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It was raining in King’s Landing when she left Haldon’s chambers. It clashed with her happiness, but she did not care. There was nothing that could have soured her mood that day, especially not the stupid weather.
Nymeria waited for her in the hallway, and her wolf excitedly nuzzled her belly, already knowing what Haldon had informed her of. She was with child.
She had been feeling rather odd for a few days by then, her stomach churning even at the smell of some of the meals she had been brought, but she thought nothing of it. She never paid attention to her moonblood before, as it was always irregular for her, so she did not even notice its absence.
It was Nymeria that made her notice the change in her body, as she kept gently bumping into Arya’s belly whenever she could, nuzzling against her when they were abed, waiting for her husband to join them. It gave Arya the idea to visit the halfmaester in his chambers and get his opinion. He confirmed it. She was with child.
She could scarcely believe it. She was with child.
That one sentence kept repeating in her mind over and over. It was the first time she got pregnant since she lost her first babe when she died at Harrenhal. Granted, she and Aegon took all the free time they had getting lost in each other’s pleasure, getting past their brief marital trouble but a few weeks after the war. She wondered if that evening in her solar was the one where they conceived the child. She thought back to how her dragon ravished her body after barely touching her for over a moon’s turn. Merely the thought was enough to get desire pooling inside her.
But her husband was still holding petitions with Dany and Jon, the same she did before she excused herself, not feeling well enough to remain sitting there. It earned her worried looks from her family, but none of them stopped her from leaving them alone with the petitioners.
She took to wandering the castle with only Nymeria by her side after the revelation of her condition. She wanted to go outside, to the Godswood, but she needed to be careful. She could not risk catching a cold. Not anymore.
So, she entered the library of the keep, looking for historical records about both the Stark and the Targaryen family. She was looking for names. She already had a few ideas, but she decided a few more couldn’t hurt. So, she browsed until the petitions were over, and she stood, gathering her courage to inform her husband. He would be ecstatic, she had no doubt about that. He would probably end up fainting at the news, and that was something Arya was giddy to imagine, already chuckling to herself as she petted Nymeria and left the library.
Her sworn sword found her only when they were near her solar, and instead of a bow, like any good knight would, he just greeted her with a scowl. She didn’t expect anything else from Ser Sandor Clegane; she had known him well enough by then. She was waiting for him to chew her out for not letting him catch up to her and trail her on her walk, but he must have deemed Nymeria’s presence protective enough.
He wordlessly took up his position outside her solar, by the door. She begun pacing behind the closed door, her mind restlessly trying to come up with the best way she could break the news out for Aegon. He did not give her opportunity to, as all but a few minutes later, he barged in through the door, rushing to cup her cheeks, looking worried.
“Are you alright?” he asked her hurriedly, his violet eyes jumping from one part of her body to the next, looking for any signs of illness.
It warmed her heart. “I am alright,” she assured him as she kissed him briefly, but did not let him deepen it. They needed to talk, despite how disappointed he sounded when she pulled away from him.
“Where did you go? I looked for you.”
She just furrowed her brows at him. “You left the petitions?”
“Of course, I left the petitions! I was worried about you! I still am,” he murmured as he sought her gaze with his own. “Where did you go?” he repeated himself insistently.
“To Haldon.” Her husband froze, and she chuckled. “He assured me that we are fine,” she told him, smiling at him.
“We?” he asked with a small voice. She could tell, that he did not dare hope just yet.
“Then I went to the library, looking for names,” she continued as if she didn’t hear him.
“Names?” he echoed her again, his voice wavering, filled with hope.
She slowly reached out to cup his cheek with one of her hands and took hold of the other to push it to her belly. “Yes, love. Names. For our child that I’m carrying,” she confirmed what she had alluded to.
Her husband choked back a sob, then he was kissing her desperately, lifting her up long enough to carry her to the settee before the fireplace. He placed her down gently, looming over her, never breaking the kiss. When he did, he trailed kisses down her fully clothed body, until he got to her belly. He took a shaky breath as he stared at her, pushing a small, lingering kiss right below her belly button, leaving his lips against the fabric. His eyes were filled with unshed tears by the time he met her gaze, his happiness visible to her.
She gently thumbed an escaped tear off his cheek and once cupping his jaw, nudged him closer. She wished to keep kissing him, and he knew it, since without second thoughts, he let her pull him up her body, close enough for their breaths to mingle between themselves for but a moment before she crashed her lips against his, letting her hand slide along his jaw, to the crook of his neck. She could feel his racing pulse that betrayed his excitement upon receiving the news, and she couldn’t help but smile into their kiss. Well, it was no fainting, but she was satisfied with his reaction regardless.
