Any discussion of the women of Game of Thrones that fails to mention Septa Mordane is wrong. Just plain old wrong.

I’m about to geek out on Game of Thrones again, fair warning. I will limit my discussion, as best I can, to the television show up to this point, but beware of spoilers.

Over on Huffington Post, Ann Marie Rasmussen decided to blow her nose on her keyboard and call it commentary on female archetypes in the Game of Thrones series. It is the sort of reasoned analysis that makes you suspect that she had never heard of the show, let alone the books, until a couple of hours before her deadline, and that she spent at least an hour of that time eating a sandwich.

She does an appreciable job of shoehorning some of the show’s female characters into some prefabricated fiction archetypes, although none of them quite seem like traditional “fantasy” archetypes: the Tomboy, the Princess, the Seductress, the Self-Made Woman, and the Good Wife. Wha?

Let’s start with the “Tomboy,” Arya Stark, or as Rasmussen calls her, “the little daughter with a boy’s haircut.” It is actually entirely incidental to Arya’s persona that she has a boy’s haircut. Yoren cut her hair so that the Lannisters wouldn’t find and decapitate her. Not very archetypal, I dare say. Arya’s tomboyishness is not so much an important part of the story as the trials she has to endure to survive. At any rate, Arya is not the bone I have to pick with Rasmussen. Let’s move on to Sansa Stark.

Sansa, of course, is the “Princess” archetype, but it is Rasmussen’s description of her that wakes my dragon: “Sansa Stark, sister to the Tomboy, is not too bright and is often punished for her vapid and romantic delusions.” No, just no. Yes, Sansa begins the series as the spoiled, petulant mean girl of the Stark family, but that just makes her struggle more tragic. She grew up believing in the tales of gallant knights and beautiful princesses, and the prospect of becoming queen was dangled right in front of her. Not only must she now endure beatings from the very knights she thought would protect her, but she had to watch as her prince ordered the execution of her father right in front of her. She is not being punished for being vapid. She is being punished by a psychopath with no checks on his power. She is not stupid. She is a survivor. She may be annoying to watch, but it is that veneer of helplessness that is keeping her alive. Do not mess with Sansa.

She calls Cersei Baratheon the “Seductress,” which is a fair description if you don’t look at all beneath the surface. Without ever excusing her crimes, it is not hard to see what a tragic figure Cersei really is. She cannot ever be with the one man she truly loves, because he is her brother. Rasmussen suggests that her relationship with her brother is somehow underhanded, but really, aside from her children, it is the only real love she knows. As taboo and, quite frankly, gross as it may be, she is trapped in this life. She was forced to marry Robert Baratheon, who never even pretended to love or want her. Cersei has only three things working in her favor: she is smart (although not as smart as she thinks), she is beautiful (and can therefore manipulate men to get what she wants), and she has the backing of one of the richest and most powerful men in Westeros (who happens to be her father.) This is why her brother Tyrion is such an effective foil for her. He has no interest in having sex with her, he is at least as smart as her, and they have the same father. Rasmussen asks: “The only puzzle is why, beyond her comely face and body, anyone would find this socio-path remotely attractive or seductive.” She’s the queen of the Seven Kingdoms, her father commands one of the largest armies in Westeros and has most of the gold, and she’s hot. Sure she’s evil, but evil is hardly in short supply in King’s Landing.

Daenerys Targaryen, in Rasmussen’s estimation, is the “Self-Made Woman.” Again, that’s a fair characterization, but not exactly the whole story. Rasmussen calls her story one of “rags to riches,” but again, you have to consider where Daenerys started. She was the penniless daughter of the last Targaryen king of Westeros. Put another way, she is nobility. Even if she hasn’t a penny to her name, she is nobility. In the warped ethos of her world, this makes her intrinsically valuable. She did not come to command an army exclusively through smarts or gumption. She started as the khaleesi, wife of Khal Drogo, the mightiest warrior in all of Essos (the continent east of Westeros). Yes, her journey required overcoming an insane amount of gender stereotypes, but she had her noble title, her husband, and Ser Jorah Mormont backing her up. Even after Drogo was gone, Mormont was there every step of the way. (Also, she has dragons.) So yes, Daenerys Targaryen deserves a considerable amount of credit, not least of all for surviving life with her idiot brother, but she is not entirely self-made. Also, in my opinion, the television show presents her as rather shrill and hapless, often succeeding through sheer luck.

Catelyn Stark, finally, is the “Good Wife.” She gets this title, presumably, because of her loyalty to her family and her sense of honor. She has an ample supply of both of those traits. So much, in fact, that they often drown out her sense. Her decision to arrest Tyrion Lannister early in season 1 is arguably what got the ball rolling for the War of the Five Kings. Yes, Ned was already on the hunt for Jon Arryn’s murderer, but Tyrion’s arrest was what caused Tywin Lannister to put his entire army in the field. Having an army at the ready probably emboldened Jaime Lannister to confront and arrest Ned Stark, killing Jory Cassell in the process. It also emboldened Cersei, once confronted with Ned’s evidence of incest, to have Robert killed. One can certainly understand why Catelyn would want justice against Tyrion, who she thought had tried to murder her son, but she kicked a big ol’ hornet’s nest in the process. Catelyn also freed Jaime Lannister later on in the show, putting her at odds with the rest of her family. Her devotion to honor may prove to be her undoing, as it was for her husband.

Here’s the thing about Game of Thrones, both the show and the books: it is very specifically not about archetypes. In the first book/season, there were arguably four traditionally dominant male characters: Ned Stark, Robert Baratheon, Viserys Targaryen, and Drogo. I say “dominant” in the sense that they either had significant amounts of power in general (Robert, Drogo), significant power or influence over other characters (Viserys), or they appeared to be the moral center of the story (Ned). By the end of the first book/season, all four of them are dead. The leading characters of the second book/season are a disfigured dwarf (Tyrion), a bastard (Jon Snow), an increasingly-marginalized mother (Catelyn), a nascent queen (Daenerys), an idiot prodigal son (Theon Greyjoy), and a smuggler-turned-knight (Davos Seaworth). I’m not forgetting Arya, Sansa, but they had their characters at least somewhat established in the first book/season. The point is that Game of Thrones is not so easily categorized as, say, The Lord of the Rings. Good and evil shift around. (If you haven’t read the books yet, just wait until you get to the chapters told from Cersei’s point of view.) This is a story about the good and the evil that is in everybody. Everyone (except possibly Gregor “The Mountain” Clegane) has some good in them. Everyone (except possibly Samwell Tarly) has some evil. It is a complicated story, set in a complicated world, intended for a complicated audience. Try to have a little respect.