I read through all your posts about Alysanne Targaryen as Maegor's daughter and am now in a rabbit hole. Thank you. I've been thinking about Maegor's wives and which one of Henry VIII's wives they represent. Ceryse is Cathrine of Aragon and Alys is Anne Boleyn. The others are hard to pin for me since there isn't a lot. What do you think? Would Maegor's reign have been more interesting if his marriages had more similarities to those of Henry VIII?
I think this is where we run into a number of problems regarding the way GRRM wrote Fire & Blood specifically and the way he setup Westeros more generally.
For one, the fairly homogenized nature of southron culture as well as the oversimplification of religious institutions and history means you can't quite get the same dynamism as from real life European history, with its dizzying array of languages, cultures, cuisines, fashions, etc., to mention nothing of the then-ongoing Protestant Reformation. I suppose GRRM could have had Maegor convert to the Old Gods a la Julian (II) the Apostate or the Drowned God (you just know the Ironborn are the one race on the surface of Planetos that would say King Maegor the Good with a completely straight face) or even R'hllor, which would be the best choice in terms of worldbuilding opportunities in my opinion.
Moving on, we run into a handful of problems with Maegor specifically, one of them being the length of his reign. Look, while I can't deny Maegor ruling for 6 years and 66 days is incredibly cheeky, it also isn't anywhere close to Henry VIII's 36 years as king. With so little room timeline-wise, there isn't a lot of flexibility when it comes to telling new stories and fleshing out preexisting ones and all that is before you factor in Maegor himself.
I won't hold back. For all GRRM's talk of moral ambiguity, the human heart in conflict with itself, good men who were bad kings and bad men who were good kings, etc., his Targaryen monarchs are, for the most part, numbingly one-note. Aegon I is a literal enigma, Aenys is weak, Maegor cruel, Viserys I a party animal, Aegon II and Rhaenyra mirror-images of each other in their disqualifying vices, etc. As I've written before with my post reimagining Maegor as more of a Ivan (IV) the Terrible figure there was room to make him a genuinely controversial figure of historiography but instead GRRM doubled down on sensationalism and apathy-inducing slasher porn for lack of a better word. The fact Maegor is also the first and last of Visenya's line just adds more salt to the wound but that's part of GRRM's more general (and for me personally, vexing) habit of keeping family trees incredibly small.
(I do recall another alternative someone once brought up to the late Steven Attewell. Namely, turning Maegor into the Westerosi version of Macbeth by way of Der Untergang.)
This brings me to my semifinal point. GRRM didn't have to write Fire & Blood as Procopius' Secret History on steroids with a dash of Suetonius' Lives of Twelve Caesars and I, Claudius (the entire Saera episode is practically lifted wholesale from the scandal that envelops Augustus' daughter, Julia) but he did, which is doubly disappointing because not only does the final product suck quality-wise as a result but also because there were so many other avenues available to him.
He could have written Fire & Blood as a proper history (with less focus on the sex lives of teenage girls for one) or as a mirror for princes or as a dialogue between two characters or even as a character study. You can even see GRRM struggling with the constraints imposed by his use of Gyldayn in certain sections like the death of Maelor and the entire Hour of the Wolf episode, where you get reams of dialogue and characterization as well as more traditional narrative trappings like build-up, mood setting, etc.
Now, to answer your actual question (lol), I don't think any of Henry VIII's other wives map well onto Maegor's. Tyanna is, more or less, his female counterpart in terms of cruelty and zero redeeming features and entirely a fantasy construct. Elinor and Jeyne are both married to Maegor for only a year (with poor Jeyne dying in childbirth because Jeyne Westerlings, like the Brackens, Peakes, and Florents, cannot catch a break in Westeros) and before said marriage takes place neither appears on the page. As for Rhaena, well, credit where its due, she was a rare (and unexpected) highlight of Fire & Blood.
Thanks for the question, anon
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a/n: this is just the story preface, not yet chapter one. for this fanfic i am keeping mostly the book timeline, but there will be a little bit of show timeline further ahead.
it is a AU which blends aspects of book and show canons but is also a lot of headcanons. i am a bit of a history nerd, so there is bits inspired by real life historical events, i also drawn a lot of inspiration from medieval/renaissence royal courts to write how i imagine life at the Red Keep would be, most numbers i will use in this story are also taken from history (noble households, courtiers, armies, ships and crews etc), as are titles for functions an jobs that are not shown on the show or books. There are a couple of Original Characters that are going to be introduced over time, and a few canon characters that are barely mentioned or not seen at all on the show. additional information: I chose to keep the show's 'ages' for some characters, so, for the sake of the story: Viserys was born in 70 AC, Daemon in 74 AC, Rhaenys in 67 AC, and Aemma and Rhea share the year 76 AC.
