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applesanddragons · 4 months ago

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Aegon IV the Unworthy - Response to Goodqueenaly

Morality binds and blinds.

Aegon had hated the Dornish and warred against them, and those lords who desired the return of those days—despite all the associated misrule—would never be happy with this peaceable king. (TWOIAF)

As you can see above, the historian’s writings of Aegon IV are seasoned with unsubtle jabs at Aegon IV. They are reminders that you’re supposed to think he’s a villain.

As I read through Goodqueenaly’s writings about Aegon IV, I can see that they are seasoned the same way.

Obviously Aegon IV was generally a shitbag

Like Shae, Megette was a lowborn woman whose life prior to meeting her aristocratic male partner (and I use that term extremely loosely) was neither truly free nor independent:

The historian’s propaganda has done its work on Goodqueenaly, causing her to seize upon cheap opportunities to demonize Aegon IV in the eyes of her readers just like the historian is doing to his readers. All the better to moralize the issues.

When you make an issue about good versus evil (moralize), rather than about the facts, you blind people to reason. And when you blind people to reason, you increase the difficulty and danger for a truthseeker to promote conclusions that are more true. Now you have a Westerosi society (and a fandom) that is bonded together by the shared belief that Aegon IV was evil, before the reader has had a chance to do any reasoned deliberation of the facts to determine for himself what he believes about Aegon IV’s moral alignment.

To a society of people that is strongly bonded by the idea of Aegon IV’s villainy, who would dare say that Aegon IV did something good, even if it’s true? The social cost of saying it is not worth the reward, except to the rare person who is sufficiently devoted to the truth. Those are the Aristotles and Galileos of our own world, people who paid the ultimate price because they would not be deterred from a truth that their societies couldn’t bear to know.

If Aegon IV was a villain in reality (the story’s reality), wouldn’t the facts stand in evidence of that all on their own? I mean, without the incessant commentaries about his moral alignment? Surely, readers can be trusted to conclude that a king who actively terrorized, humiliated, and harmed his wife was evil, so long as the facts majorly show that terror, humiliation, and suffering were what King Aegon really intended or caused, and/or what Queen Naerys really experienced.

Though I don’t expect you to believe it before I present and explain all the evidence (Indeed the heart of my lesson [and ASOIAF’s lesson, I gather] is that you should not believe the guilt of anyone where severe accusations are made, before you’ve seen and considered all the evidence), King Aegon IV did not terrorize, humiliate, or harm his wife Queen Naerys. But in fact, Naerys did all of those things to Aegon. The morality of these characters is reversed. And the reason these histories reverse the morality of these characters is because Daeron I The Good was the bastard son of Queen Naerys and Aemon the Dragonknight, and therefore an illegitimate king.

But why would present day historians care about Daeron the Good’s legitimacy or illegitimacy? Because present day historians are writing under present day kings, and the legitimacy of present day kings derives from the legitimacy of past kings they’re descended from. In other words, if it were to become widely known and accepted that Daeron the Good was a bastard, it would become known that Aerys II is illegitimate, too. Because Aerys II descends from him. Under the reign of King Aerys II for example, the spread of that knowledge would be disastrous for the ruling family because the line of succession would jump all the way back up the tree to Aegon IV’s natural sons, who are legitimate heirs because they were legitimized by a legitimate king — Aegon IV himself on his deathbed — and Targaryen civil war would ensue.

Why would GRRM write the story that way? Because this is part of ASOIAF’s baked-in commentary that its audience does not pay enough attention to or give enough weight to the succession politics of Westeros. For the noble and royal people in the story, matters of succession are an ever present reality that shapes their daily lives. Even children such as the Walders Frey are constantly tracking lines of succession for this reason. But for the reader, matters of succession can be comfortably ignored, because most of the plot and drama does not require you to pay attention to politics in order to enjoy it on a surface level, and because your own well-being does not hinge upon noticing, for instance, that your uncle wants to kill your brother, and will want to kill you too when you take your brother’s place on the throne (Thinking of Baelor I). As Goodqueenaly’s analysis often shows, even readers highly knowledgeable of and attentive to ASOIAF’s political machinery are mostly blind to its political subtext.

In keeping with my thesis, her blindness is a morally motivated kind of blindness, because accompanying many of her oversights is a speculative rationale that is commensurate with (and often flattering to) her personal sense of what’s right or wrong, good or evil. Here’s one example.

As the official story of history goes, Aegon IV’s extramarital activities were an insult and humiliation to Queen Naerys, because a husband is supposed to be monogamous with his wife. Sure enough, Aegon’s non-monogamy is the premiere villainy that characterizes Aegon in these histories. There are a whole two pages dedicated to Aegon’s mistresses. Then Goodqueenaly proposed the possibility that part of the reason Aegon IV had his marriage to Megette officiated by a mummer playing a septon, rather than a real septon, was that it gave extra insult to Naerys by giving insult to the Faith’s institution of marriage, because Naerys loved the Faith of the Seven.

