Hello there!

I want to preface this theory by saying: I love the Sequel Trilogy. I grew up with these movies, and The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi mean a lot to me. That being said, I've always felt The Rise of Skywalker did the first two films dirty by stepping back from their boldest setups instead of giving us a truly unique final installment.

Because of that, I've been developing a major fan project called Star Wars: The Codex Canon. It's an overhauled timeline where I'll be integrating rewritten Legends stories into Canon, refining elements from both timelines, completely rewriting Episode IX, and building out a post-TLJ era that continues the story in a way that feels deeply satisfying, unique, and cohesive.

This post serves as both a theory for how Snoke should have been handled and the foundational building blocks of his character in The Codex Canon. It builds directly off my previous post about the First Order being a proxy state for the Grysk Hegemony.

Additionally, this theory dismisses the idea of Snoke being Palpatine's "strand-cast" puppet. For the sake of a better overarching story (sorry, The Rise of Skywalker!), we are mostly ignoring TRoS. Instead, this theory focuses on the lore established during The Force Awakens, The Last Jedi, and Charles Soule's The Rise of Kylo Ren graphic novel series.

If Snoke wasn't a Palpatine clone, who was he, where did he come from, and what was his actual goal? Here's my take:

"Long before the Republic existed, before hyperspace routes connected the galactic core to the outer worlds, there lived a human-like species known as the Oruuni (random name; let me know if I should replace it!). They inhabited the worlds clustered along the edge of the Unknown Regions. The Oruuni were not warriors or conquerors, but observers. Their civilization dedicated itself entirely to understanding patterns (even in the Force itself). They viewed existence as a vast equation waiting to be solved.

Among them was a Force-sensitive philosopher. He had no name, as their culture did not believe in such. However, he had a passion.

In his youth, this philosopher was brilliant, even by Oruuni standards. He was fascinated by what lay beyond the galactic horizon. Every species in the galaxy eventually turned its eyes inward toward politics, conquest, or survival. This philosopher was obsessed with what existed outside the map. He spent centuries studying ancient ruins scattered throughout the Unknown Regions. While most cultures viewed the Force as spiritual, the philosopher viewed it differently. He believed that consciousness itself was a navigational phenomenon. To him, the Force was was an infrastructure.

This obsession eventually led the philosopher to Exegol. Within the planet's catacombs existed ancient lens arrays used for studying the Unknown Regions (capable of amplifying perception across impossible distances!). The philosopher, now Snoke, looked through them and saw the Grysk Hegemony.

What Snoke encountered beyond the galactic barrier was not simply a species, but a form of collective intelligence operating on scales his people, or any people, had never imagined. Societies under the Grysks were stripped of individuality and therefore free from the inefficiencies of ego, nationalism, and emotional attachment.

To Snoke, this was beautiful! Most beings who encountered the Grysks lost themselves completely, but Snoke survived because his mind was uniquely structured around abstraction and observation. Thus, the Grysks transformed him.

His body aged unevenly. Bone structures warped. Muscles deteriorated. His mind became synchronized with entities millions of lightyears away.

Yet unlike many cosmic horror stories, Snoke never viewed himself as a victim. He loved what had happened. Where others saw invasion, he saw evolution. Where others saw extinction, he saw transcendence. The galaxy was fragmented. The Republic collapsed repeatedly. The Jedi failed repeatedly. The Sith failed repeatedly. Every civilization eventually descended into corruption and violence.

The Grysk Hegemony, however, endured. To Snoke, this was evidence that the galaxy deserved to be replaced.

For thousands of years, he became the Grysk Hegemony's First Navigator - not a slave, a missionary, a scholar, an architect, and a prophet.

The Oruuni eventually vanished and Snoke became the last of his species. He never mourned them. In fact, he often referred to extinction as a natural correction mechanism.

Throughout galactic history, Snoke became a ghost, rarely appearing directly and almost never taking the credit. He learned that civilizations are easier to manipulate when they believe themselves autonomous.

Entire political movements unknowingly emerged from information he seeded centuries earlier. Religious cults formed around prophecies he had manufactured. Corporate monopolies arose from economic models he subtly introduced through intermediaries.

Many historical figures encountered Snoke without ever realizing it. For example, a Republic Senator might've received an anonymous manuscript that spurned on their support of a certain bill. Again and again, the same invisible hand appears, nudging along history and cataloguing outcomes like a scientist conducting an experiment.

What makes Snoke frightening here, at least to me, is that he is actually curious. He studies species the way a biologist studies insects and spends decades observing cultures simply because he finds them interesting. He learns languages no one speaks anymore, collects extinct philosophies, and maintains entire archives dedicated to civilizations that vanished before the Republic ever existed. He can discuss Naboo poetry, Rakatan engineering, Sith theology, Chiss navigation, Jedi philosophy, and Corellian economics with equal expertise, yet none of this knowledge makes him compassionate. It merely makes him better at manipulation.

Unlike Palpatine, who desired power for himself, Snoke is fascinated by systems. He wants to understand why civilizations fail. The answer he repeatedly arrives at is individuality. Freedom. Choice. Love. All of which are things Star Wars traditionally celebrates; Snoke concludes they are flaws.

This ideological foundation explains his obsession with Luke Skywalker. Luke represents the opposite conclusion. Where Snoke sees chaos, Luke sees hope. Where Snoke sees inefficiency, Luke sees humanity. Their eventual encounter, spoken about in The Rise of Kylo Ren, becomes more mythological than physical (plus, I can't see Snoke twirling around with a lightsaber).

When Snoke approaches Luke in the years following Thrawn's defeat, he arrives as a scholar, an ancient wanderer, and a seeker of knowledge. For months, he studies Luke and slowly begins testing him. Conversations become debates, debates become arguments, and arguments become psychic duels. Eventually, Luke attempts to understand what lies behind Snoke's mind. What he finds is not darkness, which would've been familiar and, in a twisted way, more comforting. Instead, Luke encounters absence - a vast hunger stretching beyond the galaxy itself, with billions of thoughts moving as one. Snoke carries an intelligence so large it barely notices individuals.

For one of the first times in his life since A New Hope, Luke Skywalker experiences true terror. The confrontation that follows is swift and violent. Luke's green lightsaber splits Snoke's skull down the middle (the wound we see in the Sequel Trilogy), never fully healing.

From that moment onward, Snoke becomes obsessed with Luke's destruction. Not so much because Luke wounded him, but because Luke had the AUDACITY to reject someone as wordly and knowledgeable as him. For thousands of years, civilizations had eventually embraced Snoke's conclusions. Luke did not, choosing "inferior" humanity and infuriating Snoke.

This months-long dynamic Snoke and Luke had also explains how Han, Leia, Chewbacca, C-3PO, R2-D2, and later, the Resistance, know Snoke by name.

