In the rugged, wind-swept heights of the fictional Vale, House Arryn stands as a bastion of martial prowess and strategic ingenuity. Their defenses echo the brutal, uncompromising tactics of the historical Swiss pikemen—a force renowned for its disciplined, deadly infantry formations. Today, we’ll journey through time and fantasy to explore how the Vale might defend its narrow passages, such as the notorious Bloody Gate, drawing chilling parallels with battles fought on the Alpine slopes centuries ago.

A Tale of Two Legacies

The Swiss Pikemen: Masters of the Alps

During the late medieval period, the Swiss pikemen emerged as one of the era’s most formidable military forces. Clad in simple garb but armed with long, brutally efficient pikes, these infantrymen forged an indomitable reputation on the battlefields across Europe. Their secret was a perfect blend of geography and organization. By positioning themselves in the constricted valleys and mountain passes of their native Alps, they maximized their formation’s effectiveness. Squared formations of pikemen would stand shoulder to shoulder, their pointed spears forming an impenetrable wall that could halt charging cavalry and armored infantry alike. Battles such as those at Grandson and Morat were etched into history not only for their strategic brilliance but also for the sheer, unrelenting bloodshed that accompanied the Swiss defense—a stark reminder that in war, valor often walks hand-in-hand with brutality.

The Vale and House Arryn: A Fictional Fortress

Similarly, the Vale in the world of Westeros is defined by its towering mountains and impregnable strongholds. House Arryn, custodians of these rugged heights, mirrors the Swiss tradition by combining their knights’ chivalric combat with the relentless efficiency of disciplined infantry. Their strategic locations such as the infamous Bloody Gate, transform natural bottlenecks into deadly kill zones. Here, the narrow passage does more than restrict the enemy, it amplifies the defenders’ advantage, forcing attackers into confined spaces where every misstep could mean a gruesome end.

Defending the Bloody Gate: Tactics and Bloodshed

Imagine an invading force mustering its strength to push through the Bloody Gate: a treacherous, narrow passage that twists between jagged peaks. The defenders of the Vale, inspired by the Swiss pikemen, would employ a blend of ingenuity and raw aggression:

1. Formation and Discipline
   Just as the Swiss organized into tight pike squares, the Vale’s infantry would deploy in similarly disciplined formations. Rows of spearmen, each armed with long, razor-edged pikes, would position themselves across the width of the passage. Their formation wouldn’t just be a line, it would be a layered wall designed to absorb shock and inflict maximum casualties. The enemy, left with no choice but to force a charge headlong into this bristling hedge of steel, would find their momentum shattered.
2. Utilizing the Terrain
   The narrow confines of the Bloody Gate serve as a natural funnel. It concentrates the enemy’s forces and prevents the typical spread-out, flexible attack formations seen in open battle. With high cliffs on either side, any maneuver for flanking becomes nearly impossible. Invaders mostly came from flatlands especially as oppossed to the mountain-ridden region the is the Vale. A region that bred levies, lords, knights and men-at-arms were well aware of every last crag and crevice its terrain offered. THey grew up navigating the land’s extreme circumstances and conquered them—ready to do battle. All natural features are utilized. There, the Valemen create breastworks and choke-points wherein reserves ambush stragglers or perform counterattacks in savage waves.
3. Combined Arms Tactics
   While the infantry held the line with disciplined pike formations, elite knights and archers would complement these solid defenses. Highly trained archers perched on higher ground rain arrows into the enemy ranks, thinning their numbers before they even reach the pike wall. Simultaneously, a contingent of heavily armored knights might position themselves tactically. When the enemy is allowed to break through initial formations, the cavalry charges, turning pockets of chaos into deadly counterattacks.
4. Psychological Warfare and Brutal Efficiency
   The reputation of a disciplined, brutal defense often precedes the battle. Countless tales on how the defenders of the Vale turned the Bloody Gate into a massacre swilred about for ages. A place where even the mightiest of heroes drowned within rivers of blood. To no great surprise, this demoralized potential invaders long before the first arrow was loosed. This psychological edge, born of ruthless efficiency and past victories, would prove as decisive as any physical barrier.

Historical Echoes: When the Mountain Held the Field

History is riddled with examples where narrow mountain passes became stages for brutal defense meat-grinders. Consider the Battle of Grandson (1476). A bloody clash between the Burgundian State and the Old Swiss Confederacy. It was there that Swiss pikemen repelled an overwhelming force in a similarly confined area. The attackers, forced into a narrow corridor, were decimated by Swiss pike formations, their momentum snuffed out like candles in a storm. The carnage was intense; bodies and bodies piled upon bodies. The ground lay dyed with blood for weeks after. A grim image of horror that served to set any would-be-invader to ponder twice when even considering the Bloody Gate.

Another striking example is the defense of the Great St. Bernard Pass, where local forces used the rugged terrain to devastating effect. There, they would ambush enemy troops in narrow trails and using every rocky outcrop as a shield. These historical battles prove that when geography and discipline align, even the most formidable forces can be shaped in one’s favor. And that then, they may be torn apart with a concentrated, ferocious burst of violence.

The Battle of Grandson: A Crucible of Discipline and Bloodshed

Setting the Stage

In May 1476, during the turbulent Burgundian Wars, the forces of the mighty Duchy of Burgundy had entrenched themselves near the fortified castle of Grandson. Their position, chosen for its strategic vantage and ostensibly secure shelter, soon proved to be a death trap. Facing them were the Swiss pikemen—hardened veterans whose training in the narrow mountain valleys had honed their discipline into something near-legendary.

The Commanders and Their Contrasting Fates

Swiss Leadership:
The Swiss forces were commanded by René II, Duke of Lorraine and a coalition of fiercely independent cantons ofy seasoned officers whose names have become the stuff of legend in Swiss military lore. One such figure was Hans Waldmann: a man of unwavering resolve, known for his ability to inspire his men with both his presence and his relentless assault. Waldmann and his officers had long mastered the art of forming tight, impenetrable pike squares, turning natural choke points into deadly fortresses.

Burgundian Command:
Opposing them were the Burgundian knights led by Charles the Bold. His men were veterans of numerous campaigns, with a large contingent commanded by a trusted lieutenant of Duke Charles. This lieutenant, though experienced, faced a dire situation: his troops were caught in a confined corridor where their heavy armor and cavalry charges became liabilities rather than assets.

Tactics and the Flow of Battle

1. Entrapment in the Corridor:
The Burgundians, confident in their strength in numbers and armor, advanced into a narrow stretch near the castle walls. Unbeknownst to them, the Swiss had already prepared them a lethal embrace. As the enemy pressed forward, the Swiss pikemen formed a defensive line that stretched across the entire width of the pass.

2. The Pike Square in Action:
Like a wall of living steel, the Swiss formation moved as one. Each soldier’s pike an extension of his fury, steadily pointing towards the enemy. This was no chaotic melee. The Swiss had perfected the art of discipline. Their formation held firm against wave after wave of Burgundian cavalry and infantry. The confined space neutralized the momentum of the charging knights, their force meeting the unyielding thrusts of the pikes.

