyra is the underdog in this battle for the crown. Aegon sits on the Iron Throne, controls the capital, and benefits from the general practice of misogyny. If she wants to reverse that tide, she’ll need to go above and beyond to woo allies to her side.
This problem isn’t new for House of the Dragon’s putative protagonist. Despite being raised as Viserys’s successor, spending her life by his side, and learning “the name of every lord and castle between Storm’s End and the Twins,” as she says in this episode, Rhaenyra has always lacked the deft hand required to manage a vast network of supporters.
Think about all of her ill-considered social decisions in Season 1. When Viserys’s court goes to the Kingswood for a royal hunt, Rhaenyra insults the other ladies instead of sitting and gossiping with them. When the crown arranges a grand tour for her to search for a husband, she cuts it short, thereby snubbing the great houses vying for her hand. While Alicent and Otto scheme and make alliances in King’s Landing, Rhaenyra departs for Dragonstone, where she stays for years, separated from the realm’s political proceedings.
Perhaps most of all, Rhaenyra doesn’t think or care about what her blatant affair with Harwin Strong means for her reputation. Would the public care as much about a male ruler who sired bastards? Certainly not. But this misogynistic perspective is inherently wrapped up in people’s perception of the princess, and she should be aware of that factor. (The fact that Jace is also her heir complicates matters further—he’s not a random dragonseed, but a potential future king.)
Now that the war has begun, even an older, wiser version of Rhaenyra is no better at this component of her duty. “I have done all I can from here, sent my messages, invoked my alliances,” she says in this episode, but those messages fell flat, and those alliances withered because of miscalculations such as assuming the lord of Storm’s End would side with Rhaenyra, without receiving anything in return, because of a promise his father made decades earlier.
Episode 5 presents one of the most instructive examples thus far of Rhaenyra’s diplomatic shortcomings, via a fleeting scene with Rhaena and Lady Jeyne Arryn in the Vale. Earlier, Jacaerys had visited the Vale off-screen to make a deal: Jeyne would support Rhaenyra’s claim and supply her with 15,000 fighting men as long as Rhaenyra sent her a dragon for defensive purposes. Rhaenyra obliged by shipping Tyraxes and Stormcloud, two tiny dragons bonded to two young children, to the Vale.
Yet while Rhaenyra might have technically fulfilled the obligations of the pact, exploiting loopholes is no way to uphold alliances. “Will you goad me, child, when your bread and shelter now depend on my pleasure?” Jeyne asks Rhaena—but she might as well be questioning Rhaenyra. It’s unclear whether those Arryn troops are now coming to Rhaenyra’s aid, and this interaction is striking enough that Dragon took us to the Vale for it, emphasizing Rhaenyra’s folly.
Rhaenyra also struggles to maneuver those within her own castle on Dragonstone; she goes incommunicado and leaves the island for long stretches of time, first to search for Luke’s body and then to conduct a secret meeting with Alicent. These absences stoke anxiety and distrust among the members of her war council—including Jace—because she acts without informing them of her plans, leaving them in a bind as far as interpreting her intentions as they pursue a greater strategy.
Not that her larger strategy reflects a particular knack for waging a successful war on all fronts—a critique that does apply to Rhaenyra, even if Alfred is insulting when he levies it against his liege. In particular, the lack of coordination between Rhaenyra and Daemon (and the way in which their personal problems have bled into political problems) does great harm to the blacks’ cause.
In this episode, Daemon does yet more damage when—spurned by the Brackens despite the threat of a Caraxes barbecue—the rogue prince asks Willem Blackwood to help with some off-the-books “persuading.” Daemon says, “There are things the crown itself must not be seen to do”—but as his recent experience with Blood, Cheese, and Jaehaerys shows, the crown may still be seen as the culprit even if it doesn’t physically carry out the act. Simon Strong tells Daemon in Episode 4 that many river lords have rejected Daemon’s entreaties because of Jaehaerys’s brutal death.
Further brutality backfires this week, as the Blackwoods’ “works of barbarity” so anger the region’s other river lords that they descend en masse upon Harrenhal to decry Team Black’s actions. “We shall not raise our banners for a tyrant,” they say, because “half the kingdom” knows Daemon is at fault.
Granted, Rhaenyra hasn’t approved of Daemon’s actions at Harrenhal; she isn’t even aware of his latest misdeeds in the Riverlands. But Rhaenyra is ultimately responsible for her chief lieutenant, as the public believes they’re working in tandem; she tacitly, if not explicitly, empowered him by marrying him, allying with him, and not corralling his unsavory exploits. “I’m sure your tactics, after all, are approved by the queen,” Alys Rivers taunts Daemon.
