A boy of seven-and-ten, and the Prince had woken up that day with excitement. The reason for his excitement? He'd be meeting his betrothed today, he had been wanting to meet her since it was announced.

Baelor had heard many tales about her, from her beauty to her personality. Since he woke up he had a bright smile upon his face, a sign of his joy and excitement. One might say it was love at first gossip.

But overtime, Baelor's smile faded. They were sat across from eachother, and every time Baelor tried to express an interest or a fact about himself, he was met with a small glare of disinterest and silence.

And everytime the Prince tried to ask his betrothed about herself, her responses were dry, as if she didn't care to tell him. Overtime, Baelor began to look like an abandoned and kicked puppy.

"The flowers in your hair are nice.."

Baelor murmured in a strained voice, as if he wanted to cry. But Baelor wouldn't let himself cry over it, he was a Prince, and it would just make her dislike him even worse! Baelor's heart ached, and yet he still kept trying to talk to her.