3. A Desperate Charge and a Hero’s Sacrifice:
In a desperate bid to break the line, a young Burgundian knight led a cavalry charge through a perceived gap. For a moment, hope seemed to glimmer on the opposite side. But Hans Waldmann, ever vigilant, leaped forward into the breach. His charge—simultaneously a sacrifice and a rallying cry—sealed the gap before the enemy could exploit it. Waldmann’s pike found its mark time and again, and his heroic act turned the brief incursion into a rout.

4. The Breaking Point and the Collapse of Morale:
As the battle dragged on, the Burgundian line began to fray. A hidden detachment of Swiss pikemen erupted from behind a series of boulders and scrubby ridges, slamming into the Burgundian flank like an avalanche of steel. What had been a grinding standoff turned into a frantic rout.

Contemporary chronicles speak less of a single named traitor and more of a moment. An instant when a Burgundian sub-commander, pressed on all sides and seeing his cavalry’s formation buckle, chose to pull back. His hesitation rippled outward like a crack running through glass.

Men who had stood firm minutes earlier now felt the weight shift. One banner dipped, another folded. Then panic, once whispered, became a scream. Horses turned. Shields dropped. The proud knights of Burgundy, trapped in their own armor and hemmed against the rising tide of Swiss pikes, broke apart and scattered.

Within moments the field was littered with bloodied surcoats, shattered lances and remains of the fallen. Proof that once morale snaps, even the finest of warriors bleed just as well as anyone else.

The Aftermath

The narrow corridor became a tomb, with bodies piled upon bodies forming the grim image of defeat. The Burgundians, caught in their own ambition and hampered by geography, had their momentum snuffed out like a candle in a storm. In contrast, the disciplined, unyielding Swiss formation not only repelled the charge but exploited every gap with calculated brutality. The victory at Grandson resonated far beyond its immediate carnage—it was a lesson in the lethal potential of terrain and order.

Conclusion

The art of defense is as much about understanding the land as it is about mastering warfare. In both the historical accounts of the Swiss pikemen and the fictional chronicles of House Arryn, we see a recurring theme: narrow passages and mountain passes. Like the Bloody Gate, these become crucibles of combat where the disciplined and the prepared can force-multiply and turn the tide of battle. This brutal blend of tactical ingenuity, harsh geography, and unyielding resolve ensures such defenses are remembered not only for their strategic brilliance, but also for the vivid, blood-soaked history they create on the field of battle.

Whether they occupy the blooded pages of history or the rich stretches of fantasy, the lessons remain timeless. Harsh reality proves that in war, nature itself will prove a man both ally as well as weapon.

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Aegon I Targaryen—the man who famously conquered Westeros with dragonfire—was known for strength, power, and determination. Yet beneath the mighty conqueror’s mythos lies an intriguing possibility: Was the founder of the Targaryen dynasty infertile?

Aegon’s Suspect Lineage: A Lack of Direct Evidence

Let’s first address a crucial detail: Aegon I, despite having two sisters as wives, fathered only two recognized offspring—Aenys and Maegor. Interestingly, neither son convincingly shared their father’s famed characteristics. Aenys was a weak child that grew to be a notoriously weak and indecisive man. In that he hardly resembled the legendary Conqueror.

Meanwhile, Maegor, a warrior from birth, carried he temperament of Visenya rather than Aegon himself.

He may have been physically impressive, but he was quick to rage and had a cruel streak. He didn’t really know how to make friends. Which is a fatal shortcoming if you want to rule at an empire/king of kings level. Maegor famously failed to sire living heirs despite claiming numerous wives, suggesting potential fertility issues in the family.

Queen Rhaenys: The Social Butterfly

Rhaenys Targaryen, beloved sister-wife of Aegon, was known for her charm, wit, and warmth. She was a sharp contrast to her more austere sister Visenya. According to Archmaester Gyldayn in Fire & Blood, Rhaenys delighted in court life. Surrounding herself with singers, poets, knights, and mummers whenever she was able. She was a noted patron of the arts and performances, often enjoying long hours of music, pageantry, and courtly entertainment. Even in wartime, Rhaenys is recorded as the more approachable royal, often mingling with the people during the Targaryens’ progresses.

Her court was described as vibrant and full of life—yet beneath this cultural energy simmered rumors. Rhaenys was said to have a “fondness for handsome men.” A detail that appears in both The World of Ice and Fire and in court gossip recounted by later chroniclers. Though Aegon was known to divide his time between his two queens, he spent more nights with Rhaenys. This may suggest preference in personal affection—or an effort to produce heirs. Regardless, the gossip was persistent: that Rhaenys’s entertainers may have played more than just music. The identity of Aenys’s true father was openly questioned in whispers, especially given Aenys’s frail constitution and soft-spoken demeanor—traits vastly unlike Aegon’s stoic and martial persona.

Queen Visenya: The Queen of Iron

Rhaenys’s death in Dorne in 10 AC deeply affected her son Aenys, whose health visibly declined, leading many to fear for his life. By that time, Aegon’s marriage to his elder sister Visenya had lasted over a decade without producing a child, prompting whispers that she might be barren. Some even urged Aegon to take another wife to secure the succession. Though many eligible women were paraded before him, Aegon offered no public stance. Then, in 11 AC, Visenya suddenly announced she was expecting. The following year, she gave birth on Dragonstone to Maegor, Aegon’s second son.

But what if the truth was the reverse? In the culture of Westeros (much like IRL in that period), blame for infertility typically fell on the woman. But what if Aegon was the one who was barren all along? If so, Visenya’s sudden pregnancy—conveniently after the Realm had begun to consider new brides—may not have been the work of nature.

Perhaps, sensing herself being pushed aside from power, Visenya turned to darker means. Desperate to retain her place, she may have used black magic to conceive a child by unnatural means. But magic is a cruel and unpredictable ally. The result was Maegor: a monstrous, brutal king whose own attempts to produce heirs ended in horror, stillbirths, and lots and lots of blood. A line born of shadow may carry that shadow forward.

Infertility and Succession: Historical Parallels

History and medical literature support the plausibility of male infertility, even among strong, seemingly healthy individuals. Prominent medieval European nobles, such as Louis XVI of France and Henry VIII of England, faced similar reproductive challenges. Challenges that profoundly affected dynastic politics. Like these historical figures, Aegon’s limited offspring—despite multiple marriages and opportunities—strongly suggests possible infertility.

The Mystery of Aenys: A Trueborn Son or a Clever Cover?

Aenys I Targaryen’s personality stood in glaring contrast to the image of his supposed father. Aegon was a conqueror in every sense; calm, confident, and imposing. Aenys, by contrast, was described by Maester Gyldayn as overly eager to please, slow to act, and haunted by health issues from a young age. These discrepancies raised eyebrows even in his own time. Rumors swirled the courts that Aenys might not be Aegon’s son at all, but rather the child of one of Rhaenys’s handsome ‘favorites’.

