Showing posts with label A Song of Ice and Fire. Show all posts
Showing posts with label A Song of Ice and Fire. Show all posts

Monday, July 24, 2017

Euron Greyjoy is Captain Jack Sparrow, Mate? [Spoilers]

In which I gripe about Season 7, Episode 2, on the World Wide Web, rather than talking off my friends' and family's ear about it. This is for the greater good.

How did Euron Get Here and Why Should I Care?  – There were a number of things that struck me as ill-conceived about last night's episode of Game of Thrones: Most of the dramatic tension in the North stems from Jon and Sansa's inexplicably terrible communication skills. It was never previously established that Arya was unaware of the Bolton's defeat, nor that her belief to the contrary was a driving motivation for her revenge spree. Allying Randal Tarly with the Lannisters puts all of the most dislikable characters on one side, which further erodes the moral grayness and nuance that the show at least pretended to in the past.

However, it was the sea battle at the end of the episode that struck me as the most preposterous cluster of shark-jumping. The first question, which passed through my mind as soon as the battle began, was how did Euron's fleet find Yara's ships on the open ocean, in the middle of the night, without being seen themselves? The most plausible answer I can think of is that Yara was using a standard sea-route toward Dorne, and Euron knew where to wait for her. But this doesn't really make sense, since Euron had no established way of knowing Daenery's plan. It's not impossible that he had a spy, or that he split his enormous fleet to cover the various routes that Yara might take from Dragonstone, but no such thing is established.

This continues a general problem with Euron Greyjoy – The writers have him show up to advance the plot without establishing anything about him or his abilities, and without placing any realistic limits on him. How did Euron build the greatest armada in Westeros in the time it took Yara to cross the Narrow Sea? Presumably he made the sails out of human hair, from his back. How did he find Yara's fleet? He has a compass that doesn't point north. How did he become so good at fighting that he handily defeated the Sand Snakes, who at least drew even with Bronn and Jamie? He's Captain Euron Greyjoy, mate. The difference is that the Pirates films know Jack Sparrow is absurd.

With Euron functioning as a MacGuffin, it's hard to build dramatic tension around him, because it's not clear what constrains or guides his actions; the audience cannot worry meaningfully about what he will do next and whether he will succeed, because his actions abide by no identified logic. This brings us to the next problem. It's not clear what motivates Euron, if anything, except the desire for power and revenge. Although this character choice is not an inherent travesty, it also doesn't make for a terribly interesting villain, especially since we don't know why he has these malign desires. Compare Euron to Cersei, who similarly covets power and revenge, but whose underlying motivations have been established over several seasons. Cersei wants power and revenge, because the power to guarantee her own safety, autonomy, and dignity have been dangled just out of her reach since she was married to Robert Baratheon.

Euron's motivation, an ill-defined lust for power and vengeance, is especially a problem in the context of the sea battle, because this motivation doesn't really contrast with Yara or Ellaria's motivation in any interesting way. Yara wants power, and Ellaria wants revenge. Yara probably wants revenge too, come to think of it. These motivations aren't developed enough to differ in their nuances, and since both sets of combatants want the same basically amoral thing, there's no moral contest at stake in this battle either.

It doesn't help that all of the characters present are essentially B-characters at this point. We haven't seen much of Yara or gotten to know her outside of her relationship to Theon. Ellaria and the Sand Snakes are notably unpopular and lack individual characterization. In fact, when two of the Sand Snakes died, I couldn't remember their names, never mind anything else about them, which somewhat blunted the emotional impact. If, just for instance, Bronn had been involved in this battle, even though he is also amoral and fairly one-dimensional, at least the dramatic stakes would have been raised because he's a familiar and likable character. The only reasonably well developed character present was Theon, and he had his own problems.

Specifically, I found it unclear whether Theon's escape was supposed to be an act of cowardice or an act of prudence. The episode seemed to imply that Theon's escape fit into the ongoing question “Has Theon recovered his manhood?”1 and this question was answered in the negative, setting up a further manhood-recovery arc for Theon. This is a problem for me for two reasons (1) This particular narrative has already been played out with his escape from Winterfell. If they wanted to reignite or further develop Theon's recovery narrative, it needed more set up than it received. (2) Running away struck me as the obviously prudent thing to do, rather than as cowardly. He had no chance whatsoever of rescuing Yara or reversing the battle. Attacking Euron would have been suicide and/or Euron would have killed Yara, whom he was holding hostage. His decision seems no more cowardly than Yara's retreat after her abortive attempt to rescue Theon from Ramsay.

