It was inevitable. She had known this, all along – she was aware of the basic biology of men and women, but it had still been a shock to her once she was sure. For several months she had tried to excuse it away and put it out of her mind, but soon she couldn't ignore the telltale signs. Her breasts were swollen and sore, her back had begun to ache for no reason, and her waistline was slowly but gradually expanding.
Still, even when she was certain, she had avoided telling him. She was trying to find the right way to say so and she wasn't sure how he would react. They had been enjoying each other, just the two of them, but now this was serious, and permanent. It wasn't uncommon for men in this situation to just disappear, never to be heard from again, she knew.
So she mulled it over in her head, for days, trying to find the right words – and trying to figure out how she herself felt about it. She had unspooled many dreams and hopes for her future, but never had this figured into any of her imaginings. There were practical considerations, to be sure – how would she continue to fight and train? Could she still be taken seriously as a knight, or would this hamper her? Beyond that, though, was the fact that she had never even thought of herself in this way. After all, she had been told so many often how unladylike she was that she had never pictured herself in this way, in such an utterly feminine role. She assumed it would never happen to her. And yet here she was.
In the end, she hadn't needed to tell him. He had somehow figured it out himself – how, she wasn't sure, but he walked right up to her one morning as she was sparring and grasped his arms around her, picking her up off her feet. Though she was now probably half a stone heavier, he still freely lifted her in the air, twirled her around in half a circle, and then kissed her full on the mouth in front of everyone before putting her back down. He didn't have to say anything: as his hand came to rest on top of her armor, right above her midsection, he looked into her eyes and she saw his delight reflected there.
She'd had to switch to progressively larger pieces of armor, but still she'd kept up her practice. She refused to slow down until she absolutely couldn't swing a sword anymore, until her middle-heavy body could no longer move the way she expected it to. She was rapidly approaching that point now.
This night she lay flat their bed, a pillow tucked under her back to help relieve the ever-present soreness there. She could only just see the glint of his red hair across her swollen belly, but she could certainly feel his mouth against her. She was embarrassed by how much she desired him, now, like this. Though it was a nice change of pace from those first few months, when it seemed that fatigue and a vague nausea plagued her almost constantly, this felt almost unseemly. Not only was she huge, but she was also fairly certain that she should be focusing her energy on striving to cultivate some sort of maternal feelings. Yet here she was, wet and moaning like she was brand new to this.
Her first wave of pleasure had come so quickly, not long after his tongue began to caress her, and he had sensed how much more she wanted. Then her climax came twice more and still he continued, lapping his mouth against her in all the ways she liked. Her eyes were closed and one of her hands reached down to gently entwine though his hair as her release built up in her body, coursing through all her veins. She called out loudly as she reached her peak again.
He raised his head now and brought himself up alongside her, rolling her gently on her side and pulling the pillow out from beneath her. She could feel him now, hard against her, and her desire surged forward as if he hadn't already satisfied her four times tonight. They had reached the point where he could no longer reasonably get on top of her, and she felt like too much like a lumbering giant to get on top of him, but they had found that this worked, if he held her from behind. He was sliding into her now, both of them groaning at the feeling.
With his lips he was nibbling her ear now, and his left hand was tracing circles around one of her nipples while the other was rubbing her where she was most sensitive, all while he was slowly stroking in and out of her. All these sensations together at once was almost more than she could bear, and her pleasure came once more, with her moaning even more loudly than she had before. It had to be almost improper, she felt, for her to be this big, and so far along, and still enjoying their bodies together like this, but she was too far gone now to care about what she was supposed to do.
"Brienne," he growled in her ear, as she felt him grow even harder inside her. She knew how much delight he took in her, even now as his hand brushed against her belly. He was moving more quickly now, and panting, and she knew he was nearly there as well. Sure enough, he was soon calling out as his delight came and still, in this moment, his hand managed to stroke her as she felt his last deep thrusts inside her. She peaked again, one last time, right along with him.
She rolled on to her back again, panting, as he laid beside her. His hand came to rest across her stomach and she glanced down at it. In that moment, feeling the weight of him against her, she had of vision of their future together:
There was a girl, tall and strong, with gleaming strawberry blonde hair. She was fitted with tiny armor, standing in a field, swinging a sword around while Brienne taught her how to move with precision and focus. The girl was learning to ride a horse, too, and she held onto its bridles with confidence. She was brave, and steady, and determined.
And she was her father's joy. He fashioned for her all the weapons of his youth and taught her how to use them. He instilled in her fierceness and loyalty and the belief that she could do whatever she put her mind too. She would not be brought up to be ashamed of her strength, as Bienne had been. No one would dare to call her ugly or manly – her father would hear none of it. This daughter was loved fiercely.
She came back down to earth as she heard Tormund's breathing become slower and heavier. He was slipping into sleep beside her. She closed her eyes then, but before she fell into slumber she heard him mumble something next to her.
"Brienne," he was saying. "My love. The mother of my child."