Game of Thrones Has Shown Me My Narrative Was Never About Me


  1. This is a personal tale, written by Diego and for Diego
  2. This text holds more contradiction, narcissism and humility than any other I have written.
  3. To understand it, know that what I am doing here is finding out my own story amidst all the Putnamian/Quinean interpretations of the parts of my life I can remember. My goal is to use that story to motion myself into a better future, to get out of a stuck place, it is not to prove that this story is a good story for others to live, but only to myself.
  4. There are spoilers of Game of Thrones all the way up to, and including, the last episode. Leave now if you haven’t watched. SPOILER ALERT!

For the last three years I’ve been hiding in a cave of my own making.

After learning the hard way the complexities of living the simplified narrative of joining the forces of Good (Effective Altruism) against the forces of Evil, and watching the unfolding of a dance of power in the World between the nationalists and the globalists everywhere, I have retreated into my castle, a house called The Castle by the landlord, and up to today, The Future, by me.

The narrative I told myself at the time was the only one I could see then, the ENTJ. I’ve always been a combination of the INTP and the ENTJ. Thanks Ricky Cisco for making me realize that.

Sometimes the Three Eyed Raven, INTP who no longer has wants, and who knows more than the others around him do.

And sometimes the ENTJ, the leader of Men, conqueror of Women, King of the peoples.

I have been crowned, in jest, many times:

I was first named a philosopher at age 12, in jest, by my classmates.

I was later called a sage, at age 14, in half jest, by yet another group of classmates. We even had meetings where I was brought to wear this:
it's a wise world after all

I’ve been crowned the first time at age 16 in 2004 by the theater groups as I tried, successfully, to unite them. Jokingly, of course, it’s a theater group.

At age 17 we had a tyrant teacher in our school. I fought to liberate the people from that tyrant, who lied to them by giving them lower grades at the beggining of the year, and beat them into submission for months to pretend to be their savior. I succeeded, and the teacher was fired shortly thereafter.  So I wasn’t always king, I was an intermittent king, and I was liberator at other times.

I was first a liberator at age 8, when the keeper of truth, our math teacher, taught math wrong. I rebelled, not accepting her solution to a mathematical problem where she was wrong. The entire class submitted to her authority. I didn’t. I could not sleep for 3 nights. That is probably when I became a Rebel Moral, in the 5×5 alignment chart. Eventually we found a truce where she admitted to a higher authority, the school director, as well as the gods, my parents, that she was wrong, but she also saved face with the students and I said no more words on the matter.


Between ages 18 and 26 I was in a socialist/communist university without exactly knowing the intensity and penetration of concentric circles of tyrannies. I was a rebel moral though, so tyranny did not suit me well.

In the very first year, at 18, I rebelled against the director of the deparment: the queen, let’s call her Cercei. She then invoked a meeting of the small council, with all the professors, to talk about me, the 18 year old freshman. This time I did not succeed. Cercei had too much power. But I could not live under a tyranny. I was not disposed to. So I left the psychology department, and wandered the land for a year in search for answers.

I came back to do what I was called to by classmates and friends, to become the sage, the philosopher. I came back to the philosophy deparment. And I learned. I learned more and I thought deeper than those who were around me. Part of it was hard work, the vast majority was fate, and the willingness to diverge from professors who it would later turn out worked for the Communists. I slowly began to transition quietly into the three eyed Raven. I read widely, and it showed.

I was crowned again at 22, becoming the maester of analytic philosophy. I was not a philosopher king, but I was the king of philosophers in my cohort.

I was crowned again at age 23, alongside my hand, Lord J, and my adviser, Lord L. We created IERFH, the first transhumanist and effective altruist institution in Brazil. I was a good ruler, I’d give a voice to the small, and tame the strong. My men would look up to me, and respect me. I worked harder than everyone else. I built alliances with the foreign kingdoms of Oxford and Berkeley, and a partnership with the kingdom of Leverage. I worked tirelessly (and for free, like most work I’ve done) in the beggining.  I did it for the people who don’t have a voice, The People of the Far Future. And because I was doing it for them, the days were good, and work was rewarding. Nearby institutes (Base Collaborativa) sought my council. I was a good king. For a while…

But power corrupts, and ruling is different from climbing the ladder. And I began to falter. I dismissed wise advice, and was consumed by (sexual) power, as well as distressed by the absence of places for my Three Eyed Raven to learn more. I lost my ways, more than once, and became a Mad King. My wife, Lady V, was wise and loved me: and foreseeing my demise, she saved me from myself. She had protected me when I went mad, and when I was corrupted, specially after I was lost. She told me:
– Di. I love you. I will always love you. But you need to leave this place. It is not healthy for you to be here. You have to go to King’s Landing. You can’t take this anymore.