So, what we are left with is a battle between two groups of underdeveloped characters, set up by a MacGuffin, in which both sides just want to acquire power for themselves, where they fight in the dark, and in which it is often unclear which ships and figures are fighting for which side. The show clearly intended the battle to provide a strong emotional cadence for the episode and to establish a sense of real peril for other beloved characters. Instead, it incapacitated a number of characters that nobody cares about, and it signaled that Captain MacGuffin Greyjoy can strike anyone, at any time, regardless of whether it makes sense.

That is not the same thing as establishing peril, because the audience has no parameters according to which they can worry about the characters. When Rob Stark married inappropriately and then returned to the Twins, that established peril for a major character, because the viewers had a specific reason to worry that Rob might be betrayed at that specific time, leaving them on the edge of their seats. When Stannis attacked King's Landing, a battle which was set up over the course of a season, there was specific peril for well liked characters, such as Tyrion, because it was established that Stannis was a self-righteous ideologue receiving most of his advice from a religious zealot who burned people alive. If Stannis won, he would surely have killed Tyrion, who at that point in the series was colored with shades of gray that would have been imperceptible to someone like Stannis.

If a Euron can ride the Black Pearl over the horizon at any time, seems to possess godlike durability and combat skills, and doesn't have a clear set of motivations, this doesn't put any particular character in peril; it puts every protagonist in vague danger, and you can't be on the edge of your seat all the time for a whole season.

Some thoughts on the episode from a feminist standpoint – I don't think it would be quite right to say that the end of the episode was outright sexist, but it struck me as somewhat tone-deaf on matters of gender-politics. The episode's finale featured a notably vile male character (Euron), whom a number of viewers have identified as an analogue for Donald Trump, killing or capturing four of the show's combat-oriented female characters in under 10 minutes. Euron personally overpowered two Sand Snakes and captured Yara, and was party to the capture of a third Sand Snake. So far as I can recall, that leaves Arya and Brienne as the only two women in Westeros who are established as able to use a sword. I understand, of course, that Westeros is a feudal society. The problem isn't that there are few combat-trained women. What's uncanny is that the writers just had Euron incapacitate two thirds of them at once.

I also understand why the writers might have wanted to do away with some of these characters, especially the Sand Snakes. One would wish to avoid a television show full of Sand Snakes for the same reason one would wish to avoid a movie populated by 13 dwarves. They are underdeveloped, interchangeable, and (in the case of the former) widely disliked. I am not convinced, however, it was an unavoidable that these female, martially skilled characters were underdeveloped. It was, at some point, a conscious choice by the show writers to give the hound an interesting story-arc well after he dies (or retires) in the books, but to have Obara and Nymeria pout while Tyene whispers to Bronn about his need for “bad pussy.” So, I'm not saying that it was sexist for the writers of Season 7, Episode 2, to kill off Obara and Nymeria. I'm skeptical, however, that the factors which led them to be disposable, unpopular characters were nothing but random accident.

Finally, the writers seemed to have obliviously repeated one of the most uncomfortable features of the scene from Season 5 in which Sansa is raped by Ramsay Bolton. Arguably, the most objectionable aspect of that scene was that Sansa's brutalization turned around suddenly to feed into Theon's character development. The scene's cadence wasn't about Sansa's trauma, but Theon's emasculation as he stood by and failed to intervene. By all accounts, Theon's current importance to the “great game” is ancillary at best. Yara describes him as an adviser and protector, though we've seen him doing neither of these things. Nevertheless, as Daenery's fleet is lost, and two significant political leaders (Ellaria and Yara) are captured, the scene ends with an emphasis on Theon failing to fulfill his potential. This doesn't seem like the right water for the series to retread.



1I don't think this is a bad way to describe his character arc. Theon starts out as a deliberately macho character, then is is literally, physically emasculated, and then he needs to find himself again.   

Sunday, August 2, 2015

7 Reasons to Visit North of the Wall National Park RIGHT NOW

1. It's Actually Three Parks.
Sure, there's Haunted Forest National Park, but don't forget Frostfang and Always Winter National Parks! Everyone loves picnicking, canoeing, and camping in The Haunted Forest, but, for the more adventurous, the Frostfangs offer hiking, mountain-climbing, and alpine skiing. Or you can get away from it all in The Lands of Always Winter, the perfect place to chill out for a little "me time."

