Claiming His Luna

Cercei’s POV

“I must confess, My Lord, I had no clue of your marital status. The news certainly caught me unawares, and I must jest that I had been anticipating an invitation,” an elderly man playfully remarked.

“A civil wedding, Lord Sergio, only the two of us and a judge,” Lucian swiftly fabricated, delivering the lie with such finesse that even I nearly fell for it. A consummate liar, indeed, making it all sound quite credible.

“A civil wedding? From the King In The North? Now, that’s unexpected,” remarked another Lord.

“It all happened swiftly, and I simply couldn’t bear to let her go,” Lucian held my hand, and I forced a smile on my face. The onlookers seemed deeply touched by our apparent ‘love,’ oblivious to the fact that I was nothing more than his prisoner.

“Worry not, for I am already planning a grand wedding,” he blurted out, his confidence brimming.© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

“I will wait for my invitation eagerly,” the Lord replied.

“Of course, My Lord,” Lucian winked.

What a scoundrel! Not only is he a skilled liar, but he also raises false hopes among these people. A wedding, my foot!

“You must be joking!” I whispered angrily once they finally left. Trying to appear at ease, I continued to smile, concealing my burning desire to knock his head in.

“Your wife, huh?” I said those words with contempt.

“Play along,” he replied coldly.

“This wasn’t part of the agreement,” I murmured.

“There was no agreement. You do as I damn well please; you are my prisoner,” he stated through clenched teeth.

“I am not your plaything, Lucian. I am not your wife, nor will I ever be,” I declared, striding away and seeking comfort at the long table filled with a plethora of delicious dishes.

I can’t understand him! First, he transforms into this cold, ruthless, unfeeling robot, and now he has become a deceitful liar with grand aspirations. I would sooner kiss a horse than become his wife. And those journalists’ words still gnaw at me. What incident and ambush are they referring to?

“Hello, foolish girl!” a voice called out from behind. My legs momentarily turned to jelly upon recognizing the familiar tone. Swiftly turning around, I laid my eyes on Vienna approaching.

Dressed in a black, form-fitting gown with a matching scarf beautifying her neck, her hair sleek and straight, she moved with graceful poise, exuding an air of mysterious allure. She appeared like a devilish goddess in her attire.

“Vienna,” I said, mustering the strength to appear composed and unbothered.

“What brings you here? The kitchen is that way,” she ridiculed, eyeing me mockingly, the same entitled and spoiled brat I remember.

“I’m here with your fiancé,” I retorted defiantly, flashing a smug look.

“Oh, my apologies, your ex,” I added with a triumphant smile, tauntingly emphasising the word ‘ex.’ Her playful expression shifted to annoyance, and she pursed her lips.

“You certainly have a lot of nerve now,” she stepped closer.

“No matter how expensive the clothes you wear or the jewelry adorning you, it still looks cheap on you. You’ll always be a lowborn, destined to be a servant,” she whispered intently into my ear. My fists clenched, but I restrained myself.

“What’s going on here?” Lucian appeared behind me, his hands wrapping around my waist protectively. Vienna’s eyes locked onto his hold.

“Nothing, just catching up with my maid,” she stressed the last word, and I could only glare at her with fury.

“She’s no longer a maid. From now on, you will speak to my wife respectfully,” Lucian asserted with authority. Vienna’s eyes widened, shifting her gaze between me and Lucian.

“Wife?” She scoffed, clearly taken aback by the revelation. We both stood there, watching her reaction.

“This… this trash is your wife?” she pointed at me, disdain dripping from her words.

“The next time you point the finger at her will be the last time you have hands,” fear crept onto her face as Lucian issued the chilling threat.

“Go back to your Daddy, Vienna, and give him my regards,” I said firmly. She gave me one last disgusted look before turning away and leaving.

“I don’t need you to intervene in my battles,” I said, turning to face him once we were alone.

“Yeah, you made that perfectly clear a few months ago,” he replied, his tone devoid of emotion.

As our intense gaze lingered, the host’s voice broke the spell. The event was commencing, and everyone was directed to their assigned seats.

Naturally, our table was positioned front and center alongside other alphas.

“You’re quite lovely, my dear,” an elderly woman addressed me. We shared the same table; she was the wife of one of the alphas.

“Thank you, My Lady, you are equally elegant,” I responded with shyness. Her laughter was warm and inviting.

“Are you Alpha Red’s wife?” she inquired. My instinct urged me to deny it, but I couldn’t reveal the truth to this gracious lady, given that Lucian and I were pretending to be a couple for the occasion.

“Yes,” the words felt awkward, leaving my lips. I glanced at Lucian, who was attentively listening to the speaker.

“I remember when I was your age, the first few years of marriage were the sweetest. Treasure it well, dear,” she shared her wisdom. Though I wanted to add that my so-called fake husband had locked me up, I remained silent, feeling guilty for listening to her while knowing the truth.

She offered me plenty of advice on marriage and youth, and despite the awkwardness, I tried to listen. Her guidance seemed genuinely helpful, but I feared I wouldn’t be able to put it to use. I felt like a fake, as she wholeheartedly believed Lucian’s lies.

The atmosphere grew more relaxed once the meal was served, and guests started dancing.

As I observed the couples affectionately dancing together, I couldn’t help but appreciate the sight of these powerful and commanding alphas showing their tender side to their partners. They appeared adorable, and unbeknownst to me, a smile had formed on my face.

Unexpectedly, Lucian extended his hand toward me without a word. My eyes shifted from his hand to his face, finding his gaze familiar. It reminded me of a time before. Without overthinking, I accepted his gesture.

The music turned slow and romantic, and we moved gracefully to the rhythm. His hand rested on my waist while the other held mine. Our eyes locked, and it felt as if he were memorising every detail of my face-every curve, every line, every mole.

And I found myself doing the same, captivated by his timeless handsomeness, similar to a deity descended from Mount Olympus as if Zeus himself had carved him. However, there was a hint of gloom, aura of danger, resentment, and anger in his eyes. That was what he appeared to be in my eyes, and I yearned to uncover the reasons behind this change.

He spun me around gracefully, and I twirled with a smile. I closed my eyes, and it was another arm that received me.