She had never experienced this with her firstborn. Ava.
The whole ordeal was foreign to her. The feeling of it. The expectation of carrying her second. Despite the child being that of a bastard offspring - she, as it's mother, was glowing.
She could only assume that the glow emanated from the prospect of this child being fathered by a man she was, and still is, indescribably in love with. A man that would, for as long as a breath would enter her lungs, be the love of her damaged little life.
Her cheeks were growing rosy, her smile was stolen and concealed. Not wanting to be caught off guard and questioned about it. She thought continuously about the child between study sessions. Whether it be a boy or a girl, it didn't matter. For it would have it's father's ocean eyes. The eyes that she initially fell in love with.
The eyes that felt like home. Even after they wept as she deceived their possessor.
Then the smile dissipates. She's realising that it's father was no more. A separation.
Another fatherless child. A child that would be raised under her hand, alone. A child with the resemblance of her old lover, a constant reminder of his familiar features. It's veins would flow with Audun blood. A half-Gondorian offspring.
She wondered if he wondered. If he ever thought about what could have been. If things had written themselves differently. If she hadn't been so selfish. If she had put him first, and loved him as she did now. With every possible fibre of her being.
Would he have wanted to know this child? To be involved? And what about her? These thoughts left a keen sting that she wished not to experience again. She was in no hurry to learn if he thought about her too. For she was already sure of the answer.
She felt sick. A sickness in the form of incredibly tender heartache. A realisation that the 'glow' could very easily subside when the darkness of the situation consumed her. A lonesome mother, with a child that, in the case of it being boy, would grow into the spitting image of his father: hazardous, ebony curls and cerulean eyes. An inherited smirk and a signature tilt of his head.
The glow is gone. Like she's carrying Ava again. A daughter born from a vileness in the form of a malicious older man. There's a growing fear she's unable to shake. A feeling of uncertainty that is easily masked by a casual frown or a simple tut.
The future is uncertain, and she is left in waiting. Until further notice.
