Why Did Rhaenys Targaryen Not Become Queen?

The whole situation with Viserys and Daemon's sister being excluded from succession in 'House of the Dragon' is a fascinating mess of Westerosi politics and patriarchal traditions. From what I understand, the Targaryens technically followed male-preference primogeniture, meaning sons came before daughters in the line of succession—even if the daughter was older. Their sister, Rhaenys (often called 'The Queen Who Never Was'), was the daughter of Jaehaerys I's eldest son, which should’ve given her a strong claim. But the Great Council of 101 AC set a precedent by choosing her cousin Viserys over her, largely because the lords of Westeros weren’t keen on a woman ruling. It’s wild because Rhaenys was clearly competent—she rode Meleys, one of the fiercest dragons, and had the temperament of a ruler. But Westeros has this deeply ingrained bias against female rulers, even in a family as progressive as the Targaryens. The whole thing feels like a prelude to the Dance of the Dragons, where this exact issue erupts into full-blown war. What’s even more frustrating is how Rhaenys’s exclusion echoes real-world medieval history, where women were often sidelined despite their capabilities. The show does a great job highlighting how arbitrary these decisions can be—Viserys wasn’t necessarily more qualified, just male. And Daemon? Well, he was chaotic and unpredictable, but still prioritized because of his gender. It makes you wonder how differently things might’ve gone if Rhaenys had been crowned. Maybe the Targaryens wouldn’t have spiraled into so much infighting. Or maybe the lords would’ve rebelled sooner. Either way, it’s one of those 'what ifs' that haunts the lore.

Cersei Lannister's journey to the Iron Throne is a masterclass in ruthless ambition and political maneuvering. Initially, she became queen by marrying Robert Baratheon after he took the throne following the Targaryen downfall. But let's be real—her marriage was a hollow power play. Robert was a drunken warrior who barely noticed her, and Cersei spent years quietly seething, biding her time. The real turning point came after Robert's death, when she orchestrated the War of the Five Kings by framing her brother Tyrion for Joffrey's murder. By 'A Feast for Crows,' she's essentially ruling through Tommen, manipulating him like a puppet. But her true crowning moment? The wildfire explosion in the Great Sept, wiping out her enemies in one fell swoop. That was pure Cersei—no mercy, no hesitation. She didn't just inherit power; she carved a path to it with blood and fire. What fascinates me is how her reign echoes past tyrants in 'A Song of Ice and Fire.' She's like a darker version of Maegor the Cruel, but with a Lannister twist. Even her walk of shame didn't break her—it just made her more dangerous. By the time she crowns herself in 'Game of Thrones,' it feels inevitable. No allies, no love, just pure willpower. That's what makes her one of the most compelling villains in fantasy.

Rhaenys Targaryen's story is one of those bittersweet what-ifs that linger in the back of your mind long after you've finished reading 'Fire & Blood.' She was the daughter of Prince Aemon Targaryen, the heir apparent to King Jaehaerys I, and by all rights, she should've been next in line for the Iron Throne. But Westeros wasn't exactly a progressive place when it came to succession laws. Even though she was a dragonrider, fierce, and more than capable, the lords of the realm balked at the idea of a woman ruling. Instead, they chose her uncle, Baelon, and later his son Viserys, bypassing her entirely. It's a decision that arguably set the stage for the Dance of the Dragons, all because they couldn't see past tradition. What makes her title, 'the Queen Who Never Was,' so haunting is how close she came. If her father hadn't died young, if the Great Council of 101 AC had voted differently, if the realm had just been a little less stubborn—she might've changed everything. Her legacy echoes through her granddaughter Rhaenyra's claim, another woman denied her birthright. Rhaenys wasn't just overlooked; she became a symbol of the road not taken, a reminder of how much bloodshed might've been avoided if the Targaryens had just embraced a different kind of strength.