The timing of his birth also invited scrutiny. Rhaenys had spent years enjoying courtly company before finally bearing a child. Even Aegon’s own decision to gift the infant Aenys a dragon hatchling—Quicksilver—was interpreted by some as a public effort to silence whispers of illegitimacy.

In Valyrian tradition, the bonding between dragon and rider was seen as spiritual confirmation of Valyrian blood, yet not all were convinced. The rumors endured, and even after Aenys’s ascension to the throne, doubts about his parentage persisted. His weak rule only deepened suspicions.

Maegor’s Fertility Issues: Supporting Evidence

Maegor, Aegon’s first child fathered on Visenya, provides further circumstantial evidence for the theory of first-line Targaryen male infertility. Despite marrying multiple women—including three simultaneously—Maegor failed to produce a single surviving heir. His brides suffered miscarriages, stillbirths, and in one case, a monstrous birth that claimed the lives of both mother and child. Maegor’s inability to found a bloodline was so notorious that even his staunchest supporters grew uneasy.

Many in Westeros whispered of a curse or divine punishment, but from a practical standpoint, the issue could simply point to a genetic weakness—perhaps inherited from Aegon himself. If Aegon was infertile or had limited fertility, it would explain both his own sparse progeny and Maegor’s tragic failures. Combined with the doubts surrounding Aenys’s parentage, Maegor’s sterility only strengthens the argument that neither child naturally inherited their father’s seed—or that Aegon had difficulty producing viable heirs at all.

Political Convenience and Secrecy

For Aegon and House Targaryen, acknowledging a problem as destabilizing as infertility would have been political suicide. The newly forged realm was held together by fire and fear. It could not afford to question the legitimacy of its royal bloodline. The optics of infertility—especially in a patriarchal society like Westeros—would be bad. They would undermine not just Aegon’s strength as a man, but corrode the entire manifest of his right to rule. In this, all of Westeros would stand united against him. A bridge too far.

Thus, even if Aenys were not his trueborn son, it would have been far wiser for Aegon to publicly acknowledge him. So long as the child carried Valyrian features, was matrilineally Targaryen and could bond with a dragon. Visenya, with her own ambitions for her line, remained silent as well. And so a potential scandal—whether whispered or real—was quietly buried beneath the sheen of royal ceremony. This would not be the first or last time a dynasty maintained power by embracing a convenient fiction.

Solid Sources and Scholarly Perspectives

George R.R. Martin’s Fire & Blood doesn’t shy away from presenting conflicting accounts, which reflects the unreliability and bias of historical record—especially when dealing with royal families. Archmaester Gyldayn frequently notes that contemporaries whispered about Aenys’s paternity, and he details the suspicions surrounding Maegor’s childlessness. The structure of Fire & Blood itself—delivering events through conflicting maesters and septons—suggests that Martin intended these ambiguities to remain open to interpretation.

Parallels can also be drawn from real history. Monarchs such as Henry VIII, despite displaying outward masculinity, faced reproductive struggles that changed the course of nations. In the medieval world, when virility was power, rulers went to great lengths to conceal such shortcomings. Likewise, Targaryen chroniclers—writing decades or centuries later—may have deliberately omitted or downplayed damning truths to protect the myth of Aegon the Conqueror.

All these elements—the rumors, the historical inconsistencies, the peculiar timing, and the known medical complications—align to form a compelling theory: the bloodline of House Targaryen may not be as dragon-pure as we were led to believe. Then again, it is not known how much Valyrian or Targaryen blood specifically is required to bond with, and ride the dragons bred by the ancient Valyrian House.

Conclusion: A Scandal Hidden by Fire and Blood

Though absolute proof remains elusive, the evidence strongly supports the intriguing possibility that Aegon I Targaryen, the legendary conqueror himself, might not have fathered the dynasty that bears his name. More likely, it was the vibrant and sociable Queen Rhaenys that secretly sired the entire line of monarchs to sit the Iron Throne until Robert’s Rebellion. If true, there is little doubt she did so with her many handsome admirers. Men of whom it is (lightly put) doubtful they were of blood of the dragon.

My Take

The truth, hidden by generations of secrecy and myth, might fundamentally alter the understanding of Westerosi history and the legacy of House Targaryen itself. But “blood purity” being out the window (or at least in the way we think of it) by day one is totally the type of narrative irony George R. R. Martin loves to write. To me, this theory definitely rings true.

There has to be Targaryen blood involved, I’m sure. It was their house that bred the beasts for war in Valyria. Though even with a single line (Rhaenys) as progenitor of the dynasty, and three-quarters Targaryen in blood (her mother was Velaryon through her father) the blood that did pass down could be strong enough for the many to be compatible with Targaryen dragon DNA.

What do you guys think? If you have thoughts on this feel free to share them in the comments below!

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King Aenys I Targaryen’s reign is remembered not for great deeds. It is noted for a series of critical errors, indecisions, and misplaced trusts. His reign shows the disastrous consequences when a ruler lacks decisiveness. It highlights the failure to understand his subjects. It also includes the mishandling of crucial relationships, particularly with his ambitious brother, Maegor. Aenys’s mistakes altered the political landscape of Westeros profoundly, setting the stage for civil strife and weakening the Targaryen dynasty.

Indecision and Delay

If one were to name King Aenys’ one defining trait it would be crippling indecision. His hesitation often turned manageable problems into crises. The rise of Harren the Red is a prime example. This self-proclaimed heir to Harren the Black terrorized Harrenhal and the Riverlands. Aenys faltered instead of taking immediate military action and prove himself his father’s son.

Instead he lingered at Riverrun in uncertainty. He missed the opportunity to swiftly crush the rebellion. This allowed Harren to escape and only emboldened other dissidents.

Aenys’s indecision further paralyzed his ability to respond effectively during simultaneous rebellions in the Vale and Dorne. By continually reversing decisions—ordering armies mobilized only to recall them—he squandered critical momentum. Each delay weakened his authority, encouraging further defiance and rebellion across Westeros.

Mismanagement of Military Affairs

Aenys’s military missteps severely weakened the crown’s authority. During the rebellion of the Vulture King in Dorne, he was unable to respond decisively. This failure allowed the insurgency to swell dangerously. Reliance upon independent lords, like Savage Sam Tarly and Orys Baratheon, showcased a troubling lack of central authority. Though the rebellion was ultimately quelled, the king’s hesitation prolonged the conflict, resulting in unnecessary casualties and diminished royal prestige.

Similarly, in dealing with Jonos Arryn’s rebellion in the Vale, Aenys’s uncertainty caused fatal delays. Only after Prince Maegor intervened (as far as I know this was his first time he was sighted on Balerion—probably to everyone’s horrific surprise…) by flying Balerion up to the Eyrie and moving to ruthlessly restore order did things cool down. There, he executed Jonos and all his co-conspirators by hanging. This starkly highlighted how Aenys himself sorely lacked decisive military action.

