Weddings in Westeros Are Never Just Weddings

If you’re watching Game of Thrones or House of the Dragon and a character gets invited to a wedding, you should immediately get anxious. Weddings in Westeros aren’t cute little ceremonies where people get married and then everyone drinks wine and dances. Weddings are where political alliances get made, where families get betrayed, where entire bloodlines get murdered, and where the course of history gets violently redirected. In a world where marriage is a tool of political power, the wedding is where that power gets weaponized. Let’s talk about why weddings in the Game of Thrones universe are the most dangerous social gatherings in existence.

The Red Wedding: The Moment Everything Changed

If you watched Game of Thrones season three, you remember exactly where you were when the Red Wedding happened. It was the moment when the show proved that nobody was safe, that major characters could die in brutal and unexpected ways, and that in Westeros, a wedding is basically just an elaborate trap waiting to be sprung. Robb Stark, the King in the North, breaks a promise to marry the Freys in exchange for marrying someone he loves. He thinks a wedding ceremony—specifically, the wedding of his uncle to a Frey daughter—will serve as a substitute peace offering. It’s a catastrophic miscalculation.

The wedding happens, the celebration begins, and then the music changes. The Freys and Roose Bolton have conspired with Tywin Lannister to murder the entire Stark family while they’re guests at the wedding—protected by guest right, which is supposed to be sacred. Guest right is this ancient law that says once you’ve eaten bread and salt under a host’s roof, you’re protected. Nobody is supposed to harm a guest. It’s the most fundamental law of hospitality in Westeros. And Roose Bolton and Walder Frey break it completely, murdering Robb, his pregnant wife Jeyne (or Talisa in the show), his mother Catelyn, and most of the Northern army.

The Red Wedding is shocking partially because of how brutal it is, but more importantly because it violates the entire framework of acceptable warfare. You can fight battles, you can siege castles, you can betray people in the field. But you cannot murder guests at a wedding. That’s a violation of something sacred, and it’s treated as such by every decent person in Westeros afterward. The Freys are eternally stained by what they did. The phrase “the Lannisters send their regards” becomes iconic specifically because it represents the moment when Tywin Lannister proves he’s willing to do whatever it takes, consequences be damned.

What makes the Red Wedding the gold standard for why weddings are dangerous isn’t just the violence—it’s that it demonstrates a fundamental truth: weddings are when people let their guard down. You’re celebrating, you’re drinking, you’re surrounded by your allies. You’re in a vulnerable position, emotionally and militarily. Your enemies know this. So if you have enemies, a wedding becomes a perfect opportunity for them to strike when you’re least prepared to fight back. The Red Wedding proves that lesson permanently, and after that, every wedding in the franchise has that hanging over it.

Jaehaerys and Alysanne: The Wedding That Worked

For contrast, let’s talk about the one wedding in the franchise that actually seems to have worked out okay—or at least, the wedding itself wasn’t a disaster. Jaehaerys the Conciliator married his sister Alysanne in what sounds like a lovely ceremony, and the two of them actually seem to have genuinely loved each other. They had kids together, they ruled together, and they had a partnership that strengthened the kingdom rather than starting a war.

The interesting thing about this wedding from a political perspective is that it was considered scandalous by pretty much everyone. Siblings marrying was shocking even in Targaryen culture, and the Faith of the Seven absolutely did not approve. But Jaehaerys and Alysanne made it work through genuine affection and genuine partnership. They treated each other as equals, which was radical for the time. Alysanne had genuine political power and influence, not just the title of queen. And the wedding itself, despite being controversial, didn’t result in any immediate backstabbing or betrayals.

This is kind of the exception that proves the rule. When a wedding actually involves two people who genuinely want to be together and who can form a functional political partnership, it works. When a wedding is purely transactional, when it’s just about sealing an alliance between people who don’t trust each other, that’s when it becomes dangerous. Jaehaerys’s wedding worked because he and Alysanne actually liked each other and wanted to build something together. Most weddings in Westeros don’t have that advantage.

