A sharp ripple of pain wriggled it's way through Iracabeth's lower body. She grasped the stairwell and let out a small cry.
"My God." she whispered as a burst of blood fell to the white carpeted staircase. Her hazel eyes filled with fear and she held onto her lower abdomen and shuffled out of the palace and to the stables, leaving a red trail behind her. She stroked her stallion's nose.
"Come Dancer, to Salazen Grum." she climbed the stairs onto the saddle and shifted her weight comfortably. "Am I too heavy?"
"Not at all, my leige." he set out on a canter and noticed her grimace. "Are you alright my liege?"
"Oh, I'm fine."
"Why Salazen Grum?"
"No more questions Dancer, please."
"Yes my leige." he galloped all the way there and gently slowed down so as not to jostle her too much. He kneeled to let her down and she led him to the pond so he could drink. Sh raked her fingers through the roses in silence to the courtyard. There stood the gilloutine like an immense monster. It was slightly rusted from lack of use, and the stain of blood graced the edge. The blood of all those she had ruthlessly slain for no reason. For stealing tarts. For painting roses. For whispering without permission. He blood ran cold and she fell to the ground praying for forgiveness to some deity she did not know. She snapped her head into place, the tears streaming down her cheeks. She felt the baby kick and she closed her eyes.
"I'm sorry my love... I can't do this. It will be better this way. We will die together my sweet." Another contraction stabbed her and she took the nearby knife and began to saw the rope that suspended the blade in the air.
"Off with my head!"