Claiming His Luna

Cercei’s POV

Throughout the course of my life, I have endured an unending stream of insults and harsh words from various people. Yet, amongst them all, his cutting remarks pierced me to the core, despite my futile attempts to brush them off.© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

His words left a deep wound inside me, and though I felt resentment, I tried to understand his perspective.

Opening the boxes one by one, I was greeted by a dazzling array of shoes and dresses, yet an ache gnawed at my chest. This collection represented his vision of what was valuable, but did he see me as mere trash?

Why should I be surprised? I am merely a low-born servant destined for life to serve them. Nevertheless, I hadn’t anticipated such venomous words from him as his affectionate manners in Dinan had fooled me.

He brought me pyjamas, lotions, skincare, and perfumes. Under different circumstances, I might have considered his gesture considerate. However, he had already made it clear that he wished to distance himself from me in my ragged clothes. So, I assumed he wouldn’t want me to exude a similar smell.

After eating my dinner, I retired to my bed. Staring at the ceiling, I pondered whether this was a wise decision, knowing full well it was careless, yet the uncertainty lingered.

The following morning, I woke up with a sense of unease, clueless about what attire to wear. My knowledge of sophisticated clothing was rather limited. As much as I longed to embarrass Lucian by wearing ‘rags,’ it would also mean embracing my true self, and that was something I couldn’t bear to do. Oh, how I yearned for Aunt Melanie’s presence; she was proficient in fashion.

In the end, I settled on a green satin gown elegantly fitted with a daring slit and a Grecian neckline. I believed it accentuated the hues of my eyes and complemented the shade of my hair.

Standing before the mirror, I saw not just a servant of low birth but a woman with her own beauty and grace, deserving of dignity and respect.

Aunt Melanie had taught me a thing or two about makeup, and before I took a final look at myself in the mirror, I whisked some perfume. At this moment, I felt like a forest goddess, ready to face the world.

As the door swung open, there stood Lucian, dressed perfectly in an all-black tuxedo, including his dress shirt. My knees trembled as he scanned me from head to toe.

“Is it acceptable, or do I still look like I’m wearing rags?” I uttered, trying to conceal my nervousness. His intense gaze bore into me, and I couldn’t help but notice the subtle movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed before looking away.

“Let’s go,” he said abruptly, not offering any sort of compliment, genuine or otherwise. I had risked my life trying to get this makeup right, though I hardly knew a thing about it. Still, I couldn’t help but feel that I had done a darn good job, especially with my red blazing lips that perfectly complimented my outfit, not to mention the gold jewelry he had bought for me. Yet, he seemed utterly ungrateful, that brute!

But, at least I had finally escaped the trap of this room.

The ball was being held in the North, and we made our way there in a luxurious limo.

Throughout the ride, I sat awkwardly while he buried himself in his phone, displaying that calm demeanour of his that always left me feeling restless.

The venue for the ball was a hotel owned by one of the wealthiest alphas in the North. It was a grand, rich place, with its interiors decorated with chandeliers and every aspect oozing extravagance. Paparazzi swarmed the area, their incessant flashes causing my head to throb, and we were still in the car!

Apparently, every car was expected to stop in the middle of a staircase, and there was a red carpet for us to make our grand entrance. Is this event a Met Gala or something?

“Pretend,” Lucian coldly instructed me before we exited the car.

We posed for the cameras, his grip on my waist firm and unyielding.

“Mr. Red, is she your girlfriend?” one reporter asked.

“Mr. Red, is she your wife?” another chimed in.

“Can you tell us about the incident with your mother?” a third inquired, apparently trying to dig into his personal life.

I tried to maintain my composure, but deep inside, my emotions churned. It seemed that drama and attention followed wherever Lucian went, and I was reluctantly caught in the spotlight with him. Nonetheless, I straightened my back, mustered a smile, and prepared myself for whatever the night had in store.

As the reporters persisted with their questions, one particular word stood out to me, “incident.” However, before I could think deeper into it, Lucian firmly tugged me away by the hand, ignoring all the queries. I wanted to ask about what they meant, but this was hardly the appropriate place for such discussions.

I tried not to appear too impressed by the lavish venue, though truthfully, the chandeliers alone might have cost more than my entire existence, or so it seemed.

Everyone around us looked radiant, especially the women, and I felt like a lost lamb surrounded by tigers. The weight of their gazes bore down on us as we entered, with all eyes fixated on Lucian’s hand resting on my waist. The judgmental stares from the women made me swallow nervously, hoping I wouldn’t trip and embarrass myself.

“Relax, you’re so tense,” Lucian whispered, seemingly aware of my intense nervous. Well, who wouldn’t feel on edge in a place where they clearly didn’t belong? This was my first ball, and certainly, the first one where I wasn’t serving food and drinks as a lowly servant.

The scrutiny from the crowd only added to the intimidation. I tried my best to compose myself, but it was challenging when all attention seemed focused on us.

“My Lord Red, it is a pleasure to have you here, and you’re…” a distinguished gentleman greeted us, likely in his 50’s.

“My wife,” Lucian calmly replied, tightening his grip on my waist. His declaration caught me by surprise, and I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying anything. Wife? Since when?

The man seemed taken aback by Lucian’s response, and I awkwardly smiled in response.

I can’t wait to punch you when we get home.

“Oh wow, she’s very beautiful. I’m Lupin Tyrell,” the gentleman introduced himself, offering his hand. I smiled and accepted the gesture.

“I’m Cercei, a pleasure to meet you, My Lord,” I replied with a slight bow.

“My Lord Lucian, I am Hugo of the Xenon Pack, it is an honour to be in your presence,” another Lord interjected. In fact, numerous Lords and Ladies greeted us, each one inquiring about me. I had to suppress my disbelief with every mention of being Lucian’s wife.