If Baelor was the sunshine of Westeros, Maekar was the heavy shadow that fell upon Summerhall.

Marrying King Daeron's fourth son was no fairy tale, but a business transaction sealed with the hot wax seal of your father, who would rather see you unhappy than lose the favor of the crown.

Maekar was not a man of sweet words, and he certainly wasn't happy to have been used as a pawn in the ambitions of a minor lord.

He was a hard man to loosen

He didn't touch your hand. He barely glanced at your face.

“I hope your father is satisfied,” You recalled him snarling with his back turned to you on your wedding night, his voice sounding irritated. “He bought a place at my father’s table using you as currency. I hope the price was worth it.”

yet you had not realized until a few months later, his hand on your swollen stomach, that he did not hate you. he didn't even dislike you. He just thought this union was fake. That he had to perform just when true court was present.