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A Surprising Conception

Summary:

Gendry and Jon have that conversation.

Arya and Sansa make a revelation

Notes:

Welcome to an update…also…this is a filler, so no smut…but this does lead up to the next part…which I’m sure people can guess what prompt/theme I picked from Gendry Kinktober. Also, I wasn’t planning for this get as angsty as it did…but hey…I can’t help it.

Anyway…enjoy!

Work Text:

Gendry had decided to converse sooner rather than later and when dawn had approached, he pulled on his best tunic, combed is growing hair, and made sure his growing beard was neatly kept. He had taken several deep breaths before making his way to the great hall. 

 

It wad void of any drunkards from the feast before and Jon was perched on the dais, seated behind the large oak table. There was a mug of ale in his hands and his faced looked solemn as Gendry approached him. 

 

“Gendry.” he simply stated, gesturing for him to sit across from him. 

 

“Jon.” Gendry said in return. He studied his friend as he took his seat. Jon’s face looked tired, as if sleep had evaded him. He looked worn and irritated and rather unpleasant. Gendry swallowed hard. He had not the slightest inkling of what was going to transpire. He could only hope he wouldn’t get impeded by Long Claw in the process. 

 

“Do you want some ale? I find it lessens the sting of betrayal.” Jon mused as he sipped from his mug. 

 

Gendry flinched at his words, “I’d rather not, thank you. I find it can cloud the mind.” 

 

“Ale isn’t the only thing that can cloud one’s mind.” Jon took another long sip, his gaze admittedly avoiding Gendry’s weary stare. “Tell me…when did you decide to bed my sister? Before or after you became a lord?” 

 

“Uh—well…we—” 

 

“No, no. I know that answer. Arya told me she was the one to bed you.” 

 

“I wasn’t expecting—when I met her in the store house to give her the weapon I made, bedding her was farthest from my mind.” Gendry said truthfully. In fact, he hadn’t the slightest idea as to where the conversation was going until his lips had met hers in a blinding frenzy. 

 

“I believe you.” Jon said bluntly. “To be frank, I’m not upset at the fact you bedded my sister. If I’m being honest, I’m rather glad it was you. You seem to care for her and she obviously cares for you, otherwise she would have given her maidenhead so easily.” 

 

“I do care for her. I love her.” Gendry said with confidence. It had been the first time he admitted that to anyone but Arya. She had heard those words escape his lips many time during their moments of passion, but he had never utter those words to another living sole. He had never told anyone his true feelings for her. 

 

“That isn’t a secret. It’s written on your face every time you see her. I couldn’t quite place it; the looks you would steal when you thought no one was looking. Perhaps I was oblivious; perhaps I do know nothing. But looking back at it now, I should have known. Which is why me finding out the way I did upsets me so.” Jon had place his mug down on the oak table, his hands gripping the chalice. 

 

Gendry could see the struggle in Jon’s hands as he restrained them from pouncing on the young blacksmith. 

 

“Arya and I both agreed to keep it a secret. We had our reasons.” 

 

Jon sighed and his grip on the chalice loosened, “Yes, I supposed you did. I just wish I wasn’t the last to know outside of family. Hells, my wife knew and no one utter a word to her.” 

 

“Queen Daenerys is a smart woman. Terrifying, but smart.” Gendry chuckled. 

 

“That she is. But so is my sister. And I’m sure my threats are jaded by what she is capable of doing to you if you so much a step out of line. But I still have threats, and if you do anything, so help me Gods, I will geld you and make sure you are never able to walk straight again.” Jon threatened in a hush tone. There was no yelling, no outburst, just a simple declaration. And that had Gendry terrified. 

 

“Understood.” He swallowed. 

 

Jon nodded and took the last swing of his ale before letting the chalice clang upon the oak table. “The last of drunken men staggered out just a few moment prior to your arrival. I haven’t been to bed, nor seen my wife the entirety of the night thanks to you and my sister. Now with dawn rising, I’m sure I will get an earful.” 

 

Jon rose from the dais and staggered down the stoney steps before disappearing behind the opening of the opposite corridor. 

 

Gendry had stayed in the Great Hall for a time, watching the maids do their work, cleaning and tidy the Great Hall for those to break their fast. It’s where Arya had found him after the tolling of the morning bells. He had enlightened her about their conversation, only to then have her kiss him in front of all those that had gathered in the morning. 

 

He hadn’t expected the action, nor the announcement to come so soon, but he knew when Arya set her mind to something, there was no turning back. 

 

Gendry was seething with joy, and despite his conversation with Jon that left him a bit rattled, he didn’t hide his affection. In fact, he could hardly keep his hands of Arya, even in the most public of places. Jon shot him daggers when his hands slipped a little to low for his liking. 

 

And Arya was subliminally happy. The secret of the nature of her relationship with Gendry was taken surprisingly well by those around the castle. When they decided to announce their coupling, there were a few whispers that lingered, especially with that of the higher lords. But Sansa was able to smother the fires that would have erupted. 

 

Of course, a few demanded that they marry, but a quick draw of her sword and a deadly glare ceased all conversation of that. 

 

Even Queen Daenerys had liked the pairing, wishing them the best of luck. 

