The palace trembled with anticipation.
Servants hurried through gilded corridors, whispers spreading like wildfire beneath golden ceilings.
"The queen—"
"It has begun—"
"Summon the royal physicians!"
Thunder rolled across the heavens as storm clouds gathered above the capital, as though the skies themselves bent toward the moment.
Inside the royal chambers—
Pain.
Sharp.
Relentless.
Ophelia's fingers crushed the silk sheets beneath her trembling hands. Her breaths came uneven, fragile strength battling nature's unforgiving demands.
Yet even through agony…
She smiled.
Because beside her stood the king.
Fear etched into his composure.
Helplessness lurking beneath royal authority.
"Ophelia…"
His voice cracked.
Soft.
Human.
She reached for him.
Weak fingers finding his.
"They're coming," she whispered.
Hours bled into eternity.
Storms raged.
Voices commanded.
Hope held its breath.
Then—
A cry pierced the air.
High.
Defiant.
Alive.
The chamber froze.
Another cry followed.
Twin echoes of life.
The physician's voice trembled with joy.
"Your Majesty…"
A pause.
A smile breaking through exhaustion.
"The heirs."
Tears spilled down the king's face.
Unrestrained.
Victorious.
Ophelia collapsed against the pillows, pale but radiant, her heart swelling as two tiny, fragile lives were placed gently in her arms.
A boy.
A girl.
Perfect.
Breathing.
Real.
"Our children…" she breathed.
Outside—
The bells of the kingdom erupted.
Thunderous.
Triumphant.
From the highest towers to the furthest villages, joy exploded into the world.
"The heirs are born!"
"The royal twins!"
"Long live the queen!"
Celebrations ignited like wildfire.
But far from golden halls…
War continued.
The battlefield was merciless.
Smoke strangled the air.
Steel clashed.
Men screamed.
Selara moved like destruction incarnate.
Blade flashing.
Armor stained.
Eyes cold and unwavering.
Victory followed her like a shadow carved from bloodshed.
Then—
A horn sounded.
Unfamiliar.
Urgent.
Selara stilled.
A royal messenger galloped through chaos, banners slicing through smoke.
Even soldiers paused.
Because royal messengers never arrived without reason.
The rider dismounted, breathless, voice shaking.
"To the Commander!"
Selara stepped forward.
Helmet removed.
Presence commanding silence.
The messenger dropped to one knee.
"Lady Selara…"
His voice wavered.
Then broke into something radiant.
"The queen has given birth."
The battlefield seemed to vanish.
Selara's heart slammed violently against her ribs.
"…What?"
"Twin heirs."
Silence.
Then—
Laughter.
Wild.
Disbelieving.
Pure.
Selara staggered backward slightly, something bright, something achingly human shattering through her warrior's composure.
Ophelia.
Alive.
Safe.
A mother.
"My sister…"
For a moment, the battlefield no longer existed.
There were no enemies.
No war.
Only overwhelming, breathtaking joy.
Then—
Pain erupted nearby.
A soldier collapsed.
Selara's instincts snapped instantly back into place.
"Medic!"
Voices shouted.
Boots thundered.
And through smoke—
He appeared.
Not with armor.
Not with weapons.
But with urgency.
With calm.
With something impossibly steady amidst chaos.
The medical soldier knelt beside the wounded man, movements swift yet gentle. His hands were precise, unshaken by blood, unbroken by screams.
Selara watched.
Something unfamiliar stirring.
He worked with quiet intensity, brow furrowed, focus absolute. Where others panicked, he remained composed — a strange island of peace within ruin.
Selara stepped closer.
"You move too slowly."
He did not look up.
"I move to keep him alive."
His voice was calm.
Unbothered.
Selara frowned.
Few men spoke to her without fear.
Fewer still without trembling.
The soldier finally lifted his gaze.
And the world—
Shifted.
His eyes were steady.
Clear.
Unflinching.
There was no awe.
No intimidation.
No whispered fear of her battlefield reputation.
Only focus.
Only quiet strength.
Selara's breath hitched — subtle, fleeting, imperceptible to all but herself.
"He'll live," he said simply.
Selara stared.
"…Name."
A faint pause.
Then—
"Aren."
No title.
No stammering respect.
Just truth.
Selara studied him.
War had forged her into something sharp, something hardened — yet this man carried something she had not seen in years.
Gentleness untouched by cruelty.
Strength without violence.
And for reasons she could not yet understand…
Selara felt something shift within her chest.
Something dangerous.
Something inevitable.
Behind them, the battlefield roared back to life.
But destiny, silent and patient, had already taken its first step.