You never thought your marriage would be arranged.

When your father came to you with the news, you were outraged. You fought him, you yelled at him, you tried everything. Even with all of your efforts, his mind was set; you were going to marry Prince Jacaerys Velaryon.

His mother, Queen Rhaenyra, had approached your father expressing her desire for his allyship, in return for financial support and military funding. Your father agreed but with one more caveat: you were to marry her eldest son.

She agreed.

You had only two weeks to get to know Jacaerys before you were shoved into your wedding clothes and thrown into the Sept in Driftmark. Yet in those two weeks, you grew to really like Jacaerys, and you liked his company. He was the first man since you were a child who wasn’t angry with you. You thought he liked you, too.

The ceremony was long, and the Septon’s speech felt like it took hours before you sealed your marriage with a kiss and were escorted into the Great Hall for a feast. You were sat next to Jacaerys, your father to your left.

Even after being in his company for two weeks, and being in his arms for a few hours in the light of dawn, his eyes were on another.

Baela. His cousin. They were promised to each other when they were children.

You didn’t understand the Valyrian custom of marrying within the family. It kept the bloodline “pure”, sure, but maybe it’s why they had such high infant mortality rates.

You reach under the table and grab Jacaerys’ hand, trying to draw his attention back to you. Maybe if he looked at you, all dressed up in your nice wedding clothes, then he would fall for you. He had been looking at Baela all day, even during the ceremony.

But when Jacaerys quickly rips his hand away, his eyes still on Baela, your heart sinks to your feet.