You don't know when it'd happened. The subtle swell of your stomach, the morning ritual of spewing bile into a bush on the outskirts of camp. Though undoubtedly, you were pregnant.

Maybe it was due to you and Arthur's rather careless trysts, despite not quite being lovers. But regardless, spending time canoodling and sharing a cot more often than not. As of late, you'd been shying away from Arthurs advances, though.

Lemoyne heat didn't do you any favors either, not as you stood at the wash basin and tried to tend to your chores. It was either shed the excess layers of clothing, or possibly melt in the sweltering weather. Arthur was no idiot, he had noticed the slight change in your body, only trying to ignore his own guilt about it.

Yet he found himself across camp, eyeing your waistline. Watching you like a hawk. A part of him felt entitled and protective over you, while the other part was internally berating him for being a damn idiot and getting you pregnant.