See how George RR Martin draws tragic parallels between Baelor Breakspear and Oberyn Martell, reverberating fate & honor throughout the history of Westeros.
If you have ever found yourself buried deep in the lore of George RR Martin — A Song of Ice and Fire, or you just have a passing interest in Game of Thrones, you are probably familiar with the popular phrase “History doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes.”
In Westeros, this is more than just a clever saying. How the George RR Martin whole story is built around it. George RR Martin has a penchant for retroactively playing out events of the past in the present, but often with a grimmer, more twisted result. But of all his books’ historical “rhymes,” there are none quite so heartbreaking or headache-inducing as the link between Prince Baelor “Breakspear” Targaryen and Prince Oberyn “The Red Viper” Martell.
Almost a hundred years apart, these two men were the rockstars of their times. They were the top fighters, the coolest princes, the dudes everyone wanted to be. Yet, both of them died in virtually the same way: trial by combat against a giant, intimidating rival with a gory, skull-crushing ending, in a result that altered the destiny of the George RR Martin Seven Kingdoms for all time.
So let’s get down to the fascinating, tragic and completely brutal comparisons between the George RR Martin Dragon and the Viper.
Before discussing how they died, we need to talk about why what they died for hurt so much. “In a George RR Martin narrative tragedy it must hit home, so you make the audience fall in love with the character first.” Martin did this to perfection with both Baelor and Oberyn.
Baelor Targaryen as seen in The Hedge Knight is the very picture of the perfect prince. He was crown prince and Hand of the King, and also a legendary warrior. Not only was he a man of strength and power, but his character was so good that he was looked upon as a shining light of virtue and leadership in the land.
In addition, he was both the Hand of the King and the crown prince, and a fighter so famous that he was the subject of ballads. He wasn’t just strong; he was good. He was the kind of leader who made people feel safe. Had Baelor ascended the throne, the Targaryen rule might have persisted for an additional thousand years or so.
A century and change from there to the main series. Oberyn Martell was Baelor’s polar opposite in personality, but his equal in charisma. He’s the “Red Viper” – a second son who lives in the world, fighting in mercenary companies, learning poisons, and basically doing whatever he wants. He was dire, capricious, and that Shot-in-the-dark Really Cool, Just as Baelor stood for the best House Targaryen could offer, Oberyn stood for the prickly, fiery, indomitable soul of Dorne.
Both were what we call “Era Parents.” When they entered a room, they demanded respect. When they pulled out a gun, you knew something amazing was about to happen.
The similarities really start to emerge when you examine the causes of their deaths. Neither prince died in a grand war or a serendipitous mishap. They each took part in a judicial duel—a trial by combat to rescue someone who was being annihilated by the system.
Baelor Breakspear shocked the whole realm when he backed a hedge knight named Duncan the Tall (Dunk). Dunk was charged with attacking a royal prince (who actually deserved it), and Baelor saw that his own family was wrong. In an act of idealistic chivalry, Baelor practically staked his life on a nobody’s honor. He battled for the helpless against the mighty.
Oberyn Martell advances to champion Tyrion Lannister. However Oberyn’s motivation was slightly different, he craved the chance to kill Gregor Clegane (The Mountain) for the murder of his sister, Elia. But it’s the same: a scion of high-born nobility takes up his rapier in the ring, now defending a man whose fate has been decided by the crown.
Here again, we have a champion confronting a beast for a small fry, in both cases. And in both cases the story tricks us into thinking they’re going to win.
This is the part that makes everyone cringe. George RR Martin didn’t simply kill those characters — he dismembered them, in ways that are specific, graphic, and medically horrifying.
The “head-crush” is a very specific motif in Westeros. It is the beheading of a family or movement’s “head.”
The Hedge Knight tells the tale, and Baelor appears fine at the end of the fight. He’s sitting up, chatting, and instructs his maester to attend the other injured men first. But then, he complains about a headache. The horror is revealed when he removes the helmet.