2. The Oldest Forest Service in Westeros
Stop having so much fun you guys! Go patrol that forest.
They've been doing this for 8000 years, and you can bet they're good at it! Friendly, knowledgeable park rangers are always around to point you in the right direction. Remember to check in at Castle Black to pick up maps and brochures, as well as a complimentary dragonglass spearhead. The Watch offers other services at its premier facility, including raven rentals,  guided tours, stargazing instructions, and archery lessons with Ser Alliser Thorne (a real knight!).

3. About that Wall...
It may have been built to keep out wildlings, but now it just keeps in all the fun! Plus, you can ride to the top by winch-elevator, and gaze out over a primordial wilderness, letting the cold and the terror creep into your bones as you feel the weight of your mortality. Hah - We're just joshing you! Take a family-friendly donkey ride over to Queensgate, or simply enjoy the view from the top of the world. It's up to you, and that's what North of the Wall National Park is all about.

4. Good Places, Good People
"Rattleshirt," everyone's favorite
method actor and tour guide!
North of the Wall isn't just for hikers, campers, and outdoor fun-lovers. It's also a world-class resort featuring five star accommodations at Hardhome and Craster's Keep. Every location is staffed by professional reenactors to keep guests comfortable and entertained. Not a bad place to be snowed in with a special someone, or to yuk it up with a band of "wildlings." Or if it's a party you're after, head down to Mole's Town, the "Las Vegas of the North." 

5. Foodies and Chowhounds Welcome
If you think it's all barley stew and boiled mutton, think again! The stewards at Castle Black run a high class establishment, complete with crab and lobster from the Bay of Seals, and fresh game-meat nightly. The cooks have fed clientele, lowborn and highborn, from all over the seven kingdoms. They've even catered to Kings. Just ask Stannis Baratheon how they hosted him and three thousand of his closest friends!

6. A Pristine Wildlife Habitat
It's more than grumpkins and snarks, folks. The farther you get from the wall, the richer the fauna. Safari tours start daily from Castle Black. Just hop on a horse, and you'll see everything from hoary rams to majestic shadowcats. Plus, your inner squatcher can keep an eye out for the children of the forest.

You know nothing of fun...if you haven't
been North of the Wall!
7. Winter Is Coming...
...But it's not here yet! North of the Wall National Park closes annually for the winter, just in case the forces of darkness creep south to cast the world into endless shadow (lol). But seriously, there's no place like Eastwatch-by-the-sea to cool off during a hot summer. Escape that Dornish sun and bring the whole family up North for the wilderness-adventure of a lifetime!



This featured article has been brought to you by OTHERS LLC. 

Monday, July 27, 2015

Why do I like A Song of Ice and Fire?

{SPOILERS}{SPOILERS}{SPOILERS}

I recently found myself trying to explain to my wife, and to my father (who couldn't get into the books) what it is I like about GRR Martin's stories. And that got me thinking...Why do I like it so much? It's not the sentence-by-sentence writing -- not that I think Martin is a bad writer, but, by and large, I don't find the language especially beautiful. It doesn't, for me, have the musicality of, say, Tolkien's writing. No sentence from ASoIaF has stayed with me like the end of Return of the King : " [The] sails were drawn up, and the wind blew, and slowly the ship slipped away down the long grey firth; and the light of the glass of Galadriel that Frodo bore glimmered and was lost. And the ship went out into the High Sea and passed on into the West." Then again, as Martin has said repeatedly, he's not trying to be Tolkien...He's trying not to be Tolkien.

And why do I love the Lord of the Rings? Well, the writing certainly, but let me scamper to another quotation, this one from Nietzsche. In the words of The Immoralist, "From time to time grant me a glimpse, grant me a single glimpse into something perfect, something completely developed, something happy, powerful, triumphant, from which there is still something to fear! A glimpse of a man who justifies humanity." Perhaps ironically, given the influence of Tolkien's Catholic faith on The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien's great work does just this for me. It grants a vision of beauty for beauty's sake, nobility for nobility's sake, and justice for the sake of justice. Martin doesn't do this, and (I think) he doesn't mean to; he intentionally denies his readers a glimpse of something that justifies humanity, and this is part of the deep allure for me -- But more on that later.[1]

A glimpse of a hobbit that justifies humanity...
So far I've only succeeded in identifying the features I like about a different series than ASoIaF. I'd say there are three general reasons: Firstly, Martin is skilled at seeding his books with mysteries for the reader to identify and solve, and it's a great deal of fun to try to figure out where the books are going and which clues you've missed on the last reading. Secondly, Martin is an impressively subtle world-builder; he lends his world and characters an inner logic without having to spell it out all at once. Finally, he plays on fantasy-readers' expectations of a glimpse of something splendid and perfect; what I find remarkable about his books is that he dashes that hope again and again, but never wholly breaks it.

