#it feels like yesterday when I watched him in cinderella chef

[movielosophy]

Are You Safe? Zhou You is too excited to go on mission with Xiao Huai Huai

[aelin-and-feyre]

Ten Minutes Ago (Part 6)

Feysand - Cinderella au

Fic Masterlist

I miss Cassian and Feyre’s friendship, they’re so pure

Feyre is once again walking the halls of the palace, and once again late for the ball. The Suriel dressed her in a gold gown this time, even more grand than the night before, with the same glass slippers and the same midnight warning. She also placed the disguising spell to shield her from the Hyberns.

As Feyre tries unsuccessfully to find the ballroom, she begins to panic, walking faster and faster until she turns a corner and -

“Oof!” She grunts as she runs into a large body. Stumbling back, Feyre almost falls before two strong hands catch her by the arms and steady her.

“Careful,” a deep voice says and Feyre looks up to see a handsomely ruggish face framed with dark hair—Captain Cassian.

Feyre can not believe the bad luck she’s having. “Oh my, sir, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going, please forgive me,” she rambles, lowering into a deep curtsy and bowing her head in respect.

“Hey,” Cassian calls and she looks up, straightening from the curtsy and adjusting her dress. “It’s okay, I ran into you too. No harm done.” Feyre gets a closer look at the man. He is much taller that her, with long, dark brown hair and hazel eyes. He looks very strong but also intelligent and overall incredibly handsome. The Captain then seems to get a closer look at her as well. “Wait, you’re her. You’re the mystery princess!”

Feyre blushes at the nickname and nods slowly. “I guess that’s what people are calling me now.”

“Yeah, because we don’t know who you really are, not even Rhys!” Feyre feels her blush deepen at the mention of the prince. “Who are you anyway?”

Oh no. It had been hard enough to disobey a direct question from the prince, but from the Captain it seems almost impossible. Feyre knows she can’t tell him. “I-I’d rather not say if that’s alright, but Rhys calls me Clare.”

“So he let’s you call him Rhys?” Cassian raises an eyebrow and Feyre gasps, covering her mouth in shame.

“I’m sorry, it just slipped out! I know it’s not right but he said last night-“

Cassian coughs and she snaps her mouth shut, clenching her skirts to keep her hands from fidgeting. “It’s okay. If he says you can call him Rhys, by all means, call him Rhys. I’ll even let you call me Cassian.”

Feyre shakes her head vigorously this time, having an odd sense of deja vu. “No, I can’t do that, you’re the Captain and I’m-“

“The mystery princess?” Cassian reminds. “Look, my prince likes you, and that means I like you, and that means we’re friends—and my friends call me Cassian. Okay?”

“Okay,” Feyre nods meekly, then remembers why she had ran into Cassian in the first place. “Cassian, would you show me the way to the ballroom? If I’m allowed to be there that is…” Feyre realizes that if he asks to see her invitation, she won’t be able to give him one, and he could throw her out on the street.

“Of course you’re allowed, Rhys in dying to dance with you.” He offers his elbow to Feyre and she takes his arm hesitantly. “But I’ll take you around the back entrance so you don’t attract too much attention. I have a feeling you don’t like that.”

Feyre smiles and nods again, feeling like she might like having Cassian as a friend. “You’re right, thank you.” They walk through the hallways arm in arm and pass maids and guards and cooks, all of whom look at them in wonder.

“They looked at me like that when I walked with Rhys,” Feyre tells the Captain. “Why do they look so surprised?”

Cassian takes a deep breath as if bracing himself for what he is about to say. “We rarely have woman in the palace anymore, besides the maids of course, but most of the High Lord’s ambassadors are male. When the Consort was alive, she had women coming in and out at all times, throwing huge evening parties and afternoon gatherings. But now, seeing a woman in the halls, more importantly a woman with one of the royals… it’s odd.”

Feyre nods in understanding. When her father had been alive, Amarantha had hosted huge galas, inviting merchants and noble men from all over. Now, if one of her sisters were to bring a man home, Feyre would be surprised too.

“Yeah, I guess I would find that weird too.” Cassian smiles at Feyre as they near the ballroom. Feyre hears soft music from inside and knows that she is later than she was yesterday. When they reach the door, Feyre braces herself for seeing Rhys dancing with another girl.

However, when Cassian actually opens the door, Feyre is not prepared to seeing Rhys surrounded by beautiful ladies. He is smiling and laughing, shaking their hands and nodding. Feyre feels her heart deflate. He probably didn’t even think she would come tonight so he moved on. And so easily too.