The Dance of the Dragons: Multiple Weddings, Multiple Disasters

House of the Dragon gives us a masterclass in how weddings are used as political tools, and almost every wedding in that show ends in tragedy or sets up future tragedies. We have Rhaenyra’s first wedding to Laenor, which everyone knows is a sham because both of them are gay but are being forced to marry for political reasons. We have Rhaenyra’s second wedding, which she’s essentially forced into after her first husband dies. We have Alicent’s wedding to Viserys, which nobody is happy about because Alicent was previously betrothed to someone else and now she’s being used as a political tool.

The weddings in House of the Dragon serve as these constant reminders that marriage in the upper class is never about love—it’s about politics, alliances, and power. Young women are married off without any say in the matter. People are married to secure alliances that will inevitably fail. The weddings themselves are these elaborate political theater productions where the actual human feelings of the people getting married are completely irrelevant.

The key difference between House of the Dragon weddings and Game of Thrones weddings is that in House of the Dragon, the weddings are setting up for future violence through political entanglement, whereas in Game of Thrones, the violence sometimes happens immediately. But the principle is the same—weddings are the mechanism through which Westeros conducts its political arrangements, and political arrangements are what lead to wars.

Tyrion and Sansa: The Hostage Wedding

Tyrion and Sansa’s wedding is interesting because it’s not a betrayal or a violent disaster—it’s a tragedy of circumstance. Sansa is forced to marry Tyrion as punishment for her family’s rebellion, but Tyrion is actually one of the few decent people she could have been forced to marry. Tyrion tries to be honorable about it, doesn’t consummate the marriage without her consent (which is basically medieval contraception), and is generally as kind as he can be under the circumstances.

The wedding itself is humiliating for Sansa—she doesn’t want to marry anyone, she’s been traumatized, and she’s being used as a political tool. But Tyrion’s behavior shows that a wedding doesn’t have to result in immediate violence or betrayal. Sometimes it’s just sad and unfair. The tragedy of that wedding comes from the broader political situation, not from the wedding itself being weaponized in the moment.

Rhaegar and Lyanna: The Wedding Nobody Was Invited To

The mystery wedding between Rhaegar and Lyanna is interesting because it’s a secret ceremony that theoretically shouldn’t have any political consequences because nobody knew it happened. But the consequences are absolutely massive because the secret wedding resulted in Jon Snow, which means it resulted in a potential claim to the throne and, accidentally, the entire trajectory of the later novels and shows.

What makes Rhaegar and Lyanna’s wedding philosophically interesting is that it was a love match in a world where love matches don’t happen. Rhaegar apparently abandoned his wife, Elia Martell, and married Lyanna in secret. This violated not just political alliances but also religious vows. Whether Rhaegar did this because he was in love with Lyanna or because of some prophecy he believed in or some combination of both is still unclear. But the wedding, once it was discovered (or theoretically would have been discovered), would have been incredibly politically destabilizing because it invalidated Rhaegar’s previous marriage and created a new claim to the throne.

Tommen and Margaery: The Wedding Nobody Wanted to Attend

Tommen’s wedding to Margaery is interesting because it’s surrounded by so much political scheming that the actual wedding is almost secondary. The Tyrells are trying to manipulate the throne through Margaery. Cersei is trying to use religion to undermine her enemies. And Tommen is this weak kid who’s just trying to make people happy. The wedding itself is orchestrated by Cersei with the High Sparrow’s approval, and the whole thing is incredibly loaded with political significance.

The reason this wedding matters is because it represents the moment when Cersei realizes she’s lost control of the political situation. She’s no longer dictating terms; she’s being dictated to. And the wedding ceremony, which should be a moment of celebration for the Crown, becomes another reminder that her power is slipping away. It’s not violent, it’s not a betrayal in the moment, but it’s another reminder that in Westeros, weddings are places where political power gets contested and rearranged.