But if Aegon marrying Megette was an insult to Naerys, by that same logic shouldn’t Aegon fake marrying Megette be less of an insult to Naerys rather than more? The marriage was fake, after all, because the septon was a mummer and not a real septon. Using the original logic that disloyalty to your first marriage is wrong and mean, surely the use of a real septon officiator in the second marriage should be more wrong and mean than using a fake septon officiator.

What I’m highlighting is that Goodqueenaly’s speculations about the situation are driven not by a logical consistency, but by a moral consistency. Aegon being bad and Naerys being good is the moral framework that is guiding her speculations, and the logical framework is rearranged to support it. What goes largely unnoticed by her is that with the addition of her speculation the situation as a whole has become illogical.

And what usually goes entirely unnoticed by her is that the nature of the illogic suggests an alternative and viable possibility for what the true nature of these events really was. It just requires us to do the opposite of what Goodqueenaly did—preserve the logic and invert the moral alignments instead. That is, suppose that Aegon was good and Naerys was bad.

If Aegon was the good guy in this situation and Naerys was bad, what would that situation look like and what speculations would help it make sense? Now you’re in the right frame of mind to work and solve the historiographic puzzles of The World of Ice and Fire and Fire & Blood.

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf meta #literature #fantasy #georgerrmartin #aegon iv the unworthy #naerys

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novaursa · 3 days ago

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Hi. I'm sorry for asking for a request like this because it's my first time. I was wondering if u can make Aegon iv x Targaryen/velaryon reader. Aegon was obsessed with her before and after he became king. The reader is close to Naerys and Aemon. Her descendants thrive and marry one of Aegon's lines and others. It is up to you. Apologies if my descriptions were not that long

The Queen He Never Had

Requests are closed

- Summary: His only penance was you.

- Pairing: cousin!reader/Aegon IV Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @idenyimimdenial

- A/N: I still had some trouble with this one, because you didn't express what exactly you want me to write about again. I improvised with the story and I had to throw away future with descendents, because I consider it to be irrelevant for the plot. I focused more on Aegon's inner struggle. I hope that is what you had in mind.

The years have passed, and you’ve remained a constant in his mind, like the pull of a far-off star in his sky, impossible to ignore. Aegon IV, crowned king of the Seven Kingdoms, had always been a man of indulgences, known for his lustful desires and insatiable appetites, yet none had gripped him so completely as you had. It began long before the weight of the crown was placed upon his head, when he was but a prince, content to bask in the endless luxury of his family’s expectations. But even when he was but a prince, content to linger in the shadows of his father’s court, where his pale hair gleamed like a flame in torchlight and his appetites were already whispered of by handmaidens and harlots alike. But you—Y/N—were never meant to be one of them. He had known it from the moment you first curtsied before him in the gardens of Maegor’s Holdfast, the lavender hem of your gown brushing against the wet grass as you raised your head and met his eyes without fear. You were a Targaryen and a Velaryon both—Valyrian blood and old salt in your veins—and it was clear even then that you would never be his to take lightly.

He had tried, gods help him, to suppress it. There were moments when he would press goblets of Dornish red to his lips and drink until your face became a blur, when he would tumble into the arms of pliant women with hair dyed silver in your likeness, whispering your name into their necks and pretending not to notice their flinch. But you never left him. You haunted him through every feast, every council meeting, every passing year like the scent of smoke on silk.

And worst of all, you were always there. Not some shadow in the past but present, vibrant, untouchable. You stood beside Naerys with a gentle grace that made his sister seem less fragile. You walked with Prince Aemon down the halls, your laughter threading with his in ways that tightened Aegon’s throat. You sat near the fire in the Queen's solar, your needlework delicate and precise, silver hair braided back in the style of Driftmark nobility. He hated how much he noticed your hands. Hated that he could describe the curve of your nails, the softness of your voice when you read aloud to the young princes. You never looked at him with scorn. You were kind—too kind. That, more than anything, drove him mad.

There were moments when he thought he would break.

"You should have wed her," Aemon had once said, honest as he was, while his brother was still clinging to old bitterness and dreams of alliances long gone. "Instead of that poor sister of ours. At least the realm would have known peace with a queen of fire and tide."

And Aegon had only smiled, thin-lipped and cruel, because he knew how close he had come to doing just that. He had asked—no, begged—for you, once. Before his father commanded him to marry Naerys. Before your hand had been unofficially promised to some distant cousin in the Stormlands who drowned before the ink dried on the pact. Aegon had gone to his father with the fury of a dragon beneath his skin.

“She is of our blood!” he had snarled. “No one knows her like I do. No one wants her like I do.”

“She is not a plaything, Aegon,” Viserys had said, voice heavy with disapproval, the lines of his aging face deepening like old rivers carved into stone. “She is your kin. A noble daughter of Velaryon and Targaryen blood both. You speak of her as if she were some bauble to be bought, not a woman of standing. You will wed Naerys, and she will wed where it suits the realm. You will forget this… obsession.”