But to start with, the books are fun. On an obvious level, if you're into sword-fighting, quippy banter, magical creatures, fantasy-stuff-etc, Martin's books deliver. Beyond that, and what I think makes them relatively distinctive among fantasy lit, they are mystery novels of a kind. The first one, Game of Thrones, is explicitly structured as a murder mystery, with Ned Stark trying to figure out who killed Jon Aryn. And that's not the only mystery. We want to know who Jon's parents are, what the Dornish are up to, what happened at Summerhall, and what Howland Reed is doing. Reading the books, especially rereading them, I feel like I'm playing a game of Clue (The Classic Detective Game), sorting theories against the available evidence[2] (Lyanna, in the Tower of Joy, with Prince Rhaegar....Stannis, in the Pavillion, with the shadowbaby). As with a good game of Clue, it's not just a matter of finding evidence; you have to see through lies and half-truths. The characters in the book don't want to share their information with each other, and since all the storytelling is structured by POV chapters, most of the information you get is filtered according to the interests of one character as they address another -- and according to that character's own foibles, deficiencies, loves, and hatreds. This is why Ned Stark would be terrible at Clue; he's show everyone his cards and offer to cooperate. But when you play the game of Clue, you win or you die...

It doesn't hurt that Martin is good at creating sympathetic characters. True, Joffery isn't exactly sympathetic, but you'd have to have a heart of stone not to pity him, at least -- Fathered by an alcoholic manchild who wields supreme power, sheltered from all repercussions by his mother and his station, Joffrey is killed on his wedding day for being more or less the kind of person his parents made him. Same with Viserys: He was a cruel, narcissistic idiot, but was also a teenager and a product of his experiences, and he died horribly with no one left who would mourn him. At any rate, though, most of Martin's characters are a lot more sympathetic than Joffrey or Viserys, but they're more than that -- They're personable. Who wouldn't want to spend an evening in a bar with Tyrion, or Bronn (who's a terrible person) for that matter, or a night walking The Wall with Jon Snow? And I think it's important to the mystery-aspect of the series that so many of the characters, even ones who aren't good, are personable. I find myself attached to these characters on a personal level, and that feeds my desire to know what is going to happen to them.

What I've said so far -- The books are fun. They're fun because they have swords and stuff, and they're fun because they pull readers in with mysteries about characters they like. Another aspect of Martin's series I admire is his world-building. Of course, you don't have to like world-building, but it's an aspect of most high fantasy, and Martin pulls it off with surprisingly subtlety. I'd point, as an example of this, to the piecemeal way we get information about the children of the forest. We first hear about them from Bran's POV, when he mentions that his father "would sit before the fire in the evening and talk softly of the age of heroes and the children of the forest." In the next few chapters, we learn, mostly by oblique references, that the children disappeared a long time ago, and that they have something to do with weirwood trees. Later on, a story told to a Bran indicates that humans stole the children's land. The information stream is gradual, and more importantly it's integrated into the storyline. We get hints about the swamping of the land-arm to Dorne through a description of Moat Cailin. Over time we learn that the children have something to do with magic, and something to do with Bran. Martin works his mythology into the narrative in a way that, by and large, doesn't interrupt the narrative.

I'd be surprised if I were the only fantasy reader who sometimes sees a mythology section coming and skips it for later...It's not that I'm not interested, but I want to see what's happening with the story, not get bogged down in five straight pages of made up history that reads like the KJV. What I really like about Martin's writing is that he provides world-building information as part of his narrative, and he repeats and reinforces that information organically. When Bran finally meets the children of the forest, I don't have to thumb back to a single section near the beginning of the books where we get a bunch of information about them in an epic poem of dubious aesthetic merit.