word count: 2802
warnings: none for this chapter
“...Princess of Runestone, proved herself in her maiden voyage crossing of the Narrow Sea, six pirate ships gave chase as we crossed through the Stepstones, their inferior ships however were no match for our girl or to our brave crew. We had already sunk three carracks when they choose to surrender the remaining three after sighting Archonei descending upon them. We lock the surviving pirates in the holding cells, and seize their cargo, to my great surprise I was able to ascertain that the cargo on the ships once belonged to none other than the Sea Snake.” Enya reads aloud the letter she received from Ser Orys, her half-brother, coming all the way from Lys, the first stop on his great voyage. “We intend to sell the cargo in Lys, Maester Aldus believes it will yield a great profit, at least 20-times Mother’s initial investment, it seems almost unbelievable that we are only on the first leg of the journey. Gods willing, my next letter home shall be sent from old Volantis. Tell Mother I miss her advice and our morning rides, as I miss your sweet face, and our daily flights. Send my love to everyone home and make sure that young Willam is dedicating himself to his training. Your loving brother, Ser Orys Stone…” Her granddaughter finishes reading her the letter, folding it carefully and putting it inside the hard cover of the book she has next to her on the wheelhouse seat.
How the girl manages to read in the bouncing carriage is something that marvels her, she feels nauseous just watching it.
Elys would have much preferred to have made the journey by ship, but the early spring storms that plague the East Coast they didn't allow them to leave the safety of the harbour.
The lady wouldn't be making the trip if she could help it, she had just come out of mourning period for her dear husband, all she wanted was to be able to take the time to visit her daughters and spend time with her grandchildren before returning to Eyrie to resume supervising her niece's upbringing. But the beginning of spring means Visenya's relocation to the royal court in King's Landing, to spend the spring and summer with her father and paternal family.
Last time her granddaughter was at court was four years before the death of the Old King, whom she had served as cupbearer when he still had the mental faculties to attend the Council. She had been just a child then, the king's favourite great-granddaughter.
Since then, she had blossomed into a stunning beauty, no longer a girl but not yet a woman, striking in that way that only those from the blood of the dragon are.
A beauty worthy of a crown.
A crown she had been promised as a child.
If the gods had been merciful, little Prince Aerion would have survived infancy and today he would be a boy of nearly three and ten, the heir to his father’s throne, betrothed to Visenya by the will of King Jaehaerys. But Aenar died in his cradle, followed by his little brother, Aelor, and two early miscarriages. And her granddaughter lost the her chance at the crown promised to her.
“Do you think Orys can one day surpass the feats of the Sea Snake?” Elys turns her head from the window to look at her granddaughter.
“He might,” Elys candidly admits, “Orys has advantages that Velaryon did not, Archonei being the greatest of them."
Elys had disagreed with her daughter's decision to raise the prince's natural son after the boy's mother died—Orys was, in Elys' opinion, the stain on her daughter's dignity, a bastard child her betrothed fathered on a Royce cousin of lesser consequence, during the feast celebrating the union between Houses Royce and Targaryen—as he grew, the boy proved her wrong in her reservations against him. He was as devoted to Rhea as he was to Visenya, respectfully calling her ‘Mother’ after asking permission to do so, loyal and honourable, dedicating himself to every life opportunity offered by his stepmother.
She would never forget his terror when Visenya's egg hatched in his hands, it was the day he won her over, he had tears in his eyes as he asked Rhea for forgiveness for hatching the dragon as it was not his intention, he went on to say that he had never coveted her sister's egg and that she could have the hatchling. Her daughter just laughed, kissing the boy's head and explaining that the dragon had chosen him.
Jaehaerys was not at all pleased with the accident when Rhea sent a letter informing him of what had happened. Daemon finally took an interest in the dark-haired boy Rowena birthed, flying to the Vale to see the dragon, taking it upon himself to have twenty dragonkeepers sent to Runestones.
“I hope he can accomplish it, for himself and for House Royce." Visenya says looking out the window, pulling back the curtains to get a better look, wrinkling her little nose at the stench that enters the carriage and allowing the curtain to fall closed again. “I had forgotten that the city smells so bad.”
“You better get used to it again." Elys passes a bag of scented salts to the young woman. “Tie it to your wrist, you can smell it when the stench gets too much.”
The slums around the city wall have grown considerably larger than Lady Elys remembered from her last visit so many years before.
People beg with outstretched hands on the road as they see the bronze wheelhouse pass by.