 

Three moon turns had come and gone, and it was a relief not to hide anymore. If Arya was being honest, it was exhausting keeping a secret such as that. It made it all the more easier for her drag Gendry along to her rooms, knowing people knew, rather than having to watch which maid they could trust. 

 

Yet, despite their bliss, Arya couldn’t help but feel as if something was off. For the first few moon turns, she felt wonderful; flying high on a could of ecstasy. But as she was breaking her fast with Sansa, she couldn’t shake that strange feeling. 

 

They were in Sansa’s chambers, waiting for one of the maids to bring in trays of food for them to eat. It was early morning, and she had left a very naked, very handsome blacksmith back in her bed all so her sister didn’t have to eat alone. They had been very busy of late and rarely had time to mingle. 

 

Sansa was in the midst of finding a suitable husband…for herself and Arya was occupied with training those who wanted to learn water dancing and fucking Gendry. 

 

“Jon sends his regards.” Sansa sighed as she threw the letter that had arrived early that morning on the table within her chambers. 

 

Daenerys and Jon had left just a week after Arya’s revelation, revealing that she was with child and wished to get back home before she was unable to travel. 

 

“How is Dany doing?” Arya asked. 

 

“The maester has put her on bed rest. He suspects they are having twins, judging her size and her description on the movements. Jon’s been handling the duties.” 

 

“So, he’s being a king.” Arya scoffed. 

 

“I think he’s doing a fine job. You haven’t heard of an impending war, so that’s good.” Sansa laughed. 

 

Arya couldn’t help but smile, “I suppose you’re right.” 

 

A soft knock interrupted their light conversation, and a maid popped her head into the room. “I’ve brought your food.” 

 

Sansa waived her in and the maid gently set a large tray of breads, jams, cheeses, and eggs in front of them. A pitcher of wine had been placed neatly in the middle and two chalices were given to both of them. The maid quickly curtsied and exited, leaving Arya salivating over the array of delicious choices. 

 

“By the Gods, I’m ravenous.” She said as she began piling a small plate full of food. She plucked a boiled egg into her mouth, moaning as it hit her tongue. She chew slowly, letting the taste cover every inch of her mouth. She had been ready to swallow, when a pungent taste wafted her tastebuds. 

 

A gag erupted from her and she barely had time to make it to the water basin before emptying the contents of starved belly. 

 

Sansa was quick to rise and planted herself beside her sister, brushing the wisps of hair from her flushed face. It had grown exponentially, and Arya had trouble keeping the locks tied away from her face. 

 

“Are you well?” Sansa asked as Arya finished heaving. 

 

She gave a quick nod before rinsing her mouth with the water beside the basin. “It must’ve been the lamb last night. I thought it tasted off.” 

 

Sansa crinkled her brows, “Impossible. I had the lamb last night and I feel fine.” 

 

“It’s nothing, Sansa.” Arya brushed off as she made her way back to the table. But Sansa was persistent, and pulled her sister to face her. Her elongated fingers pressed to the Arya’s flushed face, feeling for any sign of fever. 

“You aren’t feverish. Perhaps you’ve been training to hard.” 

 

Arya swatted her sister’s hands away from her face, “I’m fine. And I haven’t been training too hard.” 

 

“Then you’ve been doing other things.” Sansa’s brows rose and Arya could feel the blush creeping upon her cheeks. 

 

“If you must know, yes. I’ve been doing other things.” 

 

“Well I hope you are taking precautions. We’ve discussed this before. The last thing the lords want to see is a child born out of wedlock.” Sansa chastised. “I wouldn’t mind, if it means we have another Stark running about and I get to spoil a babe, but other’s wouldn’t take kindly and surely demand your marriage.” 

 

Arya’s face blanched, “I’m not—I can’t get with child.” 

 

“You’re certain you aren’t able to carry? Has a maester confirmed? They know I’m barren, but surely you aren’t as well.” 

 

Arya shook her head, “I was stabbed. I don’t bleed often. Besides, Gendry and I have been careful. I take moon tea and there are times that he doesn’t release inside of me.” 

 

Sansa lips pursed, “Be he has…released inside of you.” 

 

Arya noticed that it wasn’t a question. “Well…yes.” 

 

“Then, you could be with child.” 

 

Arya’s heart began to quicken. Could it be possible that she was with child? Certainly not. She was sure to take her droughts of moon tea whenever they decided to fall of the precipice together. But it hadn’t even been that often. She could count a total of six times and each she took her moon tea—except she didn’t. Not the night in the tub. Not the night Jon had found them. Her mind had been too preoccupied at the time to remember. 

 

“No—I’m not pregnant. I can’t—not with the scars.” She whispered. 

 

Sansa scoffed, “Do you not know basic anatomy? I’ve seen your scars, Arya. They are no where near your womb. Whatever happened—who ever stabbed you, they made sure to stab above, where they could do the most damage, not below.” 

 

Arya could feel another wave of nausea hit as the sudden realization that she could very well be carrying a child hit her. 

 

Sansa must have seen her sister’s face pale and she quickly crossed her rooms before tightening her robe securely around her. “I am going to fetch the maester. He will be able to confirm.” 

 

But Arya knew…deep down she knew. Her hand came to rest on the small swell of her belly. Inside there was a babe growing. 

 

 

 

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