Years after his confrontation with Luke, Snoke's obsession moves toward Ben Solo (which is where things get even more disturbing). Much like Palpatine's grooming of Anakin, Snoke's manipulation of Ben is personal, predatory, and patient. He begins long before anyone realizes, planting ideas, creating emotional dependencies, and positioning himself as the one figure who truly understands him. He studies Ben's insecurities the way an entomologist studies insect behavior. He knows exactly when to offer praise, when to withdraw affection, and when to manufacture isolation.

By this point, the relationship between Snoke and Ben has very uncomfortable undertones because Snoke intentionally blurs the boundaries between mentor, father figure, confessor, friend, and god.

Ben becomes emotionally dependent on Snoke before he realizes he is being manipulated (which is exactly how Snoke intends it).

Snoke studies attachment because attachment is the easiest way to reshape identity, yet even then, Ben Solo is not his ultimate objective. Ben is merely a tool, or rather, a compass - the culmination of centuries of research into Force-sensitive navigation.

Through his studies of the Chiss Sky-Walkers, ancient Jedi records, and midichlorians, Snoke arrives at a startling conclusion. The Skywalker bloodline is directional. Anakin, Luke, Leia, and Ben possess unique relationships with spatial intuition through the Force.

To the Grysk Hegemony, Ben Solo is not a future emperor, but their infrastructure as a living beacon. As Snoke might put it, Ben is a biological lighthouse capable of guiding extragalactic fleets through barriers no machine can chart.

Everything Snoke builds exists to prepare for this moment. The First Order. The Supremacy. Starkiller Base. The political destabilization.

All of it serves the purpose of opening the door.

Meanwhile, Snoke constructs Caduun-Ves (the garden planet he presumably lived on during The Rise of Kylo Ren). The world appears beautiful, with massive glowing gardens, artificial oceans, perfect ecosystems, bioluminescent forests, and ancient statues, yet nothing there is natural. Every tree was engineered, every animal designed, and every ecosystem curated. It is a world where life exists only through control - a paradise stripped of freedom.

In many ways, Caduun-Ves is Snoke's vision for the galaxy itself: beautiful, efficient, and dead. Within its gardens, he entertains diplomats, studies rare species, and conducts philosophical conversations with prisoners.

Visitors often leave believing they have met a benevolent sage, only later realizing every conversation was an experiment. Every compliment a manipulation, every kindness calculated… even Snoke's use of the dark side is performative.

Snoke deliberately imitates Sith traditions: the robes, the lightning, the apprentice, the throne, the mythology. He understands that people respond to familiar archetypes. Kylo Ren wants to feel connected to Vader, therefore, Snoke gives him a Sith narrative.

Privately, however, Snoke considers both Jedi and Sith primitive tribes arguing over shadows on a cave wall.

He studies Force Dyads the same way. When he claims credit for Rey and Ben's connection, he is lying, but the lie reveals something important about Snoke - that he knows exactly what a Force Dyad is. He has spent centuries researching them and recognizes the phenomenon immediately, simply wanting Ben to believe he controls it. Knowledge itself becomes Snoke's greatest weapon.

Snoke knows secrets no living being should know - buried beneath extinct civilizations, hidden in hyperspace anomalies, etc. Snoke knows secrets even Palpatine never uncovered.

By the time of The Force Awakens, Snoke believes he has solved every variable. Luke is isolated, the Jedi are dead/dying, Ben belongs to him, and the Grysk arrival is inevitable. Then comes Rey. And finally, in The Last Jedi, Kylo Ren kills him.

In my eyes, the irony is perfect. For thousands of years, Snoke manipulated history, calculated outcomes, predicted behavior, studied civilizations, and observed every possibility, yet he never truly understood the one thing he despised the most: human choice.

In the final moment, Ben acts irrationally, emotionally, and most importantly, individually (the exact qualities Snoke spent millennia dismissing). His body falls in two pieces; the man who devoted his life to collective consciousness killed by an act of personal will.

And in death, Snoke's final horror emerges. He was never the master… only the herald. Only the voice.

Beyond the galactic barrier, the beings he worshipped are still on their way. Plans have been set in motion that cannot be undone.

For the first time in thousands of years, the galaxy must face the possibility that Snoke was right. Something far older, far larger, and far hungrier than any Sith or Empire has been patiently waiting in the dark between galaxies, and the only being who fully understood it has just been killed."

There you have it! My backstory for Snoke. I feel that framing Snoke like this changes his death in The Last Jedi from being a narrative dead-end into the catalyst for an even larger, more terrifying cosmic threat. It makes Kylo Ren's decision to strike him down hit way harder, and sets up a post-TLJ galaxy for The Codex Canon that is both dangerous and fresh!

Thoughts?

One of the most glaring inconsistencies in House of the Dragon is its construction of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Alicent Hightower as mothers. The series depicts Rhaenyra as an exceptionally attentive, incredibly loving, and emotionally intelligent parent, while Alicent is presented as a mother whose anxieties, repression, and rigidity have damaged her children. While parenthood is inherently complex - and children often differ wildly from their parents - this post-Episode 5 shift abandons the foundational characterization established in the first half of Season 1.

Rhaenyra

Simply put: Rhaenyra should not be the healthier parent of the two.

That doesn't mean Rhaenyra should be an abusive mother or a woman incapable of loving her children (S2 Alicent, I'm looking at you); she should be affectionate with them, protective of them, interested in their lives, and capable of care. However, none of those qualities erase the traits with which the series introduced her. Rhaenyra is (or rather, was) rebellious, impulsive, entitled, self-centered, demanding, and accustomed to having the people around her accommodate her desires. Her capacity for love is undeniable, but it is matched by her tendency to "consume" those around her.

I'm currently working on a rewrite of House of the Dragon, and this monologue (given by Rhaenys) perfectly describes Rhaenyra as a person:

"You consume people, Rhaenyra. They come to you whole, and in your thrall, they are diminished. Aemma's memory. Alicent's devotion. Vaemond's tongue. My son. You pluck from this family flesh that feeds your false likeness, and leave the living to reckon with the wounds."

That is the Rhaenyra we were given in Episodes 1-5 of HotD S1. She is not a misunderstood girl who wants to be free, but a princess who frequently treats other people's lives as resources available for her use. She expects Viserys's love to shield her from consequences. She expects Criston's unwavering loyalty even after crossing professional boundaries. She expects Laenor's political protection while building a separate family with Harwin Strong. When Vaemond challenges her children's legitimacy, she does not rely on persuasion, but violence.

Ultimately, Rhaenyra Targaryen is NOT the kind of person who should become a healthy parent simply because she has children. If anything, motherhood should expose a great contradiction in Rhaenyra: she loves her children but struggles to recognize them as separate entities from her own political project. She should defend them so aggressively that she fails to teach them accountability, inadvertently allowing their entitlement to fester. Plus, having Daemon as a father figure… that adds up to a big yikes!