I was still bound to the High Tower. So I did what needed to be done so that my time there would eventually end. I delivered my treatise at age 26, and I left. By that time I was already the Three Eyed Raven. I knew more than all around me – though importantly not more than all around everywhere. But this power was given to me, like it was given to Bran, before I could control it. Before I could control me.

I cried for hours as I left. I was leaving behind all it took me 27 years to build. And the love of my life.

Secretly, and to myself, I sort of Took the Black. I committed to lay no women (in the community to which I moved) and father no children. I did not want to repeat the mistakes that made me the mad king. I let go of the ENTJ, and became the INTP again. I was the Three Eyed Raven, and I learned, for almost two years, as there were far more sages in the capital, and trees from which to download knowledge. I was no longer a leader, or wanted to be one, nevermind a king. I never wanted to be one, except perhaps when power grew strong once I was one already.

The ways of the people of Kings Landing were more complex and mischevous. They sought power more fiercely, and were more manipulative and cunning. They also had less of a notion of Good and Evil, and a stronger perspective of everyone has vested interests, and Chaos is a Ladder. There was a front which still lived by the Good and Evil simplicity, the EAs, but the top EAs who ruled over them did not have such simple view. I know because I was one of their maesters, providing counsil and consulting, as well as hedging small bets here and there. Things were more complex in the Capital. From King Eliezer all the way to the common folk, this was a place where deep analysis and deep learning are needed to understand the social sphere. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was also a matriarchy, an inherently unstable type of social system in our species. Chaos, is a Ladder.

Having been raised in the honorable household I had, I was never ready for lies.
So the lies eventually took me from behind.

The first lie was that a beautiful redhead woman, Igritte, who wanted me was leaving the land and the community. This would mean I was not bound by my vows to be chaste with her. I believed the lie, lay her, and after we parted ways she eventually betrayed me, the first of a long sequence of betrayals. She stayed, so my vow was broken, and there being no more vow, there was no more reason for restraint.

The women flocked, that testosterone and the status began to rise accordingly, and the long dormant ENTJ, against my best advice, rose with it. I was considered wise, and a good counselor. Before too long, I would wear a crown again. I had a face-off with the new king Tommen, once when he courted my fiancee, Margaerye. We dueled, and I won her. The Kingsgard never forgot, nor did the court.

I was a marked man. On the bright side, I became a Lord, and was made responsible for a piece of land that no one wanted to rule over, and would be destroyed if it weren’t for me. On the dark side, I lost access to the Red Keep.

I have been crowned again at age 29 in 2016 by Observers of the Event Horizon. There was a house and housemates. And I was crowned, as always in jest. I wasn’t loved though. I was resented by some. I was feared and admired. A housemate once told me if she had to kill someone, she would kill me, because it is almost, she believed, as if I was killed I would not die.

During those days I had to make a hard choice, and I chose love over duty. Love is the death of duty, as Aemon Targaryan used to say. I made a mistake. One for love. And one of trust.

Not long after I was betrayed and lied to several times, two of them with great intensity. I caught them in the act, and I was pushed out of a window. And I broke. Everyone thought I had died. And I guess part of me had. The ENTJ died. The PTSD was too much, and I was no longer a leader of men, or willing to. I was Bran, the Three Eyed Raven. But I was broken, and I could father no children. My housemate was a witch, her prophecy came true. I died, and I survived my own death. But to do so,  had to meet the Red God.

I woke up in Buenos Aires, in the arms of a redhead witch, Melisandre, who fed me pot-ions and liquids, who laid me, and taught me the ways of the Red God, lord of the rightwing and the libertarians. She fed me Stephan Molyneaux, Lauren Southern and Milo Yanopolous. She knew the Red God could cure me from PTSD and give me strenght. But she didn’t know I was the Three Eyed Raven. One day, amidst the potions and videos I caugh a glimpse of Jordan Peterson, I could feel his wisdom, and I knew I had to learn his ways. He was the Grand Maester of religions. It took me a looong, loooong time, to unveil the entire universe of faith and myth I had never explored. But I was Bran, the Three Eyed Raven, the broken. I had the time, and so I took it. It has been three years now. I spent three years learning to control my powers, and learning the domains I was too arrogant to study before.

