Fire & Blood

Martin signals his interest in Historical Narrative and Truth in the first paragraph of Fire and Blood, when Gyldayn explains that the dating system of Westerosi historians is problematic. Under the umbrella of the term “Aegon’s Conquest” is a messy series of events that only now assume shape. In popular narratives, that shape comes from a combination of mythologizing and ignoring facts and details that do not fit neatly into the popular narrative around Aegon and his family.

Gyldayn’s description of the events before and during the Conquest initially focuses on what the chronicler can verify or guess. The description includes details about the more pedestrian background of important families like the Targaryens and the Velaryons. These details help the reader see that these Valyrians were lucky and shrewd; it was not simply through the will of the gods that they came to control Westeros. Gyldayn also includes details about Aegon commissioning the Painted Table before the Conquest to prove that the Conquest was the result of years of planning, not the predestined victory of the dragon-touched Targaryens.

Gyldayn uses storytelling flourishes to make Fire and Blood more than a dry recitation of true events by a careful historian. Rather than simply writing that Aegon sent a message to the rebellious lords demanding their surrender, Martin describes this moment as one when “a cloud of ravens burst from the towers of Dragonstone” (7), visual imagery that appeals to the senses. Lords and ladies are not just called on to surrender; they are to “bend the knee,” a poetic example of synecdoche, in which the bent knee represents the whole individual in submission to the king.

These digressions may make Martin a good storyteller, but they make Gyldayn and his approach to writing history suspect. The lyrical description of the ravens flying forth, for example, adds the element of myth to Aegon’s first move in the war. Although Gyldayn starts the narrative by attacking the mythologization of the Targaryens, Gyldayn’s subsequent narrative shows great deference to the Targaryens’ version of history. The Targaryens are settler colonists who took Westeros by military conquest. Aegon centralized power and completed his conquest by building political and judicial institutions that enhanced royal authority, making “the Iron Throne the seat of justice for all Westeros” (40). Presumably, the rebel lords of Riverrun and Dorne did not see things this way. Like real-world medieval and Renaissance historians, Gyldayn is comfortable writing history from the perspective of the winners. Lastly, Gyldayn’s description of the archmaesters in Chapter 3 is self-serving considering that Gyldayn is an archmaester. A critical reader should take that bias in favor of archmaesters into account in judging the objectivity of this historical narrative. Lack of objectivity makes Gyldayn an unreliable narrator; these issues become more prominent in later sections.

Martin also introduces the theme of Conquest and Power in these chapters. He contrasts Aegon at war and Aegon in peace to show that conquest differs from accruing and consolidating political power. As a conqueror, Aegon the Conqueror engaged in extreme acts of violence such as burning Harrenhal until the stones melt and roasting men alive by the thousands in battle. These brutal acts were warnings to the fractious Westerosi lords of what gave Targaryens their power: dragons, the ultimate weapons in the feudal world of Westeros. Gyldayn also commences his discussion of women and power. For example, Cerys’ death, caused by the removal of her tongue, shows how little power even noble women have in Westeros.

When Aegon consolidated his power, he was more inclined to use diplomacy and symbols. His famous royal progresses were goodwill tours that were long on pageantry. When possible, he used symbols of domination and violence instead of explicit violence to keep the lords and smallfolk in line. His arms—the symbol of the three-headed dragon—were symbols of that military power. Harrenhal, which appears throughout the novel, was ruined repeatedly to remind Westeros of what happens when one crosses a Targaryen. The Iron Throne was the most potent symbol of Aegon’s power. The many swords that comprised it were reminders of how many lords and men Aegon defeated to gain his throne, while its points showed his vigilance in maintaining that power.

Martin introduces Aenys I and Maegor to show what happens when a ruler fails to strike a balance between explicit violence and symbolic reminders of power. Aenys gave away his symbolic power when he handed Maegor Blackfyre. Aenys’s refusal to act decisively and go to war contributed to his downfall, and his inability to take the political temperature of his lords led to his son and daughter being trapped during the uprising of the Faith Militant. In contrast, Maegor was too prone to resort to violence to maintain power. His lack of attention to reputation led him to the unseemly and violent death of his nephew Viserys. He was a good warrior capable of conquest, but his underestimation of the impact of indiscriminate violence on the lords who watched these acts unfold led to his downfall.

According to Gyldayn, Jaehaerys I struck a fair balance between the explicit use of violence and the deployment of more symbolic forms of power to gain the support of those he rules. During the regency, Jaehaerys I forgave many rebels but sent others to the Wall, likely in an effort to soothe the inflamed feelings of lords. When false High Septon Moon impeded his coronation, Moon died, likely because of Jaehaerys’s actions or someone wielding the authority of the king. This act allowed him to gain the legitimacy that comes with being crowned in the Starry Sept. In subsequent chapters, the Targaryens who will be most successful in ruling are the ones who manage to inspire fear and respect—if not love—from those they rule.