Now, let's talk about Jacaerys Velaryon (Waters).

I like Jace. I think Jace is one of the stronger characters on Team Black, and I understand perfectly well why people love him. I cried at his death! However, I believe the fandom's tendency to point at Jace and say, "Look at how Rhaenyra raised such a gentleman!" exposes the issue. Jace should NOT be a gentleman (or at the very least, not in the uncomplicated sense) merely because Rhaenyra raised him. While he should be charming, intelligent, protective, and capable of controlling himself at court (much like Young Rhaenyra), beneath that polish, Jace should have inherited some of Rhaenyra's entitlement. He should believe that his family is entitled to what it claims. He should be courteous toward people he considers his equals while still having difficulty seeing the humanity of those "beneath him". Instead, the show frequently makes Jace the evidence that Rhaenyra's parenting worked - but why would it?

Rhaenyra's children grow up surrounded by an extraordinary amount of privilege, political protection, and institutional violence. Hell, Rhaenyra's youngest sons - Joffrey, Aegon III, and Viserys II - grow up with Daemon as a father! Jace, Luke, and Joffrey are told that they are legitimate despite everyone at court knowing otherwise. Their grandsire threatens mutilation against anyone who says otherwise. Vaemond Velaryon loses his life (and in Fire & Blood, the Silent Five lose their tongues) for challenging their legitimacy. Daemon, their latest father figure, murders him in front of the court, while their mother continues to insist that they are the rightful heirs. Their family expects other people to accept an enormous lie because acknowledging the truth would threaten them, and somehow, the boys emerge as almost entirely humble, emotionally healthy gentlemen.

While it's not impossible for Rhaenyra's children to be well-rounded people, it's certainly unconvincing. Jace, Luke, and Joffrey should have been products of their environment. They should be children who absorbed the values of their family. They should understand that people will die to preserve their position and not really care. They should understand that their mother's claim is not merely a philosophical question but the organizing principle of their lives. They should have an enormous sense of loyalty, but that loyalty should sometimes become an inability to recognize where their family's interests end and other people's rights begin.

Furthermore, TikTok loves to describe Rhaenyra and Laenor's relationship as a "healthy lavender marriage", and consequently describes Jace and Luke as having been raised in this wonderful environment with two loving fathers. There is certainly something touching about the affection between Rhaenyra, Laenor, Harwin, Jace, and Luke, but the fandom's tendency to romanticize the arrangement ignores how complicated and dysfunctional it actually is. Rhaenyra's children grow up knowing - or at minimum being surrounded by an environment in which they can eventually discover - that their legal father is not their biological father. Their mother is married to one man while carrying on a relationship with another and the children are growing up within a royal fishbowl where their family's survival hinges on a massive lie.

If Rhaenyra’s sons were truly products of their environment, they would display the ugly realities of aristocratic privilege.

- A Jace who can be charming and gracious at court but cruel to a servant would be more interesting than a Jace who is simply "the gentleman".
- A Luke who loves his mother but laughs when a servant is humiliated would allow us to infer about the environment in which he was raised.
- A Joffrey who is spoiled and reckless precisely because he is the youngest and most protected >!would make sense given his death!<.

If Rhaenyra's sons were going to inherit the worst aspects of her entitlement, then it would not be unreasonable for one of them to have a storyline involving sexual misconduct, either. Rhaenyra teaches her children that their claim must be defended, that they deserve what has been promised to them, and that the world is something they must force to accommodate them.

Alicent

Conversely, Alicent's family is treated by the writers and by the fandom as the total opposite: a toxic household where she is entirely to blame for her children's damage (and not the negligent father, but sure). This is where HotD gets Alicent Hightower especially wrong (besides selling out her sons, but I am choosing to ignore that for the sake of a discussion surrounding Season 1).

Alicent should have been a fantastic mother. Not because she is young and therefore incapable of mistakes, and not because she should somehow be perfect. Her youth matters in this, as she is still a teenager when she becomes queen, is maritally raped, and begins having children. Additionally, Alicent has been raised by a father who views her primarily as a political asset and is suddenly married to an older king who is emotionally unavailable and still grieving his first wife. Plus, she has children that are entangled in a succession crisis upon birth and is surrounded by people who constantly tell her what said children must become.

Of course Alicent will make mistakes - much like every parent - but those mistakes should come out of love for her children. If Alicent doesn't love her children, why is this war happening in the first place? But alas…

Alicent is introduced as kind, conscientious, dutiful, attentive, socially perceptive, emotionally intelligent, and concerned with other people's expectations. She has been conditioned to sacrifice herself for her family and for her friend(s). As a whole, Alicent is introduced as a courteous girl who believes that her value comes from fulfilling her obligations to others, which means motherhood should initially be the one place where Alicent refuses to repeat what was done to her. She should look at Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron and think: "You will not become what my father made me." Instead, the show makes Alicent incapable of understanding her children.

Aemond

As a child, Aemond was mocked because he did not have a dragon, humiliated by his older brother and his nephews, and later, is attacked/permanently disabled by said nephews. There is no reason why he should consequently have "mommy issues", as his mother is the one adult in his life who responds fiercely when he is injured. Alicent was enraged on Aemond's behalf, demanded an eye for an eye, physically confronted the king and his daughter, and was willing to challenge the entire royal household because her child had been maimed. Aemond, therefore, should understand that his mother loves him. His problem shouldn't be that "Oh, Mother never loved me." An interesting route to take for Aemond could've been "Mother loved me so fiercely that I learned, from her actions, that what was done to me must be avenged by any means possible."

Alicent should've raised Aemond to understand that being bullied did not make him weak and that being maimed did not make him less than. She should've taught him that he was entitled to justice, but because she is frightened for him and their family and is locked into a cycle of consistent retaliation, Aemond finds that strength is the only protection he has available. His eventual ruthlessness should not stem from maternal neglect, but maternal overprotection combined with a culture of violence.

Helaena

If Helaena is to remain a neurodivergent Dragon Dreamer, then Alicent should recognize the signs that she is overstimulated before anyone else does. Alicent should understand that Helaena shouldn't be forced into conventional courtly behavior. She should know when Helaena is frightened, when she needs silence, or when she is trying to communicate something that cannot be articulated conventionally. Because Alicent is herself a woman that's spent her life being forced to perform a role, she should understand - more than anyone else - why Helaena would be uncomfortable with the role imposed upon her. Their relationship could've been beautiful! I'm mad now, but let's keep going.

