Claiming His Luna

Cercei’s POV

Following the tragic events of that fateful night, we were abruptly forced out of the grand mansion and had to move to the modest cabin at the back, right next to the old apple tree.

Even though the cabin’s walls were barely holding on, it was a more welcoming home than going back to the clutches of that dreadful curse. I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in our previous room, understanding all too well that my father was no longer with us.

Watching my mother as she diligently swept the old, dusty floor, I couldn’t help but notice her deep silence following Papà’s passing. She seldom mentioned the matter, choosing to cry continuously while gazing at her wedding ring with longing and sadness.

I wanted to ask her about the events of that terrible night, but I knew inside that she wasn’t ready for that conversation yet. Despite my growing curiosity, I made an effort to be patient, allowing her to mourn.

Even after being forced out of the mansion, we were still serving the Alpha and her daughter. My mother continued to work as Monsieur’s personal maid, a role I couldn’t imagine taking on myself – serving the man who had snuffed out my father’s life mercilessly was merely an insult for me.

Though consumed by an overwhelming desire for revenge and hatred, my mother sternly forbade me from taking any action, insisting that silence was our only recourse. She claimed she couldn’t bear the thought of losing me too, and as much as I despise her reasoning, I, too, couldn’t bear the thought of losing my mother. I knew very well that Monsieur had the ability to do whatever he wanted, as he consistently proved himself ruthless and powerful. And so, we kept our silence, even in the midst of everything that had happened.

“You should eat, Cercei. You know, starving isn’t an option,” Maria interjected, lending me a hand in transferring our belongings to the cabin. My mother remained at the mansion, tending to Monsieur’s needs.

“I have no appetite,” I responded, skillfully folding our small collection of clothes.

“It’s been a while since we last went on a hunting trip together. Would you be interested in doing it today?” Maria suggested.

“I can’t, I’m busy with work,” I answered, without even sparing a single glance in her direction.

“We can hunt at night, just like we used to,” she insisted. I knew she was merely attempting to divert my attention from the depths of my grief, but I was still trapped in the clutches of the trauma of that night.

“Maria, I can’t act like everything is fine when it’s clearly not,” I confronted her, and she looked at me with genuine concern, tinged with a trace of sympathy in her eyes.

“We’re not trying to pretend things are normal, Cercei. I am certain your father would not wish to see you in such a state.”

I paused, considering Maria’s words. She was right. Papà wouldn’t want us to be consumed by grief. He would want us to carry on with our lives, not dwelling on the past. Yet, the events of that night had left an unfading mark on our souls. I’m sorry, Papà, but it seems we’ll be grappling with it for some time.

“I simply can’t bear to see you like this. I understand that what happened has caused you immense pain, but you mustn’t lose yourself, Cercei, just as you lost your father,” she said, gripping my hand.

Tears shimmered in my eyes as I looked at the one person who genuinely cared for me, aside from my parents. I embraced her tightly, letting my guard down. She gently rubbed my back as I wept. Over the past few days, I had been striving to remain strong for my mother, suppressing any hint of vulnerability. I wanted her to know she could lean on me. Perhaps I had been too harsh on myself.

“Quiet now, I have something for you,” she whispered, pulling away slightly to retrieve a paper bag by her side. I wiped away my tears as she handed it to me.

“What’s this?” I inquired, curiosity piqued.

“It’s my gift. I had intended to give it to you on your birthday, but…” She trailed off, her voice laden with unspoken emotions.

“Open it,” she urged, gesturing towards the bag. I complied, unfastening the bag to reveal a stunning sage green dress. I looked at it with amazement. The dress exudes elegance, decorated with intricately embroidered leaf-like patterns. It boasted a sweetheart neckline and a flowing yet form-fitting skirt that fell a few inches below the knee.Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

“Maria,” I uttered, disbelief coloring my voice. It was undoubtedly the most exquisite and refined item of clothing I now possessed.

“It matches your eyes,” she smiled, pointing to her own eyes. I embraced her once again.

“Thank you. It’s beautiful,” I murmured, my eyes fixed on the dress.

“But where did you get this one? This looks incredibly expensive,” I asked, examining it closely. I had a feeling this dress must have been quite expensive.

“Oh, um, I…I managed to find it at a thrift store before I began working here,” she responded nervously. I nodded, understanding her explanation. It made sense, considering the small salary we received and the strict prohibition on leaving the premises.

Once we had settled our belongings and tidied up the cabin, we made our way back to the mansion to resume our duties. I hadn’t encountered Vienna since that dreadful night, and I couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of relief. I already had enough on my plate without having to deal with her “accidents.”

For the rest of the day, I busied myself in the kitchen, purposely avoiding any interactions with Monsieur. I had no desire to be reminded of his cruelty, and with Vienna out of the picture, it made avoiding him became quite simple.

“Mamà,” I whispered as she returned from the mansion. I had been pretending to be asleep when I heard her arrival.

“Cercei,” she greeted me with a faint smile, leaning in to kiss my forehead. Even in the dim light, I couldn’t miss the cut on her lip or the bruise on her neck.

“Mamà, are you hurt?” I inquired, attempting to reach out and touch her neck, but she intercepted my hand.

“I’m fine, honey. No need to worry,” She reassured me.

“Did he hurt you?” I pressed further, concern carved across my face.

“I’m alright now. Go back to sleep,” she urged gently.

Though worry and concern for my mother consumed my thoughts, I chose not to push for further answers. I didn’t want to burden her with additional troubles.

After changing her clothes, Mamà went to her bed and soon fell into a deep sleep. I stared at her weary face, finding myself unable to drift back into sleep. So, I slowly went outside, seeking comfort beneath the sheltering branches of the apple tree.

I sat down beneath its branches and looked up at the sky, questioning the heavens for their apparent cruelty. What had I done to end up in this situation? How grave were my sins in a previous life to be subjected to such harsh punishment in my present existence?

I closed my eyes, allowing the chilly breeze to envelop me. The image of the white wolf I had encountered in the cave flashed across my mind. Not a day had passed since that night without his memory haunting me. Even in the depths of pain and sorrow, the thought of him offered a glimmer of comfort. I wondered who he was and whether I would ever cross paths with him again.