What if Rhaenyra Targaryen had another love interest?
Mace Baratheon is the second son of Boremund Baratheon, the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.
Unlike his brother, he is more caring, passionate about studying history, and learned to fight with...
Mace Baratheon stands beside his black horse, nervously putting on his helm, which is shaped like a stag with long horns on the sides.
His brother, Borros, also stands beside him, boasting about his sword-fighting skills. Mace rolls his eyes while petting the large horse, saying, "You are a pretty one." The horse neighs as Mace strokes its mane.
"You know, braiding your hair would be a nice change for you," Mace whispers to the horse. As he attempts to braid the horse's mane, it neighs loudly and stomps its hooves.
"Okay then, nevermind," Mace chuckles to himself, lifting the helm's flap to see his brother approaching.
"I'd tell you to wish me luck, brother, but I won't need it," Borros boasts as he smacks Mace's helm, the metal cutting his nose. The sound of drums banging startled Mace as he heard the booming voice of King Viserys.
"Be welcome!" Viserys announced as he raised his arms to the crowd, "I know many of you have traveled long leagues to be at these games. But I promise you will not be disappointed. When I look at the fine knights in these lists, I see a group without equal in our histories. And this great day has been made more auspicious by the news that I am happy to share: Queen Aemma has begun her labors!"
The crowd cheers and a soft smile spread on Mace's face. The Queen, whom he had met on only one occasion, was known to be a kind woman who was betrothed to the King at such a young age. They had a daughter, Princess Rhaenyra, who Mace had never met, only seen.
"May the luck of the Seven shine upon all combatants!" Viserys's voice booms once again. The crowd waves flags and banners as they cheer for the fighters.
The game begins as men go at it for a few rounds, some dying and some coming out victorious. He choked back a laugh as Borros was knocked off of his horse by the mysterious knight by the name of Ser Criston.
Mace stood beside his horse as the voice of his father echoed throughout the arena, "Princess Rhaenys Targaryen! I would humbly ask for the favor of the Queen Who Never Was!"
Rhaenys smiles as she grabs a favor and placed it on his father's lance.
"Good fortune to you, cousin," Rhaenys tells Boremund and he twirls the lance in his hand.
"I would gladly take it if I thought I needed it," Boremund replies and Rhaenys smiles tightly. He rides on as Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, turns to Viserys, covering his mouth.
"You could have Baratheon's tongue for that," Otto says as Viserys turns back to him.
"Tongues will not change the succession," Viserys answers, "Let them wag." Rhaenys sits back down beside Corlys Velaryon, her lord husband. They share a look as the drums were beat once again. Mace watches in horror as Boremund is knocked off of his horse and the people laugh. Ser Criston had come out as the victor against the Baratheon.
His lord father rolled in pain as Viserys claps loudly, Rhaenys sipping from her cup, hiding a smile. Rhaenyra Targaryen having watched the stag be knocked off his horse turns to Ser Harrold Westerling, "What do you know about this Ser Criston Cole, Ser Harrold?"
"I'm told Ser Criston is common born son of Lord Dondarrion's steward. But other than that, and the fact that he's just unhorsed both of the Baratheon lads, I really couldn't say."
"Isn't there another?" Rhaenyra asked as Ser Harrold got back on his feet.
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