“Have you found any good names?” he inquired when he pulled away from her and grabbing her by the wrists, pulled her up to sit.
“A few. Do you have any that you like?”
“Naturally. I had been thinking about names since Harrenhal,” he confessed. “What about Rhaegar?”
She gave him a flat look. “We are not naming our child Rhaegar.”
“W-why not?” He was clearly surprised by her instantaneous refusal. “It’s my father’s name.”
“Yes, and your father all but shamed your mother at Harrenhal, then ran off to marry my aunt, sparking a war that ended with all three of them dead. We are not naming our son after him.”
He could see the logic in her reasoning and only meekly dared ask, “Aerys?”
“Have you gone as mad as he did?” was all she asked him, clearly upset. “You would condemn our boy to live with a name that is associated with a mad king?” He grunted as he frowned. “What about Eddard? My father was at least an honourable man.”
His scowl deepened as he crossed his arms above his chest. “No. It is a Northern name unfit for a Targaryen king.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I am from the North, in case you haven’t realized that by now,” she snarled at him, right as a knock interrupted their discussion that was quickly turning into an argument. “Who is it?” she yelled, making Aegon flinch at the volume of her voice.
“Jon,” came the voice from behind the door.
She always loved spending time with her brother-turned-cousin, but now was really not the best time for it. She stood to be able to crack the door open and found him standing there, his worry obvious. “Is it urgent? Your brother and I are in the middle of an important conversation.”
He gave her an odd look at that, his concern for her only growing. “Just wanted to ask if you were alright.”
“I’m fine, big brother,” she assured him, smiling. “More than fine, really. I will tell you later. Now, I really need to have this conversation with Aegon.”
Jon quickly pushed a kiss to her forehead before she could have closed the door in his face, making her chuckle. “Later then, little sister,” he agreed, letting her push the door shut.
She was still smiling when she spun around. “Aemon?” she asked her husband, who spoke at the same time she did, getting the same idea. They grinned. “Aemon, then,” she concluded, stroking her belly. “It’s not like Jon is ever going to use it, anyways,” she added, shrugging as she made her way back to the settee and sat. “I also like Jaehaerys.”
“Maybe for our second son,” he cheekily grinned at her, surprising her.
“You want more than one child?” Frankly, it came as a surprise to her. They never discussed it before, how many they would have, which is quite foolish of them, really.
“You don’t?” He looked crushed as he asked. “I-I mean, I suppose we should first see how the birth of our first-born would affect you before deciding on anything, but I would like to have more than one child. Like-like four of them! Maybe,” he added quickly, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. Gods, Arya found him extremely adorable when he was flustered.
“I would be okay with that,” she confessed, dissuading his worries. “I suppose we are not planning on having only sons, so--”
“Not like we have control over that,” he interjected, getting a small nod from her.
“True, but we still need names.”
She could tell how uneasy this request made him. It seemed as if he was afraid of her reaction. “Rhaenys? I-I know, that my sister did not get to live a long life, so it is probably not a great omen to have our daughter share a name with her, but—She was my sister.”
She laced their fingers together and pushed a small kiss to his cheek to ease his mind. “I like it. I was going to suggest the same, in fact. Also, if we chose Aemon, we might as well choose Daenerys, too. I know, that Dany is younger than you, but she is still your aunt,” she pointed it out. “And if the girl looks like me, can we give her a northern name? Maybe Lyarra, after my grandmother? I don’t want to use Lyanna. It should be Jon that names his daughter that, not me.”
Her husband nodded in understanding. He could tell, that she wanted to retain some of her northern heritage through their children, and he did not fault her for that. He would have given her the moon if he could.
“It does have a nice ring to it. Princess Lyarra Targaryen. Yes, I quite like it.” The grin she gave him was brighter than the sun itself.
“You better, since you will not let me name our son after my father,” she pointed it out and he rolled his eyes as he draped an arm over her shoulder.
“You must admit, that it would sound dreadful. Prince Eddard Targaryen. King Eddard Targaryen. No. Definitely not,” he concluded with a tone that made her laugh.
“You can be as petulant as a child.” He shot his tongue out at her. “More so,” she added in a deadpan voice that in turn made him laugh. They sat like that for a few minutes, laughing delightfully.
Even Nymeria padded up to them to give them an odd look as she sat down at their feet, her head tilted to the right. She watched them silently, for a few seconds, then placed her front paws on their thighs and licked Arya’s belly. Arya soon sank her fingers into the wolf’s fur, petting her as gently as Nym was nuzzling her.