Man, what a gut punch that was. I binge-watched 'Game of Thrones' with my buddies every Sunday, and we all assumed Daenerys would claim the throne after all that buildup. But when she torched King's Landing, it hit me—she wasn't the breaker of chains anymore; she became the thing she hated. The throne wasn't even her endgame; power corrupted her vision. Jon Snow had to make that impossible choice, and honestly, it wrecked me. The throne got melted down, symbolizing how the cycle of tyranny had to end. Still bitter about how rushed Season 8 felt, though. What sticks with me is how the show subverted the 'chosen one' trope. Daenerys’ arc was tragic, not triumphant. Her descent into madness mirrored her father’s, and the throne was never the real victory—just a cursed prize. The dragons, the prophecies—none of it mattered in the end. Maybe that was the point all along: some legends aren’t meant to be fulfilled.

Oh, the Dance of the Dragons is such a messy, tragic saga in 'Fire & Blood'—it’s one of those stories where you’re glued to the pages but also kinda want to yell at the characters. Rhaenyra does technically sit the Iron Throne, but calling her reign 'successful' would be... generous. She claims it after Aegon II’s faction crowns him first, sparking the war. For about half a year, she rules from King’s Landing, but it’s a nightmare of betrayal, riots, and her own dragons turning on each other. The city starves, her allies fracture, and her son’s death wrecks her. Then Aegon II retakes the throne, and her fate gets real grim. The book doesn’t sugarcoat how brutal this power struggle is—her story’s less about triumph and more about how the system chews up even those who 'win.' Honestly, it’s heartbreaking. She’s raised to believe the throne is hers, but the second she tries to take it, everything collapses. The way George R.R. Martin writes her downfall makes you question whether anyone really wins in these wars. Her legacy gets twisted, too—history remembers her as 'Maegor with Teats,' which feels unfairly harsh. But that’s the whole point of 'Fire & Blood,' right? It’s a fake history book where the biases of the narrators shape how we see these figures. Makes you wonder how much of her 'failure' was circumstance versus her own choices.

Rhaenys Targaryen's connection to Daenerys is one of those deep cuts from 'A Song of Ice and Fire' lore that makes Targaryen family trees look like spaghetti. Rhaenys was the daughter of Rhaegar Targaryen (Daenerys' older brother) and Elia Martell, making her Daenerys' niece. Poor kid never got a chance—she was just a toddler during Robert's Rebellion, and her death at the Lannisters' hands was one of the series' most brutal moments. It's wild to think how different things might've been if she'd lived; Daenerys might've had family growing up instead of being alone in exile. George R.R. Martin loves his tragic what-ifs. Funny how the show never really emphasized this, though. Casual fans probably assume Daenerys was the last Targaryen for years, but book readers know there were other potential heirs running around—like Young Griff, who might actually be Rhaenys' secretly surviving brother Aegon. The Targaryen dynasty's full of these shadowy branches that make you go, 'Wait, WHAT?' halfway through a wiki dive.

The moment Daenerys Targaryen was crowned in 'Game of Thrones' wasn’t just about a fancy title—it marked the culmination of her brutal, transformative journey. From the frightened girl sold to Khal Drogo to the Mother of Dragons, every step demanded blood, fire, and unshakable belief in her destiny. The Dothraki named her 'Khaleesi,' but her crowning as queen in Meereen and later her claim to Westeros’ Iron Throne was about legacy. She carried the Targaryen name like a torch, burning anyone who doubted her right to rule. Viserys always screamed about 'waking the dragon,' but Dany became the dragon—her coronations were less about ceremonies and more about survival. The throne wasn’t handed to her; she seized it, one city at a time, with dragons and Unsullied at her back. And let’s be real: in a world where power is a game of fear and devotion, her crown was forged by the people who knelt—not out of love, but because they’d seen what happens to those who refuse. Yet, that crown also carried the weight of her contradictions. She freed slaves but crucified masters; she demanded loyalty but trusted no one. By the time she stood in Dragonpit, declaring herself queen before Cersei, the crown was already a ticking bomb. The show framed it as inevitable, but looking back, it’s tragic how her rise mirrored her downfall. The same fire that crowned her reduced King’s Landing to ashes.