[Third Person].
Ten weeks later, the night came too soon.
Meredith went into labour before anyone expected it, and the palace was thrown into motion within moments.
Healers hurried into her chambers, attendants followed, and the doors were shut firmly behind them under one strict order given by her grandmother—no one was to enter.
Not even the King.
Draven arrived just as the doors closed. "Open it," he said immediately.
The attendants guarding the entrance dropped to their knees at once, their heads bowed deeply. "Your Majesty… we cannot."
Another cry came from inside. It was sharp, raw, and it hit him harder than anything ever had.
"Move aside," he said, stepping forward. But none of them moved an inch.
"We beg you," one of them said, trembling. "Her Majesty's grandmother gave strict orders. We dare not disobey."
Draven's expression darkened. How dare they block his path and refuse to heed his order?.
"I am the King. If I say open that door, you open it."