Aegon

Aegon is, perhaps, the biggest issue I have with House of the Dragon's writing choices regarding Alicent's parenting. The show's Aegon feels like a collection of all the reasons someone deserves to lose. Aegon did not need to be a rapist to be a broken man; the choice to make him one irreparably damaged his character, transforming a potentially rich exploration of duty and self-destruction into a shallow caricature of villainy. Instead of being driven by cruelty and excess, Aegon's central flaw should stem from an ingrained, almost suffocating love for his family. His core complex should be rooted in the realization that his very existence is a political catalyst, leading him to the conclusion that he must become a king he never wanted to be to ensure his loved ones survive the coming war. This internal martyrdom offers a far more devastating and narratively fulfilling crux than mere depravity, as Aegon's weight of expectation should originate from the pressure exerted onto him by Otto Hightower. Otto serves as the architect of Aegon's deepest anxieties, weaponizing the boy's natural affection for his siblings and mother by constantly whispering that failure to ascend the throne means their inevitable execution (he's not wrong, but could have gone about it in a much better manner). This dynamic would end up breeding an inferiority complex within Aegon; he feels he is never enough for the realm, but feels he must carry it anyway.

Conversely, Alicent should stand in stark contrast to her father, serving as Aegon's emotional anchor and the sole reason he retains his innate goodness. The bond between a mother and her firstborn often serves as the emotional bedrock of a child's development. Alicent, recognizing the burdens placed upon her son, would pour her empathy and protective instincts into shielding his spirit and validating his fears while trying to preserve his humanity. Her unconditional love creates a heartbreaking dichotomy: Aegon is, fundamentally, a good young man (nurtured by an exceptional mother) who is nevertheless being slowly crushed by the machinations of his grandsire and the inescapable gravity of his royal name. Writing Aegon from this lens changes him from a reviled antagonist into a, gasp, real human being - one who sacrifices his own happiness on the altar of familial duty.

When structuring each of these character arcs, the tension lies not in a protagonist's evil actions, but in the slow erosion of a good person forced into an impossible mold (like what HotD has done with Rhaenyra in Season 3, which I enjoy). Aegon should've been the embodiment of Alicent's insecurity and sense of duty, Helaena her sensitivity, Aemond her sense of duty made militaristic, and Daeron her courtesy/conscientiousness. Instead, HotD fashions them into four separate explanations for why Alicent failed as a mother and why she deserves the abuse she suffers throughout the Dance of the Dragons.

Rhaenyra's children should believe they deserve, while Alicent's children should believe they owe.

Rhaenyra's children should've had difficulty recognizing limits, while Alicent's children should've had difficulty setting their own.

Conclusion

There you go! Problem fixed. Every child of the Dance becomes a product of his or her family, which is far more compelling than dividing the children into "Rhaenyra's good kids" and "Alicent's bad kids".

The Rhaenyra of Season 1 shouldn't have naturally become an emotionally enlightened mother out of nowhere, she should remain Rhaenyra. Her love should be real, but so should her selfishness. Her protectiveness should be real, but so should her entitlement.

Likewise, Alicent should not become a terrible mother simply because the writers need her to. Alicent's defining characteristic is that she cares. She cares too much about duty, too much about appearances, too much about consequences, too much about what other people expect. She should be the kind of mother who writes Daeron letters because she cannot bear that her son is growing up away from her.

Rhaenyra and Alicent should not be opposites because one is a "good" parent and the other is a "bad" parent, they should be opposites because they produce different iterations of the damage inflicted upon them.

In Fire & Blood, the battle is essentially the opposite: Tumbleton is held by the Blacks before Hugh and Ulf betray them from within, allowing the Green army to capture the town. The betrayal itself is the turning point rather than an assault by the Black host.

Do you prefer the show's inversion of the battle, or do you think the book version works better? Which approach creates stronger character moments and consequences?

An aspect that's always fascinated me about the Dance of the Dragons is it's not a story with an objectively "rightful" monarch. I think George R. R. Martin intentionally constructed a succession crisis where both sides are operating under different interpretations of legitimacy. The Seven Kingdoms/Westeros itself never bothered establishing a single, universally accepted answer to the question of succession.

Team Black's argument is that Viserys publicly named Rhaenyra Princess of Dragonstone, required the great lords of the realm to swear oaths recognizing her as his heir, reaffirmed that decision for decades despite multiple opportunities to change it, and never revoked those declarations after Aegon was born. In a monarchy, the king is the source of legal authority. If the king cannot determine his own successor, then what does royal authority actually mean? The Blacks argue that the monarch's decree outweighs custom, and that breaking sworn oaths to the named heir undermines loyalty.

The Green argument, however, rests on precedent and is equally as compelling. The Great Council of 101 AC overwhelmingly favored Viserys over Rhaenys (or Laenor in the books) because the realm chose to pass over the female line in favor of the nearest male heir. Whether or not people agree with that decision morally is almost beside the point; the Council created the strongest legal precedent Westeros had ever seen for determining succession. Every lord in the realm knew that precedent. Under the customs that governed a feudal monarchy, Viserys's eldest legitimate son would naturally inherit before his daughter. Aegon's claim to the Iron Throne isn't simply because he's man, but because every inheritance dispute in the Seven Kingdoms is decided by custom and precedent rather than the personal wishes of the previous ruler. If a ruler is allowed to appoint anyone as heir, you wind up with another Maegor the Cruel. The Greens are defending what they believe the law already is.

Because of this, it is incredibly frustrating to see the Dance reduced to a modern political binary, where the Black claim is dismissed as a simple feminist parable and the Green claim is condemned as straightforward misogyny. While Westeros is undeniably a patriarchal society, mapping contemporary culture wars onto Rhaenyra and Aegon's conflict completely misunderstands the story.

Team Black, for instance, being reduced to a progressive movement fighting to break the glass ceiling severely undercuts the political philosophy driving Rhaenyra's supporters. The Blacks weren't fighting for gender equality whatsoever; they were defending the authority of the Crown and the sanctity of a sworn word. Their foundation rested on the undeniable right of the King to name his successor and the sacred oaths the lords of Westeros swore to uphold that choice.

Conversely, Team Green wasn't an alliance of prejudiced lords rallying to keep a woman off the throne; they were rallying to protect an established legal order. In a feudal society, male-preference inheritance was the mechanism that kept power stable across generations. To the Greens, upholding the male line wasn't really about Aegon's gender, but honoring the binding precedent of the Great Council of 101 AC. They believed that maintaining this constitutional consistency was the only way to prevent a succession crisis from tearing the realm apart, prioritizing the rule of law over the whims of a single monarch.

This is where the debate becomes so interesting to me. Was the Great Council establishing binding constitutional precedent for all future successions, or was it simply resolving one specific dispute? Could Viserys legally overturn precedent through royal decree, or was even the king constrained by customs that existed above his personal wishes? Westeros never provides a definitive answer because, frankly, medieval kingdoms often didn't have one. Succession crises throughout history were frequently decided by competing legal interpretations rather than clear-cut rules.

