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Patches
Shireen has a question. A haunting one. Very important. But she would not dare to ask Maester Cressen, of course. Although he is always kind to her, he has all of those chain links around his neck to represent – Shireen thinks – all knowledge of the world.
He undoubtedly would know the answer, but Shireen is afraid of that answer and she fears even more to ask her question. Maybe it is a silly one, after all, which means Shireen is a silly girl. She does not want the Maester realize that.
So she cannot turn to him with her problem. But Theon is just Theon. Shireen can ask him anything without hesitation.
She takes a deep breath and does it. "Perra will bear her child soon, within a few weeks, according to Maester Cressen."
Perra is a cook in Dragonstone's kitchen. And Maester Cressen spoke about her condition not with Shireen, of course, but Shireen's lady mother. However, Allyra was there too, one of Lady Selyse's handmaidens, and she tells Shireen everything (she tells everyone everything, to be fair).
"And her child is also Vollys' child."
Theon nods, frowning.
"Yes…"
"So will the babe look like him? Patchfaced?"
Something flashes in Theon's eyes. Maybe amusement, maybe pity or… probably both.
"The babe can be like him," he says finally. "Like he was before the tattoos."
Relief washes over her.
"So my children won't inherit my patches either, right? They can be… pretty."
She adds that last word very quietly, very shyly.
Theon smiles at her with one of his usual, wide smiles.
"Little lady, your children will be lucky if they take after you."
He is always nice and gentle and chivalrous to her. Shireen enjoys it and mostly believes him, but times like this she is aware that it is just that: chivalry. She makes a face.
"I know what I see in the mirror."
"I think you don't. You're a fighter. Like Visenya and Nymeria."
"They are beautiful on all the pictures," she replies with bitterness.
Theon shrugs. "Maybe they were, maybe not. But the pictures aren't made because of their beauty, we remember them because they were strong. You are strong."
"They led fleets and armies and conquered with steel and fire and blood."
"And you survived without fleets or steel or fire."
Shireen forces a smile and she hopes it seems genuine enough. Theon deserves it, after all. Even if he is wrong.
Being pretty is expected of ladies, being strong is not. And it does not matter how flattering is what Theon says, she would rather choose the first one.
He smiles back, somehow sadly.
"One day, little lady, you will understand I was right."