Alienating Allies and Misunderstanding His Realm

Aenys consistently misjudged the effects of his decisions. On the Iron Islands, for instance, a man claimed to have risen from the depths of the sea. He claimed he was Lodos the Twice-Drowned, sent by the Drowned God himself. His uprising gripped the Iron Islands until Lord Goren Greyjoy stepped in and crushed it with swift brutality.

Lord Greyjoy sailed a hundred longships to Old Wyk and Great Wyk, the heart of the rebellion, and slaughtered thousands of Lodos’s fanatics. To mark his victory, Goren sent King Aenys a grisly gift: Lodos’s head, preserved in brine. Pleased, what does Aenys do? He offers Goren any boon within his power. A giant mistake, of course, for Goren asked to purge the islands of the septons and septas spreading the Faith of the Seven. Aenys, unwilling—or unable—to deny him, agreed. From that day on until the present, the Ironborn are free to worship their own Drowned God ans his Watery Halls.

Empowering Maegor the Cruel

Perhaps most significantly, Aenys disastrously mismanaged his relationship with his younger half-brother, Maegor. Aenys, weak and indecisive, admired and relied heavily upon Maegor’s martial prowess. Aenys sought his approval and support. He foolishly elevated Maegor’s position by naming him Hand of the King following a slew of rebellions. He also bestowed upon him the ancestral Valyrian steel sword Blackfyre, previously wielded by their father, Aegon.

This act placed tremendous power in Maegor’s hands, both symbolically and practically. Already wielding Dark Sister, Maegor now possessed both legendary ancestral blades of House Targaryen. Furthermore, Aenys’ misguided decision to suggest co-rulership with Maegor diluted his own authority and set the stage for Maegor’s usurpation.

Mismanagement of Religious Conflict

Aegon the Conqueror fine-tuned and balanced Targaryen traditions with sensitivity to Westerosi religious customs. Yet here, his son Aenys failed disastrously as well. Notably when confronted by religious backlash to his family’s incestuous traditions.

Initially, Queen Visenya suggested wedding Maegor to Aenys’s eldest child, Rhaena, to preserve Valyrian purity. Yielding instead to religious pressures, Aenys arranged Maegor’s marriage to Lady Ceryse Hightower, niece of the High Septon. This move was intended to placate the Faith. However, it only sowed deeper resentment.

Aenys’s eventual approval of Maegor’s second, polygamous marriage created an explosive scandal. A wiser ruler might have decisively forbidden it or openly embraced and defended it. Yet here Aenys dithered as well, making him look even weaker.

The brothers had clashed bitterly over the issue. Though, ultimately, Aenys caved. He exiled Prince Maegor in a half-measure that pleased neither the Faith nor his own blood. Later, his choice to marry his own children (Rhaena and Aegon) incited outright rebellion. This act branded him “King Abomination” and irrevocably alienated the Faith and populace.

Additionally, Aenys’s repeated assumption that he was beloved blinded him to brewing resentments. His naivety led him to dismiss threats from within. He was left stunned when lords and smallfolk alike turned violently against him. His optimism, without tactical realism, repeatedly undermined him.

Flight and Abandonment of Responsibility

In King’s Landing, religious fanatics attacked the royal family directly. In this dire moment, Aenys abandoned the city. He chose not to demonstrate resolve, crack down, or fortify his capital. Instead, he retreated to Dragonstone and failed to reassert royal authority through military or diplomatic means. Even when Visenya advised decisive dragonfire retaliation against the Faith Militant, Aenys hesitated. He chose flight over action. This only reinforced the narrative of his weakness and incompetence.

The Ultimate Price of Weakness

Aenys’s weak governance destabilized the realm dramatically.

Rebellious lords rose during his reign. Religious radicals were emboldened. He empowered his ruthless brother Maegor, ultimately plunging the kingdom into chaos. His indecision culminated tragically in his premature death, possibly hastened by Visenya, leaving Westeros vulnerable to Maegor’s tyrannical rule.

The Fix: What Aenys Should Have Done Differently

Asserted Royal Authority Swiftly

• Actionable Plans: Immediately deploy Targaryen-loyalist forces, backed by dragons, to rapidly neutralize rebellions before they gained momentum. Establish “rapid-response teams” permanently stationed near known trouble spots. Looking at you: Riverlands, Dorne, the Vale…
• Tactical Philosophies: Adopt a decisive and swift military doctrine emphasizing intelligence and immediate retaliation against any sign of rebellion. Establish a vast network of spies in hotspots for rebellion. Use targeted force combined with political offers of clemency to divide and conquer rebel groups.
• Grand Strategy: (Semi)Centralize royal military power in a system where every lord great and small is expected to spare some warriors/levies to function as retainers. These men could be trained and war-ready all year round and be deployed at any time. This would ensure quick and decisive deployments with air-support coordinated directly by the Crown rather than being curtailed by harvests and relying on autonomous lords’ whims and their levies.

Managed Religious Tensions Wisely

• Actionable Plans: Establish a dedicated royal council comprising prominent septons and nobles to address and mediate religious disputes. Regularly consult and visibly respect the High Septon’s advice, even when disagreeing, to show deference without losing royal autonomy.
• Tactical Philosophies: Balance Valyrian customs with Westerosi religious norms by gradually and diplomatically introducing traditional Targaryen practices. Avoid blatant provocations or sudden, controversial decrees.
• Grand Strategy: Cultivate mutual dependence between Crown and Faith by granting symbolic concessions and protections to septons, while slowly integrating the idea of “Targaryen Exception” into accepted cultural practices over generations. (Yes I am talking about incest.)

Checked Maegor’s Ambitions

• Actionable Plans: Clearly define Maegor’s authority, limiting his access to resources and military commands. Retain sole possession of ancestral symbols like Blackfyre, ensuring clear and undisputed royal legitimacy.
• Tactical Philosophies: Employ a cautious but firm approach toward ambitious relatives, granting them responsibilities that tie their success directly to royal approval, thus limiting independent power-building. For instance, giving Maegor an important fief (if occupied scheme the current holder away somewhere) to rule. A title like Hand of the King is far too risky for an ambitious and dangerous man like Maegor. Stay away from that.
• Grand Strategy: Make Maegor Master of Laws as a smooth political judo throw. He is given a prestigious, visible role. One that flatters his sense of justice and authority without putting him in direct command of armies or the capital. He gets to swing his hammer (and yeah, probably sword) in courtrooms, yet not on battlefields.
  
  It scratches his ego, lets him stomp around in black armor if he wants. And keeps him useful but boxed in. Pairing that with granting him a rich, strategically important fief (say, one near the Westerlands or the Vale) would give him enough prestige to feel important. Though far enough from King’s Landing to easily mount a coup. Perhaps strip some rebellious lord of his lands and toss Maegor the keys.
  