So there it is, I'm a sucker for world-building, and I think Martin does it well. Add to this that world-building information tends to eventually become important in high fantasy works, and Martin does it in a way that can actually be absorbed by the reader, rather than thumbed-over, or half-remember a thousand pages later.

I said there were three reasons I like the books, though. Martin writes a fun mystery; he's good at world-building...and what? Well, maybe the biggest reason I like ASoIaF is that GRRM is magician at shattering his readers' hearts. More than that, he's good at channeling and frustrating his readers' hopes, and that's what renders certain parts of his books genuinely moving to me.

The world of Westeros is grim, and dark and dangerous, but it's not hopelessly grim. Were it so, Martin's books would not be so brutally sad, nor would they be so interesting. This is why A Song of Ice and Fire does more for me than, for example, the recent DC Comics films. On a certain level, I like Nolan's Batman Trilogy, but it doesn't move me. His films are so resolutely grim that they make me steel myself, rather than open myself up to any pathos their narrative could engender. By the time Bane lays waste to Gotham in the third film, it just doesn't touch me; I know what to expect and I'm ready for it.[3]

Martin pulls us along with hope, like asses after a carrot, or opera-goers after the Tristan Chord.[4] In the first book, before we know how far GRR is willing to go, we have hope that Ned will out the truth, and everything will be set right; he is beheaded. Next we hope Tyrion can bring order to King's Landing and control Joffrey; he is mutilated and cast from power. We hope that Oberyn can denounce Clegane and save Tyrion, and that Robb can learn from his mistakes and become a good king; they both die. Perhaps we hope that Daenerys will ride her dragons across the narrow sea and restore peace to the realm that might have been hers, but so far everything the Dragon Queen touches turns to blood and chaos.
Something still capable of arousing fear...

Even when Martin gives us what we want, it doesn't feel the way we expect. Theon gets his comeuppance, but it's so horrible we wouldn't wish it on anyone. We want Tyrion to overcome his father, but how does that happen? Tyrion murders Tywin on a privy, and then kills the woman he loves before going into exile.

Martin's talent, however, isn't for writing darkness, though he clearly can do that. It's for making us hope when we know better than to hope. Like Tyrion with Shae, we know better, but we fall in love anyway, and we do it over and over. If the night is dark and full of terrors, Martin's talent is for making his readers believe that there is a sword in the darkness, a light that brings the dawn, and a hero to be reborn, even as he leads his readers unrelentingly into a long dark. It's precisely because Martin makes his readers wish and hope, rather than steel themselves, that the red wedding, and Ned's death, and even Joffrey's assassination, are so sad. Winter is coming, but what I find remarkable about Martin's writing is his ability to instill in his readers the hopes of the children of summer.    




[1] It's also worth noting that it would be difficult for Martin to incorporate such elegance of language, given the way he structures his story into POV chapters. It would be absurd, and bad writing, if a teenaged Viking prince, a northern lord, and a smuggler-turned-illiterate-knight all had an inner monologue that sounded like the refined prose of an esteemed professor of linguistics.
[2] Actually, I'm horrible at Clue. GoT is a lot more fun for me than Clue, but similar in principle. I imagine that people who are good at Clue feel about it the way I feel about ASoIaF theories.
[3] I get the sense that Nolan's trilogy, among other contemporary films with aesthetic aspirations, mistake grimness for aesthetic merit. Of course, terrible things may be aestheticized effectively, but horror and sorrow aren't prerequisites for beauty or sublimity, else Mozart's Night Music would be rather trivial.
[4] This refers to a musical tension which Wanger maintained throughout his opera Tristan und Isolde, and which is never fully resolved until the death of the lovers at the very end of the opera. The aesthetic goal of this compositional choice is to evoke longing by constantly bringing the music close to a resolution which is then denied. 

Saturday, July 18, 2015

Nitpicking: Lyanna Stark's Death and the Hypothetical Maester

And Now it Begins...
In discussions of the widely accepted fan-theory that Jon Snow is the son of Rheagar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, I'm having trouble with a couple of small components. I'm not rejecting the general R+L=J theory. I think it's probably right, but I wonder if some of the details need adjusting. Truth be told, the simplest answer here is authorial oversight on a couple of fairly small details, and the sensible thing would be to leave it at that...But I'm a sick person, and no one can stop me!

One assumption I'd question (A) is that Lyanna died giving birth to Jon Snow, or immediately afterwards. The other (B) is that Howland Reed is the only remaining person who knows that Rheagar left an heir at the Tower of Joy. Let's take each in turn, trying to explain how the first ties into the second. Then (C) I'll mention a few alternative interpretations we might go with instead.