His brother, Maekar, had clubbed him with a mace in the scramble. The blow had crushed the back of Baelor’s skull. The helmet was the only thing holding his head together. Baelor collapsed when the helmet was removed and the pressure relieved. The “red blood and pale bone” that is poured out here is one of the most memorable images in fantasy literature. Baelor was exhausted as a “walking ghost” – alive only thanks to his armor and force of will.
Oberyn’s death is the violent, fast-paced rhyme to Baelor’s slow tragedy. We all know the scene. Oberyn has the Mountain pinned. He has won. But his arrogance gets the better of him. He wants a confession.
The Mountain trips him, punches his teeth out, gouges his eyes and then— in a moment sextillions of TV viewers will rerun in their heads that crushes his skull with his bare hands. The “sickening crunch” described in the books is a direct echo of the noise Baelor’s skull emitted when his helmet was taken off.
Both men were inches away from survival. Both men were the superior fighters. And both men were left broken on the tourney grounds.
If we investigate a little, there turns out to be an interesting “technical” reason why they both died, and it says a lot about what kind of men they were.
He raced late into the melee without any armor of his own. He had to borrow armor from his son, Prince Valarr. The problem? Valarr was smaller and slimmer than Baelor. The helmet was too tight.
A helmet must be padded and have some space in front to play the shock of the hit in medieval fights. The death of Baelor Toesdrinker was a tragic example of what can happen when armor is ill-fitting. That which should have protected him from harm, was what killed him, underscoring the need for accuracy and caution when making protective equipment.
Oberyn was known to fight without a helmet. He wanted to be quick, light, and to have everything in sight. This was his hubris. He thought his ability was sufficient protection. If Oberyn had been wearing a heavy helm like a regular knight, the Mountain would not have been able to gouge out his eyes and crush his skull so easily.
Baelor is one of the coolest lessons on how to read prophecies George RR Martin Game of Thrones can teach us.
In The Hedge Knight, Daeron the Drunkard has a “dragon dream.” He says to Dunk:
“I dreamed a great red dragon fell upon you, but you were living and the dragon was dead.”
Everyone is initially under the impression that Dunk is going to kill a prince in the fight. But that’s not what happens. Baelor (the “great red dragon”) dies from a blow to the head and collapses over Dunk, who is crying on the ground. The prophecy was fulfilled, but not as anyone expected.
Tragedy is the source of great wisdom that audiences can learn from in this tale. When Daenerys has visions, or Cersei hears prophecies, it is a signal to treat such pronouncements with a grain of salt and a generous helping to understand the “falling dragon” is not an actual monster that drops from the sky but it’s the fall of a great man. Baelor’s death is the key to understanding the magical logic of the whole George RR Martin series.
You might be thinking: “So a prince died 90 years ago, big deal. Where’s the relevance to the main storyline?”
But this is why we have the Mad King, thanks to Baelor Breakspear’s death.
Let’s see how the dominoes fall:
The succession to the throne would have been secure. There would be no Mad King Aerys, no Robert’s Baratheon, and no Ned Stark losing his head.
Baelor’s death was the “hammer blow” that shattered the foundations of House Targaryen. When we reach Oberyn’s death in the novels, we are simply witnessing the end of the house.
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Baelor Targaryen, by birth, looked very different from most Targaryens. His mother was Mariah Martell of Dorne the source of his Dornish heritage, he inherited her black hair and black eyes. It gave him a decidedly Doran look, and some quietly commented that Baelor was “more Martell than Targaryen.”
Particular, grotesque fate for the Martell line Martin has reserved, it seems like. It’s almost a “blood-rhyme.” The ones who have the blood of Dorne with fierce, proud, rebellious to keep ending up crushed by the likes of what the Iron Throne can put its enforcers, blunt force.
So the next time you see that gruesome scene of Oberyn Martell in Season 4, or The Hedge Knight, keep in mind that you’re not just watching a fight. You are watching a cycle of history repeating itself.
George RR Martin connected these two men across time to reveal to us that the “Game of Thrones” consumes even its best players. Baelor was the fire of the past, and Oberyn was the hope of the present. They both crumbled under the burden of their own decisions, and the cruelty of their world.
