Disclaimer: Thanks J-Ro for the editing help!

1462

Elizabetha grasped Vlad's wrist. No matter the situation, she would not let him go. If he left her now, they would never have the chance to be together again. His firm lips pressed against her pale forehead. Her fingers twirled themselves in his soft curls. Vlad gently kissed her again before he continued to walk towards the front of the castle. His men were blood-thirsty and they had a lot to take care of.

"My love, don't leave! I beg of you!" She begged and begged. Her tears poured out of her big, brown eyes.

Vlad stopped short in his footsteps with his heart wrenching. His beloved bride was so heartbroken. He turned once more to her and kissed her babbling mouth. With a swift motion, he tore his wrist away from her grip and walked off.

Elizabeth watched helplessly as Vlad walked towards the gate. He never turned back, and she felt a piece of her die as the gates burst open, and she saw the men waiting to serve him, their Lord. He looked away and quickly headed towards his men. They were waiting for him, after all. Men would die tonight, young and old alike, their blood spilled on the streets of cities.

Vlad placed his helmet over his head and mounted his steed, allowing a single tear to spill over. He heard the gates to his home groan as some of the men closed them, and already mourned the loss of his love. The doors shut with a bellowing "thud" and any hope remaining with it shut then too.

A few days later

Elizabetha had heard no news of her husband. She sat in her chambers quietly, working on her embroidery. The small flutter in her lower abdomen made her stop. With a smile, she rested a hand on the swollen area.

"Be rest assured, little one. Your father will be home soon."

The smile was soon wiped from her face. Was he going to come home? The Christians had won the battle, leaving the Muslim Turks in the sands of defeat. The causalities and the total wounded reached the thousands. Elizabetha distracted her mind by continuing her stitch work.

Only a few minutes passed before an arrow shot through her window. In a hurry, she dropped her embroidery and stumbled onto the ground grabbing the arrow. A letter was attached to the limber wood of the arrow. She closed her eyes before unrolling the note. As her eyes skimmed the letter, her eyes filled with tears.

My liege Princess Elizabetha,

We are sorrowful to announce that your husband, the prince, has died during battle. His body was dismantled and we cannot find his remains to bring him back whole. Arrangements for your safe departure will be made with your father, the king of Hungary.

Count Mircea

Elizabetha let out a pained wail. She tore at her hair and gown. The worst of her fears had come about; Vlad was dead. With a tear stained face, she searched her room for a parchment and for some ink. When she found what she desired, she scribbled a quick note and rolled it up. She knew what she had to do. Elizabetha made her way towards the giant window of her room. Standing by the ledge, she placed a hand over the unborn child and whispered gingerly.

"Do not be afraid. You will see the life of day, little one. May you grow beautifully wherever you end up."

With that, Elizabetha leapt to her death.

Lines of Battle: Romania, 100 miles north of the Dracula Castle

The spit made a nasty noise as it plunged deep into the general's belly. Vlad's army cheered him on as he continued to impale the leading officers of the Turkish army. After he was finished, his tired and fatigued body slumped over. He took off his helmet and let his sweaty locks fall to his face. His thoughts raced as he pulled out the crucifix that Elizabetha had given him.

"God be praised! I am victorious!" He kissed the cross, thinking of his beloved bride.

As he closed his eyes, a faint memory of Elizabetha floated in his mind. She was looking tired and depressed; her heart was breaking. Vlad also thought about the unborn heir she carried in her womb. If its mother was this upset, the child could be lost.

"Elizabetha…"

He mounted a nearby horse and rode all the way back to his castle. As he approached the Carpathians, a group of priests were chanting. He cocked his brow and rode his steed in the direction of the chapel. His curiosity turned into a deep fear. As he dismounted, he managed to grab a priest from the line.

"What is going on?" his tone was firm.

The frightened priest stammered,

"My lord…the princess…"

Vlad dropped the gaping priest and pushed past through the crowd. His servants chased after him. All of the coldness of the world crept into his veins. Two of the temple priests pushed the door open for their lord. What lay before Vlad's eyes shocked him.

Elizabetha lay by the altar. Her wild hair was damp and tucked under limp body. Vlad's footsteps quickened as he made his way towards his wife. His legs gave in as he fell close towards her. He gazed at her before placing a hand on top of her head. His hands stroked her forehead as a few tears made their way down his face. On her chest, there was a note. Vlad's tear filled eyes tried to read it without allowing them to surface his cheeks.

My prince is dead. All is lost without him—may God unite us in heaven.

Vlad began to sob quietly to himself grasping the note. In the middle of his sorrowful moment, the head priest hovered over the princess's body and chanted a small prayer.

"She has taken her own life. Her soul cannot be saved. She is damned. It is God's law."

Vlad let out a wail and started to beat at his chest. He stood up and threw the stone tub of Holy Water towards the ground.

"Is this my reward for defending God's church? I RENOUNCE GOD!"

"THIS IS SACRILEGE!"

"I shall rise from my own death to avenge hers with all the powers of darkness."

Vlad threw the priest down towards the ground and screamed once more. He drew his sword and charged at the cross that was sitting innocently on top of the altar. As the blade penetrated the soft center of the cross, blood began to stream out. Vlad took a chalice that lay nearby and filled it with the precious blood that flowed out.

"The blood is the life, and it will be my life too."

With that, he took a drink out of the chalice. He finished the bittersweet nectar of life. As he threw the chalice down, more blood began to flow out of the cross. It swamped its way around the chapel floor. Soon the puddle reached Elizabetha's body. Vlad hurried in and scooped up her body. As he carried her out of the chapel, he turned to his priests and shouted.

"Where is your God now?! Guards! Take them to the dungeon!"

As the palace guards marched in and violently grabbed the few priests, Vlad stopped them.

"Make certain that anybody residing on my lands forget who this God is. She died because of my faith and so shall those who betray my reign!"

Vlad carried the body of his beloved down into the catacombs. He laid her on top of the tomb that was built for him. For the rest of the evening, Vlad sat close to the body of his beloved. He stroked her hair and continued to weep.

"My love, I will find you again."