This is also why I think throwing around the word "usurper" is missing the point (and why I wish House of the Dragon used that term less). A usurper is someone who seizes power without a legitimate claim. The entire reason the Dance is debated over 300 years later - both in-universe and by fans - is because both Rhaenyra and Aegon had legitimate claims rooted in different legal principles. Calling Rhaenyra "just a usurper" ignores that she was the king's publicly proclaimed heir and not once disinherited. Calling Aegon "just a usurper" ignores the immense weight of centuries of inheritance custom that kept the realm in balance and the precedent of the Great Council. If either claim were as obviously illegitimate as some fans insist, there wouldn't have been a civil war that split nearly every great house in Westeros down the middle.

That's why I've never liked reducing the Dance to "Rhaenyra is the rightful queen" or "Aegon is the one true king" as though either statement is self-evident. Both claims rest on legitimate legal principles that happen to collide. If you prioritize loyalty and the king's explicit designation of his heir, Rhaenyra's claim is persuasive. If you prioritize precedent, customary law, and the expectations established by the Great Council, Aegon's claim is equally as persuasive.

To me, that's precisely what makes the Dance of the Dragons such well-written fiction. It's not good versus evil, nor is it usurper versus rightful heir. Both sides believed they were defending the order of Westeros. Neither claim is so airtight that it completely invalidates the other, and because neither principle clearly superseded the other, the realm answered the question the only way medieval kingdoms often did: with civil war.

An aspect that's always fascinated me about the Dance of the Dragons is it's not a story with an objectively "rightful" monarch. I think George R. R. Martin intentionally constructed a succession crisis where both sides are operating under different interpretations of legitimacy. The Seven Kingdoms/Westeros itself never bothered establishing a single, universally accepted answer to the question of succession.

Team Black's argument is that Viserys publicly named Rhaenyra Princess of Dragonstone, required the great lords of the realm to swear oaths recognizing her as his heir, reaffirmed that decision for decades despite multiple opportunities to change it, and never revoked those declarations after Aegon was born. In a monarchy, the king is the source of legal authority. If the king cannot determine his own successor, then what does royal authority actually mean? The Blacks argue that the monarch's decree outweighs custom, and that breaking sworn oaths to the named heir undermines loyalty.

The Green argument, however, rests on precedent and is equally as compelling. The Great Council of 101 AC overwhelmingly favored Viserys over Rhaenys (or Laenor in the books) because the realm chose to pass over the female line in favor of the nearest male heir. Whether or not people agree with that decision morally is almost beside the point; the Council created the strongest legal precedent Westeros had ever seen for determining succession. Every lord in the realm knew that precedent. Under the customs that governed a feudal monarchy, Viserys's eldest legitimate son would naturally inherit before his daughter. Aegon's claim to the Iron Throne isn't simply because he's man, but because every inheritance dispute in the Seven Kingdoms is decided by custom and precedent rather than the personal wishes of the previous ruler. If a ruler is allowed to appoint anyone as heir, you wind up with another Maegor the Cruel. The Greens are defending what they believe the law already is.

Because of this, it is incredibly frustrating to see the Dance reduced to a modern political binary, where the Black claim is dismissed as a simple feminist parable and the Green claim is condemned as straightforward misogyny. While Westeros is undeniably a patriarchal society, mapping contemporary culture wars onto Rhaenyra and Aegon's conflict completely misunderstands the story.

Team Black, for instance, being reduced to a progressive movement fighting to break the glass ceiling severely undercuts the political philosophy driving Rhaenyra's supporters. The Blacks weren't fighting for gender equality whatsoever; they were defending the authority of the Crown and the sanctity of a sworn word. Their foundation rested on the undeniable right of the King to name his successor and the sacred oaths the lords of Westeros swore to uphold that choice.

Conversely, Team Green wasn't an alliance of prejudiced lords rallying to keep a woman off the throne; they were rallying to protect an established legal order. In a feudal society, male-preference inheritance was the mechanism that kept power stable across generations. To the Greens, upholding the male line wasn't really about Aegon's gender, but honoring the binding precedent of the Great Council of 101 AC. They believed that maintaining this constitutional consistency was the only way to prevent a succession crisis from tearing the realm apart, prioritizing the rule of law over the whims of a single monarch.

This is where the debate becomes so interesting to me. Was the Great Council establishing binding constitutional precedent for all future successions, or was it simply resolving one specific dispute? Could Viserys legally overturn precedent through royal decree, or was even the king constrained by customs that existed above his personal wishes? Westeros never provides a definitive answer because, frankly, medieval kingdoms often didn't have one. Succession crises throughout history were frequently decided by competing legal interpretations rather than clear-cut rules.

This is also why I think throwing around the word "usurper" is missing the point (and why I wish House of the Dragon used that term less). A usurper is someone who seizes power without a legitimate claim. The entire reason the Dance is debated over 300 years later - both in-universe and by fans - is because both Rhaenyra and Aegon had legitimate claims rooted in different legal principles. Calling Rhaenyra "just a usurper" ignores that she was the king's publicly proclaimed heir and not once disinherited. Calling Aegon "just a usurper" ignores the immense weight of centuries of inheritance custom that kept the realm in balance and the precedent of the Great Council. If either claim were as obviously illegitimate as some fans insist, there wouldn't have been a civil war that split nearly every great house in Westeros down the middle.

That's why I've never liked reducing the Dance to "Rhaenyra is the rightful queen" or "Aegon is the one true king" as though either statement is self-evident. Both claims rest on legitimate legal principles that happen to collide. If you prioritize loyalty and the king's explicit designation of his heir, Rhaenyra's claim is persuasive. If you prioritize precedent, customary law, and the expectations established by the Great Council, Aegon's claim is equally as persuasive.

To me, that's precisely what makes the Dance of the Dragons such well-written fiction. It's not good versus evil, nor is it usurper versus rightful heir. Both sides believed they were defending the order of Westeros. Neither claim is so airtight that it completely invalidates the other, and because neither principle clearly superseded the other, the realm answered the question the only way medieval kingdoms often did: with civil war.

Preface

The Dance of the Dragons is not a story about one side being good and the other side being evil. In my eyes, that's what makes it so compelling. Every faction is filled with people who are sympathetic, cruel, justified, hypocritical, and flawed.

Criticizing Daemon Targaryen's relationships means acknowledging that a character can be compelling, charismatic, and entertaining while also being an unhealthy person.

NOTE: While I will be looking into Daemon, the bulk of this post is about the people he has relationships/dynamics with (structured in chronological order).

Daemon and Viserys: Brotherly Love

Unlike many of Daemon's relationships, his dynamic with Viserys is not built around romance or attraction, but brotherly love.