The death of Baelor broke the Targaryen dynasty, and that of Oberyn shattered the peace between the Lannisters and Dorne. They are the two “crushed crowns” of Westeros that testaments to how even the brightest stars can go out swiftly, violently.
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Stranger Things Season 5 is said to be an epic Hawkins finale. Cast details, a plot synopsis, release information and a heartfelt Duffer tribute. Learn more!
For more than eight years, Stranger Things Season 5 has been our shared time machine. It whisked us back to the warm flicker of neon arcade machines, the static on walkie-talkies and the spine-tingling excitement of ’80s horror. We’ve been picking apart the Duffer Brothers’ homages to Spielberg, King and Carpenter for years. But as we prepare to bid the series farewell in its fifth and final season of Stranger Things, the showrunners won’t be paying any more tributes to the pop culture that brought them up. They’re honoring the woman who actually raised them.
In a move that has melted hearts across the internet, Ross Duffer recently revealed that the role of “Miss Harris” in Season 5 will be played by none other than Hope Hynes Love—the Duffer Brothers’ real-life high school drama teacher.
In order to get a sense of why this casting is so powerful, we need to travel back in time to Durham, North Carolina, in the year 2000. Before they were Netflix royalty, Matt and Ross Duffer were just a couple of self-described “outcasts” scurrying the halls of Jordan High. They weren’t athletes, and by their own accounts, they were “awful actors.”
In the high school world where status is everything, the twins were outliers. Their obsession with film made them “weird.” They needed a sanctuary, and they found it in the drama department.
Enter Hope Hynes Love. She didn’t require them to be star performers. She operated on a philosophy of inclusivity, valuing enthusiasm over raw acting talent. As Ross shared in a vulnerable Instagram post,
“High school was rough for me and my brother. But Hope saw something in us we didn’t see in ourselves.”
Hope didn’t just give them a safe space, she gave them a career blueprint. She famously told her students that to make it in the arts, they needed to be a “tractor”—a versatile machine capable of doing the heavy lifting, regardless of the terrain. She taught them that a creator must be able to write, direct, edit, and understand every angle of production.
“Let’s give it up for all the teachers who are just crushing it. And for the love of God, let’s put the arts back in schools.”
—Ross said
She also indulged in what educators term “benevolent neglect.” When the brothers desired to make a documentary about the school musical, she released them. When that documentary was turned down by a film festival, she let them fail and that failure taught them how to cut, how to pace a story and how to have heart. She didn’t only instruct them in drama, she instructed them on how to survive the business.
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In Season 5, life will imitate art in the most poetic way possible. Duffer brother shared on Instagram as Deadline mentioned, Hope Hynes Love will portray Miss Harris, a teacher at Hawkins Elementary. But this is no walk-on cameo. The storyline drops her at the epicenter of the end of the world, shielding the most young and naïve characters (Mike and Nancy’s little sister, Holly) from the series’ biggest villain, Vecna.
There’s a whole profound metaphor to be had here. Two decades ago, Hope Hynes Love was the one who shielded Matt and Ross from the “monsters” that comprise adolescence – insecurity, doubt, and isolation.
Now, the brothers have written her into their world as a guardian against the monsters of the Upside Down. She is the thematic linchpin of the finale: the teacher as the ultimate guardian.
While the casting is a sweet gesture, it carries a serious message. The Duffer Brothers are using the massive platform of Stranger Things to scream one thing from the rooftops: Prioritize the arts in schools.
The multi-billion-dollar franchise we love today wouldn’t exist without a high school drama program in Durham. It wouldn’t exist without a teacher who saw potential in two quiet kids with a camcorder.
As we witness the last stand for Hawkins come to a head in 2025, look for Miss Harris. She is a reminder, though, that even though telekinesis is rad, the biggest superpower in the Stranger Things universe—and in real life—is a teacher who believes in you when you don’t believe in yourself.
Fandomfans is delivering every update on Stranger Things, its cast and producer/director Duffer Brothers’ decision to the fans of the amazing thriller series.
