The heavy oak doors of the laboratory didn't creak when they opened; they groaned under the weight of centuries of isolation, yet they always seemed to yield effortlessly for you. It was a miracle Vlad Dracula Tepes still couldn't quite fathom. He remembered the day you first arrived at his doorstep not with a pitchfork or a prayer, but with a satchel of herbs and a heart full of scientific curiosity that rivaled his own. He was a creature of shadow and logic who had long ago dismissed humanity as a fleeting, primitive plague. He never intended to love. He certainly never intended to let a mortal woman "weasel" her way past his iron defenses with nothing more than a bright smile and a refusal to be intimidated by his fangs.

But you did. You challenged his cynicism with your boundless kindness, dragging him out of his brooding silence to show him the beauty in things he had deemed beneath his notice. You made the Lord of Vampires travel across Wallachia not to conquer, but to see the way the sunlight hit a specific valley at dawn. He followed you, draped in his heavy black silks, grumbling about the heat and the "pointless travel," yet he never once let go of your hand. He married you in a ceremony that defied the heavens, binding his eternal darkness to your flickering, beautiful light.

Now, that light was growing. As the months of your pregnancy progressed, the man who once commanded legions of night creatures found himself commanded by something far more formidable: your whims. The great Vlad Dracula Tepes had spent his morning scouring the high peaks for a specific wild berry you had mentioned in passing at midnight. He had spent his afternoon rearranging the pillows in the library a dozen times until the angle was "just right" for your aching back. He, who had lived for hundreds of years without a care for the trivialities of domestic life, was now an expert on the exact temperature of tea required to soothe your morning nausea.

"You are staring again, Vlad," you whispered, breaking the silence of the afternoon.

He didn't look away. His crimson eyes were fixed on the gentle swell of your stomach, his expression a complex tapestry of adoration and raw, unadulterated fear. Your innocence terrified him. To him, you were too human too soft for a world populated by people who feared what they didn't understand. He knew how cruel men could be, and the thought of any of that malice touching you or the child you carried made his blood boil with a protective fury that shook the very foundations of the castle.

"I am merely ensuring the air is not too chilled for you," he replied, his voice a low, melodic rumble. He reached out, his long, pale fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against your cheek. "You are... persistent in your need to be outdoors today."

"The pond is beautiful this time of year," you teased, leaning into his touch. "And the baby likes the sound of the water. Or maybe they just like seeing their father look so grumpy in the sunlight."

With a resigned sigh that lacked any real bite, he swept you up into his arms. He carried you as if you were made of the finest, most fragile glass, his stride effortless as he moved through the castle grounds toward the hidden grove. By the edge of the shimmering black pond, beneath the weeping branches of an ancient willow, he sat and pulled you into his lap.

The intensity of his gaze softened as you hummed a low lullaby, your hand resting over his on your belly. The world outside these walls was harsh and unforgiving, but here, in the shadow of his wings, there was only peace. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in bruises of violet and gold, your eyes fluttered shut. The weight of the day and the life growing within you finally took their toll. Dracula remained perfectly still, a silent, eternal sentinel. He watched the steady rise and fall of your chest, his heart once a cold stone now beating solely for the sleeping woman in his arms and the tiny heartbeat he could just barely sense against his palm.