Cassian puts his arm around her back and begins walking forward but two guards step in front of them before she can step across the threshold. “What are you doing?” Cassian asks and a look of uncertainty crosses the guards faces before resuming their stern demeanor.

“High Lord’s orders; no one gets in without an invitation,” the guard turns to Feyre, “Can I please see your invitation.”

Feyre doesn’t have an invitation. She doesn’t know what she had been thinking. Why would the High Lord let an uninvited guest into his party twice? Before she can try to make up an excuse, Cassian speaks up. “I’m with her, I believe that is invitation enough.”

The guards shake their heads resolutely as Feyre looks up at him in surprise. “I’m sorry, sir, His Majesty’s orders trump yours.”

Feyre can tell that Cassian is getting mad so she detaches herself from his arm and steps away. “It’s okay, Captain, they’re right, I don’t have an invitation. Besides,” she glances back towards Rhys. “My reason for being here is otherwise occupied.”

Cassian follows her line of sight and he looks like he wants to say something more but Feyre shakes her head, setting a hand on his arm. “Thank you for talking with me, but I should probably get going.”

The guards nod and Feyre turns around. She gets a few feet away when she feels a hand on her arm again. “Clare, wait,” Cassian says, catching up with her pace easily. “I’m sorry about the High Lord, he’s stressed and probably not thinking straight.”

Feyre shakes her head. “No, don’t apologize for him. It’s right that he should monitor who comes into his home.”

“But its Rhys’s birthday,” Cassian insists, “and he wants you here.”

Feyre shakes her head but doesn’t look at the young man. “I don’t think so anymore. After I ran out like that yesterday, it was foolish of me to think he wanted to see me again.”  

Cassian shakes his head and laughs. “You have no idea the effect you’ve had on him,” he mumbles in disbelief.

Feyre lets herself blush a little but continues to walk back the way they’d come. “Well then that effect is not working tonight, another girls’ is. I’ll just be on my way. My ten minutes of love is over.”

Cassian contemplates her words and finally takes her hand in his. “At least hang out with me for a little while, it’d be a shame to see you leave so soon.”

Feyre looks at him in confusion, then down to their joined hands. The young Captain is nice, handsome, and interesting but she doesn’t like him that way, she likes Rhys and she thought that was obvious. Cassian seems to notice the look on her face and immediately withdraws his hand. “Not in that way,” he assures. “I would never steal a girl from Rhys. I value my life too much.” Feyre relaxes and even manages a laugh. “No, I was just hoping we could hang out, you seem pretty cool and I hate dances like this anyway.”

Feyre smiles, half relieved she doesn’t have to go home so soon and waste this beautiful dress. She loops her arm through his own again. The music gradually fades away as they walk and Feyre can’t help but wonder where they’re going.

Before she can ask though, a blonde heads pops out of a doorway on the right. “Captain Cassian,” she glances from Cassian to Feyre, her eyes wide. “Why aren’t you at the ball? Is something wrong?”

Cassian smiles at her and puts his arm around Feyre’s shoulders again. “No, nothing’s wrong, I am just getting peckish, and for something other than roast lamb and tiny hor’devours. Not that I’m not sure Nuala and Cerridwen made it fabulously,” he adds as an after thought.

The girl comes out from the doorway, another woman trailing curiously behind her. A group of servers bustle around and Feyre tries her best to stay out of their way. Both women look at Feyre wonderingly.

“Who are you?” The smaller, dark haired one asks, not unkindly, but not nicely either.

Cassian startles. “Oh, my manners,” he mutters, “Mor, Amren, this is…” He trails off, not sure what to tell them and looks at Feyre for help.

“Clare,” she supplies, smiling at the girls.

Their eyes widened again and they turn to Cassian. “Is she…?” The first girl, Mor, trails off, glancing to Feyre with a look she can not identify.

Cassian nods and smiles. “Yep, our own Rhys’ dream girl actually came back. You owe me ten dollars.”

Feyre is officially confused. “What are you talking about?”

Another group of butlers and maids pass them with trays full of tiny foods that all smell delicious. Feyre feels her stomach rumble but resists the urge to reach out and shove a sample into her mouth.

Amren dodges a tray of cheeses and grumbles, grabbing Mor’s wrist to stop her from running into a male holding a covered platter. “Come into the kitchen and talk. Nuala will also fix the Captain something to eat because he’s too good for her original dishes,” the blonde says jokingly and leads them back through the door they came out of.