A. The Fever
Some of the imagery suggests that Lyanna died of injuries sustained during childbirth: She is described as being found in a "bed of blood," in a "room [that] smelled of blood and roses." However, one of the first passages about Lyanna also indicates that she died of a fever, rather than directly from childbirth: "The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his sister’s eyes." If Lyanna died of a fever as a result of birthing Jon, she can't have died immediately afterward. Any infection needs some time to gestate, and (if Wikipedia is to be believed), infections resulting from childbirth generally require between one and ten days before the onset of symptoms.

Ergo, at least one day has passed between Jon's birth and Lyanna's discovery by Eddard. If the fever is solely responsible for Lyanna's death, then presumably it has been more than one day, since it would have taken some time for the fever to develop to the point where it was fatal. Alternatively, if the fever were exacerbated by physical trauma from Jon's birth, Lyanna's illness might have become fatal more quickly -- but still not immediately.  

On the basis purely of common sense, it would also seem like quite a coincidence if Eddard just happened to show up at the very time Lyanna was finished giving birth. Of course, in works of fiction coincidences like this can happen, but Martin tends to strive for gritty realism.

We might wonder why, if time has elapsed since Lyanna gave birth to Jon, she was still lying in a "bed of blood." Surely she would have been moved or given fresh bedding in the intervening days or hours. The continued presence of blood in Lyanna's bed might be accounted for in a few ways: It could simply be that the physical trauma from birthing Jon hasn't healed and she continued to bleed. Perhaps she couldn't be moved from her bed afterwards because there was concern that the movement would worsen her physical trauma. Finally, it's possible that the infection itself caused abscesses which bled onto the sheets.


B. A Most Hypothetical Maester
Something else I've wondered about since the first time I read the books is why there is no mention of servants attending Lyanna during the Tower of Joy event. In particular, why is there no midwife or maester if Lyanna has just given birth? Since Rhaegar seems to have believed that his son would be the Prince that was Promised, ostensibly a messianic figure, it's a little odd to imagine him not leaving anyone behind to oversee the birth. Even if he's trying to act with some degree of secrecy, it would be strange if one of the most powerful (and beloved) individuals in Westeros couldn't find a single maester whom he could trust to deliver the child; even Eddard Stark, in all his honorable obliviousness, was able to keep some faithful retainers, like Jory, Rodrik, and Luwin. It's certainly possible that Lyanna gave birth with the help only of three Kingsguard, but it's pretty counter-intuitive that this would be allowed to happen. The fact that Maester Luwin has delivered all of Catelyn's children suggests that it's standard for the highborn to be assisted by a maester during births.

So how does this fit with my hypothesis that some time elapsed between Jon's birth and Lyanna's death? Well, the elapsed time allows us to explain why we don't see any servants in the Tower of Joy when Eddard gets there, without forcing us to the odd conclusion that Lyanna delivered the baby on her own (or only with the help of Dayne, Whent, and Hightower). I suggest the following sequence of events:
1. Lyanna gives birth to Jon
2. Jon is fine, but Lyanna's condition deteriorates.
3. It becomes clear that the maester need not stay for Jon's sake and can do nothing more for Lyanna.
4. Lyanna sends the maester away, since there is nothing more he can do, and there is no reason to put him in harm's way. (With Rhaegar dead, Lyanna presumably has the authority to order their servants away, even if they originally served Rhaegar.) 

Why does this matter to the ASoIaF universe? Because it means that there could be a maester out there who knows that Lyanna and Rhaegar produced a child. Maybe nobody told him that this child would be the Prince that was Promised, or filled him in on all the details, but a maester could presumably put two and two together, at least enough to realize whose child he was helping to birth. Even if Rhaegar didn't recruit him directly, he could deduce a lot from the fact that he was at Rhaegar's tower, where Lyanna Stark was giving birth while being watched over by the finest of the Kingsguard.

This hypothetical maester wouldn't be able support Jon's legitimacy all on his own, but he could contribute significantly. Howland Reed probably knows Jon's parentage, but Reed's claims would need a lot of corroboration, since he's an ally of House Stark and would be seen as having an interest in trying to put a Stark on the iron throne. If (as other commentators have suggested) Rhaegar and Lyanna were married on the Isles of Faces, then the priests there could testify that any child produced by the couple would be legitimate. Add to this the testimony of a maester on hand with Lyanna Stark, and you start of have some good corroboration for Jon's claim to the throne. It wouldn't be perfect, but it's already harder evidence than that offered by Ned and Stannis to support Stannis' claim to the throne.

