This moment shapes how I interpret where they will go in season 3. In the book, Rhaenyra relies increasingly on Mysaria as her advisor as the war continues. Including during some of the darkest chapters of her reign. I can see the seeds of that here - Rhaenyra committing to a path of taking and holding power by any means necessary and Mysaria supporting her in that, believing that it is justified by the kind of queen Rhaenyra will be (and their apparently now shared belief that the gods have chosen Rhaenyra - very significant that they're on the same page religiously in that, or that Mysaria is choosing to say that she shares that view. With Dae/mon's visions and commitment to Rhaenyra as the ruling queen, that makes three people on this "team" who are all in on mystical fanaticism).
I think it's important that, despite Rhaenyra and Dae/mon's reunion in a prior scene, it is Mysaria who Rhaenyra shares her doubts and moral discomfort with. It is her opinion alone that has that weight. This is due, I believe, both to Mysaria's own history as a low born woman who has suffered due to that, her advocacy for the smallfolk, her support and loyal validation of Rhaenyra, and the long-term fractures of trust in his judgment Rhaenyra had with D/aemon over young Jaehaerys' murder and their prior disagreements over who will "rule" in that relationship.
Rhaenyra is Rhaenyra - she has always craved love and will not deny herself any connection that sustains and comforts her. But I think that, going forward, the "lady wife" role Mysaria can play to her [a role that, as I've argued before in this meta, Rhaenyra seems to crave in her life and has since her youthful bond with Alicent] will be vital to shoring her up, intellectually and emotionally, and that Mysaria's strategic thinking will be important to her as well.
Their bond will be an essential one for Rhaenyra going forward, imo, based on s2 and the book info. I hope the studio is brave enough to let the queerness of that bond be clear as the story continues.
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Okay I'm kinda talking out my ass/projecting my own autism onto Saiki here but:
Though Saiki is an unreliable narrator and truly loves his friends, I think some of his resentment over hanging out with them is real, and I can understand it.
I am a person who can readily admit I love my friends, and I do like to socialise, but I need plenty of warning beforehand and time to recuperate afterwards, because socialising takes effort. When I'm invited to do something or hang out with friends, I almost always feel a shadow of resentment about it - even if it's a thing I want to do and with people I like. It still feels like I'm losing out on a day of doing jack-shit. Cancelling on doing jack-shit is still cancelling on plans, even if those plans were just "wake up, write fanfiction, draw pictures, etc." and it throws me off. I feel like I can't enjoy spending time with my friends unless I give myself time to get excited about it, and if it happens too suddenly I find myself shutting down or floating away a bit.
Now, if we look at Saiki, who's friendship with all these people was pretty much built on these kinds of interactions, and add those to his deep-rooted belief that he doesn't deserve friends, that resentment and anxiety must be even more strong. I think the fact that Saiki obviously grows to care for his friends really shows his deep desire for connection, even more so if we go with the interpretation that some of his negative feelings about them are real.
My point with this ramble isn't to say "Saiki really does find the others annoying and therefore doesn't like them" but rather the opposite. On some level, Saiki is "tolerating" being out of his comfort zone, but the fact that he's willing to do this for his friends shows that he really does care about them.
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thinking about the Lady again and she actually is the Character Ever.
Starting off with her design. How ridiculously simple it is, right? Her yukata is plain brown and has a single layer, her wig (and yes, I am positive what she wears is not her hair but a wig soley because of how easily it comes undone... that kind of hairstyle is meant to STICK when done with actual hair) has no decorations befitting a woman of her powerful status and her mask is nothing but... empty. You could mistake her for a mannequin and you wouldn't even be wrong. It's by design, after all: she is as insanely important, as a figure, as she is anonymous as a person.
But then, it's with amusement that you note that that boring, unexpressive mask is called the "Rascal's mask" when unlocked. It's such an oddly affectionate nickname stemming from a person so utterly despicable. And then you notice her hair. Her long, black hair that should be hidden under her wig, as the hairstyle goes, but are instead hanging out freely. Not very traditional at all, right? You could almost read it as a small act of defiance of... something. Now, what that thing is, I doubt even she knows. Maybe it's just her way to seek individuality without having to step into zones she does not want to touch.
And then, of course, the lack of shoes. It's not uncommon for people to wear slippers in the house - especially for the Japanese - but she just... doesn't. In that small, small way, she is similar to Six - and every other child in the Maw running around barefoot. Except she's above running, of course. She's got the privilege of floating like a ghost so that she may never touch the ground.
