Claiming His Luna

Cercei’s POV

Mamà?

A terrifying creature adorned in deep brown fur and possessing fiery crimson eyes emerges before me, and I am certain it is my beloved mother.

I fixed my gaze on her, witnessing her growling fiercely at Vienna, attempting to assert dominance. Tears streamed down my face, my arms throbbing with pain, yet fear overwhelmed me.

Fear of what fate awaits my mother and the looming aftermath ahead. I shook my head, desperate to deny the unfolding reality.

“Mamà, no!” I cried out, my voice breaking with anguish.

I was on the verge of darting into the middle, interrupting their imminent outbreak of violence; however, a gentle yet unyielding hand encircled my waist, holding me back. It felt as unyielding as solid stone, rendering me powerless. I kicked and punched against the air in a futile attempt to break free, but my efforts were in vain. A piercing scream escaped my lips as Vienna launched an assault on my mother.

Though my mother may be older, Vienna seethed with blazing fury, channeling that intense anger into a source of inner strength, similar to how a wolf taps into its emotions to intensify its power.

I knew deep down that my mother harboured no ill intention towards her, despite Vienna’s cruel treatment of our entire family and me. My mother always sought to understand her, the idea I failed to comprehend. Mamà only wanted to shield and protect me, and now Vienna’s fury was aimed squarely at her.

“Let me go!” I shouted desperately at the man who clutched me tightly, unable to even catch a glimpse of his face in my terror-stricken state, for my thoughts were consumed by my mother’s safety.

My cries grew even more desperate as Mamà whimpered in agony, toppled by Vienna’s onslaught. Blood trickled down her battered limbs, staining her fur with crimson.

Weak and bleeding, my mother rose to her feet with painful strides. Each step she took prompted whimpers of pain, yet she mustered the strength to approach me, taking a protective stance.

I lay on the ground, my own wounds bleeding, my face drenched in tears, while a man firmly grasped my trembling shoulders.

“Mamà, please,” I pleaded, locking eyes with her wolf, searching for her essence. Her crimson gaze met mine, a reflection of her maternal love.

“Vienna, cease this madness!” Monsieur’s voice resonated with seething anger.

But Vienna disregarded her father’s command, advancing with a menacing stance. My lips turned pale, gripping tightly onto the hands that restrained me.

“Stop her,” I pleaded, casting a desperate glance over my shoulder to see it was Lucian. His countenance exuded dominance and masculinity, yet he remained seated, firmly securing me.

“I cannot intervene,” he uttered. My trembling lips quivered, tears glistening in my eyes as I clutched to the arm encircling me. His gaze fixed on my hand that was touching his arm.

“Please,” I pleaded, his jaw clenched in response.

Taking a deep breath, he rose to his feet. His eyes met mine momentarily before shifting his gaze towards Vienna.

He was prepared to step between them when Monsieur acted swiftly and took that decisive stride first.

“I said, cease this madness!” His voice echoed through the house, shattering the tranquility of every window.

Startled by her father’s booming command, Vienna took a hesitant step back.

Without hesitation, I hurried to my mother’s side, who now lay on the floor. Vienna had unleashed her fury on Mamà, but my mother did not retaliate in kind; she only defended herself.

Tears streamed down my face, my anguish so overwhelming that I felt like I might vomit. “I’m so, so sorry, mamà. This is all my fault,” I managed to choke out between sobs.

“Please, forgive me,” I pleaded, my voice trembling.

“Return to your human form!” Monsieur commanded with unwavering authority, his words dripping with dominance.

Vienna transformed back into her human shape, and a servant promptly handed her a robe.

My mother also shifted back to her human form, and Lucian handed me his coat at this moment. I glanced at him and accepted it gratefully, using it to cover my mother’s wounded body, grateful that it was large enough to shield her.

We sat on the floor, huddled together, both of us bearing deep wounds, while Vienna, unaffected and still consumed by her anger, remained unharmed.

“You’re taking your whore’s side, Father?” Vienna spat at her father, her words laced with venom. Monsieur’s expression hardened, deeply offended by the accusation.

“What?” He asked, his tone stern and unwavering.

“You’re taking your whore’s side?” Vienna repeated, her words laced with slow, deliberate venom, further stoking her father’s anger.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Monsieur’s confusion was evident in his voice.

Vienna’s laughter filled the room, mocking her father as if his ignorance was the most absurd thing she had ever encountered.

“Oh, you truly have no idea?” She sneered, her expression dripping with betrayal and deep-seated resentment.

“You honestly don’t fucking know?!” Her scream resounded, tears streaming down her face. Anger and pain mingled in her voice, an unbearable bluster of emotions.

Monsieur stared at his daughter, witnessing her emotional breakdown, his own heart heavy with the weight of her anguish.

“I heard you that night,” her voice cracked, laced with shattered trust.

“How could you?” Her cry was filled with sorrow.

“How could you?!”

Monsieur approached her, attempting to calm her raging turmoil, but Vienna lashed out, landing punches on her father’s chest as she flinched from his touch.

“Vienna, please,” Monsieur pleaded, his grip on her hands tight. Never before had I witnessed Vienna in such a state of vulnerability and pain. She had always exuded an aura of anger and playfulness, never revealing this fragile side of her.

Despite the deep-rooted resentment I held towards Vienna for the torment she inflicted on me and my mother throughout our lives, at this moment, an unexpected wave of sympathy filled my heart.

What did she mean by hearing what happened that night? What had she heard?

“And you, you fucking whore,” Vienna pointed accusingly at my mother, her finger a symbol of degradation. Monsieur attempted to restrain her, his hand reaching out, but she persisted in demeaning my mother.

“You’re so desperate to escape slavery that you seduced my dad!”

My eyes widened as I turned to look at my mother. Her head was bowed, tears streaming down her face. Confusion etched deep lines across my forehead as a torrent of questions flooded my mind.

What was Vienna talking about?

Vienna seemed to notice my bewildered reaction.

“Yeah, that’s right, your mother is a slut. Now you know where you got it from,” she sneered.

My mother raised her head, her gaze filled with defiance as she glared back at Vienna.

“Leave my daughter out of this,” she asserted, her voice tinged with strength. Vienna scoffed, attempting to push past her father, who stood as a barrier between her, preventing another attack.

“Vienna, stop this. I’ll explain it later,” Monsieur intervened, his voice laced with a mixture of firmness and anger. Vienna’s glare remained fixed on her father, a tumultuous storm raging inside her.

Vienna stared at her father in utter disbelief, unable to fathom such a response.

“Explain what, Dad? How you had an affair with your own maid, and how did you pound on her?” she spat out the words with a bitter intensity.

Monsieur’s jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin. “Mind your words,” he growled through gritted teeth, but Vienna remained unflinching.

“Or what?” she challenged, her voice filled with anger.

“What else could you do that is worse than what you have already done?” she snapped again, her voice heavy with dismay.

Confusion overwhelmed me as I struggled to piece together the fragments of their conversation. My mind raced, trying to comprehend the weight of Vienna’s accusations. The words she had hurled earlier still hung in the air, unresolved and haunting.

I turned to my mother, searching for answers in her tear-stained eyes. She met my gaze, a mixture of sorrow and determination reflected in her expression. Silently, she reached out and cupped my face with both hands, pressing a tender kiss on my forehead. It was a gesture filled with love and reassurance, a silent promise that she would protect me from the storm brewing ahead.