I mentioned earlier that a midwife could have been present, but it seems to me like a maester's testimony would be especially influential. Maesters' words command respect comparable to that of the highborn, hence the presence of a maester on the high council. At the same time, maesters are sworn to the realm, rather than to a faction, so if a maester says that Lyanna and Rhaegar had a child, they are less likely than Howland Reed to be suspected of political machination. A midewife could offer testimony, but given Westeros' feudal politics (and feudal gender politics) it's likely that a maester's word would carry more weight.

So here's my case in a nutshell: If Lyanna died of an infection, rather than immediately after Jon's birth, this makes it pretty plausible that a maester was on hand for Jon's birth. If so, the maester's testimony could help corroborate Jon's claim to power.


C. Alternative Possibilities
1. Lyanna was already suffering from an infection before Jon's birth. The birth by itself didn't kill her, but between birth and illness, Lyanna dies nearly immediately of a fever in a bed of blood. Ned shows up and finds her that way. This is self-consistent, but it doesn't explain the remarkable coincidence of Ned's timing, nor does it explain why no maester or midwife was present. Also, an isolated royal tower should be one of the more sanitary places in Westeros, and someplace you're relatively unlikely to get a random illness.

2. Maybe there were servants present when Eddard arrived. I can think of no point in Ned's dreams or memories where he says explicitly "The Tower of Joy was empty besides Lyanna." He doesn't mention anyone else at the tower, but, to be fair, he was pretty focused on his dying sibling. Technically it's possible that one or more servants remained at the Tower of Joy when Eddward arrived. That leaves us with the question of what happened to them, though. It would be very un-Eddard-like to kill them, but it would also be risky to let them wonder off with a secret that could get Jon killed, threaten House Stark, and once again destabilize Westeros.

3. We could explain the absence of maester as an accident. Maybe Rhaegar or Lyanna had recruited a maester to arrive closer to Jon's birth, but the maester was unable to get to the Tower of Joy, either because of the chaos of civil war, or because of the collapse of House Targaryen. It would still strike me as unusual for Lyanna to be left with only the Kingsguard at the Tower. She's pregnant with messiah/potential heir to the throne, and it doesn't seem like the highborn of Westeros settle anywhere without a servant or two to scrub their backs. (Catelyn did go to King's Landing with just Rodrik, but (a) she was going for optimal secrecy, (b) Eddard already had a household established at King's Landing, and (c) Catelyn wasn't pregnant, and being pregnant is hard).

4. Here's the darkest alternative I can think of: Neither the birth, nor the fever killed Lyanna. She committed suicide when her bodyguards were overcome. Strictly speaking, Eddard never says that the fever killed her, or that the birth killed her. He just says that the bed was bloody and that she was weakened by fever. After Ned makes his promise, all we know is that, "He remembered nothing. They had found him still holding her body, silent with grief." Maybe she had a fever, from the birth or otherwise, and then killed herself, producing blood. Maybe she took a poison that caused bleeding and fever-like symptoms. That sounds fast-acting, but she could have also taken poison at the start of the fighting, or when she realized the Targaryens had lost the war. At any rate, we also know that ASoIaF poisons can work quickly, as with the Strangler poison on Cressen near the beginning of A Clash of Kings. This would help to explain Eddard's grief: By trying to "rescue" his sister, he had, in effect, killed her; that could also be part of how she pressured him into taking Jon. It makes some sense for Lyanna too. If "rescued," she would have had to go back to King Robert, who had personally killed her prince, and who would probably kill Jon if he got half a chance. She would then have to keep up the farce by claiming that Rhaegar abducted her, or face some serious punishment. Add to this that Lyanna doesn't seem as impressed with Robert as he is with her --the only thing we know she said about Robert is that she expected him to be unfaithful-- it's not absurd to think that she'd rather not leave the Tower of Joy.


5. As I said at the start, it's more than likely that GRRM just didn't think about the onset-time for fever, and didn't find it counter-intuitive for Lyanna to give birth alone. I have, nevertheless, valiantly pursued these details in the interest of retentive nitpicking. 

Now it ends...