"House of the Dragon," History, and the Problem of Sexual Violence

The new Westeros-set series shows signs of replicating its predecessor's problems with sexual violence...with some of the same justifications.

I’m not going to lie. Despite my reservations about the wigs, I’m very much looking forward to House of the Dragon, the new HBO series which will depict the traumatic and self-destructive civil war of the Targaryens, particularly the conflict between Rhaenyra and her half-brother Aegon, as each strives to occupy the Iron Throne. Though I, like many other people, was grievously disappointed by the final season of Game of Thrones, I’m encouraged by the fact that HBO seems to be giving this spinoff the big-budget treatment and that it is not under the creative control of Benioff and Weiss, who made such a hash of their own show. 

So, you can imagine how delighted I was to see The Hollywood Reporter issuing a special report on the behind-the-scenes drama. This is, after all, something of a golden age for on-screen depictions of works of epic fantasy, and I’m always eager to gobble up what little tidbits the creative team is willing to share. Indeed, the two-part story is a fascinating look at the work that goes into getting a huge series like this off the ground. Unfortunately, one thing more than any other stood out to me, and not in a good way. I refer, you might have guessed to Michael Sapochnik’s comments about sexual violence. In the interview, he noted that they were going to treat it “carefully, thoughtfully and [we] don’t shy away from it. If anything, we’re going to shine a light on that aspect. You can’t ignore the violence that was perpetrated on women by men in that time. It shouldn’t be downplayed and it shouldn’t be glorified.” Presumably in response to the backlash, one of the show’s executive producers rushed to reassure us–unconvincingly, I might add–that sexual vioence would not be depicted on-screen but that, instead, the show would demonstrate its impact on the character in the aftermath. 

Of course, I’m not entirely surprised by these remarks nor by the attempt to undertake some damage control. After all, Game of Thrones was infamous for its egregious (and, bluntly put, very gross) use of sexual violence for moments of “character development,” never mind the fact that doing so suggests that female characters have to bear the burden of such violence. And, let’s not forget that Martin himself weighed in on the issue way back in 2014, using history as an excuse. "The atrocities in A Song of Ice and Fire, sexual and otherwise, pale in comparison to what can be found in any good history book," he remarked at the time.  

The question is, though, why does this need to be made a part of this new series, which doesn’t involve any of the same characters that appear in Game of Thrones? Having read and recently re-read Fire and Blood, the in-universe history of the Targaryen dynasty–I’m well aware of the ubiquity of sexual violence in the world of Westeros, but even so, the book is notable for not giving us too much detail about what this actually entails. For one thing, it’s more of a history than a straightforward narrative, per se, so thankfully we’re not treated to the sort of gruesome details that we get in either A Song of Ice and Fire or Game of Thrones. For another, it’s about the powerful people who rule at the top of the royal food chain who are, as a rule, not as susceptible to being raped or assaulted as much as their commoner subjects (or, for that matter, their nobles). 

But, even if it were true that Fire and Blood contained as much sexual violence as the rest of Martin’s oeuvre, this still begs the question that many other commentators have justifiably asked: is this really necessary? After all, we’re dealing with a fantasy world here, even if it is one that happens to be based on the medieval period of northern Europe (where life could be, as Hobbes famously articulated it, nasty, brutish, and short). One could get all of the rich texture one associates with Martin’s particular brand of fantasy world-building without leaning into the less appealing aspects of it. 

What is especially distressing, though, is the disingenuous use of “history” to justify this kind of representation. It’s especially galling because, whatever the series, and its makers, and its aesthetics, might have to say, this isn’t medieval Europe we’re watching being recreated here for us on the screen. However gritty and grim it might be, the truth is that everything is more fantastical, vaster in scale, and more marvelous than anything in our own world. From the monumental Wall (a hyperbolization of Hadrian’s Wall in the north of England) to the dragons who were so key to the Targaryens’ rule, this is a word that doesn’t play by our rules, and we like it that way. 

Now, to be clear, I see why Martin and the creative minds behind the series would lean so heavily on “historical authenticity.” History, with a capital h, of course, brings with it a certain level of respectability. If you can point to something in the alleged real world to justify your questionable storytelling choices, then it absolves you of the responsibility of explaining why it is that you’re including something that many viewers find distressing and/or downright disgusting and harmful. Just as importantly, appealing to history also means that the series can tap into the ever-present desire to see the past represented on-screen. 

It’s also worth pointing out that it would, in fact, be possible to depict a medieval-Europe inspired fantasy realm that focused on the things that women did rather than on what happened to them. True, Game of Thrones gave us badass women like Daenerys, Cersei, Sansa, and Arya, but three of these women were raped or humiliated, hardy a good track record. How refreshing it would be if fantasy, including House of the Dragon, could just give us fantasy versions of such formidable medieval women as Eleanor of Aquitaine, Empress Matilda (the inspiration for Rhaenrya, to be fair), Isabella of France, and Margaret of Anjou (a potential inspiration for Cersei) without all of the violent baggage and sexual exploitation.  

It would, ultimately, be more honest if they would all just admit to the fact that they just want to talk about the horrible things that happen to women, without all of the intellectual gymnastics and strained rationalizations. Though I would still be grossed out by Martin and the makers of House of the Dragon if they adopted this particular stance, I would at least have a bit more respect for them. What they both must realize is that sex–particularly violent sex perpetrated against women–is not only part and parcel of how the visual economy of popular culture has long been organized (Laura Mulvey, anyone?) but is also very much a selling point for premium cable. HBO, Showtime, and Starz have all repeatedly made use of illicit sex of various sorts in order to differentiate themselves from the tamer fare offered by their network brethren. 

To be quite honest, I find it exasperating, frustrating and, if I’m being blunt, downright infuriating to see a bunch of male creators and writers justifying sexual violence on television in the Year of Our Lord 2022. Surely, in the wake of MeToo and all of the justified criticism leveled at Game of Thrones and its egregious use of these tropes to degrade even its most prominent and powerful female characters, one would have thought that they would have expressed at least a bit of hesitation about going down the same road as their predecessor. 

Ultimately, the truth is this. Whatever their claims about treating the subject with care or deliberation or whatever other fancy language they choose to use, the ugly reality is that, as the old saying goes, you can put lipstick on a pig, but that doesn’t really change the pig. Sexual violence, no matter how tastefully handled, is still that, and its impact is still going to be the same. It’s going to continue to present audiences with a word in which violence against women, particularly of a sexual variety, is understood to be both normal and, to a degree, accepted. This may not be the series’ intention, but they should know by now that audiences don’t always (or often) take away the message a series’ creators might have intended.

If, indeed, the point of House of the Dragon is to highlight the deep pathologies of patriarchy–that, for example, it is willing to destroy itself rather than to let a woman rule–then it also has to work very hard not to replicate the very pernicious ideologies it sets out to critique. It simply can’t hope to accomplish any of its criticism if it continues to insist on the centrality of sexual assault to women’s experience as characters. Whether or not it is shown on-screen is, then, irrelevant, if it’s still understood as being somehow key to a character’s development. 

Though I don’t have much hope that House of the Dragon will heed this advice, I’m willing to be proven wrong. Let’s just hope it proves to be so.