For Monroe, the hours seemed to meld endlessly together, with days spent brooding over the potential of love lost, and nights spent pacing the halls of his estate. Then again, that was the price one paid when one was a Valkirette. For generations the Valkirette family had been known as the progenitors of horror and suffering amongst the people of the village, and Monroe seemed to be no different. He loved nothing more than to instill fear and horror in the minds of the people and bring nightmares upon the children. It was as Machiavelli himself said, "It is better to be feared than loved." and the Valkirette's held true to that, forcing the people to pay with taxes and tributes through sheer force of terror. However, one can not always be a cruel and unforgiving harbinger of pain. For even the most hardened and calloused of men have a soft spot in their heart for love, and Monroe was no different. He needed a Lady, one who could rule beside him, stand beside him as his fallen angel, who by day struck fear into the hearts of many, and by night, laid down with him in the gentle ensnarement of love.