close
close

‘House of the Dragon’ shows the unfair burden placed on grieving women

When dragons go to war, everything burns. But who bears the emotional cost of the fire?

The second season of “House of the Dragon” presents us with a clear answer: in Westeros, a realm steeped in gender normativity, the female figures of the Green and Black Houses are made to bear the weight of grief most acutely.

Their burdens will be doubled.

This season, Queen Helaena (Phia Saban), with a knife at her throat, is forced to identify her son Jaehaerys (Jude Rock) to an assassin who cuts off his head in retaliation for the death of the enemy family’s high-ranking son, Lucerys (Elliot Grihault). Helaena has suffered a devastating loss and is traumatized by the ordeal, and her mother, Queen Dowager Alicent (Olivia Cooke), is grieving the situation.

“The child is dead. His suffering is over. But what they did to my daughter…” Alicent cries, her usual stoic facade faltering. “What if the hand that did this wasn’t the one to be blamed?” The gods punish us. They punish me. »

This punishment did not end, neither for her nor for her daughter. In fact, their burden will be doubled.

Seeking to break public support for the ‘pretender to the throne’ by portraying her rival Rhaenyra (Emma D’Arcy) as a baby killer, Alicent’s father Otto (Rhys Ifans) – Hand of the King to his son and father by Jaehaerys, Aegon (Tom Glynn-Carney) – presents an idea. They will hold a public funeral procession for Jaehaerys during which Alicent and Helaena will ride alongside the body of the deceased prince, so that their mourning will be public and visible to the people.

“Let no one say that I am not grieved,” said Otto. “The kingdom must see the sadness of the crown. A sadness that is best expressed by its gentlest souls. I think you will all agree that the king himself must be spared.”

Grief, as depicted in “House of the Dragon”, perpetuates archaic ideas that the role of men is different from that of women in Westeros and exacerbates existing divisions between the sexes. Rhaenyra’s very existence as Viserys’ designated heir is perhaps the most obvious example of this division. The infighting that culminates in the Dance of Dragons arises from discontent with the mere idea of ​​having a female leader.

And time and again, we see these women called to public office even as they grieve their losses. They are unfairly saddled with performance, and made to endure not in spite of their grief but because of it. There is a gender double standard in how emotions are acceptable to express, fostered by a hierarchy of emotional labor in which women occupy the bottom rung.

Tom Glynn Carney in “House of the Dragon” (HBO) (HBO)This implicit system is why Otto parades Alicent and Helaena through the streets of King’s Landing, despite their deep discomfort with the theatricality of it all, and allows Aegon the Incompetent and Impetuous to wallow in the walls of the Red Keep. It’s a form of compassion born partly out of necessity, as pointing out Aegon’s instability would only exacerbate his perceived weakness.

But it is also true that no man in this feudal society would ever willingly choose to make a spectacle of his grief. Pervasive toxic masculinity is not a nascent phenomenon. In “House of the Dragon,” the notion of what it means to be a man – to be a king – is in decidedly dire straits, its gradual progress hampered by a culture of misogyny in which men can only express themselves through rage. In this world, a crying king is an aberration, and an angry woman is described, not as strong, but as a “cunt.”

During the procession, mother and daughter appear side by side, clad in gauze funeral veils, as thousands of people around them scream and offer their condolences. The cart carrying Jaehaerys’ body sinks into the mud, and his stitched head lurches as soldiers attempt to dislodge the body. Helaena moans and grimaces, thrashing in anguish as Alicent tries to soothe her. “A curse, a curse on Rhaenyra the monstrous,” cries a shrivelled citizen.

The entire spectacle is a sinister domino effect of female grief, shaped and perpetuated by men in power.

Even Aegon’s immediate assumption that Rhaenyra is behind Jaehaerys’ murder reinforces the series’ emphasis on gender normativity. Although her grief over the death of her own son Lucerys drove her to seek to balance the scales, it was actually her husband Daemon Targaryen (Matt Smith) who ordered the prince’s murder.

Westerosian society demands that its women engage in outward displays of grief, even if their inner pain is undeniably real.

The emotional strangeness behind Aegon and Helaena’s relationship as siblings and husband and wife further complicates Jaehaerys’s murder. In behind-the-scenes footage from the second episode, Glynn-Carney says, “Aegon feels completely alone. No one really understands or appreciates the pain that he’s feeling. And I think we understand why Aegon’s respect for Helaena grows, because she’s the only other person in that environment who really knows what that pain is.”

The actor talks about a brief moment when the siblings pass each other on the castle stairs. Aegon, closely followed by two royal guards, briefly looks at his sister with an expressionless look. She nods silently.

Rather than serving as a moment of quiet empathy between two grieving parents, as Glynn-Carney suggests, this flabby interaction is its antithesis, as the most watered-down way for the royal couple to come together in the face of extreme tragedy.

The House of the DragonEmma D’Arcy as Rhaenyra Targaryen in “House of the Dragon” (HBO)Meanwhile, Rhaenyra finds herself in a similar situation. When she says, “Having lost my own son, I would do such a thing to Helaena,” these words, spoken in a gesture of incredulous self-defense, show that she cares infinitely more for the opposing queen than for her own husband or grandfather. But perhaps that’s not so surprising. After all, Rhaenyra knows what it’s like to grieve and yet have the world expect strength from her.

This happens when she goes looking for her son’s remains, but her husband Daemon is abandoned and demands action. He implores his cousin Rhaenys (Eve Best) to fly with him to King’s Landing to kill the dragon that killed Lucerys.

“Was that the queen’s order?” Rhaenys asks.

“The Queen remains absent,” a visibly exasperated Daemon replies. “She’s been gone for days. Too long. She’s exposed.”

“She is in mourning!” said Rhaenys, the queen who never was.

“The mother laments while the queen shirks her duties! », argues Daemon.

Like Otto Hightower, Daemon does not see the extent of his wife’s grief. Rhaenys, who has lost both her children by this point, explains to him why it was wise for Rhaenyra to be absent. “She did not act out of the vengeful impulse that others might have had.”

In an oxymoronic configuration, Westerosi society demands that its women engage in performative outward displays of grief, even though their internal pain is undeniably real. Maintaining a level of implicit visibility that adheres to clever political agendas and warring networks often woven by men is integral to the deeply patriarchal society of the “Game of Thrones” universe. When women are hurting the most, they are called into emotional arms in order to elicit politicized empathy. Unfortunately, this weaponization of their feelings does not allow for true healing or reconciliation, but rather perpetuates the opposite.

Alluding to the history of ancient Valyria, Rhaenyra at one point says, “I do not wish to rule a kingdom of ashes and bones.” »

But in a world where emotions move like chess pieces, and if we remember how Daenerys Stormborn (Emilia Clarke) ravaged King’s Landing when she felt offended one too many times in ” Game of Thrones,” the consequences of long-repressed female grief are far-reaching. make sure to unfold catastrophically.

Learn more

about this topic