Game of Thrones – Enneagram and Encaustic

House of the Dragon

Should I even touch on this? I have no Story Enneagram of Episode One because I turned it off in disgust. I was only watching for pleasure, with no thought of writing about it, and the purview of this blog is not for me to rant with no structural issue worth discussing.

However, I’m horrified at the casual violence a showrunner would create surrounding a woman. I specifically refer to Aemma Arryn and her birth scene. And, no, I don’t mean a Cesarean section performed by Renaissance-equivalent maesters. Physical agony is a part of childbirth, and often a plot will take an extreme angle on it. (See A Quiet Place for an astonishingly honest look, deeply connected to character and story.)

NEBULA, FOUR

Angry and jealous. Oh, is Nebula a Four! All of the hurt she’s suffered, physically and emotionally, have left her wide open to more pain. She doesn’t armor up like most people would. She attacks, yes, but deep inside she hopes for love. The more vulnerable she feels, the harder she hits.

She’s portrayed so beautifully, so accurately, that I really have nothing more to say. Gillan leaves it all on the screen for everyone to see.

LITTLEFINGER (BOOK), ONE

He’s short, sly and manipulative. And he’s in charge of the money. One?

He likes secrets, holding them and sharing them. He likes knowing more than others. He likes messing with your mind. Sarcasm and deceit. Yet, I want to believe. I want to find something worthwhile in him. He’s an underdog, actually. We’re supposed to suspect him. He tells Ned not to trust him, yet he helps Ned in ways he could’ve ignored. It’s as if The Game is playing constantly in his head, pieces shifting, and he’ll attend to you and reality in his spare time. He may even watch the tokens move afterward, seeing the effect of his words.

When Ned asks his advice after Robert’s deadly injury he gives an excellent answer. He openly shares a treasonous idea. When it’s rejected, Littlefinger moves on. Open, then closed. He’s like a door. His honesty combined with practicality, and his dry wit, really say One. Also, his use of money, the purse, as a tool screams One. What about his ability to spin on a dime, to negotiate with Ned, and then stab him in the back? Much can be justified when a One believes they’re in the right. A One can be a flat-out villain and have no idea. They relentlessly pursue a worthy goal in their mind. How the rest of the world sees them is not only invisible, it’s unimportant.

TYWIN LANNISTER (BOOK), THREE

Before we see him we know that he or his men have killed the red-toothed tavern keeper. She was just a woman running an inn. What a shame, and I believe that’s what we’re supposed to feel at recognizing her corpse on the gibbet. Tywin is not nice.

Cool under pressure, Tywin is so focused. He never smiles. Problems thrown at him barely register. He intends to break Robb Stark, and then focus on Stannis. He is the most mentally and physically disciplined person in the story. Diplomacy and persuasion are as much a part of his arsenal as tactics and might. No wonder his children are, at least, intimidated by him and, at most, terrified.

His armor is described in great detail. It’s amazing! I wish they’d included it in the show. Gold, lions, rubies, a heavy cloak long enough to drape the horse’s hindquarters. You can see him glisten from afar. What kind of man indulges in something so practical and yet so artistic? When the battle is mostly won, Tywin rides forward, shiny and majestic, surrounded by banners and spears. It’s epic. The man knows showmanship.

However, he misjudges Robb’s tactics. He calls Robb green, which he is, and assumes Robb will act rashly, which he doesn’t. It’s a great, fist-rising moment of victory for the Starks. Does he guess wrong because his pride blinds him? Is he just unlucky on this day? Or is there something about the Starks — a leadership based on camaraderie rather than dominance — that a Lannister can’t understand?

Well, his success at everything suggests a Three. He’s got it all. An imp child would particularly cause such a man to feel shame. Cersei, a medieval-era woman with a ruthless mind and a willful ambition, would baffle and embarrass him. And Jaime, the golden lion who fights hard in whatever direction his father points him, would please Tywin most.

RENLY BARATHEON (BOOK), THREE

He’s quick, funny, and light-hearted. Honest. And he dresses well with no apologies.

Strike while the castle sleeps. Renly knows exactly what’s happening in the moment Robert dies and the branches of its outcome. Take the children and Cersei will cave. Of course, he’s correct.

I like Renly! He’s easy-going and not quick to feel aggrieved. His encampment is beautiful, lively, and fun. All who follow him are at a party, it seems. He enjoys fine things but doesn’t overindulge. He’s nice to everyone, high and low. My God, he’s such a Three. If Stannis hadn’t resorted to magic and trickery Renly would’ve ended up King. He was golden and unbeatable by normal means.

BRIENNE OF TARTH (BOOK), NINE

She wins the melee tournament, defeating Ser Loras at the end. She’s large, strong, a trained warrior, and ugly. Catelyn pities her for this, but even more for the look Brienne gives Renly when she asks to be named to his honor guard. Young. Naive. A heart to be broken.

It goes without saying that she’s a Body Type. She’s a medieval superhero. To fight this well, especially in an era when every social convention would contradict you, you must need it in your bones. This is a Nine. The strength and competency combined with her personal gentility are the key traits.

Brienne is a wonderful character, and it’s a shame to cut to the chase so soon, but her Enneagram number is easy to spot with only one chapter of information. I am distrustful of George R. R. Martin’s skill in writing women. I have found the main characters — Catelyn, Daenerys, Arya — contradictory and arbitrary at times. I’m going to peg Brienne here, mostly because I don’t trust the rest of the writing about her to be consistent. At this point, she’s very clear.