It's a sad sight.
The lady sighs before pulling the small dark wooden chest out from under the bench under Visenya's curious eyes. She takes out a heavy bag of coins and pushes the chest back with her foot, hiding it with her skirt. She signals with her hand for any of the knights escorting them to approach the window. Willam Royce, her nephew by marriage, Gunthor’s youngest boy, and Leofric Corbray squire, is the one to come to her.
She contains a smile as she sees the boy blush when he notices Visenya's curious gaze on him.
It's no secret that the boy is sweet on little Enya—just like half the boys of similar age in Runestone—in another life he would be a good match for the future Lady of Runestone, Willam is handsome, with dark curls and blue eyes, and will probably grow up to be a tall, handsome man, and appease everyone in the family that the next heir would retain the surname Royce without the need for major manoeuvres.
“Lady Aunt." He greets her with a nod, keeping his horse's gallop in sync with the carriage. “My princess.”
Visenya just smiles at him, looking at him from beneath her lashes, which only makes him blush more.
“Willam, my sweet, be a dear and hand out these coins to the people." She passes the heavy bag into his hand.
The squire just nods again, looking once more at the Targaryen princess before doing as his aunt asked of him.
Once he is away and the curtain is closed again, Elys lets out the laugh she forced herself to hold in, lightly slapping her granddaughter's knee in reprimand.
“Shameless flirt!” The Dowager Lady of Runestone pointed her finger at the girl.
“I have to train for court life, don't I?" Visenya says with a naughty tone. “I'm of marriageable age, I have to charm all the beautiful second sons, have them all at my feet asking for my hand, there is no better opportunity than during a season at court.”
A beauty of beauties in all the Seven Kingdoms, if not in all the Known World.
Visenya is slender, nymph-like of body, with very pale white skin dotted with golden freckles—the only inheritance from Rhea in her appearance—, plump lips and pretty pearly teeth, a neat nose, and large eyes of an unusual bluish-lilac shade. Her hair is a beautiful flaxen, a few shades lighter than Elys own, curled and long—she's not sure her granddaughter's hair was ever cut more than a little trim at the ends—now ribboned for practicality during the travel.
Elys remembers vividly the Good Queen Alysanne carrying the baby in her arms during her anointment commenting that little Visenya reminded her of Viserra, the most beautiful of her daughters, in appearance.
“Be careful child, you don't want a reputation, especially in the Red Keep."
“I can be discreet." The girl winks at her grandmother amid giggles.
The wheelhouse takes a while to cross the city from Dragon's Gate to the Red Keep, the guards escorting it thought it better to go around Fleabottom than through it. Especially with the four glitzy wheelhouses carrying the noblewomen and their ladies-in-waiting, and the wagons with their belongings coming right behind, with things that attract the attention of the wrong kind of people.
Their retinue arrives at the Red Keep midday.
There is quite a crowd waiting to receive them. The standard-bearers stop between the carriage and the people waiting, proudly carrying the banners of Houses Targaryen, Royce and Arryn, and the Princess of Runestone personal crest: a pearlescent white dragon with the halved shield with the crests of Royce and Arryn between its claws in a black field with bronze runes around the border.
“Princess Visenya of House Targaryen, heir of Runestone.” The Herald announces her granddaughter, as a guard opens the wheelhouse door for them. “Her Lady Grandmother, Lady Elys of House Arryn, Dowager Lady of Runestone.”
Elys arranges the balzo on top of Visenya's head and centres the small jewel on her forehead, pinching her cheek for a healthy blush before the girl pushes back the linen curtain and leaves with the assistance of a Kingsguard guard.
The lady fixes her own skirt before leaving the wheelhouse behind her granddaughter.
The first person she notices is the Queen, her younger sister, in the light blue silks of her paternal House.
A chill runs down her spine as she looks at her sister.
Despite her Targaryen blood through her mother, Princess Daella, in appearance Aemma is an Arryn, with pale sandy hair, an aquiline nose and light blue eyes. Aemma is only eight and twenty, a few months older than her Rhea, however, she looks like a woman nearly to Elys own age.
She looks emaciated, haggard…sick. The Stranger follows her closely. Her youngest sister would not survive a full-term pregnancy and childbirth, it surprised Elys even that she had lived until this moment, with so many failed pregnancies and increasingly long and painful periods of recovery.
Beside her, giving her his arm for support, is Viserys, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, dressed in silk damask of gold and Tyrosh-purple, his grandfather’s crown upon his brow, looking more youthful and healthier than his younger wife. His silver-gold hair is kept short, following southern fashion which has a great Andal influence, he also sports a silver-gold moustache, so thin and pale it almost disappears on his face.
