![[Image: rhosmusonartsmall.png]](https://image.ibb.co/cvttvR/rhosmusonartsmall.png)
Something had changed. Rhos had always known herself to be a forest fire: alight, fluid, insatiable. But he had drowned her in those pools of brilliant blue, dousing her flames with his waves of temperance and shadow; and so she had become a candle, lit in the dark, waiting for his touch. It had always been there - that dull ache in the marrow of her bones, lying in wait for the moment she had finally stumbled upon; the moment she realised she loved the very man she had tried so hard to leave behind. And so, Rhoswen knew it could not be love that had brought about this change, at least not directly. It felt like an undulating wave buried deep within the grave of her stomach, ceaselessly singing to her hymns in a language she couldn't quite understand. Until one morning, when she rose to the oh-so familiar sensation of nausea, and then, only then, Rhos had felt that initial throe of fear.
It could not be.
As a young girl, Rhos' mother had always told her wild, red-haired daughter to be careful - careful of the men with searching hands and nefarious intentions, and she had listened. Boys had passed her by like ferris wheels' at the fair: bright and novel, but ultimately fleeting. Never had she lingered long enough for them to slip their fingers around her waist. Until Raum. But that, of course, was different. Perhaps, for a girl with a smile like hers, it was surprising that he had been her first. So when the nausea came, Rhos could not help the tide of disbelief spiralling up her throat: just how bad was her luck? That she should find herself with child from the one and only time she had given herself to another being. The thought made her chest tighten like a snare, dread creeping into every corner and crevice.
A million threads churned in her head. What would Raum say? Would he try to drag them back to Denocte? What would the court say!? A murmur, "I'm fucked." There was no other way to put it.
The scent of a fellow Solterran snapped Solis' daughter back into the present, auburn cheeks glinting in the sunlight as she turned to face the owner of such a lilting perfume. Bexley appeared before her eyes, pristine as ever, and Rhos wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or concerned. "Hey, you."
It could not be.
As a young girl, Rhos' mother had always told her wild, red-haired daughter to be careful - careful of the men with searching hands and nefarious intentions, and she had listened. Boys had passed her by like ferris wheels' at the fair: bright and novel, but ultimately fleeting. Never had she lingered long enough for them to slip their fingers around her waist. Until Raum. But that, of course, was different. Perhaps, for a girl with a smile like hers, it was surprising that he had been her first. So when the nausea came, Rhos could not help the tide of disbelief spiralling up her throat: just how bad was her luck? That she should find herself with child from the one and only time she had given herself to another being. The thought made her chest tighten like a snare, dread creeping into every corner and crevice.
A million threads churned in her head. What would Raum say? Would he try to drag them back to Denocte? What would the court say!? A murmur, "I'm fucked." There was no other way to put it.
The scent of a fellow Solterran snapped Solis' daughter back into the present, auburn cheeks glinting in the sunlight as she turned to face the owner of such a lilting perfume. Bexley appeared before her eyes, pristine as ever, and Rhos wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or concerned. "Hey, you."
@Bexley she's not showing yet or anything but yass preggers rhos
