“Would you do me the honor, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, of being my wife?”
The words hung in the silence, sweet and still. Daenerys felt tears rise to her eyes as she gazed back at Ghost, the love of her heart, the solace in her life. “You are not just a Stark. I don’t care if you’re a commoner or some highborn lord’s trueborn son, Ghost, I love you.” The admission made tears burn hot in Dany’s eyes, but she didn’t give a fig. “I feel truly alive when I’m with you. With you, I’m not just some orphaned princess hungering for revenge. You make me better, and I would be the happiest creature on earth to be your wife.”
She met Ghost’s icy look. She realized with a slight jolt she had to tell him something. “Bear with me for a few seconds - this is incredibly off topic. But, I just remembered that I saw Sansa. She was fleeing Drekistone during our attack. As far as I know, she is alive still. I can only hope that this chases away any worry you may have.” Daenerys’ heart beat wildly. “Back to it - yes, Ghost, I will be your wife. I want to grow old and die alongside you. I want to give you little dragons that grow up with the fire of House Targaryen and the strength of House Stark. I don’t ever want to leave you.”

“Fire cannot kill a dragon.”