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I always thought the horn that was found at the Fist of the First Man was Joramun's.
"You said it was impossible."
"I thought it was."
She also kept telling herself when the first signs were showed.
She told the Maester when he confirmed her suspicion.
Dany looks at Theon, confused.
"Why did you think you couldn't have children?"
When Dany told him she was unable to conceive moons before, he simply believed her.
"A maegi foretold me.
'After my son was born dead and malformed. Because of her.'
It sounds as ridiculous now as right and irrevocable it sounded in the Dothraki Sea when Mirri Maz Duur said those words to her. The words that hung over her head like a judgment, like a curse.
Theon does not comment and does not raise any question either for which she is glad.
They are sitting in silence for a while.
Dany is dazed and enchanted, she has been since she accepted her pregnancy as truth.
Theon still seems thunderstruck. And severe.
Now? She has an answer for that, but she hesitates, because no matter how necessary it is, she feels so, so humiliating to say the words.
However, it has to be done.
"Take me as your wife."
"Is that an order?" he asks with a dry smile.
"It is a request."
Waiting for Theon's consent – or refusal –, Dany decides she must explain, if for no other reason, to fill the quiet.
"If I want to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms I can't bear a child out of wedlock."
But she does bear this child, it cannot happen otherwise.
"Undoubtedly." Theon's voice is hoarse, so he clears his throat. "It will be as you wish."
Dany can breathe freely again and she smiles faintly. Although, they have to clarify some more things.
"I know, according to the ironborn's faith, I would be accounted only as a salt wife, but…"
Theon shakes his head.
"It doesn't matter to me what traditions say, I do not follow their ways."
"And you do not believe any god."
"I don't have to believe for my oath to count. If I take one I will keep it not because I said it before some god. I will keep my word because I mean it." He sighs. "However, a proper ceremony is needed."
Dany nods, a bit unsteadily.
"Even if… would Lady Melisandre do it?"
There is not a septon on Dragonstone anymore. And although the old godswood is untouchable, no one knows the northern ritual well enough.
Theon shrugs, resigned.
"It has to be her, doesn't it?"
Lady Selyse is proved to be surprisingly helpful.
Though, she disdains Theon and does not like Daenerys, she reckons marriage is the right decision to make.
The day of the wedding comes quickly.
Waiting by the ditchfire, Melisandre looks immensely self-complacent.
"You refuse the grace of the Lord of Light, still, he is blessing you, Theon Greyjoy," she says.
It sounds like some sort of lesson from her mouth but Theon does not listen. At her, at least.
Daenerys approaches, alone. In the light of the moon and the flames her whole figure – her braided hair, her skin, her essosi gown – is all silvery glow.
It is an impossible thought that she is carrying his child, and even more so that she will become his wife this night.
Despite it, they stand here side by side – as duty demands – and say the words which will bond them together.
There's a theory about Dany having a miscarriage after she escaped on Drogon's back in ADwD (in this story it didn't happen). Her current pregnancy is based on that.