I got a good piece of land, The Castle a year ago, by the Red Keep. I had no desire and wants anymore, the ENTJ had died. The leader, had died. Most of my time, I only oberserved. I mostly live in the past. Only the love of women remained.
But Kings Landing is unforgiving. A spell was cast over me that no woman from kings landing would fully please me, courtesy of Qyburn, the radical TERF feminist, and his little birds and their whispers of lies emanating from deep down the Red Keep.

I fell in love with a girl from Dorne. Women from Dorne are known to be fierce. I thought they were also honorable. I brought her to the land. We made our vows, very specific vows, due to my circumstances. And she broke her vows. In her defense, I wasn’t a perfect husband to her either, but if she had a tenth of the patience or the empathy of lady V, she would not need to break them, and we’d still be together.

Torn from the ENTJ, and realizing the power of the spell of Qyburn, I retreated even further into The Castle. That’s when the Redhead Lady Baelish came to me.

She found me at my worst moment, and showed herself as a redhead beauty one day, and a blue haired beauty another. She promised me the world, and rocked my world from the bottom up. She said she was my savior. She always wore a necklace that held close tight to her neck. She enjoyed the tightness, said it was empowering. She promised to make me king of the world in exchange for my future, and for my heart. She would bring back the ENTJ, raise him up high, and help him take The Red Keep.

I was Crowned by her again at age 32. She would call me king and carved a crown and a siege for me. She knew my past, and my weakness from the time I was King. She began to use my family name. I knew something was wrong early on. If I had not become the Three Eyed Raven, and glimpsed at Peterson when I met Melisandre, I might not have seen it. But as it is I knew where to look. And look I did. It wasn’t Lady Baelish I was with. It was her assassin. It was the Faceless Woman. Her necklace gave her powers, but she was much older than she looked. I caught a glimpse of her removing it once. Without the magic. She was an elder lady who changed faces. She was temptation from the God of Death.

And what do we say to the God of Death?
– Not today!

So that is what I did. I told her. Not today.

After that.
After all that.

I have lost my wants.
I do not want anymore. 
On Saturday, the day before the last episode of Game of Thrones, I finished a week watching the story of each character separately. and I posted this:

Screenshot 2019-05-19 20.53.26

Here’s the post for proof if you’re not future me, this is the day before:

As the internet was going delirious disliking the rest of the last season, and as I continued my retreat after saying “Not today.” so I chose to watch the last episode alone. No one else seemed as in love with the season as I was. Plus, I didn’t really want it. I don’t want anymore.

The last episode was, of course, for me, glorious. Not personally but because it vindicated the idea that the character I enjoy, the one I’d like to be. The one I aim for, was the chracter who would come to win the Game of Thrones.

What do we have but the statistics we cite? The papers we read? The values we hold? and, above all, the stories we tell of the things we lived?

And who better to rule than a living memory of the world, with few wants?

So what was my takeaway lesson from this amazing and gracious surprise given to me by fate?

Bran didn’t want to be king. Tyrion chose Bran because of the story he lived, and because he didn’t want it anymore.

How many crossroads must a man chose on, before you can see he is a man?

And how many crossroads must a man choose, before he can be Bran, the Broken, of the six kingdoms and protector of the realm?

What the episode was telling me is revealed in Bran’s final line during coronation.

I’ve been broken. I have been healing for 2 years, I have learned about the Gods, and I have faced my own wants. I have let go of the ENTJ, and of power. And I have learned in the final year control among women: human, goddesses, whiches and faceless alike. I have lost my pride, my power, and my wants. And I’ve learned to control the Three Eyed Raven. I have no wants anymore.

And because of all that, not in spite of it, it is time for me to work. To rule over myself, over my surroundings. To produce value again not only for myself as I have in these last three years. Rather, not at all for myself. My best years were those I didn’t dedicate to me at all. I should work, I should rule, not to favour future me. This is not needed anymore, I am broken, but healed. I need nothing else. I have no wants. I should rule over my life for others. I should learn, and show what I learned, for the Realm. I have no wants anymore. It is because I no longer want to do it that I stand a chance to do it well.

I have the knowledge. Fate has chosen for me, one last time, the crown. Now it is time to earn what I’ve been given.

So when I question myself in the middle of the night, or when others question me, it will be like Tyrion asking me:
– I know you don’t want it, I know you don’t care about power. But if we choose you, will you do it? Will you lead the7 Kingdoms from this day, until your last day?
– Why do you think I came all this way?

My house is now called “The Present”




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