Daemon wants unconditional love without accepting accountability. Daemon spends much of his life angry that Viserys does not choose him. He wants to be seen as his brother's equal: the warrior, the heir, the dragon that Viserys should rely upon - but whenever Viserys tries to hold him accountable, Daemon interprets it as rejection.

When Viserys removes him as heir, Daemon does not reflect on why his actions caused such a response. Instead, he sees it as betrayal. When Viserys criticizes him, Daemon perceives it as abandonment. When Viserys chooses duty over him, Daemon feels replaced.

The irony is that Viserys is perhaps the only person who consistently sees both sides of Daemon. He knows Daemon is brave, intelligent, and capable. He also knows that Daemon is reckless, cruel, and ruled by his own impulses.

Their relationship is almost like that of a father and son rather than brothers. Viserys repeatedly forgives Daemon, repeatedly gives him chances, and repeatedly hopes that love will make him change, but Daemon never fully learns the lesson.

The scene in Episode 4 where Daemon returns after years away and embraces Viserys proved to me that Daemon loves his brother, but love is not enough.

Daemon can love someone and still hurt them; such is his life.

Daemon and Mysaria: Affection Without Respect

Daemon and Mysaria is another fascinating example of his emotional limitations. Mysaria is perhaps one of the few people who understands Daemon without worshipping him. She sees the lonely, insecure man underneath the arrogance.

However, Daemon repeatedly fails her.

The dragon egg incident is one of the clearest examples. Daemon uses Mysaria in a political stunt designed to provoke Viserys and Otto, but he never fully considers the consequences for her.

For Daemon, it is a game.

For Mysaria, it is her life. She is not a noblewoman protected by a family name, so she is put in immediate danger. When she expresses fear and frustration, he struggles to understand why.

Once again, Daemon is focused on what he wants rather than what the person beside him needs. Affection without respect is not enough.

Daemon and Rhaenyra: Projection vs. Possession

One of the most fascinating things about the "Daemon x Rhaenyra" fandom (Daemyra) is how many people seem genuinely shocked whenever Daemon behaves exactly like Daemon. Every time he crosses a line, there is a wave of people claiming that it is "character assassination," that the writers "don't understand him," or that Daemon would never hurt Rhaenyra, but that interpretation requires ignoring almost everything we are shown about Daemon.

He and Rhaenyra are an unhealthy relationship built on a foundation of power imbalance, emotional manipulation, and repeated patterns of violence. The fact that they have chemistry does not make their relationship healthy. The fact that they love each other does not erase the fact that Daemon has repeatedly shown himself capable of hurting the people closest to him. The uncomfortable truth is that Daemon's relationship with Rhaenyra begins with grooming.

Daemon Groomed Rhaenyra

A lot of fans become uncomfortable when the word "grooming" is brought up because they associate it with modern terminology. However, a lack of vocabulary in Westeros does not mean the behavior does not exist. Harmful dynamics existed long before society developed words to describe them.

Daemon is an adult man who deliberately cultivates an intimate bond with his teenage niece while she is still a child (by Westerosi standards, no less). He gives her gifts, isolates her from others through their shared use of High Valyrian, and creates a private world between them where he is positioned as someone who understands her better than anyone else. In Episode 1 alone, we can see an older man establishing emotional intimacy with a young girl who looks up to him.

The brothel scene in Episode 4 makes this even more disturbing.

Rhaenyra leaves the Red Keep wanting freedom. She wants excitement, independence, and the ability to experience the world outside the restrictions placed on her as a princess. Daemon recognizes this vulnerability and exploits it, taking Rhaenyra to a place designed to blur boundaries and expose her to sexual experiences she is not prepared for.

The entire situation is designed around Daemon controlling the circumstances.

Then, when Rhaenyra becomes emotionally vulnerable and the situation becomes real, he abandons her.

Think about that for a second.

Daemon leaves his teenage niece alone in a brothel - confused, exposed, and humiliated.

People often describe this scene as Daemon "teaching Rhaenyra about sexuality" or "freeing her from Westerosi repression," but those interpretations or ideals ignore the fact that Daemon is the one CREATING the situation.

He is not liberating Rhaenyra from someone else's control, but rather exercising his own control over her.

Daemon's Violence

Another major issue with how fans interpret Daemon is that they often separate his violence from his relationships. They argue that Daemon is cruel to others but "different" with Rhaenyra.

"A cat shows its affection by biting."

However, Daemon's closest relationships are exactly where his worst behavior appears.

With Rhea Royce, his first wife, Daemon openly despises her, insults her, and treats the marriage as a humiliation rather than a commitment. His contempt eventually culminates in him murdering her.

With Laena Velaryon, their relationship is often romanticized because they share a love of dragons and appear happier than Daemon's other relationships - but even there, Daemon repeatedly prioritizes himself. Laena expresses her desire to return home, to be near her family, and to have her children raised around the people she loves. When Laena dies, Daemon's grief is real, but grief does not erase the fact that he often failed to truly listen to her while she was alive.

The pattern is consistent: Daemon loves people, but he also controls them. He feels, yes, but his feelings often exist alongside selfishness, entitlement, and violence.

Love is not the same thing as respect.

Daemon Does Not Protect Rhaenyra

Daemon often acts as though he knows what is best for Rhaenyra, but he frequently ignores what Rhaenyra herself wants. The clearest example is after Rhaenyra's miscarriage in the Season 1 finale; Rhaenyra calls for Daemon during labor and Daemon ignores her.

Instead of going to his wife, comforting her, or simply being present for her, the least he could do, he immediately returns to planning the war he wants to fight.

I think that episode especially shows me Daemon is someone who repeatedly prioritizes his own desires over the emotional needs of those around him.

Next comes the choking scene. In the words of Alys Rivers, "Oh, my."

After Rhaenyra has suffered a very traumatic experience, Daemon physically assaults her (strangles her) during an argument about the prophecy.

Daemon being scared does not make what he does acceptable, Daemon loving Rhaenyra does not make hurting her acceptable, and Daemon being complicated does not mean his actions stop having consequences.

How Season 3 Proves Daemon Only Loves What Rhaenyra Represents

A development I found interesting during Season 3's latest episode is Daemon's relationship with Rhaenyra becoming even more obviously rooted in projection. For years, fans have defended Daemon by claiming that he is the only person who truly sees Rhaenyra, but Season 3 reveals that he does not consistently see Rhaenyra.

He sees her as a blank slate for his own desires. He sees the empire he has always dreamed of.

However, when the real Rhaenyra (a grieving mother, a woman struggling with responsibility, and a queen trying to hold together a realm at war) does not perfectly align with that fantasy, Daemon becomes frustrated.

The conversation about Essos is one of the clearest examples.

