Daughter of Night, Part 1

Her love lay, dying, on the worn couch.

It was nothing glorious or arousing passions. There was no delight in this collapse of the flesh. This death was a tragedy to which he had believed himself immune. He looked at the pale face of his wife, who was dying on the edge of death from the labor that shattered her body. Emotions Vlad Tepes had long believed dead fought in the emptiness of his soul.

"He told you we shouldn't do it, now look at you." Vlad's words were more to himself than to his dying wife.

"Please." she whispered, barely bringing life to the sound of her voice.

He knew what she wanted. But she resisted. He couldn't explain why.