“She knows,” Aegon observed.
Arya scoffed. “She knew before I did. I went to Haldon because I had noticed Nymeria doing this whenever we were left alone. Coupling that with how sick some smells and food had been making me, it was all but confirmed already. But I figured I should check with the halfmaester first before happily announcing it to you.”
Her husband slowly slid a hand over her belly, caressing it softly. “It is still so unbelievable. We are going to be parents soon,” he breathed, then chuckled when Nymeria licked his hand.
“That we are. We should wait with announcing it to the public. At least until I can no longer hide it. I do not need people constantly fussing over me.”
“We are telling the family, though, right?”
“I’m telling Jon and Sansa.” Aegon made a face at that. “He was my brother first,” she insisted. He gave in with a sigh and an exasperated roll of his eyes.
“Fine. Only if you can find him before I do,” he grinned suddenly and was standing in the next second, running for the door. “Let us see if you can do that,” he threw over his shoulder as he tore the door open, freezing in place when a thought occurred to him. “Y-you can, right? You are allowed to, you know, ehm, move...and stuff, right?”
She gave him an unimpressed look. “I’m not a cripple, you arse,” was her unamused reaction.
“Right. Right. Don’t blame me for worrying about your health,” he told her, quite indignantly before he winked at her and signalled to Duck to follow him.
Foolish of him to think he could find Jon before Nymeria could.
“Let us show him your tracking skills, girl,” she crooned to the wolf. “Find Jon for me.” Nymeria instantly threw her head back and howled, calling out to Ghost. She must have gotten a reply from her brother, since she was at the door in no time, ready to go.
Arya was after her in a second.
“The fuck’s going on?” Clegane asked her when he fell into step with her, following Nymeria, who was, coincidentally, following Aegon and Duck, who had just closed the door at the end of the hallway.
“My dear husband feels like racing me to find Jon.”
“Why?”
She considered telling him. She decided against it only because there were handmaidens and servants walking the hallway and she did not want to chance them overhearing it.
“You’ll know soon enough, Sandor,” was all she told him as she opened the door leading outside and promptly cursed when she stepped through.
Jon was sitting on a bench with Ghost at his feet, enjoying the fresh air after the rain had let up. And her husband stood before them.
She did not dally at the doorway for any longer and swiftly crossed the distance between herself and them, and jumped onto Aegon’s back, her hand sliding over his already open mouth. She could see Jon tense on the bench, not really understanding what was going on. She did not blame him.
“Shh, shh,” she grinned down at Aegon. “Be a good boy and let me join this conversation before you spill the beans to him so unceremoniously.”
He grunted at her, clearly displeased with the turn of events. “I’ll bite you,” came his muffled voice that she needed a few seconds to decipher.
“And I’ll bite you,” she retorted, playing with his earlobe with her free hand.
“What am I witnessing right now?” came the question from the clueless and almost terrified Jon.
Aegon licked her palm. “Ew,” she reacted, pulled her hand away and wiped it on his cheek, earning another grunt. Jon continued looking at them as if they both grew another head. She pushed a kiss to the top of her husband’s head. “We’ll tell him together on three, deal?”
“Deal,” he agreed begrudgingly, fidgeting beneath her.
“One. Two. Th--”
“Arya’s with child,” Aegon slurred out as his hands grabbed her thighs, squeezing tightly. She narrowed her eyes down at him. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m just so excited!” he told her as he met her gaze for but a moment, before snapping back to his brother. “I’m going to be a father!”
“Yes, that,” she confirmed for Jon, whose jaw was practically scraping the ground. His eyes were alternating between staring at Aegon and her, as his mind caught up with what his ears heard.
Arya could pinpoint the exact moment he finally realized, that they were not japing. He was standing the next second, looking up at her. “Get off him. I want to hug you both,” he told her, and as soon as her husband loosened his hold on her, she was off his back and being pulled into a hug. “I’m so happy for you both,” her cousin told them as he squeezed them close. “You are going to be parents soon. I’m going to be an uncle,” it dawned on him. “I am going to spoil that child, you know that, right?”
They laughed at him. “We know,” they answered together, not breaking the Targaryen family hug.
All of them were content standing there for minutes, but Arya’s body soon demanded she sit, so she disentangled herself from the embrace to take a seat next to Ghost, a wave of nausea washing over her. She most certainly did not look forward to that aspect of her pregnancy, but it was a part of it, so she knew, that she would do best if she learnt to live with it. She found it doable for a few months. Only time would tell how her body would handle the drastic change and she could only hope that she will not share the fate of her aunt Lyanna.