Gay game of thrones scene

Like numerous online discussions, Game of Thrones discourse often proves tiresome. When the initial episode of House of the Dragon premiered in August, monotonous debates regarding the show's purported "misogynistic" faults collided with rigid opinions on onscreen violence, demonstrating the persistent presence of the debates that surrounded Game of Thrones a decade prior. While these perspectives on the series and George R.R. Martin's original narratives often leave me unmoved, a growing anxiety about the adaptations' portrayal of gay characters increasingly concerns me.

Like many young people grappling with their sexual orientation, I initially engaged with Game of Thrones after encountering a collection of images of Loras Tyrell and Renly Baratheon on Tumblr at the age of thirteen. After viewing the first episode, I dove into the books, realizing their existence. I wasn't so much shocked by the lack of overt homosexual content in the books, but rather, deeply moved by the compassion author Martin demonstrated towards these characters. Thus, I was quite surprised to find the early seasons of the series lacking a nuanced perspective on queer characters.

Loras and Renly aren't central characters in any of the "Song of Ice and Fire" novels, and Renly perishes early in "A Clash of Kings." I didn't anticipate the show to make either of them central figures, yet I expected them to be treated with the same dignity and respect as the other characters in Martin's novels. In Martin's work, published in the 1990s, Loras and Renly exist beyond their homosexuality, but their televised counterparts are constrained by the 'token gay' trope. Renly is afforded the opportunity for interaction with key characters like Catelyn Stark, yet Loras remains relegated to the background, appearing as a passive figure, much like a piece of antique furniture.

In "A Clash of Kings," a mysterious army confronted Stannis Baratheon's siege of King's Landing, contributing to his defeat. Loras later reveals that his unseen brother Garlan (missing from the show) donned Renly's armor to instill fear in their enemies, effectively creating a false impression that Renly had returned from the dead. In the second season of Game of Thrones, however, it's Loras who dons Renly's armor. Although this unexpected plot twist (one that continues to surprise me, considering the writers), insufficient time was devoted to establish Renly or Loras, making the reveal less impactful and ultimately disappointing.

The fleeting glimpses of Renly in his armor, combined with the obscured visual depiction of Loras, made the identity of the victor against Stannis's army unclear to non-book readers. Later, Loras and Tywin Lannister entered the throne room to claim triumph. Loras ripped Renly's helmet from his head, revealing the disguised warrior, but the episode concluded before this pivotal moment could unfold properly. This abrupt, rushed portrayal of a potential narrative equivalent to the Achilles and Patroclus story of "The Iliad" is truly regrettable.

In "A Song of Ice and Fire," Loras is depicted as a young man deeply devoted to the king's brother, and after the king's death, joined the lover's Kingsguard, vying for his position on the Iron Throne. Following Renly's demise, Loras followed his sister into a dangerous situation, serving in Joffrey Lannister's Kingsguard. This position, unfortunately, prevented him from marrying. Despite being a potential eligible bachelor, Loras later proclaims his devotion to King Tommen Lannister. He also pledged to never betray Renly, viewing him as the rightful monarch. (He was quite devoted to his dead lover.)

In the television adaptation, Jaime and Loras interact only once, despite their parallel portrayals in the novels. This encounter, instead of showcasing insightful dialogue, descends into petty insults, reflecting the less nuanced nature of later seasons. Absent any conversation about Renly, Loras's gaze is fixated on Oberyn Martell, one of Game of Thrones' other queer characters. In the show, Loras spends his time after Renly's death in two ways: being with men who work in Littlefinger's establishment, and disdainfully glaring at people. A significant omission.

In "A Storm of Swords," Tyrion questions Loras about his decision to join the Kingsguard at seventeen, and Loras explains the selfless dedication required. Tyrion then teases Loras with a witty observation about marriage and the allure of love, but Loras dismisses the notion of replacing a loving connection with a less satisfying one, reflecting his devotion. This impactful exchange, delivered by one of the series' only gay characters, encapsulates a theme central to the characters in ASOIAF. This impactful line isn't delivered by powerful characters like Daenerys or Jon.

Reflecting on "A Song of Ice and Fire," this quote stands out. Such a profoundly moving expression of affection from a man discussing another man profoundly impacted my own understanding of queer identity. However, the portrayal of Loras in Game of Thrones' third and fourth seasons is an antithesis to this sentiment. While changes and sex on screen are commendable, depicting a prominent gay character primarily focused on relationships with other queer men, while ignoring his passionate devotion to his deceased lover, diminishes the complexity of his character and Martin's intention.

Astonishingly, and somewhat distressing, it appears that George R.R. Martin demonstrated more sensitivity in portraying gay characters in the 1990s than the writers of Game of Thrones did in the 2010s. While readers perceive Loras and Renly through the eyes of other characters, these nuanced interpretations prove more insightful than the scenes shown in the series. It's truly disappointing, considering the impressive chemistry between Finn Jones and Gethin Anthony in their respective roles.

Loras and Renly have become somewhat of an undercurrent in the most popular fantasy series of all time, but with the recent episode of House of the Dragon, it's clear that queer tragedy isn't (and won't) conclude with them. The most recent adaptation of George R.R. Martin's work focuses on the Targaryen dynasty's reign over Westeros. The series boasts fantastic acting, many dragons, and Matt Smith with a striking blonde wig. It also, predictably, features instances of homophobia.

Again, queer individuals aren't central to the narrative, but they are undeniably present in this world. Indeed, the protagonist, Rhaenyra Targaryen, is married to a gay man (and her cousin), Laenor Velaryon. In the show, Rhaenyra is an exemplary ally to Laenor, allowing him to express his identity within the bounds of their marriage, recognizing their differing needs. So long as she receives what she desires, Rhaenyra remains unfazed by Laenor's private life.

During the fifth episode of the show, the handling of queer themes seemed promising. Laenor's homosexuality was revealed after his dragon-assisted military triumph, initially allowing him to exist outside of societal expectations of his sexual orientation. Following Rhaenyra's proposal, Laenor was depicted frolicking with his lover. Later, at the latter's wedding, his lover informed Criston Cole (Rhaenyra's current paramour) about Laenor and Rhaenyra's relationship, which enflamed Criston's ire. He then violently attacked his rival, resulting in the death of the younger man.

In 'Fire and Blood,' six days after Criston's insult, Joffrey succumbed to his wounds with Laenor by his side, ultimately mirroring the depth of their affection. However, in the show, Joffrey's death was a brutal act by Criston. Praise the gods, he gets to speak with the typical Westerosi-gay cadence.

Both Joffrey and Loras's fates in the book compared to the television adaptation display disconcerting similarities. In the books, Joffrey initially dies from a mortal wound received in a tournament, and in the show, he was brutally murdered. While Loras is still alive, but severely injured, in the books, he is imprisoned for defying societal norms and subsequently dies during the destruction of the Great Sept. These characters experience significant hardships in the books, but in the show, they meet violent ends. It's apparent that the creative teams behind both adaptations don't adequately comprehend Martin's intentions and motivations in crafting these characters. Joffrey plays a minor role in 'Fire and Blood,' yet Martin integrated him nonetheless, establishing his enduring legacy. Loras, meanwhile, serves as a mirror to Jaime, and his relationship with Renly resonates with the narrative of Achilles and Patroclus. Sadly, George R.R Martin's portrayal of queerness is markedly more compassionate than the approach of the Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon showrunners. Consequently, the writers often reduce these characters to mere plot devices, leaving them discarded and overlooked.