Another door at the other end of the huge kitchen has servants traveling through, then waiting with open arms for the next tray of food. Dozens of cooks, bakers, and chefs methodically move around the kitchen appliances to mix, chop, heat, and frost different foods. Two dark-haired women travel among them silently and swiftly, tasting each dish and murmuring different orders to eat person.

It should be chaos but instead, it’s beautiful, like a well oiled machine, they all know what they are supposed to do.

It also smells absolutely delectable and Feyre’s mouth is watering. When one of the woman in charge spots them, she mutters one last order to a sous chef and comes over to them.

“Captain,” she greets Cassian. “What can I do for you?” Her face is solemn and serious, although Feyre can’t help but feel that she is a genuinely kind and caring person.

“I’m just bringing Clare to get some food,��� Cassian explains and the woman turns to Feyre, confusion crossing her face as she takes in the elegant dress, glass slippers, and Captain beside her.

“There’s not enough food in the ballroom?” She questions Feyre, sounding genuinely curious.

Feyre shrugs pathetically. “I’m not allowed in.” The cook turns to Cassian and they hold a silent conversation before she turns back to Feyre, a small smile on her face.

“Well, Clare, it is a pleasure to meet you. I’m Nuala, my sister Cerridwen is over there,” she nudges her head in the direction of the other woman at the opposite end of the kitchen. As if she can hear them over the noise, Cerridwen raises a hand and waves slightly. “We’re the head cooks at the palace. I would shake your hand but I’m covered in flour and won’t risk ruining your gorgeous gown.” She curtsies shortly and begins to bustle Feyre away from the mess around them. Feyre halts them both and places her gloved hands on Nuala’s cold, flour-crusted ones.

“It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Nuala. Please, I care very little for how this dress will look by the end of the night so get it dirty. In fact,” Feyre glances around. “is there any way I can help?” All four of her companions look at her in disbelief but Feyre doesn’t care.

Something about this woman is so kind and genuine that Feyre can’t help but feel comfortable around her. The dress will disappear in a couple hours and Feyre does love to cook so she will be happy to assist. She wishes she could be completely honest with Nuala for some reason but knows that it could have dire consequences.

Nuala considers her for a moment thoughtfully, scanning over Feyre’s face and then replies, “No, that won’t be necessary—trust me I have enough help. Captain Cassian said that you were hungry….” she rushes away, whispering more orders and stealthily snatching things from the counters.

Feyre’s hands flutter about, trying to figure out if she really can help when she remembers an earlier question. “What do you owe Cassian ten dollars for?” Feyre asks the girls who are now looking at her with a new expression, much like the cook’s.

Amren’s eyes narrow. “Captain Cassian…” she trails off, looking at something behind Feyre. She turns to see Cassian shaking his head at Amren. The girl purses her lips. “Okay… anyway, after you fled last night and Prince Rhys was freaking out, we made bets on whether you would come back or not. Captain Cassian said that you would and Mor and I said you wouldn’t but,” she gestures towards Feyre, “here you are.”

Unfortunately, this clears up nothing for Feyre. “Rhys was freaking out? Why?”

Mor and Amren looked at each other and the former bursts out laughing. When she realizes no one else is joining in, Mor sobers and looks at Feyre, wide eyed. “Wait, you’re serious?”

Cassian decides to interject, “I know, right? She doesn’t even get it. Rhys told me what you two talked about last night y’know,” Cassian tells Feyre and she blushes. “Why do you have to ask something like that after what happened?”

“But that’s the thing,” Feyre insists. “What did happen? Because nothing last night felt real. I’m so confused by what he said because surely he couldn’t actually mean any of it right? And why would he anyway? And the archway looked surreal and the dancing and the dress and Rhys–”

Feyre cuts off too late as she realizes what she is saying. Mor looks at her in disbelief, Amren with a bored eyebrow raised, while Cassian just smirks. Nuala comes back then, carrying a plate stacked with hot food in her hands.  

“Here you go, chicken, potatoes, bread, cheese, fruit, and dessert. Would you like anything else, Clare?”

Feyre looks at the plate of food and gingerly takes it from the woman, glancing up to Nuala with tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispers and the cook’s eyes softened considerably.

Wordlessly, Nuala guides her away, towards the back where a small table sits. The other three trail slowly behind them, bewildered that a girl in a glittered and golden gown is moved to tears by a plate of food.

