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...
Viserys decides he has had enough and breaks the news to Daemon, "I have decided to name a new heir."
"I'm your heir," Daemon asks, feeling slightly betrayed.
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"Not anymore," Viserys says as Daemon's jaw clenches, "You are to return to Runestone and your lady wife at once, and you are to do so without quarrel by order of your King."
Daemon steps forward and the Kingsguard unsheathe their blades, pointing it at him. The Rogue Prince breathes out a frustrated breath, "Your Grace."
Daemon bows his head slightly, then turns and trudges away. Viserys bares his teeth as the guards open rhe door and Daemon leaves.
The King sits back in the Iron Throne, he touches his hand to his forehead but quickly pulls it away and examines it. Blood shines on his newly nicked pinky finger and rests his hand on the blood-stained arm rest.
•
King Viserys stands before the skull of Balerion the Black Dread, the biggest Targaryen dragon to have ever flown the skies.
Viserys holds his hand over candles arranged in a line beneath the skull. The flames lick his hand as he slowly moves it above the candles. A white-haired knight leads Rhaenyra into the dark chamber as Viserys stares up at the skull.
"Father," Rhaenyra calls out as she approaches him. He glances at her and back at the skull, "Balerion was the last living creature to have seen Old Valyria before the Doom. Its greatness and its flaws. When you look at the dragons, what do you see?"
Rhaenyra looks up at Balerion's skull and at her father in question, "What?"
She scoffs, "You haven't spoken a word to me since mother's funeral—and now you send your Kingsguard down—"
"Answer me," Viserys interrupts her. They stand close, staring at one another.
"It's important. What do you see?" He asks once again.
Her gaze flickers between the skull and her father. Then she nods and looks intently at the skull, "I suppose I see us."
"Tell me," Viserys urges her to go on.
"Everyone says Targaryens are closer to gods than to men," Rhaenyra says, "but they say that because of our dragons. Without them, we're just like everyone else."
Viserys nods, "The idea that we control the dragons...is an illusion. They're a power man should never have trifled with. One that brought Valyria its doom." He paces back and forth, "If we don't mind our own histories, it will do the same to us. Targaryen must understand this to be King...or Queen."
The Princess looks her father in the eye, "I'm sorry Rhaenyra. I have wasted the years since you were born, wanting for a son."
