Ravening

cinderelling

You never should have told the guards that you were bored.

First it was that ridiculous task of cleaning a hallway with a bucket full of mud. Fortunately, Mrs Lucien showed up to at least make the task possible by clearing the water up, but still... it's not like it was fun to spend hours scrubbing the floor.

Honestly you hoped it was a one-time thing to punish you for bothering them...

And now, you were kneeling in a gigantic fireplace in one of the rooms, trying to pick up lentil.

You sighed, almost elbow deep in ash.

What kind of crazy sex party were the guards having here? You wondered.

Whosever this room was, they wouldn't mind if you stuffed some of that cinder in their pillows, would they? Just a few handfuls to grant them some sweet dreams.

Right when you returned to your little ash mounds, the sound of the door opening and a soft gasp made you look up again.

Out of all the fairies here, why was he the one to walk in?

It was Rhysand, still slightly taken aback, but as you watched, he was quick to compose himself.

"Can I help you?" he asked with his usual charming and ice-cold smile.

He was wearing a midnight blue shirt, heavily embroidered with ink satin thread, and tight-fitting black pants. You could hear the master craftsmen crying at his proposal.

"Sure thing. You might want to get changed for that though." 

"..." 

Rhysand looked at you for a while before sighing.  

"What I meant, dear Feyre, was: what are you doing in my fireplace?"

"Oh yeah..." you trailed off, wiping your hands on your thighs. "Apparently, some of the guards were hanging out in your bedroom and spilled lentil in your fireplace." Rhysand raised one perfectly trimmed eyebrow.

"One might question what kind of business they had here, alone, in your room... with so much lentil on their hands."

Wait a second, you thought, could lentil be just a fae euphemism for something? Am I touching said euphemism?!

"It's just lentil," Rhysand who read your mind reassured you.

"Anyway, they asked me for help, so here I am."

"Well, I am grateful for your assistance, but..." A wave of his hand was enough to finish what took you three hours to do. There were still so many little **** hiding in the ash?

Sneakily, you looked towards the bed, your little gift was still there^^

"You can go now," Rhysand shooed you away like a troublesome squirrel.

In reality, he was nervous, now that your mind wasn't boggled by fever, wasn't it the perfect time to realise your hatred for him?

"Hm?"

"Don't you feel sick just being in the same room as me?" Surprise widened your eyes and they once again looked towards the bed.

"I really should, shouldn't I? But I can't."

Rhysand's heart: !!!

"And why is that?"

"Because the guilty one here is me. I have no right to hate you."

"..."

It was clear both through the bond and from your strained face - the self-loathing that was not there before.

No, maybe it was already there when he healed you, but it was forcibly pushed back by your need to survive.

Now, when you were no longer in the danger of dying, the torturous voices found their way into your mind. He knew those voices far too well.

What Rhysand couldn't understand though, was why they were tormenting you. What was the sin that burdened you with guilt? He asked you, gentleness fighting curiosity.  

art: 1950 Cinderella