(The only time when this rule is broken is when she fights Six, poetically enough. You can see her visibly step back.)
These strange little things are the first things that push you to wonder about her as a person. Not the title, not the Lady of the Maw: the individual behind the mask. Who is that person? What is she like? Is there a way to answer these questions? I think yes, if you know where to look - but is it worth to ask these questions considering what she does?
That depends on you. Me personally, I think there is narrative worth to be found in what she has to hide. Her foil, Six, finds value in the aspects of herself she does not hide: she is very unapologetic in her selfhood. The Lady isn't, for the most part.
(I wonder if that would make her envious of her younger counterpart in a different context?)
Frankly, looking back on her choice of attire, the fact that her personal bedroom is barely decorated is not surprising. She only has the essentials: a bed, the vase with the key, a few pictures of importance (of people long forgotten, herself included no doubt) and... an ungodly amount of misplaced clothes all over her quarters. All the same yukata, repeated over and over, maniacally folded and arranged in towers, but never where they're supposed to be.
A bedroom is the reflection of yourself. Of your inner world. The fact hers looks so barebones is quite telling about who she is. Or isn't. She herself may have some trouble trying to figure that one out.
I think that, in a vacuum, it's easy to assume that the reason she's so displeased by her reflection is soley out of vanity. That is definitely part of it, but I don't think that's all there is. Because after seeing the mannequins that all look just like her, the four women in the picture who also wear her same exact clothes... and that hidden quote.
This quote, which is from Alice in Wonderland. Specifically from a conversation in which Alice expresses how she doesn't recognise herself anymore because of how many times she grew big and small during the course of the day. She is not the same person she was before entering Wonderland.
I find the way she clings to the dolls and the music box to be much more... sombre when keeping this in mind. In a way, that scene is reminiscent of Monster Six clinging to her music box in the chaos of the Tower; an attempt to attach to something safe. For the Lady, it's even more personal. Those are her toys. Her song. No one can take them from her and claim them as theirs. These materialistic tomes are physical proof of her identity. She likes dolls, and she likes to sing that song from her music box. Surely, that much is something.
But a ceramic toy and an old music box are not really enough to placate the inner turmoil. Hence the broken mirrors, the hidden statues... the hung down portraits with their eyes scratched out - from times of the past. There is a person looking back in the mirror which she does not recognise. That can't be her, right?
It isn't. The reflection is but a faux image of her outward appearence. The inside, however... much like this concept art shows, she is melting away. Rapidly decaying no matter how much she tries to stick to her youth.
Because at the end of the day, that's what she's doing, no? The toys, the music box, her appearence... all of it, just to cling a bit more to the person she used to be. Point being that I doubt even she remembers what she used to be.
You'd think a person like this would be inclined to feel at least some sympathy for all the lost children wandering the Nowhere. A sense of kinship, perhaps, or even just... basic human compassion. She has proved to have very human emotions, after all. This is where she proves you wrong. Whenever you think she's stepped the lowest, she always goes lower.
In her humanity, she is brutal. Relentless, ruthless. She offers no sympathy to anyone and has no empathy to spare either. She is very much aware of what's going on under her roof: she not only allows the Maw to continue being the way it is in spite of having the power to change things, but she actively engages in its despicable practices. She has petrified children in her quarters, as well as their ashes - of which the use is unclear - and then she is responsible for the Nome population and exploitation being so large and so eerily heavy. She's twisted necks, broken bones, murdered innocents.
The Shadow Children are, to me, one her greatest offenses. I don't think they serve any particular purpose other than... being there because she wanted to make them. Children ripped away from their life because of her whims. Not even in death can they rest because she can get her hands on their souls. They're nameless, forgotten shadows with blank masks: they're just like their creator, in that way. Ripped of all individuality and devoid of everything.
Everything she sees, the Lady devours. Not a creature is safe from her shadows and her wrath, especially if they come and actively intrude in her activities. She's twice as aggressive if the Maw is at stake.
The Lady's personal bedroom has another motif piece which I did not previously mention: the Maw wallpaper. While Roger and the Chefs have wallpapers that portray them with her, the Lady... does not. She only has the Maw. She's not part of that picture.
The Lady can't let the Maw change its ways. She is the Maw. The Maw must survive: so must she. To change the Maw would mean challenging herself enough to bring about a change; to her, who does nothing but lament what she lost, that would be too much effort. Too outside of the comfortable zone where she can survive in peace. Miserable, but unbothered.
... For the most part. Until Six comes around.
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