If the truth has been forbidden, then we're breaking all the rules.
Holy shit, she was pregnant. Like really, actually, for serious pregnant. They’d been talking about it as a maybe thing for a while, but Arrya hadn’t quite realized how different talking about it was from actually…well, from it actually being real. She was going to be a mom. Gendry was going to be a dad. They were going to have a teeny tiny little baby thing with four legs and a nose and a tail and eyes and everything, and it was growing inside her. Sure, she was a little bit…well, freaked the fuck out. But mostly? I’m going to be the best goddamn mom ever, you got that, baby? I’m going to cuddle you and love you and keep you safe, and I’m going to feed you and take care of you, and you’re never going to feel like… Like she’d felt when she was young. Alone, unloved, abandoned. Rejected by one mother before she was even aware, and by another when she found out she had wings. When she found out about the light.I’m going to love you for exactly who you are, and I’m going to make sure you know it too. And so’s your dad. You’re never going to be alone in this world, we’ll make sure of it. You’ve got a whole big family through him too, and they’re going to love you like crazy or I’ll tear them to pieces, so don’t you worry, little love. I’ve got your back. Always.
Her running commentary to their baby had started before she even knew there was a baby to think at, and it wasn’t like the kid could hear her. She was no telepath, and neither was Gendry. But she liked to think the baby could feel the ferocious love she felt for it every time she talked to it. She liked to think their kid knew it was surrounded by all that love all the time. When she talked to it. When Gendry pressed his lips to her belly, wonder in those just unbelievably beautiful eyes of his. He was just as much of a softie as she was when it came to the baby that wasn’t even big enough to alter her still-quite-trim-thank-you-very-much waistline. Yet. God, that was going to change. She was going to be fucking enormous, and not in the big, scary, intimidating kind of way she’d like.
Well. There was something to be said for the ferocity of a heavily pregnant woman on the rampage. That part held some promise. A little fun to balance out the waddle and the discomfort and the fucking constant need to pee, and all the other things she’d heard pregnant ladies complain about. And Arrya already had a penchant for terrorizing the unsuspecting who thought she was cute and tiny and harmless even without the excuse of hormones. Odds were pretty high she could kick some serious ass with a boost of pregnancy mood swings.
A wicked grin spread across her face just thinking about it.
She tromped through the Meadow, making the most of her stompy stride while she still had it, one dark brown eye on the sky looking out for a certain someone who wasn’t about to let her out of his sight even if it took playing the carefree falcon for an hour or two while she found some unsuspecting victim to interact with. Short, scruffy, and bay, she looked ordinary. Unremarkable even. Just a normal girl, barely tall enough to escape the label of pony, with enough stomp in her step to fill a body three times her size. The wings were hiding, the light hadn’t started doing anything unexpected just because she was a bit knocked up, and maybe she just looked good for her age. Nothing to see here. See, Gendry? I can stay out of trouble.
Arrya.