From a prompt I received on tumblr. For a House that almost went extinct, Baratheons excelled at one thing.

Arya thought it must have been some unwritten law of the Seven kingdoms that Baratheons were the most prolific procreators in Westeros.

Fucking Gendry.

She never forgot to take her moon tea. Ever. Even when they were in the midst of a war, she had a steady supply so that she and Gendry never had to deal with the consequences of their passions. But that one time, the one time she had forgotten, and Gendry had been standing just so in the light of the forge, and well – here they were.

The Maester Tarly had confirmed her suspicions, and after solemnly vowing to keep the news to himself (she may have threatened to wear his face, if he didn't. Jon would never let her of course, but he didn't need to know that) she made her way to the forge.

It was early. There had been a feast the night before and she knew that Gendry – soft touch that he was – would have let the other smithies working under him sleep in for an hour or two. Sure enough, when she rounded the door, there he stood, all alone in his black leather apron, stoking the fires to life and looking as content as she'd ever seen him.

Gods, he made her smile like an idiot. It was embarrassing.

She kicked a stone and Gendry's head shot up and his eyes caught hers. "Arry. You're early."

She hummed. "I had a commitment to keep. I thought I would come keep you company."

Gendry, apparently, had stumbled across one of his rare moments of insight. "With the Maester?" Because who else would she be meeting before the sun had fully risen above the horizon.

"Yes."

He set him hammer on the anvil, stoked the fires some more, and stepped closer, crossing him arms over his chest. "Sore head from last night?" he smiled gently.

"Not quite."

"Well. That's enlightening."

She snorted and he huffed, and he went back to setting up his forge for today as she slowly trailed after him.

"Other husbands would show a little more concern," she said teasingly.

Gendry laughed. "Which is exactly why you married me, m'lady."

And gods if this babe wasn't unsettling her already, because suddenly she felt a prickling behind her eyes and an overwhelming need to embrace him. Instead, she said, "Foolish on my part, really."

Gendry grinned at her. "You can't undo what's been done. I'm yours now – for all days. Poor luck, Arry girl."

She watched him with a smile on her lips for a few moments, before the nerves bubbling in her belly compelled her to speak. "I suppose I should tell you, really."

Blue eyes flicked to her, thick brows creased slightly as he tried to temper concern he knew she wouldn't appreciate. "You should?"

"Yes. You see – I think Eddard is a wonderful name. I won't hear a word against it. But you can pick your favourite girl's name."

Gendry simply stood, confused. "Well, okay," he said, slowly. "And why do I need to pick my favourite girl's name."

Arya huffed, and sat heavily on an unused anvil. "Gods you are slow sometimes. I hope they don't have your mind."

"Who - ?"

Arya lurched forward, grabbed his thick wrist and yanked it. She stared him in the eyes, a storm of grey and blue as she slowly, deliberately, brought it to rest on her belly.

By instinct, his thumb started to stroke her gently, but no comprehension lit his eyes. Arya lifted her other hand and thwacked him behind the head, pressing his hand more urgently on her.

"Gods Arya – stop hitting me. Use your words, you stupid little highbor-"

Ah. There it was.

Gendry stilled. His breathe held trapped in his broad chest. His eyes were fixed on his hand. Arya was fairly sure his heart had stopped beating. Until slowly, gently, his grasp tightened on her stomach.

"Arry," he choked. "Arry. Are you – is the Maester – are you sure?"

"I would not tease you. Not about this."

Not about something he'd wanted so desperately but had convinced himself he couldn't have. Not if he was with her, and he'd made if perfectly clear that she was what he wanted above everything.

"I – Arya, we're having a child? You're with child?"

"We are."

And it was like fire had entered his veins. Gendry plucked her from the ground and clutched her two him in both arms. He spun her around and she wrapped her legs around him for purchase, and gods, she even laughed, breathless with pleasure at how happy she had made him. After everything they had been through, from the King's Road to beyond the Wall, she'd finally been able to give him something he had always wanted.

"A family, Arya," he breathed, wet and delirious in her ear. "We're going to have a family. A girl! I want it to be a girl – a little you. Gods that would be perfect –"

"Oh, I don't know," she hummed as Gendry set her back on the anvil. "I wouldn't mind another stubborn, bull-headed boy running around here. I've gotten quite skilled at keeping them in hand."