  Call it justice, call it reform, doesn’t matter: he gets land, power, and face. Most crucially, this keeps the big black dragon off the royal doorstep. Manage ambition without open hostility, which is exactly what Aenys failed to do.
  
  Instead of exiling Maegor and letting him fester in rage, this would keep him busy and visible. Most importantly, this would keep him invested in the current system. If he rebels after that, he looks ungrateful and power-hungry. One of Maegor biggest talents was making enemies, imagine how many daggers would already be pointing his way before he stepped out of line in court and challenged Aenys? The king would have won either way.

Demonstrated Firm Leadership

• Actionable Plans: Remain physically and symbolically present in King’s Landing, fortifying key royal holdings and visibly displaying royal strength. Regularly and publicly acknowledge loyal lords and punish rebels, demonstrating clear consequences for disobedience.
• Tactical Philosophies: Embrace a leadership style that prioritizes visibility, decisiveness, and accountability. Publicize royal decisions transparently, building public trust and respect.
• Grand Strategy: Put the Kingsguard in charge of establishing a robust system of fortifications, surveillance, and quick-reaction units to rapidly respond to direct threats to the Iron Throne. Maintain direct communication channels with loyalists and spy networks throughout the realm, ensuring swift and unified responses to crises.

Lessons for Future Rulers

Aenys I’s reign teaches crucial lessons about leadership, decisiveness, and the strategic management of family dynamics. Weakness and indecision in a monarch can embolden enemies and fracture kingdoms. Aenys’s inability to adapt hindered his understanding of his realm. He also struggled to wield authority decisively. These shortcomings ensured his legacy as a cautionary tale for all who follow.

Ultimately, King Aenys I serves as a warning to one part of an extreme. Extreme weakness, mirrored by his brother with rulership through extreme aggression. Both are dangerous ends of a spectrum and GRRM aptly showcases the ruin that so much power wielded so carelessly might bring. The lack of strong, decisive leadership can be as ruinous as outright tyranny. It leaves a kingdom vulnerable, divided, and open to the horrors of civil war.

If you have thoughts, or care to disagree on any points, take a load of, claim your seat above the salt at the High Table, and discuss in the comments below!

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Origins and Recruitment: From Slave Soldiers to Citizen Warriors

Unsullied:
In world of Game of Thrones Essos is a dark continent (and that’s definitely saying something!). It is here in the cities of Slaver’s Bay where the Unsullied are bred from childhood for one purpose—to fight and die for their masters. Taken from their families and conditioned to suppress all individual emotion. Killing puppies and butchering helpless infants in front of their mothers as part of the training. All to ensure any emotion is eroded by the time they’re ready. These soldiers are molded into unyielding death machines expertly coordinated to be a scourge of absolute destruction without questions asked. Their transformation from human beings into disciplined instruments of war underscores the dark cost of their military efficiency.

Janissaries:
Historically, the Janissaries were formed under the Ottoman Empire through the devshirme system. A practice whereby Christian boys were forcibly recruited, converted to Islam, and trained as elite soldiers. Like the Unsullied, their origins lie in coercion and state control. However, as they matured, the Janissaries evolved into a formidable military and political force with a distinct identity.

Hoplites:
In contrast, Greek hoplites were free citizens who took up arms out of civic duty. Their service in the phalanx was driven by honor and a commitment to their city-state. Although their training was rigorous, it was integrated with their everyday lives rather than imposed as an alien identity.

Training and Tactics: Forging the Perfect Formation

The Unsullied and the Phalanx:
Martin’s Unsullied are depicted as a nearly mechanical force—soldiers who operate in tight, cohesive lockstep formations reminiscent of the ancient phalanx. In a phalanx, heavily armed warriors lock shields and thrust spears in unison, creating an impenetrable wall of death. The Unsullied mirror this ideal, their relentless discipline ensuring that their formation remains unbroken under even the fiercest assault.

The best showcasing of this resolve would be the Battle of Qohor. Where the Unsullied had been recruited to defend the city against the Dothraki horselords. They were at a 20.000 v 3000 disadvantage. Still, it did it not go well for the horse lords, resulting in a catastrophic loss on their end.

Janissaries’ Evolution:
The Janissaries, initially trained in archery and hand-to-hand combat, gradually adapted to new military technologies as the art of war evolved. Their rigorous training made them versatile on the battlefield, serving as shock troops and later incorporating firearms. Their robust showings on the battlefield and their ability to adapt id not go unnoticed. It helped the Ottoman Empire expand, even as internal corruption eventually eroded their initial effectiveness.

Hoplites’ Collective Might:
Greek hoplites relied on mutual trust and the solidarity of the citizen-soldier. Their strength in the phalanx came from each man’s commitment to the group. Every hoplite was both a warrior and a defender of the communal honor of his polis. Their success depended on synchronizing individual actions to create an almost impenetrable front. In other words, they were forced to put their trust in the next man’s shield if they were to survive. Great cohesion and solid bonds were forged as a cause of this.

Battlefield Tactics: Discipline Versus Identity

Unsullied:
On the battlefield, the Unsullied’s tactics are defined by their unwavering discipline and formation. Their combat style is almost a textbook phalanx formation. Each soldier working in perfect unison, making it extraordinarily difficult for enemies to break through thier lines. However, unlike Greek hoplites, whose fighting spirit was fueled by personal and civic honor, the Unsullied fight devoid of personal initiative. A product of their dehumanizing upbringing. They have about as much politically involvement as the arrow has with the target it is loosed upon.

A further disadvantage that the rigid fighting framework of the Unsullied brings is the unquestionable status quo. This is cause for them to be stagnant in all terms whether they be tactics, innovation, even warfare itself as it evolves (or is intended to evolve) as a concept over time. When talking physically, their rigid formations may be hell to the light (and even heavy) infantry they face, though they will always be susceptible to ranged attacks and heavy cavalry charges.

Janissaries:
In battle, the Janissaries were often deployed as the spearhead of the Ottoman military. They expertly leveraged both traditional melee and later gunpowder techniques. Their early use as disciplined infantry parallels the Unsullied’s rigid formations. But the Janissaries’ ability to integrate evolving tactics and weaponry provided them with a flexibility that the purely phalanx-oriented Unsullied do not display.

Over time, the Janissaries developed significant internal weaknesses. Their early reputation for discipline and elite combat skills eroded as they became increasingly politicized and complacent. As they gained privileges and political influence, factionalism and corruption began to creep in. This internal strife, coupled with a resistance to military innovation, eventually undermined their effectiveness on the battlefield. And made them less adaptable to new forms of warfare.

Hoplites:
The hoplite phalanx was a formidable tactic in its day—dense, interlocked, and powerful through unity. Each soldier’s personal valor was subordinated to the collective, much like the Unsullied. However, the hoplites’ motivation sprang from a shared cultural identity. And from pride in defending their homeland, contrasting sharply with the state-forged obedience of the Unsullied.