On the flip side of Daemon is Jace, the greatest natural politician on Rhaenyra’s side, who is now 3-for-3—with the Arryns, Starks, and Freys—in securing obeisance for Team Black. He’s smart, resourceful, and charismatic when dealing with heads of house. But Rhaenyra would rather he remain isolated on Dragonstone than use that ability to her benefit.
The blacks’ most successful diplomatic maneuver in this episode is forging an alliance with the Freys, ensuring safe crossing at the Twins for their troops from the North in exchange for a promise that the Freys can control Harrenhal after the war. Yet it fits with the broader theme of Rhaenyra’s poor political judgment that, in order to negotiate this alliance, Jace must expressly disobey his mother’s orders to remain on Dragonstone and sneak off the island on Vermax. Both the abuses and the triumphs engineered in Rhaenyra’s name are done without her knowledge.
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The juxtaposition between the high-definition display of Daemon’s horrors and the misuse of a mostly cooped-up Jace’s winning personality points to Rhaenyra’s larger lack of attention to her public image. The greens have tarred her with the epithet “Rhaenyra the Cruel”—the title of a recent episode—and she has done nothing to change that impression in the eyes of the masses. Alicent knows Rhaenyra doesn’t seek further bloodshed; so do Alfred and the blacks’ other councilors. But an understanding of Rhaenyra’s true character doesn’t extend beyond that small circle, and she doesn’t seem to grasp the challenge that poses for her.
For instance, whereas Otto twists little Jaehaerys’s death into a public relations coup, Rhaenyra doesn’t seem to make any attempt to exploit Luke’s death in a similar fashion. Perhaps Rhaenyra would view the use of her son’s death for political gain as soulless and disrespectful—but why doesn’t Team Black try to affix Aemond with the same “kinslayer” moniker that the greens pin on Rhaenyra?
Rhaenyra also largely neglects the considerations of the smallfolk, not just other high lords and ladies, and gives no affirmative case that she deserves to rule them beyond that such is her birthright. Compare Rhaenyra to another Targaryen queen, Game of Thrones’ Daenerys: As Dany romped throughout Slaver’s Bay, she freed enslaved people, offering a strong raison d’être for her rule. But the Mother of Dragons stumbled as she approached Westeros, where her justification for a crown was no longer a noble cause but rather a personal belief that she was owed the Iron Throne due to her ancestry.
The latter reasoning applies to Rhaenyra thus far in Dragon. Last month, during the cast’s press tour for the new season, Emma D’Arcy was asked why Team Black should win the Dance. “Because it’s my inheritance,” D’Arcy said with a laugh. “Because Daddy said so. … Mostly because I’m owed it.”
The actor’s tossed-off, somewhat-joking answer was nonetheless revealing about the character D’Arcy portrays. Rhaenyra might believe that Aegon the Conqueror’s dream says she is prophesied to sit on the Iron Throne. But the smallfolk don’t know that, and she offers no vision for their betterment. She doesn’t even seem to think about the smallfolk or have any relationship with them; recall in Season 1, when a younger Rhaenyra (then portrayed by Milly Alcock) scoffed about commoners, “Their wants are of no consequence.”
Rhaenyra gives no indication that her thinking has matured as she’s aged. Sure, she is kinder to Mysaria—a voice of the people, who warns, “Do not underestimate your subjects”—than others would be, and given how some kings and queens operate in this world, perhaps avoiding active cruelty is sufficient. Viewers clearly find it easier to support Rhaenyra than they do the greens. But that’s a mighty low bar to clear, and again, within the world of the show, most smallfolk believe she’s crueler than other lords because of Rhaenyra’s failed campaign strategy.
The smallfolk are clearly coming into greater focus in Dragon’s second season; scenes devoted to blacksmith Hugh and his family represent the public’s dissatisfaction with the effects of the war. Mysaria also seems to have hatched a plan in King’s Landing, involving maids Elinda and Dyana, that might bring the common people even further to the fore.
But it’s unclear whether Rhaenyra is positioned to take advantage of any of that unrest because she has either misplayed or outright ignored her political hand for so long now. “I wish to spill blood, not ink,” says Rhaenyra’s rival, Aegon—but that’s a myopic viewpoint designed to display his naivete and lack of royal fitness. The problem for Rhaenyra is that she’s also failing those softer battles that, according to Fire & Blood, “were fought with quills and ravens, with threats and promises, decrees and blandishments.” Thrones taught that the best military minds win with blood and ink, à la Tywin Lannister. Rhaenyra hasn’t mastered either part of that crucial combination.
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