Where Is Alyssa Targaryen Buried In Westerosi Lore?

Man, Jon Snow's true identity reveal in 'Game of Thrones' was a rollercoaster! It all traces back to Bran's visions through the Three-Eyed Raven. He discovers that Jon isn't Ned Stark's bastard but the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. Lyanna died giving birth to him in the Tower of Joy, and Ned promised to protect him by raising him as his own. The name 'Aegon Targaryen' comes from Rhaegar’s belief that his son would be the prince who was promised. Sam later finds a secret High Septon diary confirming Rhaegar’s annulment of his marriage to Elia Martell, making Jon legitimate. What blows my mind is how this twist recontextualizes Jon’s entire journey—from the Wall to King’s Landing. He’s not just a Stark bastard; he’s the heir to the Targaryen dynasty, though he never wanted it. The irony? He’s more like Ned than anyone: honorable to a fault. The show never really explored his reaction to the name 'Aegon,' though—maybe it felt too grandiose for someone who just wanted to protect his people.

I'm the sort of reader who loves the messy, human stuff in George R. R. Martin's histories, and when I first ran into the name 'Alyssa' in discussions I paused — the book actually centers on Alysanne Targaryen, and a lot of fans casually shorten or misspell her name. In 'Fire & Blood' she appears as the sister-wife and queen-consort to King Jaehaerys I, a partnership that’s more partnership than shadow-queen. What I love about her portrayal is how she comes across as both warm and politically sharp: she isn’t just a background figure, she helps shape policies, tours the realm alongside the king, and pushes for reforms that touch everyday folk, especially women and children. Reading the chapters about Jaehaerys and Alysanne felt like listening to family stories told at different tables — some chroniclers praise her as compassionate and practical, others gossip about court intrigues. Martin leans into that unreliable-historian vibe, so you get several versions of the same events: tender moments, fierce debates, and the odd rumor. For fans who like the human details, Alysanne’s character is a goldmine — she’s credited with gentle reforms and with being a calming, steady influence on a long and consequential reign. If you’re digging into her, keep an eye out for the anecdotes that show more than policy: her travels, her interactions with smallfolk, and the kind of courtly influence that changes law and custom over time.

Lots of people mix up names in Westeros (I do it all the time when I'm flipping through my scribbled family tree), and when someone says 'Alyssa Targaryen' they usually mean 'Alysanne Targaryen'. Alysanne was the beloved queen who married King Jaehaerys I — she sailed, advised, and reshaped court life centuries before Rhaenyra ever drew breath. So, in plain terms: she isn’t Rhaenyra’s sister or cousin, she’s a much earlier member of the dynasty, a distant ancestor figure rather than an immediate relative. If you want the nerdy genealogy: Rhaenyra is the daughter of King Viserys I, who comes many generations down the Targaryen line after Jaehaerys and Alysanne. The exact number of generations between Alysanne and Rhaenyra varies depending on which branch you trace, but it’s enough generations to call Alysanne an ancestor rather than a close relative. I like to pull out the family tree from 'Fire & Blood' or consult the charts in 'The World of Ice & Fire' to see the names lined up — it makes the gaps feel a little less abstract. If you actually meant some other Alyssa (there are minor characters and fan-made variations), the relationship could be different, but the safest bet is: Alysanne = long-ago queen, Rhaenyra = later claimant to the throne, and Alysanne is an ancestor in the broader Targaryen lineage. Whenever I trace this stuff I end up bookmarking pages and sticking Post-its on my copies of 'House of the Dragon' lore — it’s oddly comforting.

I get pulled into these theories every time I reread the Targaryen chapters late at night with a mug going cold beside me. One line or a throwaway marriage arrangement in 'Fire & Blood' sends people down rabbit holes. A big chunk of fans read Alyssa's motives as intensely political: she’s protecting her children’s claim, negotiating alliances, and trying to steer a fractious court toward stability. Those who favor this view point at her public acts and carefully arranged matches, arguing she’s a strategist working within the brutal, gendered constraints of Westerosi power. The vibe here is that she’s pragmatic, sometimes ruthless, but always thinking several moves ahead because the cost of failure is blood and exile. Other readers tilt the lens toward personal feelings and trauma. They look at private moments, rumors, and gaps in the narration and imagine motives rooted in grief, jealousy, or a desperate need for love and validation. Some even weave in the dragons and prophecy — that she might be driven by fear about bloodlines, by whispered destiny, or by the desire to keep dragons in her branch of the family. Personally, I find these mixed readings most satisfying: Alyssa as both a chess player and a wounded person. It makes her three-dimensional and messy in the best way, and it fuels so much passionate discussion on forums and fanfiction corners where people remix historical facts into compelling psychological portraits.

