*I must stress that the following content is mature, please read at your own discretion.*
"Are you showing?"
"Barely."
"And you're sure that it's...that it's his?"
"Entirely."
My mother was somebody who I used to know. A kind, gentle woman who, throughout my childhood, I idolised with the utmost awe. But with the passing of my father, she was changing.
She was growing into a character from one of my daughter's fairytales - specifically the old, weathered hag that could transform into the most vile of beasts and was known to lure away and eat the village children. A twisted, ugly husk of her former self.
That was what stood before me, now glancing over her bony shoulder. A child-eating hag. And the child that seemed to be the most appetizing was the one currently nestled in my womb.
"How could you be so stupid?"
"What I do, and who I do it with, is my own business, mother." I was calmer than her, my eyes stilled to the furious clenching and unfurling of her fists. She was easing herself away from the storm she was aching to erupt into.
"That...thing inside you. It's wicked." My mother spoke darkly as she turned to fully face the daughter she was trying not to loathe. All of her bottled grief was about to be ushered onto myself.
"The thing you speak of is my child. Your grandchild." One of my palms instinctively lowered down towards my abdomen. A protective sort of hold. "I suggest you address it as such."
"'Tis no grandchild of mine-"
"Why? Because 'tis a bastard?" My words cut harshly, I had no time for petty annoyances in the form of an easily disrespected old woman. "...or because you dread the possibility of it being another boy in our family?"
She opened thin, wrinkled lips. Inhaling strongly through her nostrils.
"I know how, and what, you think," I continued, "This...this ''future' that you see, surrounded by all these lovely daughters. No. No, mother. There's as much a chance that I am carrying Dagramir's son, as I am his daughter."
"Don't you say his name."
"He was--...he is the father. Whether you do object or not. He is not a good man, but you do not see him as I-"
"And if it's a boy!" she cried, "Gods, it'll look like him..."
"I didn't come here to beg for your approval. But I will not stand here and allow you curse all over the possibility of me bearing your grandson."
"I have no quarrels with male offspring." She spoke, yet I tutted.
"You have many. Dominic as the gleaming example here," I was, of course, referring to my younger brother. A twin to my sister. My mother lips pursed, momentarily confused.
Thus I added, "I remember that day down at the lake all those years ago. I was no more than five or six, and you were wading in the shallow shore. Bathing the twins. If father was not around you would have drowned Dominic there and then. You would have dunked him under the water until he stopped kicking, you would have watched him with a look in your eyes-"
For the first time, my mother hit me. A short, sharp slap to my right cheek. A reminder of a past life I was in no mindset to visit. I had disobeyed her by speaking a harsh truth and for that, I was being punished.
She was a much shorter woman, meaning that her hand clipped the side of my lip and sent the flesh jarring into my teeth. I seethed, and for a miniscule moment - she appeared shocked at herself.
A long moment passed by. A dead silence that was only broken by my mother's malicious mutter.
"You leave this place, little girl."
"Mother-.." I breathed, green eyes bulging in surprise of the sudden slap. One palm cooling the tender flesh she had struck.
"You leave, and you take your wicked offspring far, far away from this home."
"Oh, I shall. I'll leave for Brienne's, come this eve. And I will be taking the twins with me."
"You really think that the lot of you will be able to fit in that tiny bedsit above the taxidermist's?" She quipped with a rather annoyed snort, yet I ignored her and turned on my way to leave. My hand was still pressed to my face, and thick, dark blood was beginning to ooze from the cut in my lip.
"You can't take Delilah, regardless. Not into the town, she'll cause gossip-"
"Then she'll stay here, but you will not see her." Blood was pooling in my mouth: a warming, metallic taste that was growing more and more nauseating. "I'll keep her in my care, if I must. You shall not see her."
"Ashaia-"
"Your decision has been made. You'll be left alone, and you'll rot here. You no longer serve purpose to me."
"Daughter, please. Not Delilah-"
"I am leaving as you requested. Goodbye, mother."