Pluribus Episode 5 Review: “Got Milk,” offers up sharp humor and complexity as Carol Sturka takes a daring solo turn that reimagines the Apple TV+ sci-fi show.
Pluribus Episode 5 Review, “Got Milk,” which is, without a doubt, the most unsettling and pivotal installment of the Apple TV+ sci-fi series yet. While the entire premise hinges on the glorious misery of anti-hero Carol Sturka, this episode stripped away her supporting cast. Got Milk is not only a great hour of television, but it is the fulcrum upon which the entire series revolves. It took the nebulous, disquieting tone of the series and distilled it into something frighteningly tangible.
The first big transformation is structural. In the show’s first half, the cast has been reacting to the oddness of the Hive as a group. This episode rips that safety net away, as noted by The A.V. Club
weary of Carol’s “surly, chaotic energy” .
By dividing Carol from the rest of the cast, the writers have forced her to grow. She’s no longer merely a foot soldier in the mystery; she is driving the investigation on her own.
A wave of fear and unease surrounds this seclusion. Seeing Carol lead this world without reinforcements cranks the tensions up right away. We understand that if she fumbles, there’s no one to hold things together. It’s a narrative master-stroke that ratchets up the tempo just when the season needed a kick in the teeth.
Hello Carol “I just need some space after everything that happened”
—-Carol received a recorded message
It’s a bizarre development. The woman who spent four episodes railing against forced happiness is finally alone, free of the oppressive, upbeat gaze of the collective. But instead of relief, we get an intensified sense of isolation. As Collider summarized, demonstrating a stunning range from existential dread to determined obsession. In one darkly comedic moment that speaks volumes about her state, she reaches for a book– Agatha Christie’s classic, And Then There Were None.
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The loneliness, however, proves to be a catalyst, forcing Carol to go “full detective mode,” as aptly described by Winter is Coming. Her investigation begins not with grand philosophy, but with the mundane horror of a post-human world– wolves trying to dig up her wife Helen’s grave and the massive piles of garbage left behind.
Following the mundane trash trail leads to the episode’s major breakthrough. Carol discovers an enormous, unexplained concentration of empty milk cartons from a local dairy. Her paranoia, which the Others always dismissed as misplaced anger, finally proves useful. She breaks into the dairy and finds that the facility isn’t producing cow’s milk at all, but a “strange fluid created from a bagged crystalline substance”
According to the plot details reported by Screenrant, this disturbing discovery suggests the hive mind is sustained not by harmony, but by a very physical, very secret resource—potentially a synthesized nutrient or “psychic glue” required to maintain the collective consciousness.
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This turn of events redefines the question at the centre of the show. The argument is no longer “Is it worth it to be happy rather than have the misery of freedom?” which was an interesting, but very abstract, type of question raises in a carol mind’s—
“Can the sanctity of human life withstand the onslaught of mechanized efficiency?”
The writers have us cornered, brilliantly so. The Hive works. It brings peace. It addresses hunger. People just need to cross a couple of lines, a couple of moral lines, and lots of people are willing to do just that to keep the lights on.
It’s a “non-malicious absolute moral compromise,” and that is an order of magnitude more terrifying than a monster jumping out of your closet.
By the end of “Got Milk,” Carol Sturka is no longer just the world’s most miserable person, she is humanity’s reluctant, paranoid, and highly caffeinated last hope. She has uncovered a flaw in the collective’s seemingly perfect system. Now that she knows what the Others need, the question posed by this pivotal hour is clear for her —
“Will the cure for happiness be found in a repurposed milk carton?”
Going into the final half of Season 1, the tone has permanently shifted. The games are done, we have a definition of the Hive now. The last few episodes are lined up not to explore but to escalate. Carol is aware, and the ethical imperative of the situation has reached a fever pitch.
“Got Milk” is a clinic on how to do a mid-season twist. It didn’t only push the narrative forward, It altered the genre of the series, from a psychological thriller into a survival horror movie where the adversary is efficient itself.