The Mad King did more to unravel House Targaryen than any enemy army ever could. I’ve always been drawn to the messy politics in 'A Song of Ice and Fire', and Aerys II’s reign is a masterclass in how personal madness becomes institutional collapse. He started as a king with fragile legitimacy—Targaryen dragons and centuries of rule—but his paranoia, cruel punishments, and alienation of the great houses stripped that legitimacy away. The executions of Rickard and Brandon Stark, the cruel mockery of his council, and the whispered plots he imagined made every lord around him see the crown as dangerous rather than sacred. What really tipped the balance was how his behavior interacted with succession. Rhaegar was a clear heir, but Rhaegar’s death at the Trident left a vacuum that Aerys couldn’t fill because he’d already burned through the goodwill of his barons. Instead of restoring confidence, Aerys’s orders—like the plan to burn King’s Landing with wildfire—proved he trusted fire more than counsel. Jaime’s murder of Aerys was both the final break of royal continuity and the signal that bloodlines alone couldn’t guarantee the throne. Practically, that meant surviving Targaryens—Viserys and Daenerys—were reduced to claimants in exile, with sparse support and a tarnished dynasty name. Generations later, you can still see the echo: houses remembered the Mad King more than any peaceful tradition, and that memory shaped who would back a claimant. It’s tragic, but also a reminder in fiction and in history that succession is as much about legitimacy and institutions as it is about birthright. I always come away from that era thinking how fragile authority becomes when rulers lose the trust of their people.

I’ve been deep into 'Blood and Dragons || House of the Dragon Fic,' and yes, Daemon Targaryen is absolutely central to the story. This fic captures his chaotic charm perfectly—swinging between ruthless ambition and unexpected tenderness. The author expands on his relationship with Rhaenyra, adding layers of tension and longing that the show only hinted at. His battles are visceral, with descriptions so sharp you can almost hear Dark Sister sing. Political machinations here feel more personal, as Daemon’s choices ripple through the Targaryen dynasty. What sets this fic apart is how it explores Daemon’s psyche. Flashbacks to his youth with Viserys add depth, showing why he rebels yet craves validation. The fic doesn’t shy from his darker acts, like the Stepstones massacre, but frames them as part of his tragic duality. Even minor interactions, like his taunting of Otto Hightower, crackle with menace. If you love Daemon’s unpredictability, this fic delivers—every chapter reaffirms why he’s the most captivating Targaryen.

Daenerys Targaryen in 'A Game of Ice and Fire' is a complex character who defies simple labels. Initially, she's a sympathetic figure—a young girl sold into marriage who grows into a powerful ruler. Her journey from victim to conqueror is compelling, but her methods become increasingly ruthless. Burning cities, crucifying masters, and demanding absolute loyalty show her dark side. The books hint at her potential for tyranny, especially with her belief in her divine right to rule. While not purely evil, her actions blur the line between hero and villain, making her one of the most morally ambiguous characters in the series.

There's a brutal contrast when you put Aemond Targaryen's mount up against Rhaenyra's dragon, and I love how that contrast tells you more about the riders than the beasts themselves. Watching the scenes in 'House of the Dragon' and rereading bits of 'Fire & Blood', Vhagar just reads as ancient and weathered—huge, battle-scarred, and terrifying in presence. It’s the kind of dragon that doesn't need to prove itself; its size and reputation do the heavy lifting. That gives Aemond a kind of blunt, psychological advantage on the battlefield: opponents see Vhagar and feel small, which is half the battle in medieval-style warfare. By contrast, Syrax (Rhaenyra’s dragon) feels intimate and responsive. Syrax is younger, faster, and more attuned to Rhaenyra’s moods. That makes their pairing more about finesse and bond than sheer intimidation. In one-on-one fights or when maneuverability matters—scouting, quick strikes, protecting a rider—Syrax can be more useful. Rhaenyra’s dragon also carries emotional weight in ways Vhagar doesn’t; watching their interactions, you can tell Syrax is an extension of Rhaenyra’s will, whereas Vhagar is an ancient force that Aemond tries to channel. Tactically, you could boil it down to blunt force versus precision and loyalty. Vhagar can smash lines and crush castles; Syrax can outmaneuver and protect what matters. Personally, I love that neither is strictly “better.” It’s like comparing a battleship to a fighter jet—both have moments to shine, and both reveal something about who’s sitting in the saddle.