While the hoplite phalanx was a formidable formation under the right conditions, its rigid structure also proved to be its Achilles’ heel. The success of a phalanx depended on maintaining a tight, cohesive line on flat, open terrain. Any disruption or flanking could quickly turn the formation into a liability. Their heavy armor and fixed position made them less agile, leaving them vulnerable to more mobile opponents, cavalry charges, and ranged attacks that could break their unity and expose individual soldiers to devastating blows.

Social Dynamics and Long-Term Effectiveness

Unsullied:
The Unsullied’s strength is both their greatest asset and their most tragic flaw. Engineered to be the perfect soldiers, they lack personal ambition and identity. This dehumanization ensures flawless discipline on the battlefield but also strips away the individual spirit that can drive innovation or moral resistance, making them both terrifyingly efficient and heartbreakingly expendable.

Janissaries:
The Janissaries, though initially deprived of their past identities, gradually developed their own sense of camaraderie and power. Over time, they became influential political players within the Ottoman court. Even as their loyalty and effectiveness waned due to internal corruption and the very privileges they had earned.

Hoplites:
Greek hoplites, fighting as citizens rather than conscripts, embodied the values and honor of their communities. Their personal stake in the fight—defending their homes and families—provided a strong, intrinsic motivation that fortified their collective resolve and long-term commitment to their city-states.

Conclusion: The Brutal Price of Military Excellence

Each of these forces—the Unsullied, Janissaries, and hoplites—illustrates a distinct approach to creating elite warriors. The Unsullied, with their phalanx-like formations and ruthless conditioning, represent a chilling ideal of efficiency stripped of individuality. The Janissaries demonstrate how coercion and state control can forge a versatile, albeit eventually self-serving, military elite. Meanwhile, the hoplites remind us that the true strength of a military force often lies in the shared honor and identity of its soldiers. In comparing these warriors, we uncover not just differences in tactics and training, but a deeper commentary on the human cost of discipline. And the enduring impact of military tradition on society.

Sources and Further Reading:

• Finkel, Caroline. Osman’s Dream: The History of the Ottoman Empire
• Hanson, Victor Davis. The Western Way of War: Infantry Battle in Classical Greece
• Madden, Thomas F. A History of the Janissaries
• Martin, George R.R. A Song of Ice and Fire series

On a more serious note, this analysis serves as a reminder that while military innovation can create near-mythical units, the harsh realities of recruitment, training, and social control remain as bloody and brutal today as they were in the annals of history. It might appear exciting or adventurous from a safe distance, and sure, it will have its moments. But ultimately there is scarce good or honorable that comes from any of it.

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There’s an air of cautious excitement surrounding A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, the upcoming Game of Thrones prequel, which is already deep into post-production. If you’re one of the many fans who’s followed George R.R. Martin’s journey from A Song of Ice and Fire to the sprawling shows of Game of Thrones, you’ll know the highs and lows that come with adapting Martin’s intricate world to the screen. But in this new show, there’s something refreshing in its more grounded approach.

Martin has been actively involved in A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, based on his novellas, The Hedge Knight. If you’re wondering what exactly sets it apart from the grandiose spectacle of Game of Thrones—which, let’s be honest, often leaned more into dragons and battle sequences than we’d like to admit—A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms promises a more intimate, character-driven narrative. Gone are the massive armies, city-storming invasions, and fire-breathing dragons. Instead, the show will delve into the journeys of Dunk and Egg, two characters whose tales feel more like classic coming-of-age stories set against the backdrop of a political landscape rife with intrigue.

Friction & House of the Dragon

But don’t get it twisted. Martin himself admitted that the transition from House of the Dragon wasn’t without its friction, especially with showrunner Ryan Condal. In a recently deleted blog post, Martin shared some candid thoughts on the collaboration with Condal, admitting that they had different approaches to bringing the Targaryen history to life.

“I’ve been in the writer's room, I’ve made suggestions, but House of the Dragon had its own flow, and we were pulling in different directions sometimes.”

Martin doesn’t shy away from the challenges he faced with Condal, but also acknowledges that House of the Dragon found its own way. The drama between the Targaryens made for compelling television, but it’s clear from Martin’s words that he wasn’t always completely in agreement with the direction. He’s passionate about keeping the spirit of A Song of Ice and Fire intact, and that’s something that seems to be running smoother with A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms.

Martin’s main gripes weren’t without merit if you ask me. Leaving little boy Maelor out of the show renders a lot of consecutive consequences of the book simply impossible. And those consequences are not negligible, but very much essential to the end game of the story.

The Winds of Winter

And then, of course, there’s Winds of Winter, the book we’ve all been waiting for. In typical Martin fashion, he offered a self-deprecating laugh about the ongoing delay, quipping that the only predictable thing about Winds of Winter is that it “won’t be released when you think it will be.” But for those who are keeping the faith, he reassured fans that progress is ongoing. “I’m working on it,” he says. Yes, we’ve heard that before, but however hard it is to admit, let’s be honest—it’s the kind of reassurance we need, even if it doesn’t quite take the sting out of the wait.

Smaller Scope Might Prove a Winner With Audiences

While many fans have longed for the return of the dragons or the blood-soaked grandeur that made Game of Thrones a cultural phenomenon, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms is a chance to scale things back. By focusing on personal journeys and the quiet moments between characters, the show could give us something more intimate. There’s real beauty in stories where political intrigue and character development take precedence over fiery spectacle. As Martin said himself, “It’s going to be different. It’s going to be fresh.” That’s the sort of change that can reignite a franchise, bringing us back to the core of why we fell in love with Westeros in the first place.

After all, if there’s one thing that A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms can teach us, it’s that not every tale in Martin’s world needs dragons and epic battles to be compelling. It’s about the connections between people, the moments that feel just as heavy as a battle for the throne. When Martin crafts his worlds, he’s always been about the nuances—the personalities, the betrayals, the friendships, and the quiet fights for power. There’s something wonderfully human about these stories, and if anything, this new show might just remind us of that.

As for Winds of Winter? We wait, knowing that when it does arrive, the journey will have (better) been worth it. Just like with the show, the story Martin is building has always been about patience, craft, and a deep understanding of what makes us tick as humans. The dragons can wait. We’re in it for the characters. I, for, one, can barely wait for the Laughing Storm…

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In the chronicles of both history and fiction, there are soldiers who fight for ideals and others who fight for coin. The Golden Company of A Song of Ice and Fire and the Condottieri of Renaissance Italy represent the pinnacle of the latter category: elite mercenary forces whose discipline, reputation, and ambition make them indispensable—and dangerous—to the lords and cities who hire them. But beneath the surface, the two forces offer fascinating contrasts in culture, loyalty, and the consequences of fighting for gold rather than a crown.

