Alexandru held his wife, Doina, close to him as thunder rumbled overhead. Her stomach swelled with a child eager to be born, but Alex hoped it would wait until this stormy night was over. Doina had complained of discomfort when they had gone to bed, and could not sleep when the storm began to rage. She clutched her belly now in anxiety, praying to all the angels and saints that her child would wait. The others had not, and were born too early. None had lived.

Her chambermaid was called as the storm reached its height. Doina was in extreme pain, and knew the child would hold no longer. “Pray for a son, Alex.” She murmured as he left the room, shooed away by the loyal maids.

It was many hours before the storm began to ease, and Alex spent the time walking through the halls of the castle, a recent gift from his deceased father, to a childless son.

Suddenly, the storm broke, and the rosy dawn crept over the horizon. He heard rapid footsteps, and turned to meet a frantic maid.

“She is born, sire.”