Claiming His Luna

Cercei’s POV

“Prepare your luggage,” Aunt Melanie burst through the door just as Mamà and I were seated for dinner.

Her countenance betrayed her unease and fear, her hands trembling as she opened a drawer to reveal a firearm. My eyes widened in response, a mix of surprise and dread flooding over me.

“Melanie, what is happening?” My mother attempted to maintain composure, but the tension in the room was detectable, amplifying with each passing second.© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

“They’re here. I caught sight of Remus’s daughter and a few of their henchmen. It’s only a matter of time before they dispatch an entire army of henchmen,” she revealed, her voice burdened with urgency.

“She was at the café earlier,” I confessed. Lucian’s anguished expression consumed my thoughts, causing Vienna’s arrival to slip my mind.

“Why didn’t you inform me sooner?” My mother’s question hung in the air, leaving me feeling foolish and regretful. I wished I could slap myself for my stupidity.

“It doesn’t matter now. Let’s go,” Aunt declared firmly, swiftly gathering essential belongings.

Our bags had already been prepared in anticipation of this moment. We possessed counterfeit identification documents, including passports and driver’s licenses, to conceal our true identities. Aunt Melanie, well-connected within the city, had devised an escape plan long before our arrival.

Through a hidden basement passage, obscured from prying eyes, we made our exit.

The tunnel led us back to the train station, where we replicated our previous escape strategy. We leapt onto a moving train and concealed ourselves among the cargo boxes.

As I watched the distant city lights lessen, swallowed by the increasing distance, I couldn’t help but feel a part of me would forever remain suppressed in that place, no matter how far we journeyed. My mother drew me close, and together we gazed at the receding skyline, Aunt Melanie joining our silent connection.

Tears streamed down my face as the realisation hit me. Every precious memory shared with Lucian now lived solely inside my heart. I had never disclosed them to anyone, not Claire or even to my mother.

If someone were to demand proof, I would offer them my heart, for it alone held the evidence of our moments together. Only my heart could convey the emotions experienced during those stolen instances.

Exhausted and burdened, I eventually give in to sleep, cradled in my mother’s comforting embrace. The heaviness of my emotions pressed on me, yet I couldn’t muster the courage to reveal my inner turmoil. Even if I dared to disclose it, I wouldn’t know where to begin or how to make her understand a truth I myself struggled to grasp.

The mystifying voyage of my affection for Lucian remained a riddle to me. All I knew was that I had once despised him-the captivating young wolf who had arrived on my birthday and seduced me till I gave everything to him, resulting in our banishment. And yet, he was also the one who fostered our escape, unknowingly shielding us from harm and gathering an entire army to protect our well-being.

I never had the opportunity to bid him farewell. I couldn’t express my true feelings or apologise for pushing him away. There was no chance to properly express gratitude for all he had done for me, for us. I yearned for one last kiss, but it remained an unfulfilled desire.

Having already inflicted him with ample pain, an unspoken goodbye was the least he deserved. Right now, I am consumed with remorse, my dear Lucian.

In my mother’s tender embrace, she consoled me, unaware of the reasons behind my tears. We wept together, her silent understanding bringing relief to my anguished soul.

I admired her relentless strength, even in the face of losing my father. Having tasted the bittersweetness of love, I couldn’t understand the depths of her past sorrow nor the weight she carried on her shoulders.

As the new day dawned, my heart remained heavy. Aunt Melanie roused us from our slumber, declaring that it was time to take a leap. What an unconventional way to commence the day. We disembarked from the moving train, leaping into an empty field.

Rolling on the grassy expanse, I was covered in a tapestry of dried leaves, mirroring the weight of my emotions.

“Where are we headed?” I inquired, my voice tinged with uncertainty.

“To the airport,” Aunt Melanie replied casually, as if embarking on such a journey was an everyday occurrence.

We freshened up and changed in a public restroom, donning clothes that differed from our usual style, ensuring that we would remain unrecognisable.

Entering the bustling airport proved surprisingly uneventful. Even though there was a multitude of people, we seamlessly blended in, drawing no attention. The forged passports meticulously prepared by Aunt Melanie proved to be our lifeline.

This marked my inaugural voyage on an airplane, a mere sight that I only saw in those movies. Under different circumstances, this journey would have been filled with excitement and wonder. Yet, now, it failed to evoke such sentiments. I harboured no desire to leave.

“Are you alright?” Aunt Melanie clasped my hand as the plane prepared for takeoff. Evidently, she had detected the sadness that had enveloped me, rendering me incapable of even faking a smile.

I nodded, attempting to assuage her concerns, not wishing her to bear the burden of worry that weighed on my mother.

“You’ll fall in love with Greece,” she asserted, her voice tinged with a light chuckle, an attempt to lift my spirits.

“Not as deeply as I love Dinan,” I replied, attempting a smile. No place could rival Dinan’s significance in my heart; of that, I was certain.

The flight progressed smoothly. Despite my fear of heights, I didn’t experience a shred of nervousness. In truth, I scarcely felt anything at all. A pervasive emptiness consumed me entirely.

I resembled a wandering spectre devoid of purpose. Directionless, my thoughts dissipated into thin air, leaving only a heavy weight in my chest. I moved through life as if burdened by an invisible load, so burdensome that I could barely press onward.

The flight proved short, or I had become so disconnected from the passage of time that I failed to register its duration. I couldn’t even bring myself to sleep.

I longed to reach out to him, to call or send a message. Yet, such gestures would fall short of doing justice to our connection, though they were better than vanishing into thin air without a trace.

However, Aunt Melanie had discarded our phones. We were embarking on a fresh start, erasing our lives completely. It would be from scratch this time, assuming new names and identities.

The path ahead would prove arduous. Our financial resources were limited, and relying on cards risked leaving a digital footprint that could be traced. Securing employment in a foreign land posed a challenge.

Both my mother and Aunt Melanie possessed a command of the Greek language, while my own knowledge remained paltry. As for my mother, I knew next to nothing about her. Only a handful of individuals here were fluent in our common tongue, but oddly enough, I found relief in this simple matter. Conversations were the last thing I desired at present. This way, I could evade interactions with others.