Forget. As if he could.

Aegon remembered how his fingers curled into fists that day, nails biting into his palms until blood beaded along the creases of his skin. He remembered storming from the chamber, the hem of his velvet cloak flaring behind him like dragon wings, his mouth filled with the coppery taste of rage. That had been years ago—before he was king, before Aemon had grown into a man of unsullied honor, before Naerys's eyes dimmed with disillusionment.

But time had not dulled the ache. It had sharpened it, honed it to a crueler edge.

Now, as King of the Seven Kingdoms, Aegon sat upon a throne of swords, his back straight despite the discomfort of iron pressing into silk and flesh. The hall was loud with the echoes of petitioners, courtiers, lords and their flatterers—but all he heard was your voice, distant and laughing in some sunlit corridor with Aemon, as it had been that morning. He clenched the armrest of the throne, silver rings biting into his fingers.

“Your Grace,” called Lord Staunton, pausing in his appeal, “do I have your attention?”

Aegon blinked. “You do not,” he snapped coldly, waving him off. “Come back when your complaint has merit.”

He rose without ceremony, cloak billowing as he strode from the hall. The lords and ladies of court bowed, parted like water before him, but he saw none of them. Only you. Always you.

He found you in the Queen’s solar that evening. You were seated on a low chaise beside Naerys, embroidering a delicate stretch of cloth in fine silver thread. Your fingers moved with elegance, and Naerys, tired and pale as ever, leaned against you as if you were the only warmth left in her cold world. The sight of it made something gnaw at his ribs.

You glanced up when he entered, and—gods—smiled.

“Cousin,” you said, as if you hadn’t noticed the shadows under his eyes, the tightness of his jaw. “Have you come to sit with us?”

Naerys raised her head and gave him a wan look. “He never sits. Not unless wine is involved.”

“You wound me, sister,” he said with mock injury, but his eyes remained on you. “Perhaps I would, if asked sweetly.”

Your smile deepened, polite and unknowing, and you turned back to your needlework.

Aegon stood in silence for a beat too long.

Naerys, perceptive in the way only the weary can be, said softly, “I will retire early. The light is straining my eyes.” She rose, touched your hand, and whispered something only you heard before slipping out, leaving behind a faint scent of rosewater.

You remained seated, fingers pausing at the embroidery hoop. “She cares for you, you know. Naerys. Even when you are cruel.”

“I’m not cruel to her,” Aegon muttered, stepping closer, voice low. “I’m just not what she wanted.”

“You were never what she needed,” you replied, not unkindly.

Aegon chuckled bitterly. “And what of you, sweet Y/N? What do you need?”

You blinked, lashes catching the firelight, and tilted your head. “Why do you ask?”

He moved then, closer, enough to see the way your pupils widened slightly, the rise and fall of your breath. “Because I would give it to you. Anything. Everything.”

“Aegon—”

“You were never meant for anyone else. Not that stormborn fool they tried to offer you to, not any lesser man.” His voice trembled with something between fury and desperation. “You should have been mine.”

The silence after that was suffocating. You looked at him with eyes the color of dusk above the sea—endlessly deep, endlessly far.

“But I wasn’t,” you whispered. “You married Naerys. You chose your path. And I walked beside it, not upon it.”

“You think I had a choice?” he hissed, reaching for you now, his hand hovering just inches from your cheek. “You think I did not fight for you? You haunt me, Y/N. You always have. I see you when I close my eyes, I smell you in the hair of other women, I dream of your mouth and wake with rage that it was only a dream.”

You stood slowly, your face unreadable. “And what am I to do with that, Aegon? You love me as a man starves for food he cannot digest. You take and devour, and still you hunger.”

“I would be different for you,” he said. “If only you'd ask it.”

But you didn’t. You stepped around him, soft skirts brushing past his knees, and paused only once at the door.

“You were my friend once. I mourn that more than I mourn what could never be.” Then you left him, again.

Years passed. He took mistresses, bastards, gold and titles. He burned through his reign like wildfire through dry fields. But none of it ever touched the corner of his soul that belonged to you. He watched Aemon grow into the man he never was. He watched Naerys turn her face from him like the moon turning from the sun. And he watched you, always you, with that same unbending grace.

He would die with your name on his lips. He knew it. Even if you never loved him. Even if you never once said it back.

“Y/N,” he murmured to himself one night, drunk on wine and longing, his head tilted toward the black sky beyond the Red Keep’s windows. “You are my curse. My crown. My one true queen.”

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood #house of the dragon #game of thrones #house targaryen #house velaryon #asoiaf x reader #asoiaf x you #asoiaf x y/n #got #got/asoiaf #aegon iv targaryen #aegon the unworthy #aegon iv x reader #aegon iv x you #aegon x y/n #x reader #reader insert

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