Claiming His Luna

Cercei’s POV

Three days have passed since my Aunt delivered a devastating revelation. Unable to cope with the emotional turmoil, I’ve secluded myself inside my room, rejecting all company and food.

The urge to cry and release the flood of emotions wreaking havoc inside me is overwhelming, but I find myself strangely numb. My tear ducts seem to have run dry, and time has slipped by unnoticed in this empty state.

From my window perch, I observe the world outside, watching the sun ascend, and the moon descend, detached from its natural rhythm.

Aunt has made several attempts to visit me, even going as far as delivering my meals herself, urging me to eat. However, her words are brushed aside as my mind lives in an ouster of its own choice, distancing itself from everything. I fear I may be losing my sanity.

Frequently, I find myself imagining alternative scenarios with my dear Mamà. Life would have been so different if circumstances had played out differently. Regret lingers as I reflect on our escape through the emergency exit, a predictable move that led to our separation.

Had Vincent’s pack not intervened, perhaps Frank would have taken me along, and I would have been reunited with my mother. Regardless of the consequences, I’d gladly face them if it meant being by her side once more – even if it meant returning to the dreaded mansion under Monsieur’s control.

Remaining here and eating feels impossible while her whereabouts and well-being remain unknown. The fear of Lucian causing her harm or punishing her for my mistakes consumes me. What does he truly want?

“Hey,” a voice breaks through my reverie. Startled, I turn to find Vincent standing beside me. Lost in the sea of my thoughts, I failed to recognize his presence before me earlier.

“Cercei, look at me,” Vincent’s voice persists, but I remain adrift in my internal turmoil.

Reality came crashing back when Vincent gently shook my shoulders, urging me to return from the depths of my thoughts. Vincent knelt before me to meet my eyes on the same level.

Though his expression appeared stern, his eyes betrayed a hint of concern, which he tried to mask with an impassive facade.

“What,” I responded, my voice devoid of any emotion, meeting his gaze with a cold detachment.

“I know you don’t want to talk right now,” he began.

“Then why are you here?” I retorted bluntly, observing the subtle change in his eyes caused by my frankness.

“Because your Aunt is worried sick about you.”

“Why do you care?” I snorted, fully aware of my rudeness but feeling indifferent to its consequences. It mattered little whether he threw me out on the streets or handed me over to my pack.

He sighed. “Just let us help you,” he said, a seriousness resonating in his voice.

I turned to face him squarely. “In exchange for what?” I demanded, getting straight to the point.

“You can’t save your mom by staying here and dwelling, cursing the universe for your fate.”

“I’ve spent enough time trying to make a change but guess what, I can’t. We’re all just puppets to people like you,” I stated matter-of-factly.

“People like me?” He furrowed his brows, seemingly taken aback.

“Rich and powerful, hungry for domination,” the words slipped out, and I shifted my gaze away.

He chuckled, seemingly amused by my description. “That’s your impression of me?” he questioned.

“Why else ask for marriage?” I countered without looking at him.

His face lost all traces of emotion, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“I’m the one who asked for it?” I added grimly.

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed, glancing to the side dismissively.

“Trust me, I don’t want to get married to you. No offence,” he retorted sharply, though his words were somewhat offensive.

“Then why?” I pressed.

“The world is all about giving and taking. The elders decided that if we involve ourselves in your war, then we must get something in return,” he revealed, shedding light on the reason behind the sudden marriage proposal.

Mamà had always been wise, never naive. She taught me that in this world, giving often comes with a catch, especially for people like us, who are deemed powerless.

“Does it have to be marriage?” I questioned. “Aren’t there other ways to repay them? Perhaps through loyalty and gratitude?”

“It’s not just marriage but an heir,” he replied casually as if it were a minor detail.

“An heir?” I chuckled bitterly.

“A war is a significant risk. I can’t leave the throne empty and defenceless,” he explained calmly, leaving me momentarily silenced.

He was right, of course. The Malroux pack, among the most powerful and feared in the East, would surely attract Lucian’s and Monsieur’s attention if they chose to help us in retrieving my mother.

“I can’t get married,” I whispered under my breath, gazing at the orange sky as the sun dipped below the horizon.

“Neither do I,” he confessed, surprising me. I wanted to inquire further, but I realised it wasn’t my place. Perhaps he, too, had his own reasons – perhaps his heart belonged elsewhere, or he simply wasn’t ready for such a commitment.

I was consumed with my own struggles that I hadn’t considered Vincent’s perspective on the matter. Being an alpha came with its own set of pressures and expectations.

“Why?” I couldn’t help but ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

He offered a sad smile as if recalling something painful. “Let’s just say it isn’t meant for me,” he replied cryptically. His eyes seemed to hold a protective barrier, preventing me from delving deeper and understanding him fully.

While I admired the love shared by my parents, the idea of marriage also frightened me. The thought of baring oneself completely to another person, taking risks, giving everything, and loving unconditionally felt intimidating. Love that runs deep often leads to profound pain, and I feared that anguish, fearing it might break me just as I felt broken now.

“Guess we’re in the same boat,” I admitted, relieved that Vincent shared my apprehensions.

Perhaps Vincent wasn’t as bad as I initially thought. He was a young man burdened by the weight of his alpha duties and responsibilities.

“I will help you get your mother back,” he suddenly declared, catching me off guard with his earnestness.

“What about the marriage?” I asked, still unsure about how to reconcile that aspect.

“We’ll tackle one problem at a time. Right now, our focus is on bringing her back,” he reassured me.

“And what happens after we succeed?” I probed, recognizing the enormity of that possibility.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he replied, his expression resolute.

“I’m serious,” I insisted.

“We’ll find a way. A lot can happen by then. Who knows, you might fall for me and beg me to marry you,” he joked, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

“You wish,” I retorted, rolling my eyes, and he chuckled. At this moment, we shared a genuine laugh, forming an unexpected bond in the face of adversity.