Claiming His Luna

Cercei’s POV

I slumbered deeply that night, utterly drained from my constant weeping. It appeared that my mother had no intention of granting me any answers, and thus, I decided to seek the truth on my own. The task ahead would undoubtedly prove difficult, but the burden of not knowing the truth is far more overwhelming than any hardships that lay ahead.

When I poured the juice into Monsieur Remus’ goblet, I made sure to bite my tongue. Currently we are now in the dining room, attending to their morning breakfast. I kept my gaze lowered, purposely avoiding any glances in his direction, for each glimpse only served as a chilling reminder of his dense cruelty.

“Lord Lucian Red will pay us with his precious time tomorrow to visit you, Vienna, and I expect you to present yourself in the most impeccable manner,” Monsieur Remus declared, his eyes fixed on Vienna.

Curiosity burning in her, Vienna inquired to her father, “What?! Father, please tell me the purpose of his visit.”

“We have business matters to discuss,” he replied, his tone concise.

“What sort of business?” she pressed further.

“That, my dear, is not something you need to worry about. Just follow my instructions,” Vienna swallowed hard, her compliance evident as she glanced at her father.

“Yes, Father,” she acquiesced, nodding as though a docile young woman. A smile crept across Monsieur Remus’ face at her response.

“That’s my girl,” he chuckled, ruffling her hair before making his exit from the dining room. Uninterrupted by others, Vienna indulged in her meal in serene seclusion, her head gently lowered. I couldn’t resist feeling a small pang of sympathy for her difficult situation. Monsieur’s continuous control and manipulation over Vienna could explain her ill behavior, as she always complied with whatever he told her.

Yet, the mysterious allure of Lucian Red remained a subject of intrigue.

I often caught whispers mentioning his name, whether from the servants’ murmurs or the elegant ladies of society. Even the most powerful lords spoke his name with a mix of caution and admiration, recognizing the influence and mystery that shrouded him. The world appeared spellbound by this mysterious man. I couldn’t help but wonder what it was about him that ignited such deep fascination. How perfect and flawless could he really be?

“You foolish girl, get my bath ready,” Vienna commanded haughtily, engrossed in her lavish meal. Without a word, I nodded in agreement and went upstairs to her room.

Just as I arrived at the entrance of Vienna’s room, a commotion came from Monsieur’s study. The door was slightly open, letting the noises from inside seep into the hallway, audible to anyone passing by.

Fueled by curiosity, I approached with cautious steps, measuring each footfall, eager to uncover the source and reason for the commotion.

“I’ve done everything for you, isn’t that enough?! How vile of you to continue tormenting me until now?” The words that reached my ears were filled with a strong mix of anger and frustration.

“You have merely carried out my orders, and you barely showed affection to me!” Monsieur’s voice echoed through the air, filled with intensity as if engaged in a fierce argument.

My body tightened instinctively as I recognized the second voice. It was my mother’s voice. Why was she engaged in an argument with the Alpha?

As I moved a step closer, hoping to gather more information, the study door suddenly swung open, forcing my mother out. Her face was gloomy, obviously, she was enraged.

Both of us were startled by our unexpected encounter. Her eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and trepidation. Before I could utter a word, she seized my arm and thrust me towards the nearby storage room, hidden from prying eyes and ears.

“What on earth were you thinking?! Why are you here?” she demanded the moment we were alone inside the storeroom. Anger and fear appeared across her face, beads of sweat forming on her forehead, her hands trembling slightly. Witnessing my usually composed and refined mother in such a state filled me with concern.

“Well, I heard noises, so I decided to check….”

“Listen to me,” she interjected, firmly gripping my shoulders.

“From this moment forward, you must mind your own affairs and refrain from meddling in matters that do not concern you. Do you understand, Cercei?” she declared before abruptly departing, leaving me standing there confused.

What had just happened? What did she mean by claiming she had done everything for him? Countless questions swirled through my mind, plaguing me throughout the day.

Luckily, Vienna was busy preparing for the salon to enhance her appearance and organising things for Lucian Red’s visit, which left her with no time to bother me. Today, I experienced a break from her persistent cruelty.

At the moment, I find myself sitting on the grand apple tree situated at the rear of the mansion, accompanied by Maria. We have both seized this fortunate moment to indulge in a well-deserved break. While Maria skillfully sliced into an apple, I found myself immersed in a vast expanse of thoughts.

“Earth to Cercei,” she playfully waved her hand before my face, rousing me from my reverie. Unaware of how far my mind had wandered, I blinked in surprise.

“What?” I replied, my voice betraying my distraction.

“You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said. I’ve been chattering away,” she remarked, popping a slice of apple into her mouth.

“My apologies,” I replied sheepishly.

“What thoughts have occupied your mind so completely that they’ve carried you away?” she asked, a playful glint in her eyes accompanying her laughter.

“It’s nothing, really. So, what were you discussing? Care to repeat them?” I deftly shifted the topic, successfully diverting Maria’s attention. She quickly began to vent about Clarizze’s ill behavior, a servant girl whom she clearly disliked.

“She had the audacity to inform Madam Cecè that I was sleeping when, in truth, I was merely resting my eyes. That snitch! And to add insult to injury, it was her fault in the first place that I needed to rest my eyes. I stayed up all night fulfilling her duties because she claimed to be sick, although I know she was lying,” Maria continued venting her frustrations. I attempted to lend an ear to her grievances, but my mind remained fixated on the earlier events in Monsieur’s study. My mother appeared deeply distressed.

“Uh, hello?” Maria called out to draw my attention once more.

“Oh, sorry. What’s really bothering you?” She set down the apple and knife, leaning closer to me. Her gaze bore into mine, waiting for my response.

I sighed, recognizing that she wouldn’t stop until I shared my thoughts with her.

“This morning, unintentionally, I overheard my mother, and Monsieur engaged in a heated argument in the study. She expressed her efforts in doing everything for him, yet feeling unappreciated. I must confess, I am struggling to grasp the true meaning of it,” I admitted, struggling to fully understand the puzzling situation I overheard. It seemed to defy all logical explanations.

“Perhaps Monsieur was simply scolding her. You know how your mother has been struggling since the incident of your father’s untimely death,” Maria attempted to comfort me.

“But she appeared frightened and deeply shaken. She became angry with me, which is completely out of character,” I countered immediately, looking directly into her eyes.

“Maybe she didn’t want you to witness her being scolded,” Maria suggested.

“No, it’s more than that. I can sense that she’s keeping something significant from me. I can feel it,” I insisted, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation to her.Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Don’t overthink it, Cercei. Perhaps it didn’t hold any real significance. Remember, your mother is still healing from everything that has happened. Give her time,” Maria sighed, attempting to calm my worry. Maybe Maria was correct. It’s possible that I had exaggerated the situation, allowing my imagination to run wild.

Despite repeating these assurances to myself, a lingering part of me couldn’t let go of what I had overheard. The weight of it persisted in my thoughts, refusing to be easily dismissed.

That night, I went to bed without exchanging a single word with my mother. A heavy silence surrounded her, widening the gap between us. She seemed deliberately distant as if shielding herself from my questions. I chose not to push for answers, realising that recent events had undoubtedly affected her deeply, and she was still grappling with the profound grief of my father’s passing.

What secrets could be unfolding in my mother’s life? The uncertainty gnawed at me, leaving a persistent desire for clarity and discernment.