The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven-Chapter 678: Estella’s Invitation

[Third Person].

Two months later...

In one of the private chambers, far removed from the duties of court and council, laughter replaced formality.

Meredith sat comfortably, one of the twins in her arms, while the other lay between them, kicking lightly against the soft cushions.

Draven rested close beside her, his attention fully captured.

Kieran gripped one of his fingers with surprising strength, his tiny brows furrowing as if already determined to assert himself.

Draven let out a low chuckle, adjusting his hand slightly but not pulling away.

"You see that?" he said, glancing at Meredith. "He already thinks he can take me on."

Meredith smiled, shifting Luna gently as the little girl made a soft sound, her silver hair catching the light.

"That’s because he takes after you."

Draven huffed lightly. "Then he should know better."

Luna responded with a quiet coo, her small hand brushing against Meredith’s gown as if she disagreed.

The moment lingered—peaceful, warm, untouched by anything beyond the four of them.

Then, a soft knock lightly disrupted the atmosphere.

Oscar stepped in shortly after, his presence composed but carrying an urgency that did not go unnoticed.

"Your Majesty," he said, bowing. "A letter has arrived."

Draven’s attention shifted immediately. "From where?"

Oscar hesitated only briefly. "From Estella Oatrun."

The atmosphere changed subtly.

Meredith’s smile faded as her gaze met Draven’s. There was no need for words. They both understood what that name meant.

Draven gently removed Kieran’s small, firm fingers from his own before reaching for the envelope. He took it from Oscar, his expression already sharpening as he broke the seal without delay.

He unfolded the letter and read.

—

To His Majesty, King Draven Oatrun of Stormveil,

First, allow me to offer my congratulations on the birth of your precious heirs. Twins, no less. How fortunate you are.

I trust the celebrations were as grand as your people could manage—I have, after all, given you more than enough time to enjoy your little moment of peace.

But all good things must come to an end. Now, it is time to return to reality.

I see you’ve been busy. Securing your walls with the help of your... little friends. The faes, was it? How resourceful of you.

Though I wonder how long such measures will truly hold when faced with what is coming.

So let us not waste time pretending. I am giving you two weeks.

Two weeks from the moment this letter reaches you, come and meet me—with your armies—at the borders of Stormveil.

Fail to do so, and I assure you, we will not wait politely at your gates. We will come for you. And when we do, we will test just how strong those runes truly are.

I would hate to ruin your new kingdom so soon after your children have been born... but I will, if you force my hand.

So do not keep me waiting.

See you soon, little brother.

Don’t be late.

-Estella.

—

Draven lowered the letter slowly, his expression unreadable, though something colder had settled in his eyes.

"Estella is inviting us to war in two weeks," he said.

Meredith’s brows drew together slightly. "Two weeks?"

He nodded once. She reached for the letter, and he handed it to her without resistance.

Her eyes moved quickly across the words, her expression tightening as she took in the tone, the threat, the certainty behind it.

When she finished, she lowered the letter, clearly displeased. "That’s too soon," she said.

Draven didn’t disagree. He turned to Oscar. "Call for an emergency council meeting tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Oscar bowed immediately and withdrew.

Silence settled briefly in the room. The twins stirred softly, unaware of the shift that had just taken place.

Meredith glanced at Draven, then back at the letter in her hand. "My grandmother should have something to say about this."

Draven nodded. "She will."

Neither of them wasted time.

Meredith handed the twins over to their nannies, lingering only for a moment to make sure both Luna and Kieran were settled before stepping away.

Draven waited for her by the door, and when she joined him, he took her hand without a word.

Together, they went to find her grandmother.

—

The old lady was seated where she often was, her knitting resting in her lap, though her hands had stilled long before they arrived.

She had already sensed them coming.

"Grandma," Meredith called softly.

A faint smile touched the old lady’s lips. "You have come."

Draven did not circle around the matter. "A letter just arrived from my sister, Estella. She has called for war."

The old lady’s expression did not change, but there was a quiet shift in the air. "When?" she asked.

"In two weeks."

This time, she sighed.

"She is cruel," the old lady said, her voice calm but edged with disapproval. "Not even granting you enough time to prepare... just as I feared."

Meredith stepped closer. "Grandma," she said, her tone more serious now, "what did you see back then and refused to tell us, saying it was not the right time?"

The old lady did not answer immediately. Instead, she took a slow breath, as though weighing whether there was any point in delaying the truth any longer. Then she spoke.

"You are the main target in this war," she said, turning her face slightly toward Meredith,

Silence fell as both Meredith and Draven stilled.

For a brief second, neither of them reacted, as if the words needed time to settle before they could be understood.

They exchanged a glance, then Meredith frowned slightly. "Me?"

The old lady nodded faintly. "After your last encounter with Estella... when you fought her off using your fae powers, she learned something important."

Her fingers moved slightly over the fabric in her lap. "She learned not to underestimate you."

Draven’s expression hardened.

The old lady continued, "So she has been planning, not just for war, but for you."

Meredith’s gaze sharpened as she listened.

"She would not declare war so boldly unless she believed she had already found a way to deal with you first," the old lady said. "Only then would she turn her full attention to Draven."

Draven let out a quiet scoff. "Then she is overestimating herself."

The old lady shook her head slightly. "No," she said. "She is not."

That made him pause.

"Estella is not reckless," she continued. "She is patient. Strategic. She has been preparing for this for over a year."

Draven’s jaw tightened, but he did not argue further. "We have also been preparing," he said instead. "Our forces have trained for this war just as long."

The old lady inclined her head. "And that is why you still stand a chance."

Her voice remained steady as she added, "But now that you know who her true target is, you must restrategize."

Draven nodded once. "We will."

Meredith, however, remained thoughtful. Then she asked, "Why didn’t you tell us earlier that I was the target?"

The old lady turned toward her fully. "You were in the early stages of your pregnancy," she simply said. "I would not place that burden on you at such a time."

Meredith fell silent.

"It would not have changed anything," the old lady continued gently. "Whether I told you then or now, the war would still come."

A brief pause followed before her tone sharpened slightly.

"What matters is that you still have time. Two weeks." Her fingers tightened slightly around the fabric in her lap.

"Do not underestimate her," she warned. "She has strong alliances. She is not moving blindly."

Meredith let out a quiet breath and glanced at Draven again, the weight of the situation settling more clearly now.

But before either of them could speak further, the old lady waved her hand lightly.

"Enough. Go," she said.

They both shifted their gaze back to her.

Her white eyes shifted faintly, as though seeing something far beyond them. "You have work to do."

There was no room for hesitation in her tone.