JOFFREY (BOOK), FOUR

He’s tall, handsome, and next in line to the throne. He’s got it all and he knows it. Why should he be nice?

Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt at the beginning. He’s spoiled and privileged. That doesn’t mean he’s intrinsically awful. When he rides out with Sansa he shows her a lovely day in a beautiful countryside. It’s only with Arya that his dark side emerges.

For a while he seems like a rich boy, petted and selfish. Underneath, though, is a liking for cruelty. He’s not that different from little Robert Arryn, the breastfeeding lordling. He wants to see people fly through his own version of the Moon Door just because he can.

Benefit of the doubt officially over.

He’s a monster, but here’s what’s interesting. When he becomes king he immediately behaves as a tyrant. There’s no warm-up, no testing the waters of power. It’s not politics for him. He just is this way. The only difference is that now no one can tell him to stop. Before this he seemed possibly juvenile. But he’s a sadist. He enjoys the pain.

He’s passive until the throne is brought to him by his father’s death. He doesn’t engage in politics and he makes no effort to learn. When he sits on the throne and rules, cruel whim informs his decisions. Law and justice mean nothing to him. He’s no Head Type.

And he’s no Body Type. Little Arya beats him up. Weapons training is not something he pursues with passion.

So, Heart. Two, Three, or Four?

He’s not clever. Sansa talks rings around him. So does The Hound. He’s not nice enough to be a Two and not successful enough to be a Three. (His mother got him the throne. And no one likes him there.) That leaves a nasty Four. That explains his ability to misdirect people with his prettiness. Smoke and mirrors.

STANNIS BARATHEON (BOOK), FOUR

Why did Stannis leave? He was going places — investigating? — with Jon Arryn before his death, and now Stannis has abandoned King’s Landing. Apparently he’s either too careful to succeed or he’s a coward. Also, he’s quite a prude and no one likes him. So there.

Seat Stannis on the throne and the realm will bleed.

My God, he’s bitter. He’s steeped in poison of his own thoughts. He’s a resentful person, envious of Renly. And Ned. Wow, is Stannis a horrible, small-minded tyrant. However, he’s not kind, he’s not successful, and he’s not witty. None of the Heart Types fit him.

One goes to Four in weakness. The WHAMming (What About Me?), the envy, are part of that slide. The obsession with rules and details are the One side. He’s petty and selfish, with none of the charm of either number. A turn toward Seven would be a strength move. You can see how if he considered his options — join with Renly, join with Winterfell — he would improve his chances. Instead he chooses the Red Woman, the occult, which narrows his odds even further. Why in the world did Ned consider this man a possible monarch? No bloodline is strong enough to make Stannis worthy.

BRAN STARK (BOOK), NINE

He’s young, and the chapters from his perspective reflect a child’s understanding and interests.

He’s a knight-stan. It’s logical that a youngster in a medieval era would love the warriors and know their names by heart. This child, though, is clearly a Body Type. He climbs because he must.

When he and Robb receive Sansa’s letter proclaiming Ned a traitor, Bran cuts to the chase: Sansa lost her wolf. If the children and their wolves share a bond, then Sansa’s was broken, she was broken, against her will. (Nymeria runs free with Arya’s permission.) What a great insight — and a glimpse of the wisdom Bran will have — as to why Sansa would weaken.

He has a chance to study as a Maester, a vocation he’d excel at, but turns it down. It has no magic, and that’s what he wants. He wants to fly. Again, Body Type. He wants to ride out like Robb and hear the cheering. It’s the image of trotting rather than accolades that moves him. More than his body is broken by the fall. His inner self, his connection to life as a Body Type, is broken. If that can be rebuilt it will take a while.

I don’t think he has the vitality of an Eight. Nine or One? He’s a natural diplomat with no love of accounting. Nine.

CERSEI LANNISTER (BOOK), EIGHT

She’s insightful, but is it a natural diplomacy or is it keen self-preservation? She sends Joffrey to a frightened Sansa (on the trip south), which is exactly the right thing to do at that moment. It’s a kind and attentive act. It also stops a potential scene. It stills the waters. Impressive, but what underlies it?

When Arya is held to account for her attack on Joffrey, Cersei is determined. She knows all the angles to get some kind of justice, or revenge, for the sake of her son. It’s as if she’s followed all the branchings in her mind, all the permutations of reactions, and decided what to do in response. Either that, or she’s incredibly quick-witted. She has an iron discipline.

Ned confronts her in the godswood. She’s so calm, so straightforward! She doesn’t flinch or dissemble. Whoa! She had an abortion rather than bear Robert’s child. That’s different from the story TV Cersei tells Catelyn. She hates Baratheon. Quite a choice by the showrunners to make Cersei . . . more likable? Weird. Robert called her Lyanna on their wedding night. Another moment when the ghost changed his life and he didn’t even know it.

And Cersei makes a pass at Ned! An orgasm for a favor, for forgetting who fathered the children. When he tells her to flee, that Robert will chase her with his wrath, she asks, “And what of my wrath?” To underestimate Cersei, to not see her as a power broker, is a fatal mistake.

Only Tyrion can annoy her enough to make stupid mistakes. Or is Tyrion the only one who looks closely enough to see them? What is she?

She acts from her gut. Her heart and her head don’t hold sway. She’s too manipulative to be a Nine and too dull to be a One. An Eight, then. Hmm. It would explain why she and Tyrion rub each other wrong: they are each other’s strength and weakness number. As much as I love Lena Headey I wouldn’t have cast her as this Cersei. She’s playing (and is written to be), probably, a Four. A true Eight portrayal would’ve been magnificent.