Centuries ago, when a Prince was born, the kingdom would rejoice. An heir! They'd yell, decorating the streets with banners. The court would hold a celebration; food, pageants, dancing, the finest of everything. The type of welcome into the world that befit the son of a King.
Except not this son. Not this Prince.
Oh, there was no lack of joy, of that you could be certain. A child, especially with these circumstances (no matter the gender), would have been welcomed with open arms.
Unfortunately this occasion was also laced with danger and fear. As Dracula paced from one end of the room to another, his wife's screams muffled but still very discernible through the thick walls around him, he felt honest terror for the first time in ages.