The air in the palace was thick with tension. The maids moved quietly, avoiding eye contact, their hands trembling as they set down a tray of fresh fruit. One of them, a younger girl, accidentally knocked over a goblet of water. The sound of it clattering against the marble echoed through the chamber.

The girl stammered an apology, but you weren’t in the mood to hear it. You were hot, uncomfortable, miserable. Your feet ached, your back ached, and everyone around you seemed incompetent.

“Out,” you snapped, rubbing your temples. “Get out, all of you.”

The maids fled, murmuring worriedly amongst themselves. They didn’t go far, though. They knew better than to leave you alone for long, especially when you were like this. Instead, they did what they always did in times of crisis. They called for him.

Ra’s entered the chamber with the controlled grace. And yet, as he stepped toward you, a flicker of wariness crossed his face. “My love,” he greeted carefully.

You exhaled sharply, not bothering to greet him back. Instead, you crossed your arms over your swollen belly and glared at him. “You sent me weaklings.”

“Tough evening?” he says resting against a pillar. You threw a pillow at him. He dodged, but just barely.

Ra’s sighed, bringing one of your hands to his lips. “You are my greatest weakness,” he admitted softly. “And I am helpless to do anything but stand beside you.”

“You are terrifying,” he murmured, guiding you to sit, with the patience of a man who knew that even the Demon’s Head was powerless against his wife’s wrath.