Moscow, Russia: 29th October, 1642...

Prince Kai Hiwatari-Dracul gazed down lovingly upon the sleeping face of his bride.
Elizebeta slept soundly, unaware of her husbands gaze, her wild storm blue hair framed her face like a celestial halo, contrasting again her pale, slightly tanned creamy soft skin of her cheeks which dimpled slightly as she smiled in her dream. Her long silky eyelashes fluttered occasionally and her slender fingers twitched, showing off a plain white gold wedding band.
"Sleep well my darling." He murmured, before rising slowly to his feet and silently leaving the room.

His grandfather was waiting patiently in the study when he let himself in and claimed a seat in one of the chairs by the roaring fire.
"I'm assuming you know why I have called you?" Voltaire raised an eyebrow questioningly.
Kai met his gaze evenly, "Yes Grandfather." He replied, accepting his duty graciously, but with a heavy heart.
"Then you know what is at stake should you fail?"
"Yes Grandfather, and I won't fail."
"I pray for her sake that you don't." The old man countered gravely.

Tokyo, Japan: 20th December 1642...

Kai let out a final defeated cry of anguish as his beyblade landed at his feet and shattered into a thousand pieces. He fell to his knees, and wept silently as the herald announced Robert Yuri the winner and his beloved Elizebeta as his prize. Conceding to his failure, he got to his feet and prepared to leave in disgrace.

Robert however, had not finished with him.

Kai felt a cold, heavy hand grip his shoulder as he spun around to face his rival.
"You may have won her body but you will never have her heart!" Kai gritted his teeth at the thought of never seeing his wife again.
"I may not have her heart but I do have your soul Dracul!" As he spoke, Robert placed a hand over Kai's chest.
Kai was about to slap the hand away when he felt a dreadful searing pain in his rib cage, as if he were being split in half. The last thing he saw before he blacked out – other than Robert's evil triumphant smirk – was a strange blinding white light lifting from his chest, from then on, he was dead to the world.

Moscow, Russia: 25th December...

The doors of the great castle flung open, and collided with the ancient stone walls with a sickening crash.
Kai strode purposefully towards the old alter in the chapel. It took him barely a few seconds to take in what the monks told him before he flung himself across the corpse lying prone on the floor, and wept in open grief. He traced a shaking, tender hand across the long since cold cheek that was once flushed with warmth at his touch.
"You must understand Sir, she took her own life, and her soul cannot be saved." The monk was shaking his head regretfully as he spoke.
Kai uttered a low guttural moan and clasped his hand together at his temple. "Let me see the letter." He demanded, holding out an expectant hand.
The monk complied, fearful of what the prince might do in his grief if refused his wish.
Kai snatched the sheet of yellowed ink blotted paper from the monk hand and scanned it briefly;

Dearest Elizebeta Hiwitari-Dracul,
I regret to inform you that following his defeat, Prince Kai Hiwitari-Dracul has taken leave of this world by his own means. As I feel responsible for his death I humbly ask that you join me in France, where you shall be well looked after, as I promised you late husband on his deathbed. Perhaps in time you shall come to love me, as you surely loved him.

Deepest regrets and condolences,
Robert Yuri

Struggling to hold back tears of grief and rage, Kai threw back his head and screamed to the heavens.

"I swear by Hell and all it's demons I will be revenged! Descendents of Robert Yuri shall be haunted until their dying day until I am given satisfaction for the wrong he has committed against me. And I will not rest in sleep or death until I can once again be with my beloved Elizebeta!"

On his last words he grasped a ceremonial sword from the alter and drove it into the heart of the stone cross with all his strength. As the watery crimson liquid flowed from the wounded relic, he took his dagger and slit his own writs, allowing his blood to mix with that of the cross. Weak from loss of blood he collapsed on the floor under the edge of the alter, while blood from the cross, mixed with his own, trickled into his mouth. He slumped against a leg of the alter and calmly listened as his heartbeat slowed to a stop.

...moments lost and time remains,
I am still proud of what we were,
no pain remains, no feeling,
eternity awaits...