He is a handsome man, but pales in comparison to his dashing younger brother, especially when the two are side by side.
“Your Graces.” Visenya makes a perfect curtsy to the King and Queen and stands as if the castle belongs to her.
The couple is smiling at the young woman with indulgence.
“You have grown beautiful Visenya.” The king says, his eyes fixed on his niece.
Elys recognizes the expression on his face.
Like any woman who was once young and desired, she recognizes the almost obscene expression when older men look at women young enough to be their daughters and imagine themselves as young as their sons.
The look on a man's face when he lusts after a woman old enough to be his daughter, and who he knows he shouldn't desire.
“Thank you, Your Grace."
“Just stating the truth my dear." In a gallant gesture, the king kisses his niece's hand.
“Brother, stop holding up the line!” The prince’s impatient voice interrupts, causing the King to take his covetous eyes away from his young niece.
Prince Daemon is a tall man, only a few centimetres shorter than his older brother, he keeps his silvery hair long, following the fashion of Old Valyria.
Unlike Viserys's ostentatious clothes, Elys good son is dressed in all black leather, well cut and elegant, but infinitely more subtle than the rest of the court. He carries Dark Sister around his waist, and his only ornament is the livery collar that marks him. as a member of the Small Council and Master of Coin.
Visenya smiles and turns to her father making a new curtsy. “Lord Father.”
“Little dragoness.” There is a smile on the prince's face, he has his hands on his only daughter's shoulders, despite being considered a tall young woman, Visenya looks small next to her father. He puts his forehead to hers, saying something that only she hears, and then kisses her cheek.
“Sister." Elys takes her eyes off the reunion between father and daughter and approaches her sister with her hand outstretched.
“My queen." In a gesture of deference, Elys kisses her sister's pale hand and offers a profound curtsy. “Your Grace.” She bows her head to her good brother.
“Lady Elys, it is good to have you at court again." Viserys says amiable. “I am sure your sisters missed you dearly." He looks at Aemma with a smile and at Lady Amanda Redfort born Arryn, standing next to the queen. “Let's give them time to rest from the road, later we shall have a welcome feast.” The king announces to the court members present, taking the queen's hand in his and guiding her into the castle.
Prince Damon follows them, his arm around his daughter's shoulders, and head tilted toward her as they continue their private conversation. One by one the courtiers follow them, even her ladies and her granddaughter's, Elys nods for them to enter, until only Amanda and her remain in the courtyard.
“How bad is she?"
Amanda approaches until the two are face to face, she looks to the side for a moment, making sure there is no one else around.
Her younger sister, like herself, maintains a youthful appearance, even as they have both now seeing past their forty years of age. It comes with their Upcliff blood, their mother died young, not even thirty years old, yet she still had the appearance of a woman half her age.
Amanda inherited her colouring, beautiful red-gold hair, and blueish grey eyes like a stormy sea.
“The Maestre has already recommended that she not try to get pregnant again after the last miscarriage, she had a difficult time recovering, almost a year," Amanda informs her, there is concern in her eyes “now she is once again with child, and it is taking a toll on her. I don’t believe she will live to see the child.”
“The child will not be born." Lady Elys declares it like a sentence. She can feel it.
“There is more." Amanda says. “The Small Council has been hinting that he should set her aside, that he should marry a queen who can bear him heirs.” She lowers her tone, tilting her head toward her sister. “There are rumours that His Grace had a bastard boy with a courtesan, and he might be discreet, but I know for sure that there are mistresses.”
“Does Aemma knows?”
“I believe so.” She nods. “They are, however, ladies of little consequence, barely noble, daughters of second and third sons, some not even that, daughters of knights and rich merchants,” Amanda explains, “His Grace has a king’s an appetite and a queen constantly bedridden who clearly does not meet his needs.”
“Hm.” It's the only reaction Elys gives.
A tale old as time, men will be men, even the best of them.
Viserys may be gentle and amiable, but he was always a man of appetites, and pious Aemma was never an ardent lover.
Elys blames the Good Queen for her precocious marriage and sheltered upbring, Aemma was just a girl, still playing with dolls.
The marriage was not consummated before her four and tenth nameday, and until then Viserys would entertain himself with whores and courtesans usually in the company of his brother and half a dozen favourites.
“We shall have to stay alert to whom he takes to bed." Elys says, linking her arm with her sister's and directing her into the castle.
“What happens if she dies or is put aside?"
Then perhaps Visenya will have the crown she was promised. And we might yet have a king of our blood on the Iron Throne.
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