Over the course of the second season of House of the Dragon, there have been about four batshit insane, rocks-for-brains-ish choices made per episode. Most of these decisions are made by the dowager queen, Alicent Hightower. The entire Dance of Dragons – the civil war cited as the beginning of the end of the Targaryen dynasty – is kickstarted by Alicent herself misunderstanding her husband on his deathbed. In short, Viserys was trying to tell his daughter Rhaenyra that he believed her to be the prince that was promised in the Song of Ice and Fire (a prophecy given by Aegon the Conqueror and is actually about Daenerys Targaryen), but instead mumbled a few sentences to Alicent about Aegon uniting the realm. While Rhaenyra would know that Viserys is talking about Aegon the Conqueror who delivered this prophecy, Alicent understood Viserys’ dying words as a wish to put their son Aegon on the throne instead of Rhaenyra. While I can’t say that this was a particularly wise choice seeing as Viserys was actively dying from leprosy while high as a kite, and her Aegon was an alcoholic rapist who absolutely never should have been king, I also can’t say I blame her for jumping so quickly to that conclusion and acting on it given her life so far in King’s Landing.
When Otto Hightower was dismissed as Hand to the King after insisting that the heir to the throne, Rhaenyra Targaryen, had sex with her uncle in a brothel, he quietly departed King’s Landing. With his departure, Queen Alicent Hightower was about to be truly alone for the first time in her very young life. She wouldn’t have the guidance or comfort of her father, she knew she’d never have Rhaenyra’s companionship again after the fight they’ve had and she knew that her husband would never side with her, or their children, over his beloved daughter and heir. King Viserys I would not go against his one true child.
As her dear father – the man who brought her to King’s Landing, placed her in court as Rhaenyra’s companion and sent her to comfort the king after his dear wife’s death – left her alone in this treacherous place, he told her that Rhaenyra, the only true friend she’d ever had, would be forced to put Alicent’s children to death if she truly wanted to legitimize her claim to the throne. This last, terrifying, horrible piece of wisdom from her beloved father marks her far deeper than a scar could ever dream to. That lie, that manipulation becomes as sacred to her as her faith in the Seven. It becomes a prophecy of its own.
She already had Aegon and Helaena by the time Otto said this to her, making this massacre inevitable in her eyes. She couldn’t erase her children and she couldn’t shirk her duties as both a mother and a queen. Her only option was to raise her children ready to fight for their lives and against Rhaenyra’s claim, as those two things were so inextricably intertwined. She told Aegon exactly that in his teenage years, screaming that simply by living and breathing he was a threat to Rhaenyra and her claim. Alicent raised her children to be able to defend themselves as individuals and as a family unit, to make their legitimacy and their lethality known. She thought she needed to raise warriors and politicians and kings for them to survive.
For Aegon to survive, he would need to be a talented statesman and benevolent yet fearsome king. He would need to be as loved as his father and as shrewd as her father. For Helaena to survive, she would need to be a loved and loyal queen, popping out heirs, giving favor to the small folk and doting on her husband in poor times just as her mother did. For Aemond to survive he would need to be a mighty knight, one that every girl in the seven kingdoms wished to give her favor to and every boy feared facing in a tourney. He would need to be his uncles Gwayne and Daemon in one soul. He would need to back his brother in every single fight and kill any challenger that dared to raise their heads. Daeron would’ve needed to do the same, become a beautiful and righteous murderer along with Aemond. But that sacrifice wasn’t necessary, Alicent needn’t subject another boy to the cruelty of the Targaryen court when she already had Aemond. She could spare this one, let him live in peace with her family in Oldtown. Let him be kind. Until, some day, Rhaenyra came for him.
But maybe, just maybe, she could avoid all this heartache if Rhaenyra was simply never crowned at all. She wouldn’t have to watch the one person she had loved out of something other than obligation murder her babies. If she got her husband to declare Aegon the heir, as her father so dearly wished him to, then all of this could be avoided. But Rhaenyra would never give up her inheritance, and the king would not give it away unless forced. So, she had to force him, for the lives of her children. She had to make him see that Rhaenyra had no honor. She was trying to pass off three bastard children as sons of a noble, Valyria house and heirs to their seat. She had to make him see that she was just as politically savvy as her father was, that she knew how to play this game and that her opinion should be heard and heeded to. She sat the Small Council, stood her ground and cut Rhaenyra down every chance she got. She did all of this because if all the men on that council and all the people of King’s Landing backed Rhaenyra’s claim and believed her to be a good ruler, her children, the only somewhat good things she’s gotten out of her rotten luck, were as good as dead.
In those efforts, she found pockets of truth in her father’s prophecy. She found Rhaenyra resisting her at every turn, trying to placate her or biting back full strength. She found her husband distrusting and dismissing her. She found her son’s eye slashed from its socket by Rhaenyra’s bastard son. She found her peace of mind only truly returned with her father by her side. She found her husband calling her Aemma, that she could never be his first wife or bare a child he loved nearly as much as Rhaenyra. She found Rhaenyra’s first husband murdered and suspiciously quickly replaced by the uncle that had caused the king so much trouble. She found peace only on the last night of her dear husband’s life, when she realized that maybe Rhaenyra wasn’t so much of a threat. Maybe Rhaenyra was just her husband’s favorite child and maybe Rhaenyra is still the girl she read with in the garden as a child.
And then Viserys spoke Aegon’s name on his deathbed. He spoke their son’s name for the first time in ages. And with her father’s vicious prophecy so deeply set in her mind, of course she didn’t hesitate to believe Viserys was speaking of their Aegon. Of course the conqueror and his prophecy that she had never even heard of is millions of miles away from her mind, from this moment. Of course she wanted to believe that he would give her this mercy, after spending essentially all her life tending to him and giving him the sons Aemma never could.
She didn’t know that Rhaenyra had no intention to kill her children, nor would she need to if Aegon, Helaena, Aemond or Daeron truly did not want the throne. She didn’t know that she didn’t need to raise her babies to believe they constantly needed to be on guard, waiting for someone to take away everything they loved or even their life. She didn’t know she could’ve raised kind boys instead of cruel ones. She couldn’t have known that following Otto’s advice and turning each of them into a political pawn, just as he did to her, would ultimately kill all her children, starting with the gentlest and going down the line.
The true tragedy is that she didn’t realize until Aegon was crowned as king, at a point too late to change any of their fates. Aegon and Aemond had already decided they meant to keep the throne at any cost necessary. Rhaenyra and Helaena had each already lost a son. Rhaenyra’s council had already decided the fate of the Greens. By thrashing so violently against the prophecy her father delivered on that rainy day at the palace gates she fell right into its open palms. After the Dance of Dragons, the war that her folly began, she was the last of her line. Her father, her brother, her children and their children were all dead and gone long before her. She wasted away, equally haunted and bound by the fate she tried so hard to avoid, until the winter fever granted her mercy so many lonely years later. Didn’t she pay enough penance? Isn’t she, in some way, a victim of this war? Was there any other way for this to end?
