My hearing returned first. A rhythmic whooshing noise cycled through my awareness. I heard voices, but muted, as though on the other side of a wall.

"I have drunk the scabthorn tea, every day. It does nothing. My status still says 'pregnant'."

"Goblins are resistant to a variety of herbal toxins. I doubt you could drink anything that wouldn't kill you first, delicate and fragile as you are, with a strong goblin baby in you."

"Wipe that smirk off your face, rapist. I could just leave you in your cage."

"You could. But can you?"

"No. You might escape and rape someone else. I would be responsible.  And that thought aside, you owe me now. I will have support for my child. I cannot return to Alfhaven, tainted as I am."

"Bwahahaha! Hoist upon your own racist petard! Now you're the filthy one!  Let me down. That baby wants golden ear."

"That be a toadstool! Lethal to humans!"

"The fuck you know. Matron always gave praise for it. I was best brother five weeks in a row one year, just from my stash of the stuff. It just needs a cap of witch's poppet."

"Another poison!"

"The one's the antidote to the other. But they both excite the ether."

"Base sorcery. What else would I expect from swamp monkeys? My child would be better served by learning elvish wizardry, instead of slinging fire like a cave brute...."

It would seem that the weapons and armor were a bit misleading, in that this world, unlike my former universe, made use of magic of some sort. And I had sort of worked out that I was now soul-bound into a gestating fetus.  Presumably, with a goblin father and elf mother. I had yet to work out how Mom turned the tables on Dad and got him into a cage.

I could wait a few months to find out. Meanwhile, I could listen to the arguments. They never fucking stopped with that shit. Constant. Bickering.  Back and forth. Insult and retort. And then they would hump each other, rocking me to sleep with Dad's dick. And he'd somehow be back inside his cage again when I next awakened.

My body kept growing, and I was constantly exhausted. I slept like a baby, basically. And whenever I twitched my new muscles, Mom cursed and shouted at Dad.

I couldn't take it. I wished I could make it stop. I wished I could shout at them both. But my lungs had no air, my throat no strength. All I could do was scream with my mind. "Stop fighting! Be nice! I want to be loved!"

And at once, both of the voices fell silent.

"Did you feel that? It felt like a kick, but from everywhere at once."

"I feel sick. Dizzy. There was definitely something. Are we under attack?"

"In the heartwood? Get out of there, and protect my baby."

"You locked me in here, b-b-bitch."

"You think I don't know you come and go as you please? You think I don't know where you hide your lockpicks? You must think I have the intellect of a g-g-"  Mom stumbled over words she would ordinarily wield like a fighting stick.

"The intellect of a gaw... an ogre. A troll. A therian. A gah-ah-ah. Why can't I say 'goblin'?! Aha! I said 'goblin'! You must think I have the
intellect of a... of a... hnnnnngh! What did you do to me?"

I kicked. Stop fighting. Just. Stop.

"I didn't do anything to you, you haughty biiiiii... arrogant wennnnn... you slllll... uh."

I kicked again. Stop!

"The fuck? Baby is kicking me. Hard."

"Let me out. I want to feel."

"Let yourself out, asshaaaaaaaaa... Let yourself out, Gammon."

That might be the first time I ever heard Mom say Dad's actual name. I felt more hands on Mom's belly. I kicked again.

"I think baby is mad. At us."

"At you, you mean. Rapist."

I kicked harder.

"Ow! Fuck! This is your fault!"

Kick!

"Damn it! Make it stop!"

"Stop being a biiii..."

Kick!

"Baby is a truth sayer. Every time I say what you are, it kicks me."

No kick for that one, Mom. You're way off.

"Is it too soon to Analyze?"

"Not if we were in Alfhaven."

"Matron could do it."

"Your family would kill me."

"I'm going to try. Diagnosis: Internal Scan!"

I felt a ripple of energy pass through my entire body.

"How the fuck do you know Diagnosis?

"No status. It just says you're pregnant, due in four weeks. But Baby is sort of invisible? What's invisible to Diagnosis?"

"How. The fuck. Do you. Know Diagnosis?"

"Miner's college."

"You're 18 years old!"

"I started at 13."

"Fuck me. I've been calling you an idiot, and you're a godsdamned genius.  And did you say four weeks? It's only been twenty-six. That's way too soon."

"Goblin baby."

"There's no way I'll be ready in time! Out here, by myself. You."

"Me?"

"You. You better help me, now, rapist."

Kick!

"Ow! You have to help me, Gammon. No more cage until Baby is out. You're just going to have to restrain your base impulses on your own. No more than twice a day! No, there's no way you could have that much control. Three times a day. I will endure it for the sake of my child!"

"You're so fucking dramatic. Why is Baby invisible to Diagnosis? It shows parasites and symbiotes. Asteria. Why wouldn't it detect an entire-ass child?"

"Some elves are resistant to enchantments and divinations? We already know it is resistant to poisons."

"Also, you're getting gestational hypertension. I'm putting you on snaketongue and bed rest."

"You are not the boss of me. I am the boss of you. Carry me there. I feel faint."