An alternate background for Milady de Winter, not in canon
When did she knew she was with child? When the baby kicked. She thought she was possessed, like she needed to be exorcised of some…demon. When it was her turn to be punished, she held her breath, because of the pain. And the baby held its breath along with her.
She shivered as the wind whipped through her thin dress. Up ahead she could see the executioner heating up the fire. Ice flooded her veins and her heart beat so fast it seemed to burst out of her chest. He could see it too, the merciless branding iron in the sparks of the flames and he cried out for supplication, although she was the only one who heard it. They were about to get what they deserved.
Their crime was proclaimed to the skies but she heard nothing, all she could remember was the blood staining her petticoat as she lay on the cold stone floor like a rag doll after he'd finished with her. Her virgin blood spattered on the cream cotton like a badge of shame. She'd tried burning it in the fire when she ran home but she had been caught and interrogated.
He had gone forward first, that treacherous priest, like the self-sacrificing figure he thought he was, throwing her to the lions as well like the coward he was. The black masked executioner pulled out a knife, ripped Father Antoine's sleeve. His shoulder, white against the black looked defenceless and innocent. Pulling the brand out of the fire, the executioner blew on it and approached his victim. Father Antoine was held by the other guard and was helpless to argue. He stared in terror at the looming destiny awaiting him, screaming like a demon as the heat scorched his flesh black.
She caught her breath, from within her came a flutter too small to detect if it weren't for the stillness of the scene. She almost cried out to alert someone but caught it in time. The guards around her and gripping her arm weren't listening, nor did they care. Again it came and Sabine pressed her lips together desperately trying to contain her terror. What was it? She barely had time to wonder as she was marched up next, the black mask turning to face her, grey eyes emotionless behind the shadow, pulling down her sleeve. She looked at him but could make no connection, she turned back and closed her eyes, heart thumping, waiting for the blow to mark her shame. The pain seared past her delicate skin, through her veins to her heart, she barely had time to breathe while it was burning her deep. The flutter had stopped as she held her breath for what seemed like eternity, her breath hissing while she fought to keep consciousness. For a second she feared she wouldn't be able to hold on but as lightheaded as she was from the pain, she opened her eyes, not seeing the audience before her. How could she have noticed the man who was to be her jailer many years later? Cardinal Richelieu. He was watching her like a hawk. He remembered her.
As she was led away she passed her attacker and their eyes met for a second. Enough to show her contempt of him, he had at last the look of a guilty man. Too little too late she knew, as she passed out in her cell a minute later.