Foundations in Exile and Opportunity

The Golden Company was forged in exile, a creation of Ser Aegor Rivers (Bittersteel) to reunite the disillusioned remnants of House Blackfyre’s failed rebellion. Their origin was deeply personal, born from a desire to keep alive the dream of placing a Blackfyre claimant on the Iron Throne. However, over time, they transformed from a tool of revenge into a professional army, bound not by shared heritage but by contracts and coin.

The Condottieri, in contrast, arose during the politically fragmented era of Renaissance Italy. With no unified Italian state, city-states like Venice, Florence, and Milan relied on professional armies to wage wars against their neighbors. While some Condottieri, like Francesco Sforza, came from noble backgrounds, others rose from humble origins, becoming larger-than-life figures through cunning, bravery, and ruthlessness.

Where the Golden Company was a brotherhood of exiles with a single origin story, bound by stark tradition and one ultimate goal, the Condottieri were a diverse patchwork, brought together by ambition and the promise of wealth.

Discipline and Reputation

The Golden Company prides itself on its discipline, distinguishing itself from the unruly, often treacherous free companies that populate the Disputed Lands of Essos. In a Dance With Dragon, when Jon Connington arrives he learns the leader he plotted with as dead. And while he doesn’t have much faith in his successor, he was pleased to see they still knew how to set up a camp properly. Their tents are orderly and well-placed to make use of the river, their officers display opulence yet also keep a rigirous attitude to financial organization. And their symbol—a line of gilded skulls atop pikes signals an ode to their storied leadership _{(you die as a leader, they boil your skull, gild it and shove it on a spike they then carry into battle. It’s pretty metal.)} Throught the century, they are known to have fulfilled all contracts throughout Essos without fail. The Company breaking an oath is virtually considered unthinkable.

The Condottieri were similarly famed for their professionalism, but their reputation for loyalty was far shakier. Some Condottieri, like the infamous Cesare Borgia, turned against their employers when the tides of war shifted, and entire armies would sometimes switch sides for a better offer. The Golden Company’s oath-bound culture—“Our word is as good as gold”—stands in stark contrast to this mercenary pragmatism.

However, both groups understood the power of branding. Just as the Golden Company flaunts its gold-armored officers and legendary pikes, the Condottieri cultivated fearsome reputations to secure contracts. Leaders like John Hawkwood (Giovanni Acuto), an Englishman in Italian service, terrified adversaries through calculated brutality, like the Massacre of Cesena. The Golden Company’s sack of Qohor ensured to serve as a reminder a bond went both ways, default them on they pay and they flatten your city.

Symbols of Wealth and Power

Both the Golden Company and the Condottieri reveled in their material success. In the Golden Company, wealth is literally worn on the body, with soldiers donning jeweled swords, silks, and golden arm rings marking their years of service. Similarly, the Condottieri were known for their ostentatious displays of wealth, using their earnings to fund lavish lifestyles or, in some cases, to establish themselves as rulers. Francesco Sforza, for example, transitioned from a mercenary leader to the Duke of Milan, leveraging his fortune and reputation into political power. It is one thing to be a man of means, it is another to be a man of means with thousands of swords devoted to you.

Yet where the Condottieri often sought personal advancement, members of the Golden Company carried the collective identity of being Westerosi exiles. Even as the company grew to include soldiers from a dozen lands, its core identity remained tied to its Blackfyre roots, with many of its members boasting names like Cole, Mudd, or Strong—evoking the lost glory of Westeros rather than a purely personal legacy. Whether the heritages these men claimed had any merit to them was difficult to confirm, of course.

Politics and Loyalty

The Condottieri thrived in a politically chaotic environment, where shifting alliances and fragile states ensured a constant demand for their services. This instability, however, bred mistrust. Employers often feared the very armies they hired, knowing the Condottieri might betray them or turn conquerors themselves. Cesare Borgia’s reliance on mercenaries famously ended in disaster when they abandoned him, cementing Machiavelli’s disdain for such forces in The Prince.

The Golden Company, despite its status as sellswords, carries a different kind of loyalty. While their contracts govern their immediate allegiance, their Blackfyre origins add a layer of shared history and purpose. Even in the absence of a Blackfyre claimant, the company remains tied to the idea of returning to Westeros. Not as conquerors for hire, but as sons reclaiming their birthright. All this professionalism and trustworthiness makes ’em, you guessed it, beyond expensive.

The Price of War

Both the Golden Company and the Condottieri reflect the dual-edged sword of mercenary warfare. They are invaluable assets, able to tip the scales in any conflict, but their loyalty is fleeting, tied to the gold they are paid. The Golden Company’s reputation for honor makes them an exception, but even they have turned away from lost causes—most notably refusing to fight for Daemon II Blackfyre during the Second Blackfyre Rebellion (though they were never formally in contract), and the last contract they terminated before invading Westeros.

For the Condottieri, their lack of a deeper loyalty often led to long-term instability. Wars waged by mercenaries rarely brought lasting peace; instead, they prolonged cycles of conflict, enriching the soldiers but leaving the cities they fought for vulnerable. Similarly, the Golden Company’s involvement in Essos’ Disputed Lands has perpetuated endless strife, with their services prolonging conflicts between Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh.

Conclusion: Legends of Gold and Glory

The Golden Company and the Condottieri signify the allure and danger of mercenary forces. Both represent the pinnacle of professional soldiery in their respective worlds, combining discipline with ruthlessness and ambition. Yet their legacies are shaped as much by their flaws as by their strengths.

For the Golden Company, their loyalty to their contracts—and to their Blackfyre origins—sets them apart from the opportunistic Condottieri. But the Condottieri, for all their betrayals, achieved something the Golden Company can only dream of: carving out personal kingdoms and lasting legacies in the midst of chaos.

In the end, both the Golden Company and the Condottieri remind us that while gold may buy armies, it never, ever, guarantees loyalty—or victory.

I’ll end on a quote of the aforementioned Machiavelli:

Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments!

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Victarion Greyjoy is a fascinating case when considering the concept of king’s blood. He is a member of House Greyjoy, a noble family that rules the Iron Islands. His brother, Balon Greyjoy, declared himself King of the Iron Islands (and later, King of the North and the Trident during the War of the Five Kings), in an attempt to secede from the Seven Kingdoms. This act of rebellion and self-coronation, while not recognized by the Iron Throne or most of the Seven Kingdoms, does indeed position Balon—and by extension, his family members—as having “king’s blood,” according to the traditions and beliefs of the Ironborn. His brother Euron is crowned and recognized as king by his peers as well not long after.

Victarion, being brother to both Balon and Euron, shares this bloodline. However, it’s important to consider the context and perception of “king’s blood” in the broader realm. The power and recognition of one’s kingly lineage often depend on widespread acknowledgment and the historical depth of a family’s royal status. The Greyjoys, though ancient and noble, have been Kings of the Iron Islands in the distant past, but their more recent claim to kingship, through Balon’s rebellions, lacks the same depth and acknowledgment as, say, the Targaryens, who ruled the Seven Kingdoms for nearly three centuries.

