Claiming His Luna

Cercei’s POV

“Well, I do now,” I repeated, placing extra emphasis on my words as I gazed at her.

Despite her strong desire to speak, she tightly sealed her lips. I hugged my knees and shifted my focus to the dancing flames in front of us. The first light of dawn was breaking, and sleep remained a far-off hope. Even if we yearned for it, it remained out of reach.

Who could even think of sleep when the entire army of Northerners and Southerners relentlessly trailed us?

“So, you’re going to kill him?” She finally broke the silence with her question.

I shifted my gaze to her, keenly observing her reaction. Was I going to end Monsieur’s life? As I had stated earlier, I didn’t want to rob my mother or Lucian of that satisfaction. Monsieur had caused me pain throughout my life, but it was nothing compared to the suffering he had inflicted on Mamà and Lucian.

In the end, we all shared the same burning desire, to dig out his heart and stop its beat. That was the ultimate goal, and I believed that once he was gone, the details of how it was accomplished, by whom, and in what manner would become insignificant.

But was this truly what I desired? To become a murderer? I loathed him for taking my father’s life, and I planned to end his life for the sake of revenge. However, how would that set me apart from him? After investing so much energy in convincing others that I was nothing like him, that I was better than him, was I now about to abandon that stance?

Am I truly better? Do I genuinely want to be better? I’m certain that his death will make me better.

“I grew to hate my father after learning about your existence, but he is still my father,” She spat out the words with venom.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“My mission is to bring you to him, no matter the circumstances. But if you entertain the thought of laying a hand on him, I’ll be the one to end your life,” She declared sharply. I responded with a feeble scoff.

“Your mission is to bring me back to him?” I repeated her words, seeking further clarification. She maintained her firm gaze without uttering a word.

“Why do you think he wants you to bring me to him?” I asked mockingly, tilting my head to the side. Her breathing quickened, growing heavier with anger. My grin widened, provoking her further.

“Come on, Vienna,” I provoked her, acutely aware of her short temper.

“Who knows, maybe he wants to kill you to erase the sin he made?” she snapped. I couldn’t suppress a chuckle, which only seemed to fuel her anger further.

“And here I thought I was the only denier,” I murmured, shaking my head.

“Seems like denial runs in our blood,” I teased her further.

In an instant, she sprang to her feet, forcefully pushing me down. She moved with such swiftness and pinned me down with considerable weight, a clear indication that my words had hit a nerve. Her hands clamped around my neck as I lay on my back, and she sat on top of me, choking my breath.

Even in this unexpected turn of events, a faint smile came onto my face. Her grip grew tighter, making my breath a difficult struggle.

“So, you must realise it,” I managed to utter, but my voice sounded strained.

“You may have had your moment in your boyfriend’s basement, but believe me, you won’t win me over,” she declared, and her tone was firm. I tried to laugh, but it came out as a cough.

Gathering every ounce of strength I could muster, I twisted her hand around my throat, then kicked her away using my feet. The force of my action flung her aside, but she appeared unaffected by the impact. She tried to attack me again, but I quickly stopped her.

“I’m pretty sure your beloved Daddy won’t be pleased if you hurt me,” I pouted, reminding her the truth. She growled harshly under her breath. Her eyes suddenly underwent a chilling transformation, changing in colour, her claws emerged, and her fangs bared themselves menacingly. She was on the verge of attacking me again when the tracker interrupted us with its insistent beeping.

We both turned our attention to it, the red light pulsing incessantly, accompanied by a simultaneous sound.

“Morse code?” I asked. Vienna nodded.

“Write it down,” I ordered quickly.

Vienna followed and quickly wrote it on the ground. While my knowledge of Morse code was limited, Vienna had been trained to communicate in this language, and she effortlessly decoded it.

The beeping was short. I suppose they made their message very concise.

“What does it say?” I asked Vienna as she gazed at the dots and dashes she had written on the ground.

“They want us to make our way to the Hightowers. Lord Drogo is already waiting for us. He’ll be the one to help us,” she declared.

“Lord Drogo Hightower?” I asked, my eyebrows furrowing, giving her a serious look.

“Don’t give me that look. Traitors can be found everywhere in this world,” she snapped, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

Lord Drogo was a member of Lucian’s council. I had encountered him during my time at Lucian’s mansion. There was something about him that was never quite trustworthy; a subtle darkness lurked in his eyes, and his smiles held an eerie intent.

“Do you know the way to the Hightowers?” I inquired briefly.

“Well, we’ll find out once we get there; their towers are known to be quite tall,” she replied, dripping with sarcasm.

I took a deep breath. The idea of receiving help on our journey to escape the North and return to the South was undeniably convenient. However, knowing that a traitor was inside Lucian’s inner circle weighed heavily on my mind.

Lucian was no fool, but he placed great faith in his council members. He believed in the importance of trusting allies to defeat their enemies. How long had Lord Drogo been under Monsieur’s influence? I clenched my teeth in anger.

That fucking traitor!

“Let’s rest for a while; we’ll set out after sunrise. We have to rest even for a bit,” Vienna suggested, lying down on the ground.

My heart is pounding hard for Lucian. I was anxious about his safety. What other schemes might Lord Drogo be capable of? He could harm Lucian if he wished to. He knew the plans and even attended all the meetings. Even though he was supposed to be the one helping us escape from this continent, I couldn’t suppress the urge to beat him to death.

House Hightower had betrayed the Reds. I wondered how Lucian would react when he discovered this betrayal. Would he display their heads on spikes, strip their flesh from their bones, or condemn them to a lifetime of perpetual imprisonment?

Any of those would serve him right. A traitor deserves no mercy.