Rhaenyra is focused on governing. She is trying to help the people of her city. She is hoping to prove that she is not just a claimant sitting on a throne, but a ruler capable of caring for those beneath her. Obviously, there are many blunders along the way, but Daemon dismisses this because he does not understand what Rhaenyra is trying to accomplish. To him, gestures are meaningless because he is already thinking beyond Westeros.

He tells her: "Why scrabble here for gold when the world lies before us?"

To me, that line is extremely telling of their dynamic; Rhaenyra is trying to rule, but Daemon is trying to ascend. He does not comfort Rhaenyra by telling her she is enough, nor does he reassure her that she can rebuild what has been lost. Instead, he tells her that the answer is becoming a… god?

"I style us gods, Rhaenyra. As we were always meant to be."

Yikes.

That's not to say Daemon doesn't have good qualities or his moments here and there, but loving someone does not mean you have the right to define them.

Daemon's dreams of Essos are not about saving Rhaenyra, either, but escaping accountability. Westeros is a place where Daemon's choices have consequences due to monarchies, laws, and political boundaries. People remember what he has done (part of the reason Daemon despises Otto).

But in Essos?

Across the Narrow Sea, Daemon can become whatever he wants. This is why he enjoyed going to the Stepstones and waging war on the Triarchy; he can reinvent himself. This is why he and Laena spent years traveling Essos with their daughters; he can reinvent himself. Daemon has always chased a place where he is not responsible for his actions.

Daemon does not merely fail to protect Rhaenyra, but he fails to see her as a person.

Daemon and Alicent: The "Whore"

Daemon's evolving relationship with Alicent is another example of how he struggles to see people as individuals rather than symbols.

From the beginning, Daemon views as Otto Hightower's daughter, a piece on the political board.

In Episode 1, Alicent is practically invisible to him. She is simply another noble girl at court. When he asks for her favor at the Heir's Tournament, it is not because he has any particular respect or affection for her, but rather a way to mock Otto.

Alicent is reduced to a prop in Daemon's personal conflict with the Hand.

However, when she becomes queen, Alicent is no longer irrelevant. To Daemon, she becomes proof of Otto's influence over Viserys and an attack on Targaryen power.

The scene in the gardens in Episode 4 with Viserys and the tapestries is especially revealing. Daemon and Viserys laugh and fart at Alicent's presence because they view her as less than. They do not consider that she is a person with fears, ambitions, beliefs, and desires; she is simply Otto's daughter.

Even years later, Daemon sees Alicent's choices as political maneuvers rather than the actions of a woman shaped by fear.

This does not mean Alicent is always right, but Daemon's inability to view her as a human being is part of his larger flaw: he reduces people into symbols.

Daemon and Fatherhood: Loving Your Children is NOT the Same as Being Present

Another aspect of Daemon's character that fans often overlook is his role as a father.

Daemon does love his children, but love alone does not make someone a good parent.

Daemon repeatedly struggles with being emotionally present. With Baela and Rhaena, especially after Laena's death, there is a sense that Daemon is more comfortable with dragons and war than with the everyday responsibilities of fatherhood.

Rhaena's insecurity about not having a dragon is especially telling. A child who desperately wants her father's approval does not receive the kind of emotional reassurance she needs.

Daemon understands dragons, conquest, and violence, but understanding children requires patience, vulnerability, and emotional availability.

Things Daemon consistently struggles with, and the same pattern appears with his sons by Rhaenyra.

He loves the legacy of House Targaryen, but he often struggles with the ordinary, difficult work of actually being there.

Daemon and Aemond: The Man Who Created His Own Monster

In many ways, Aemond is the younger generation's answer to Daemon.

They are both second sons who grow up in the shadow of an older brother. They are both intelligent, ambitious, and intensely aware of the power of their family name. They are both drawn toward the image of the legendary Targaryen warrior. They are both men who find identity through dragons, violence, and proving themselves. Even their names are practically mirrors of one another!

Aemond is Daemon's reflection.

Aemond is essentially what happens when someone spends their childhood looking at Daemon and thinking he is an example of strength.

Aemond grows up being mocked, humiliated, and considered lesser than because he does not have a dragon. He is the only Targaryen child without one (besides Rhaena, who he met once), and that insecurity shapes him.

Then, he claims Vhagar on Driftmark and suddenly becomes someone. Suddenly, he is feared. Suddenly, people look at him.

Who does he resemble? Daemon.

The Double Standard Between Daemon and Aemond

Something that has always fascinated me about the HotD fandom is its reaction to these two characters.

Aemond is a teenager. Daemon is a man in his 50s.

Aemond makes terrible choices and the fandom is quick to call him dangerous, unstable, or monstrous.

Daemon makes terrible choices, and many fans call him "babygirl," "husband material," or insist that people simply misunderstand him.

Aemond is held accountable for being shaped by his trauma, while Daemon is often excused because his trauma makes him interesting.

Trauma usually explains behavior, but it should never be used as an excuse.

Aemond losing his eye explains his rage, but does not justify what he does afterward.

Daemon's childhood, his relationship with Viserys, his feelings of being overlooked, and his desire for validation explain why he behaves the way he does, but do not erase the consequences of his actions.

The uncomfortable reality is that Daemon is what fans accuse Aemond of becoming: a Targaryen prince who believes violence is the easiest solution.

The difference is, however, that Daemon has decades of experience controlling that darkness.

Daemon, Aemond, and Projection

What makes Daemon and Aemond's rivalry so fascinating is that neither man fully sees the other.

Aemond sees Daemon as the version of himself he wants to become, but he also despises him.

Daemon sees Aemond as himself. The Harrenhal visions especially emphasize this idea: Daemon is forced to confront the possibility that he and Aemond are not as different as he wants to believe.

The sad part is that Aemond most likely believes Daemon would understand him. In many ways, Daemon is the only person in their family who would.

Aemond does not want to be loved. He wants to be respected. He wants people to look at him and feel the same fear and admiration they feel toward Daemon.

Daemon, meanwhile, unintentionally becomes the example that teaches him this is the way to achieve it.

Daemon and Oscar: Possibility and Hypocrisy

I find that one of the most fascinating contrasts introduced in the later parts of House of the Dragon (thus far) is the relationship between Daemon Targaryen and Oscar Tully.

Oscar is, in many ways, everything Daemon pretends to be: young, ambitious, and a warrior in a world defined by violence. Unlike Daemon, however, Oscar understands that power is not the same thing as intimidation.

Oscar Tully represents something Daemon has always struggled with: responsibility.

Daemon has spent his entire life wanting to be seen as exceptional. Oscar, however, understands that being a lord is not about proving that you are extraordinary.

Oscar forces Daemon to confront his own hypocrisy. The reason Oscar's confrontation with Daemon is so important is because it challenges the idea that Daemon's brutality is simply what makes him effective. For years, he has operated under the belief that harshness is necessary or that fear creates order. Oscar demonstrates another path. He is willing to make difficult choices, but he does so because of duty rather than ego.

