Claiming His Luna

Cercei’s POV

My eyes widened in astonishment as Aunt Melanie presented me with a radiant, square object. Could it be? Is this truly what I think it is?

“I want you to have this,” she gently placed the phone in my hands.

“Auntie,” I uttered softly. Although I was captivated by its charm, I couldn’t bring myself to accept any more gifts. She had already showered me so much.

“Cercei, you need this. In this day and age, communication is paramount, especially since you’re no longer at the mansion. Moreover, it’s essential for your safety,” she said, clasping my hand and putting the device in my palms.

“You’ve already given us more than enough.”

“For all the years we missed, it’s barely a fraction,” I embraced her warmly. I was overwhelmed with gratitude for everything she had done for me since we moved here. It had always been just me, Mamà, and Papà, and when Papà passed away, it felt as though we were the only ones left in the world.

I never considered myself materialistic, but receiving these gifts held significant meaning. Aunt Melanie may not possess vast wealth like the Crescents, but she has managed to establish a comfortable life in the city. Apart from us, she had no family of her own; she had never married nor had children. Before our arrival, she had been alone, tending to her business.

She cherished our presence as much as we did hers. I couldn’t believe Mamà had kept her existence a secret from me. It was evident that Aunt Melanie and Mamà shared a deep bond, their love for each other is real.

During my lunch break, I decided to take a moment to acquaint myself with the phone. I had noticed that Vienna owned a similar device, often either breaking or upgrading to newer models. On the contrary, neither my parents nor I were permitted to possess one due to our roles as servers.

How does one even operate this? I gingerly pressed the small button on the side, and the screen sprang to life, illuminating the room. Ah, so that’s how you switch it on.

When I pressed the button again, the screen turned dark, indicating that the same button could be used to turn the device on or off. Ah, that’s how this one work. I got it.

I switched on the phone once more, and the screen prompted me to swipe, so I did. Suddenly, an array of small icons adorned the display: a camera, settings, photos-so many options to explore.

“What are you doing?” I shrieked as a voice pierced the air from behind me. The shock almost caused me to drop the phone, and I instinctively clutched my chest.

“Jesus!” I exclaimed, only to realise it was Claire, one of the veteran waitresses. She had been working here for quite some time. Her bold tongue and fearless expression of her thoughts reminded me of Maria.

“Oh, you’ve got a new phone?” she inquired.

“Yeah, but I have no clue how to use it,” I admitted, furrowing my brow.

“Who doesn’t know how to use a phone in this day and age?”

“Me?” I replied sheepishly.

She sighed and extended her hand, gesturing for me to pass her the phone. I obliged, and she proceeded to impart some basic knowledge on its usage.

“So, this is the contacts. You save people’s numbers here to text or call them,” she pointed at the icon bearing a telephone logo. I nodded attentively, realising that if I were to remain here, it would be wise to familiarise myself with their way of doing things.

“Watch closely. I’m going to save my number, and then you can call me,” she declared with a confident grin. Claire swiftly entered her number and saved it under her name.

“Now, call me,” she gestured towards the phone, and I stared at her with a perplexed expression.

“Come on, I just taught you this,” she urged, a hint of playful impatience in her voice.

I glanced at my phone, trying to recall the steps she had demonstrated. After a moment’s hesitation, I long-pressed Claire’s name on the screen and tapped the telephone logo that appeared. Suddenly, a ringing sound emanated from her pockets.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, beaming at me and raising her hand for a triumphant high five. Phew! It wasn’t as difficult as I had initially thought.

“Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to strike a pose for the camera,” she giggled.

“Thank you, Claire,” I said sincerely, and she responded with a warm smile, lightly tapping my shoulder.

“By the way, where did you come from? Don’t they have phones there?” she inquired, genuine curiosity twinkling in her eyes.

Aunt Melanie had kept our past a secret, even from her trusted employees. She believed it was for our own safety, in case Monsieur’s men came searching for the two women who had escaped from the mansion.

“We couldn’t afford one, so I never really learned how to use it,” I replied, not entirely a lie but not revealing the entire truth either.

My mother had always warned me never to fully trust anyone here except Aunt Melanie. After everything we had been through, it made sense. We couldn’t allow betrayal to jeopardise our fresh chance for a better life.

I felt a twinge of guilt for withholding the truth from Claire. She seemed kind and genuine, but our safety came first.

After the break, we resumed our duties of serving tables. I was growing accustomed to life here and even found myself enjoying it. I had always believed I loved harmony and tranquillity, never expecting to fall in love with the chaotic and bustling city.

People here led their own lives, and it was a joy to observe them as they went about their day-heading to work, returning home, and pausing for a cup of coffee. They possessed control over their own destinies, free from the burden of concealing a hidden darkness or serving a demanding master.

Their daily battles revolved around survival-earning a living, nourishing themselves, finding moments of rest, seeking love, and embracing moments of joy.

Even after weeks of residing in this city, the dazzling lights continued to mesmerise me. I had grown accustomed to nothing more than the gentle glow of the moon and the serenity of the garden. But here, there were bands, singers, and dancers. Families, couples, and a dynamic energy unfolded differently each day.

Every day held the promise of something new, a stark contrast to the repetitive routine I had experienced for the past 18 years.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

“This place is incredible,” I said to Claire as we sat together on a bench by the lakeside. It was one of the most frequented spots, bustling with people enjoying its beauty.

“Wait until you see what Christmas is like,” she replied, a glint of excitement in her eyes. Christmas was my favourite time of the year. Despite growing up in such an environment, Papà had always managed to make it special for me.

I couldn’t fathom Christmas without him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, noticing the sadness that flooded over my face.

“Nothing, I just miss my Papà,” I confessed.

“Where is he?”

“Gone,” I replied softly, sensing her compassionate gaze on me.

“I’m sorry,” her voice carried a tinge of empathy.

I smiled and shifted the conversation, determined to lift the mood. “You have to show me around during Christmas,” I uttered in a joyous tone. She laughed and nodded in agreement.

“I promise you. You’re going to love it.”

And at this moment, I realised that perhaps I already did.