She realized it much, much later than she would have liked, this strangeness about her own body. One day, she was flying smoothly through the air, brightly engaging the new season with a calm soul and much thinking, and the next day, she was in a whirlwind of emotion.

The moment when her situation dawned on her happened in the Dragon's Throat. Sweat, uncommon for this season, curled down her sides more slowly as she drank the crisp water to stay cool. A pervading sleepiness made her lay down with Zera tucked carefully under her chin, and the entire day had somehow faded with her doing absolutely nothing. Though this was uncharacteristic for herself, she knew, Aithniel didn't pay much mind until she struggled to get up from her nap. Long, dark legs flailed angrily as she got stuck in the sand, snorting, huffing and puffing to rise from her spot.

After some time, she managed to get up and truly look at herself, noticing the tell-tale swell of her body. Well. Fuck.

The mare chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully as she took to action before letting any other emotion get a hold of her. She struggled to get in the air, legs pounding and hammering at the soft ground for her take-off, and she barely made it over the sea before she spiraled downward awkwardly. Despite her very best efforts to make a soft landing, her wings strained against her own mass, and she skid through the soft dirt, tumbling a little in progress and grunting as she righted herself with dirty, skinned knees.

Again, fuck.

Now, standing beneath a large, beautiful and brimming tree in the meadow, she weighed her thoughts. Obviously, this had occurred when she had engaged in...pleasant activities... with that massive, hot stallion, Volterra, and she certainly did not regret that at all. And that meant that the baby must be his too. Absently she wondered if she should give him a chance at raising his own kid with the whole long distance parenting thing? If she had somehow sired a child without knowing it (men had it easy, didn't they?), she would definitely want to know.

There was absolutely no question about keeping or parenting it. She would have the baby, and she would do her best in the communal living situation of the Throat. Surely everyone else would help her raise the kid too. At least it would be a new and different purpose after so many failed battles, and she took a deep breath, starting on a slow but deliberate trek to find the stallion whose child currently resided in the swell of her belly. Cloves hooves shuffled steadily onward as Zera poked and prodded in her mind. What was going on? Was this a baby like him?

She did her best to answer his probing questions as she came to a resting halt, taking another deep breath and stopping to munch on some grass. The griffin bounced around excitedly, jumping and flying in the air next to her and trilling in song. Aithniel even cracked a smile at that, glad that someone else was happy for her too - even if his happiness was only a direct result of her own peacefulness. Emotions had this way of bleeding through their bond until neither of them realized who was feeling what.

Would she have to travel so far north to reach Volterra? She surely hoped not. All right, you behemonth stallion, she muttered under her breath. Don't make me walk all the way to go find you with your spawn weighing me down.