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Like many readers of A Song of Ice and Fire before me (but not nearly enough), I feel somewhat disturbed by how GRRM deals with childbirth. While I love the books and the complex, nuanced female POV characters the author brings forth, I have do have criticism regarding how women in general are treated in the story, way way to often as mere plot devices. GRRM's use of "death by childbirth" as a gendered way to kill off characters strikes me as particularly problematic, but the way labour and birthing are actually portrayed is also not without issues.

In the realm of asoiaf fanfiction most (but not all, naturally) of what I've read depicting childbirth feels like it's told either from a perspective that is very medicalized and doctor-centric (is that a thing?) or by someone who has learned about it mostly through other forms of fiction. I'm usually bothered with the amount of agency attributed to the woman labouring (too little, imnsho) or with scenarios that speak to an overall lack of knowledge about the physiology of birth.

So I thought I'd try my hand at it. It felt like a really really daunting task, but I really really wanted to see what I could come up with, if I'd be able to write something that felt truthful and gritty, but also delicate and respectful of the experience of giving birth. I chose an outsider point of view for the narrative voice, so we get Arya giving birth through a Gendry POV.

I am very passionate about this subject, and I loved each minute I spent with the text, written hastly in the middle of the night. Once I started writing, it simply flowed.

This is an excerpt:

"It make no matter what you isn't, son. You is the father. A good one, I dare hope. You let her lean on you now." Arya was panting between his legs, still on her knees. Trembling and pale though she was, she was strong. The strongest person I’ve ever known. Naturally she found her might again. She set a foot on the floor in front of her, so she was kneeling on one leg, and then held on to Gendry’s knees behind her to raise herself to a squatting position. Wylla had to be truly happy with what unfolded in front of her; there was a fond smile on her face, so broad Gendry could see the gap where she had lost a tooth.

“Tis perfect, dear. You doing so well! You is fierce. Let us see that babe, m’dear. The babe know the way. You may let come.” Wylla crouched in front of them. “You doing so well dear. You is. I know the hurt. It’ll pass, promise. I can see the head. You wanna feel the head?”

Gendry couldn’t see her face, but he could feel Arya’s smile. That’s why she didn’t want the maester around. This last turn of moon, Sims had been rattling on and on about draughts for the pain, and the necessity of lying still all through labour so not to waste the strength she’d need when came time to push. Bloody idiot.

This fic was inspired by the second prompt of @aryaxgendryweek 2020, "I got your back".

If you're interested and wanna read more, this is the link to it on ao3.

If you're interested in the discussion about women in asoiaf, the dead ladies club by @joannalannister a great place to start.

Set Sail || Gendrya

Two years after leaving Westeros, Arya manages to get Gendry on her ship.

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Arya trailed a lazy hand across his chest, lingering on the feel of the soft curls that had grown since she’d seen him last. “You’re really here,” she marveled aloud. The ship gently rocked, lending to the almost dreamlike scene of having him in her bed. Panting against each other, she wasn’t sure this wouldn’t haunt her when it came time to leave again.

“Never thought I’d willingly step onto another boat,” Gendry joked, his mouth settled and warm along her hairline. Eyes roving about the cabin, he held her just a bit more tightly. “Rowing away from Dragonstone took fucking ages, another almost led to my death beyond the wall. Then, this one took you away from me.”

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