The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven Chapter 675: Birth of the Twins (III)

Meanwhile, inside the Queen’s chambers, the atmosphere was utterly transformed.

No echoes of the palace’s clamor or activity intruded here. Tranquility reigned in the room, graced only by hushed tones and the gentle cadence of fresh beginnings.

Meredith reclined at ease, cradling one twin while nursing, her body at rest despite the ordeals of the previous night.

The second infant lay close by, tenderly cared for.

Her grandmother remained nearby, knitting steadily, yet her focus stayed ever vigilant on Meredith.

Rosalie perched beside them, observing quietly, her features gentled by an emotion missing for years.

Helena hovered near Meredith, barely concealing her wonder as she gazed at the mother and her babies.

"I still can’t believe it," Helena whispered gently, her gaze shifting between the twins. "Two at once..."

A subtle smile graced Meredith’s lips, her attention fixed on the babe in her embrace, her face radiating unexplainable serenity.

—

As hours unfolded, word of the birth raced well beyond the palace walls.

Stormveil discovered their Queen had delivered not one, but two children.

Jubilation swept the city like a surging tide, igniting thrill in every alley and dwelling.

Residents close to the capital hurried toward the palace, keen to voice their felicitations face-to-face.

By noon, throngs assembled outside the gates.

Draven emerged to greet them. His mere appearance hushed the din, as the crowd turned to him brimming with anticipation and delight.

"My people," he declared, his tone resonating powerfully over the gathering, "we thank you for your goodwill."

Respectful whispers rippled in response.

"The Queen is in good health, and the children are strong," he announced.

Instant waves of relief and elation coursed through the masses, erupting into boisterous cheers.

Draven let the jubilation linger before lifting his hand faintly, restoring order.

"You may return in peace, knowing that Stormveil stands blessed."

Each departing soul received a token gift, amplifying their bliss as they spread the tidings afar.

—

News reached the Carter home shortly thereafter.

A servant delivered the initial report, soon verified beyond question: Meredith had borne twins.

Gabriel heard it out silently, his face betraying no shift. Margareth sat beside him, equally poised, her demeanor equally subdued.

No spark of thrill appeared, no overt show of triumph or glee. Just quiet.

"I see," Gabriel uttered finally.

Thus, the topic was dismissed, as if it held no significance past the mere statement.

—

Within the palace once more, warmth and stability lingered.

While festivities echoed elsewhere, the heart of the joy stayed serene, tucked inside Meredith’s quarters, where she and the infants reposed—shielded from outer distractions.

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A month onward, the palace readied for yet another momentous event.

Unlike the frantic tension gripping its corridors during the twins’ arrival, today pulsed with a festive, joyful, and purposeful vibe.

Meticulous preparations adorned every aspect, from the festooned hall to the assembled guests eager to behold the christening of Stormveil’s latest royals.

The rite unfolded in a majestic hall, bedecked with flowing drapes and understated emblems evoking regal heritage and custom.

Council members, Royal Alphas, Betas, trusted comrades, and a handful of elite nobles filled the space.

The priest occupied the focal point, an aged figure clad in ritual robes, exuding serene command as he readied the sacred proceedings.

Draven and Meredith approached side by side.

Meredith bore one twin, Draven the other, both infants swathed in elegant, airy garments fitting the solemnity.

A subdued hush swept the assembly at their entrance, soft yet brimming with reverence from the onlookers.

They advanced and halted before the priest. Silence deepened across the hall.

With hands uplifted modestly, the priest intoned the ceremony, calling divine favors on the infants, their bloodline, and the realm they entered.

His pronouncements echoed with poised gravity, every utterance precise, every benediction intentional.

At the appointed juncture, he dropped his hands and faced Draven. "Have you chosen their names?" he inquired.

Draven replied without delay. "Yes."

He advanced a step, his proclamation ringing true throughout the chamber. "My daughter shall be called... Luna Oatrun."

Gentle approbation stirred, the name embedding in the listeners’ minds.

Seamlessly, he pressed on. "My son shall be called... Kieran Oatrun."

Louder acclaim followed, mirrored in the approving nods of elders and Alphas.

The priest inclined his head, accepting the choices, then focused on the babes. In turn, he hovered a palm lightly over each, bestowing the closing grace.

"May Luna Oatrun grow under the light that guides her path," he intoned. "And may Kieran Oatrun stand strong as the shield of his people."

His tone grew tender at the close, "May both walk in strength, wisdom, and honour, following the moon goddess."

As the rite concluded, hush returned briefly, then yielded to affirming murmurs. The poised air melted into revelry, grins lighting every face.

Randall observed from the throng, countenance steady, yet a flicker of endorsement in his eyes.

Dennis, nearby, displayed open glee, his pleasure evident amid the unfolding spectacle.

Draven glanced toward Meredith, his look warming as it lingered on her, then the little ones.

The rite was done. Names bestowed.

Thereby, Stormveil’s destiny advanced yet further.