Why Conservatives Are Embracing HBO’s ‘A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms’

The hero’s journey has returned to prestige television—and it’s happening in the most unexpected place: George R.R. Martin’s morally murky Westeros.

“A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms” has emerged as the standout show of the season, attracting an audience that includes countless conservatives who’ve spent years dismissing the “Game of Thrones” universe as nihilistic trash. The verdict is nearly unanimous among serious critics: This is appointment television that actually delivers.

The reason is simple. This show rejects the tired subversion that has poisoned modern storytelling.

Where “Game of Thrones” delighted in butchering noble characters and mocking traditional heroism, “A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms” offers something radical for 2025: a protagonist who embodies genuine virtue. Ser Duncan the Tall—Dunk to his companions—is strong, brave, and fundamentally decent. He stands up for the weak, defends the innocent, and grows wiser through hardship.

This is storytelling as it should be.

The production values are impeccable, as HBO consistently delivers. The performances crackle with authenticity. Every scene feels purposeful, every character meaningful, even in limited screen time. The only legitimate criticism? Six episodes weren’t nearly enough.

But the show’s true brilliance lies beneath its surface-level heroism.

After the death of his mentor Ser Arlan of Pennytree, Dunk sets out to prove himself at a tournament. He takes on a mysterious boy with a shaved head who calls himself Egg as his squire. When no lords will vouch for Dunk’s knighthood, only Prince Baelor Targaryen—the realm’s honorable heir apparent—stands for him.

Everything changes when Dunk witnesses Prince Aerion brutally attacking a puppeteer over a theatrical performance. Dunk’s sense of justice won’t allow him to stand idle. He intervenes, only to discover his young squire Egg is actually Prince Aegon Targaryen—Aerion’s younger brother.

The stakes escalate dramatically. Dunk must fight for his life in a trial by combat, finding six champions to face Aerion and his allies. Prince Baelor makes the remarkable choice to defend Dunk against his own family, convinced of the righteousness of Dunk’s cause over political expedience.

Dunk wins the trial. But victory comes at a devastating cost: Baelor dies from an accidental blow struck by his own brother Maekar during the combat. The realm loses what would have been its greatest king.

Here’s where the narrative becomes genuinely complex.

The show strongly suggests Dunk was never actually knighted by Arlan. Everything—his tournament entry, his trial by combat, even taking Egg as his squire—was built on a fundamental deception. Without that lie, Baelor and the others who fell defending him would still draw breath.

This complicates everything, and makes the story infinitely richer.

Heroism doesn’t belong exclusively to the morally spotless. Dunk lied, yes—that was wrong. But his courage is what truly mattered. Knight or not, he did what honor demanded when he defended that woman from Aerion’s cruelty. Egg did right by standing with Dunk. Baelor did right by risking everything to defend justice against his own blood.

The prince’s death wounds the realm deeply. Dunk carries that guilt, understanding his role in robbing the Seven Kingdoms of exceptional leadership.

Yet Dunk refuses to wallow in self-recrimination. He makes the only choice that honors Baelor’s sacrifice: living in a way that validates it. His mission becomes shaping young Aegon into a man worthy of the crown—instilling in him the virtues that Baelor embodied.

This is the show’s essential truth: Heroes are not flawless beings. Heroes are flawed people who choose righteousness anyway.

The righteous aren’t always rewarded in the short term. Baelor dies. Ned Stark lost his head. Justice often demands a price. But doing right matters anyway—both intrinsically and because it inspires others to follow that same path.

In our broken world, this lesson resonates powerfully.

George R.R. Martin is no conservative. His personal politics are predictably leftist. But his finest writing taps into timeless human truths that conservatives understand instinctively and progressives reflexively reject. “A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms” tells a more traditional story than Martin typically crafts, yet it still explores what he identifies as his central theme: the human heart in conflict with itself.

The difference is that this conflict doesn’t end in cynicism and despair.

It ends with imperfect people striving toward virtue. With sacrifice meaning something. With heroism as inspiration rather than delusion. These are not modern ideas—they’re eternal ones, and their power remains undimmed by centuries of human experience.

Modern entertainment has spent decades deconstructing heroism, mocking nobility, and celebrating moral relativism. “A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms” stands as a rebuke to that exhausted trend. It proves audiences still hunger for stories about people trying to be better, doing right despite consequences, and inspiring others through their example.

That’s why conservatives are watching. That’s why the show works.

Dunk the Lunk may be thick as a castle wall, but he understands something our cultural elites have forgotten: some things are worth fighting for, some causes are worth dying for, and some truths transcend the messy complications of imperfect execution.

Television needs more of this. America needs more of this.

“A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms” delivers it brilliantly.