The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven Chapter 663: Inviting the Faes

One week later, the Grand Hall of the Royal Palace brimmed with attendees once more.

This gathering held no festivities or verdicts, only a determined intent.

Seats filled completely. Elders took their assigned spots, Royal Alphas watched intently, and top officials stayed hushed, waiting for the King’s announcement.

Up front, Draven and Meredith occupied the thrones. Tension hung steady and intent.

Draven stood up. "I have called this assembly," he started, voice echoing sharply through the hall, "to address the security of Stormveil."

Focus in the room intensified immediately.

"The Great Wall," he went on, "has guarded our territories for ages. Yet recent incidents prove our foes persist."

A subtle strain spread across the hall.

"Another violation is unacceptable." Draven’s eyes scanned the crowd. "I plan to fortify the Wall. And a method exists."

This sparked quiet curiosity.

Draven pressed on. "The Queen’s grandmother is a fae."

Murmurs rippled softly through the assembly.

"Fae wield unique runic powers. They offer to reinforce the Wall... forever."

Reactions grew bolder now. Whispers began low, then swelled. Involving fae to this degree was no trivial step.

Draven let the chatter fade on its own.

"They arrive with specific terms," he stated evenly. "Terms disclosed when they get here."

Soft debates lingered. Glances darted around, assessing the proposal.

Randall advanced. "My King," he declared, dipping his head briefly before meeting eyes. "This is a wise decision."

Whispers eased.

"Should the fae truly bolster the Wall," Randall added, "Stormveil gains immensely." His voice hardened. "Hints of looming war abound. Unreadiness is no option—not once more."

His statement weighed down the air.

"Should this pact block enemy incursions forever..." he concluded, "it merits pursuit."

A brief silence held, then an elder spoke up. "I agree."

Another chimed in. "This aids the kingdom."

Voices multiplied swiftly.

"Benefits eclipse the dangers."

"Borders demand protection."

"The King’s choice stands firm."

Doubts dissolved gradually, replaced by consensus.

Draven watched closely, then gave a single nod. "I will dispatch the invitation," he announced. "Their terms will reach you upon presentation."

No dissent arose; unity prevailed. The matter was settled.

"This assembly ends."

The hall bowed in unison. Gradually, Stormveil’s leaders departed—each sensing a pivotal shift underway.

As the space cleared, Draven’s eyes turned. "Dennis."

Dennis, set to exit with the rest, halted and approached again. "Your Majesty."

"Stay."

He complied with a nod.

Remaining elders, alphas, and officials filed out until just distant guards lingered.

Draven then commanded. "Summon Jeffery."

Dennis’s face grew alert. "For the invitation delivery?"

"Yes," Draven confirmed. "He heads to the Fae."

Dennis nodded curtly. "He’ll arrive tonight."

Draven tipped his head. "Good."

With that, dismissal came.

Dennis bowed lightly and departed the hall.

Soon quiet returned. Draven faced Meredith. "Come," he urged.

Without pause, he clasped her hand—grip secure yet gentle, as if the touch now bore deeper meaning. Side by side, they quitted the Grand Hall.

Lunch awaited preparation.

Upon entry, servants arranged silently, perfecting the setup before retreating discreetly.

Draven drew out Meredith’s chair ahead of her, and she settled in. He claimed his own seat, eyes fixed on her.

"How are they today?" he inquired.

Meredith grasped his meaning at once, easing in her chair with a palm softly on her belly.

"They’ve been calm," she replied. "No trouble."

Draven nodded faintly, relief evident. Effortlessly, he stood and moved beside her.

Meredith yielded space without query.

His palm rested on her abdomen. It lingered there, thumb tracing softly, almost idly.

"Do you both hear your father?" he murmured. "Don’t trouble your mother. Remain peaceful, okay?"

No unease colored the moment; it formed their new habit.

Meredith’s mouth hinted a smile, silent.

Moments later, he lifted his hand and resumed his place seamlessly.

Meal time commenced.

Draven avoided piling her plate, yet steered subtly—nudging dishes nearer, refilling her cup unasked, ensuring ample intake without fuss.

Meredith matched his pace smoothly. Normalcy had set in.

She eased her eating pace subtly; he alone perceived it.

"Tired?" he queried.

"A little."

One nod sufficed. They wrapped up leisurely.

—

Later, within their quarters, Meredith perched bed’s edge, smoothing her robe for comfort.

Draven acted soundlessly. He dropped to one knee before her, claiming her foot gently.

Meredith reclined a touch, permitting him.

His handling grew assured—pressing firmly as needed, easing her body’s emerging strains.

"You’re quieter today," she noted eventually.

Draven kept his focus low. "I’m thinking."

"About the wall?"

"Yes," he affirmed, easing his hold as thumb worked her sole. "And them," he included.

Meredith peered down. Predictable—Draven’s weeks-long shift toward heightened care, balancing realm duties with impending arrival.

"They are fine," she reassured.

"I know." Yet he persisted, assurance demanding action.

Silence enveloped the chamber anew, broken only by his rhythmic motions and their deepening tranquility.