From a magical standpoint, it’s not entirely clear how the efficacy of king’s blood is gauged. Does it require recognition from others, or is there an inherent power in the blood of those who claim or are born into what they perceive as a royal lineage? The ambiguity around this concept leaves room for interpretation.

In summary, while Victarion Greyjoy does have what the Ironborn might consider “king’s blood” through his brothers Balon and Euron’s claim to kingship, the recognition and potency of that claim may vary depending on cultural, political, and magical perspectives within the world of “A Song of Ice and Fire.”

Speculating on the fates of Victarion Greyjoy and Moqorro is an intriguing endeavor, full of potential twists characteristic of George R.R. Martin’s storytelling. Let us consider the possibilities and the undercurrents of magic, prophecy, and ambition that run through “A Song of Ice and Fire.”

Moqorro, with his enigmatic prophecies and clear allegiance to the Lord of Light, views the world through a lens where every action serves the will of his god, R’hllor. The healing of Victarion’s hand, marked now with fiery tattoos, could be viewed as Moqorro binding Victarion to R’hllor’s service, whether Victarion realizes it or not. The Red Priests believe in the power of king’s blood, and Victarion, with his royal Ironborn lineage, might unknowingly be a key piece in Moqorro’s grander scheme.

Victarion’s quest to claim Daenerys Targaryen with the dragon horn, hoping to make her his bride and use her dragons to conquer Westeros, aligns with the interests of those who serve R’hllor, who seek the return of dragons and fire to the world. Moqorro’s guidance might be aimed at ensuring this outcome, but at what cost to Victarion?

One could speculate that Moqorro might indeed see Victarion as a potential sacrifice, a powerful offering to R’hllor to bring about some significant magical event, perhaps related to controlling or empowering dragons. However, Moqorro’s true intentions remain a mystery, and he might just as likely view Victarion as a crucial ally rather than a sacrificial pawn.

Yet, although Victarion is no weak man, his simplistic views make him prone for manipulation. And though his brute strength and… moderate cunning have allowed him to survive in the brutal world of the Iron Islands, a man as Moqorro might be able to push all his right buttons. His doublespeak even suggest he shall come to play a great role in things to come. But whether that role is a triumphant conqueror or a sacrificial lamb is something Victarion doesn’t really press him on. For now it seems he remains Moqorro’s useful idiot.

Though, who knows? Victarion’s own fire-from-the-hip schemes could surprise us all, possibly even turning the tables on the Red Priest or using the power of the dragon horn in ways no one, not even Moqorro, anticipates.

In the end, the dance of fate between Victarion Greyjoy and Moqorro is a certainly one that illustrates the high price of ambition. As we await the unfolding of their story in “The Winds of Winter,” we can only imagine the myriad ways their journey could impact the battle for the Iron Throne and the fate of Westeros.

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But what story could possibly justify the leap from the small screen to theaters? In my opinion, the possibilities are endless, but the smartest choice lies in Westeros’ deep, untapped history—or even beyond it.

A Cinematic Opportunity: Why Both Westeros and Essos Deserve the Big Screen

Warner Bros. Discovery CEO David Zaslav’s focus on expanding major franchises aligns perfectly with the epic scale of Game of Thrones. As CEO Casey Bloys explained, the movie must offer a story worthy of the big screen—a spectacle unlike anything seen in the original show or its spin-offs. Westeros and its world of intrigue, war, and dragons are tailor-made for this kind of treatment.

The Game of Thrones universe is vast, with many historical events and legendary figures ripe for exploration. The original series introduced us to a rich and complex world, but much of its history remains untouched on screen. Fans are clamoring for stories like those of the Blackfyre Rebellions, the Young Dragon’s conquest of Dorne, or the tumultuous (and dare I say spicy) reign of Aegon IV and his scandalous affairs. Each of these tales offers a goldmine of drama, intrigue, and large-scale action.

The Case for Valyria: A Spectacle Unlike Any Other

In my opinion, the most tantalizing choice for a movie would be to delve into (perhaps) the rise and (definitely) the fall of Valyria. The fabled Freehold, with its dragonlords, towering spires and magic beyond imaging. A sprawling empire, and an ultimate cataclysm. This would offer a story that is both visually stunning and narratively rich. Picture a world of immense cities, powerful sorceries, and dozens of dragons flying across ultimately doomed skies—a cinematic spectacle that could rival the scale of The Lord of the Rings and Avatar.

A show set in Valyria would amount to a 3D modelling, CGI nightmare if it were to be multiple episodes each season. To “realistically” portray Valyria they would have to transport us to a world SO different from ours it would be unrecognizable. And they would have to do it for each episode. Everyone knew we weren’t getting that. But now, with a movie budget… who’s to say? Demonstrating all the ancient Eastern splendor on the big screen for two hours suddenly becomes a real possibility.

Valyria’s downfall, often referred to as the Doom, is one of the most mysterious and dramatic events in Martin’s lore. A film exploring Valyria’s golden age and its fiery collapse could provide a fresh perspective on the world of Game of Thrones, without upsetting too many of the ongoing plotlines. Introducing audiences to a bygone era of unmatched power and hubris, I think you’d actually have to try to make that fail at the Box Office. With the right creative team and a blockbuster budget, this thing could easily be printing money.

Avoiding the Obvious: Why Robert’s Rebellion Isn’t the Answer

Some fans might argue for a movie about Robert’s Rebellion, the war that set the stage for the events of Game of Thrones. While this story is undeniably compelling, I think it’s a less exciting choice for a feature film. We’ve already seen much of this era through the books, show flashbacks, and character recollections. Beyond a few gaps, such as Lyanna Stark’s abduction or the Tourney at Harrenhal, Robert’s Rebellion doesn’t offer enough new material to justify a full-length movie.

Instead, HBO should seize the opportunity to tell a story that feels fresh and ambitious, one that explores uncharted territories of the Game of Thrones mythos.

The Path Forward: A World of Possibilities

The potential stories aren’t limited to Valyria or historical wars. Westeros itself offers a treasure trove of narratives. Maegor the Cruel’s bloody reign, the rise of King Jaehaerys I and his golden age of peace, or the chaos of the Blackfyre Rebellions would each bring something unique to the table. Even A Song of Ice and Fire’s pre-Westerosi history, such as the tales of the Children of the Forest or the Age of Heroes could provide foundation for an awe-inspiring film.

A Box Office Goldmine?

If HBO and Warner Bros. can assemble the right creative team—writers and directors who understand both the source material and the cinematic medium—this movie could be a cultural phenomenon. With the current success of House of the Dragon and the ongoing expansion of the franchise, a well-executed movie could cement Game of Thrones as one of the most versatile and enduring fantasy franchises of all time.

Valyria, Blackfyres, Maegor, or even a wholly original tale—the key lies in bold storytelling and unforgettable visuals. As a fan, I can only hope they aim high and deliver a film worthy of George R.R. Martin’s (just make sure to properly involve that guy ffs) legacy. Done right, this could be box office gold.

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