Daenerys and Khal Drogo: The Wedding Across Cultures

Daenerys’s wedding to Drogo is presented as this extremely traumatic event because she’s essentially being sold to a foreign warrior to seal an alliance. She doesn’t want to be there, she doesn’t understand Dothraki culture, and she’s terrified. But the wedding itself leads to something unexpected—Daenerys and Drogo actually fall in love. They develop genuine affection for each other, which is shocking given how the wedding started.

This is one of the few times in the franchise where a political marriage actually develops into something real. But the tragedy is that Drogo dies from an infection, and their son dies in utero, and Daenerys loses the one person who actually loved her. The wedding itself becomes significant not because of political consequences but because of personal ones—it represents the moment when Daenerys allowed herself to trust someone, and then everything got taken away.

Edmure Tully and Jeyne Westerling: The Broken Promise

Before the Red Wedding, Robb Stark breaks his promise to marry a Frey daughter because he falls in love with Jeyne Westerling (or Talisa in the show). To make up for this, he arranges for his uncle Edmure Tully to marry a Frey instead. Edmure shows up at the wedding thinking he’s doing a political duty, but then he actually finds Jeyne Westerling attractive, and the two of them end up getting along reasonably well.

The wedding itself is supposed to be a peace offering, a way to seal the alliance between the Starks and the Freys. But since Robb broke the original promise and married someone else, the wedding is tainted from the beginning. Walder Frey sees it as an insult, and he uses it as justification for the conspiracy that becomes the Red Wedding. So Edmure and Jeyne’s wedding, which seems relatively peaceful and might have actually worked out okay as a marriage, becomes just the prelude to one of the most violent betrayals in the series.

The Real Weapon: Why Weddings Matter

The reason weddings are such effective weapons in Westeros is that they represent the moment when political opponents come together peacefully. They’re ceremonies of trust. They’re supposed to seal alliances through family bonds. And when that trust is violated, the betrayal is absolute and catastrophic. A broken promise on the battlefield is one thing. A broken promise at a wedding ceremony, in the sight of gods and guests, is something that stains your family forever.

Weddings also matter because they represent the physical vulnerability of power. Kings and lords and their families gather in one place, usually in a celebration where everyone’s at least somewhat drunk. Security is relaxed because you’re supposed to be safe at a wedding. The guest right law means nobody is supposed to harm anyone. This makes weddings the perfect opportunity for anyone planning a betrayal or a coup. You can do more damage in a couple hours at a wedding than you can in weeks of military operations.

The other thing about weddings is that they’re often used as the mechanism for political arrangements that don’t actually serve the people getting married. Sansa doesn’t want to marry Tyrion. Rhaenyra doesn’t want to marry Laenor. Daenerys doesn’t want to marry Drogo. But they’re forced into these marriages because that’s how politics works at the top of Westerosi society. The wedding is where that political reality gets formalized and made real. So weddings become these moments of quiet desperation where people are stuck with the consequences of decisions they didn’t make.

Conclusion: Weddings as History

If you look at major turning points in Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon, weddings are constantly there. The Red Wedding literally shifts the entire trajectory of the War of the Five Kings. Rhaegar and Lyanna’s secret wedding creates Jon Snow and sets up everything that happens. Rhaenyra’s marriages and the failure to produce a male heir helps trigger the Dance of the Dragons. Jaehaerys and Alysanne’s wedding creates the foundation for an entire golden age.

Weddings in Westeros aren’t just social events—they’re the moments when history gets written. They’re where alliances are formed, where betrayals are planned, where personal desires collide with political necessity. In a world where marriage is a tool of power, the wedding is the moment that tool gets sharpened and wielded. So whenever you see a wedding coming in Game of Thrones or House of the Dragon, you should probably be nervous. Something bad is coming. It always does.