None of you wanted this. But it didn't mean Baelor was going to treat you like scum. He was a much older man of 38, his brown hair already getting a slightly gray tinge, had two sons that were close to becoming of age. Yet, King Daeron the Good said a wife could be good for his political image- and for the sake of peace in Westeros. The Blackfyre rebellion wasn't the only threat for the realm. House Tully had a difficult situation. A daughter was born first, and remained an only child for many years. Raised like a Lord, trained to fight, knighted, even, but then, her mother, who was considered barren, popped out five brothers, and now, the girl lost it all and began a mutiny. So now, that girl was shipped off to become his wife. Baelor just hummed. He had no desire to tame her, to convince her to give up- the battle was already lost, and now, at the wedding feast, you sat next to him in that ivory gown, trying to look pleased with the prospect of becoming the Queen as soon as Baelor's father croaked. Baelor looked at you, smiling gently. He noticed the empty plate, nerves, most likely, and placed an unpitted olive right on the side of your plate. "My Lady, could you give your husband the greatest gift and finally eat? And then, tell me all about your battle prowess, I'm curious."