Daemon often commits violence because he feels personally insulted, threatened, or challenged.

Oscar commits violence because he is forced to make decisions as a lord responsible for thousands of lives.

One is about himself, while the other is about his people.

This is why Oscar's demand for accountability is so powerful. He is not impressed by Daemon's legend, nor does he care that Daemon has Caraxes.

Oscar Tully understands something Daemon will never fully learn: a ruler is defined by what they do with power.

Nettles: How Fire & Blood Shows the Same Pattern

The relationship between Daemon and Nettles in Fire & Blood is one of the most debated aspects of his character. Regardless of whether readers interpret their relationship as romantic, paternal, or something more complicated, the important thing is that Nettles represents something Daemon has rarely experienced: someone who does not worship him.

Nettles is a young girl from a completely different background who bonds with a dragon through patience and trust rather than bloodline, something Daemon is obsessed with. She does not see Daemon as a legendary prince, but as a man.

Many characters around Daemon either fear him, admire him, or desire something from him, but Nettles does not. She exists outside his mythology, so that makes their bond one of the few relationships where Daemon may actually be forced to confront himself.

However, the uncomfortable reality remains that Daemon has a consistent pattern of grooming younger women who are vulnerable, isolated, or impressed by his status. That pattern cannot simply be ignored because the relationship is emotionally compelling.

Thoughts?

Hello there!

I've been working on a pretty ambitious rewrite of House of the Dragon, and I'd love to hear from other fans - especially people who love both the show and Fire & Blood. My biggest goal is to make the series feel much more like the first four seasons of Game of Thrones: slower, more character-driven, politically rich, and willing to let relationships breathe.

Instead of reaching the outbreak of the Dance by the conclusion of Season 1, my version reaches that point at the end of Season 2, with the war itself spanning Seasons 3-5. Here's the rough structure:

Season 1

1. The Heirs of the Dragon

Viserys celebrates the birth of his long-awaited son. Rhaenyra welcomes her uncle, Daemon, back to the Red Keep.

2. The Rogue Prince

Viserys faces mounting pressure to remarry, Rhaenyra straddles the spectrum between affection and expectation, and Daemon tempts Otto with a stolen dragon egg.

3. Second of His Name

The court celebrates Aegon's second nameday as Rhaenyra faces the imminent prospect of marriage. Daemon and Corlys wage a war for the Stepstones.

4. King of the Narrow Sea

A night in King's Landing blurs Rhaenyra's distinction between duty and desire. Alicent jeopardizes her future at court.

5. By All Rights (RW)

Viserys reconciles an old rift with House Velaryon, Criston questions the oath that defines him, and Alicent seeks the truth about Rhaenyra.

6. We Light the Way (RW)

Rhaenyra's royal wedding marks the beginning of the end. Alicent steps into an unexpected role.

7. When Flowers Bloom (RW)

Rhaenyra and Laenor's agreement finally comes to pass. Alicent struggles with her latest pregnancy. On Driftmark, Laena faces a life-altering decision.

8. A World Apart (RW)

Daemon and Laena forge a family of their own beneath unfamiliar skies as Alicent strengthens her influence at court.

9. The Realm's Delight (RW)
10. His Blood Runs Thick (RW)

This season…

…covers the younger generation almost exclusively.
…allows Milly Alcock and Emily Carey to hold their roles as Rhaenyra and Alicent throughout the entire season.
…focuses on their falling friendship, Viserys, Daemon, Otto, Corlys, Criston, Laenor, Laena, Harwin, Lyonel, etc.
…ends around Rhaenyra and Laenor's marriage, Rhaenyra beginning to take the prophecy/her role as heir seriously rather than immediately jumping through years of history.

Season 2

1. The Princess and the Queen (RW)
2. Interests of the Realm (RW)
3. The Red Spring (RW)
4. Driftmark (RW)
5. Bound By Blood (RW)
6. Two Castles, Two Kings (RW)
7. The Four Storms (RW)
8. Lord of the Tides (RW)
9. The Green Council (RW)
10. First of Her Name (RW)

This season…

…introduces the next generation.
…contains one major six-year time skip after "Bound By Blood", allowing the children to age naturally while still giving us substantial time with both versions of them.
…Jace, Luke, Joffrey, Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, Daeron, Baela, and Rhaena gradually become major characters instead of appearing almost all at once.
…ends with the Green Council, Rhaenyra's coronation, and the beginning of the Dance.

The Parameters

One criticism I have of House of the Dragon's first season is that it sometimes seemed like characters would undergo enormous life changes almost entirely between episodes. Marriages happen, children are born, relationships evolve, rivalries intensify, and suddenly we're ten years later. I understand why this happened (the show had to cover decades of history and still be engaging post-Season 8), but it inevitably reduced the amount of time viewers actually spent living with these characters. I want the audience to really know these people!

I want Rhaenyra and Alicent's friendship to feel irreplaceable.

I want Laena, Harwin, Laenor, Lyonel, and others to feel like losses instead of historical footnotes.

I want the younger generation to have personalities, friendships, rivalries, and family dynamics long before the war starts.

I want Viserys's decline to be gradual and heartbreaking rather than sudden.

I'm also trying to stay closer to Fire & Blood where it strengthens the story, while still embracing great bits of television. I don't want to simply recreate the book, but I also don't want to invent conflict when George R.R. Martin already wrote compelling material that could be expanded on rather than replaced.

One inspiration is how Game of Thrones handled its early seasons, which rarely rushed through major emotional turning points. Characters spent entire episodes simply talking, traveling, celebrating, grieving, or building relationships. By the time Ned was executed or the Red Wedding occurred, the audience had spent dozens of hours getting attached to those characters.

I'd love feedback from other fans:

Where would you slow the story down? Which Fire & Blood events deserve entire episodes instead of being compressed? Which relationships would you expand the most? What do you think made early Game of Thrones so emotionally effective that House of the Dragon sometimes struggled to replicate? If you had two full seasons before the Dance instead of one, what stories or character moments would you include? Are there places where you think I'm in danger of stretching the material too much, or where a time skip is actually the better storytelling choice?

I'm less interested in changing the destination than I am in making the journey richer. My hope is that when the Dance of the Dragone finally begins, viewers feel like they're watching (or reading a script of) a family they've lived with for years slowly destroy itself, rather than a civil war that starts shortly after they've met half the cast.

I'd really appreciate any ideas, criticisms, or suggestions. I'm hoping to make this feel like the most faithful television adaptation of Fire & Blood possible while still taking full advantage of what a long-form TV series can do!

P.S. Season 1's first four episodes will remain untouched (I think they're fantastic), though I may "FanEdit" them in the future.