Feyre sets the plate down and hesitantly sits to eat. Nuala stands by while she takes the first few bites but is soon swept away and Feyre is left in the care of the young Captain and the girls.

Cassian sits down beside her and places a hand on Feyre’s back. Tears are slowly and silently falling down her cheeks as she eats the absolutely delectable food. She hasn’t eaten like this in years.

“Who are you,” Cassian asks quietly as Mor hands Feyre a napkin.

Feyre wipes her eyes with it and sets the fork down, already full after only a few bites. Her stomach is small from malnutrition and more tears fall as she realizes she can’t eat all of the food.

“I-I can’t tell you,” she sputters. Mor reaches across the table grab her hand in comfort.

“Why not?” Cassian demands. “Has someone forbidden you? Were you threatened? Are you a criminal?” There is no harshness in Cassian’s words, only understanding—like if she were any of those things it wouldn’t be a big deal.

Feyre wants to tell them so badly, wants to explain who her mother is and that she is only a servant in her own house. But she can’t, there is no telling what would happen to her if they knew and she can’t take that chance.

Feyre shakes her head again and lets it fall into her hands, shaking as she sobs.

...

Rhys is done. He can’t stand these pestering girls any longer. “Excuse me ladies, I cannot talk anymore, I have someone to find.” He can practically feel their emotions—hurt, anger, despair—but also can’t find it in him to care.

He sent Cassian away over two hours ago, had to dance with six insufferable girls in the meantime and was touched all over by different maidens, none of which being the one maiden he wished to touch. Just to hold Clare right now would soothe him, but she is still nowhere to be found.

“Have you seen the girl I danced with last night?” Rhys asks his father.

The High Lord looks up at him, confused. “Well I would suppose I wouldn’t considering…”

“Considering what?” Rhys is getting inpatient.

“Well, I told the guards not to let anyone in who didn’t have an invitation,” his father explains and might have been about to continue but Rhys is already stalking away, fuming.

He pushes through the crowd, not paying attention to any girl as he marches out. Turning to the guards at the door, he questions, “Have you seen the girl from last night?”

“Which girl, Your Highness?”

“Oh, you very well know which girl, Keir,” Rhys accuses one of his least favorite guards. Then he turns to the other, a much more agreeable female guard. “Where is she?” He demands once again.

The woman shrugs. “She and the Captain tried to enter over an hour ago, but we couldn’t let them in, High Lord’s orders. She said she should go and they left together.”

Rhys doesn’t listen to any more, rushing off again in the direction he hopes Cassian would have taken her. He can not believe what his father had done, but he will deal with that later. For now, he has to find Clare.

Reaching the kitchen, he walks straight in, the servants giving him a wide berth. “Cerridwen, has the girl from last night come in here?”

The cook is about to respond when a gasp comes from the other side of the room. Rhys turns his head to find Clare, sitting at a table with Cassian,  Mor, and Amren. Her eyes are bright red and tears streak down her face, fear and relief both mingling there.

Rhys feels both his heart melt and set aflame at the same time, wanting to comfort the girl but also wanting to punish whoever caused her to cry in the first place. He runs to her, the cooks and bakers creating a path for him.

When he reaches her, he goes down on his knees and places his hands on her cheeks. Her eyes close as she melts into his hold. “Rhys.”

Masterlist 

[elle-stevens]

The Break Up Blog - Day Sixteen

It’s weird, but I actually had to count how many post-break up days I’m up to now.

Does that mean I’m actually moving on? Or maybe my memory’s getting more appalling with age.

Work was fine today, only two classes all day long. My colleague, PE’s wife, GR, came to drop off some papers for him at work and C, CI and I ended up chatting to her for nearly 2 hours. Maybe not the most productive time at work, but at least I had fun. My fourth grade boys were rowdy as per usual with SB at the forefront of all the chaos having a lovely sulk at not getting his way in class yet again. I do feel bad that most of the problem stems from my shitty Korean and Chinese speaking skills; but other children experiencing language barriers find healthier ways to channel their frustrations. Maybe I’m just old-fashioned, but a spank on the bottom from my parents honestly did me the world of good over time and gave me a healthy respect for my elders, something most modern children severely lack. I would love to say that all of this drama at work actually upset me; but sadly, it just doesn’t anymore. I guess it’s because I already know that I won’t be extending my contract even if my school asks me to. They can find someone else to babysit children for 8 hours a day and call it ‘teaching’.

I have another potential interview lined up on Saturday for another Chinese training center where I might be able to teach classes for two hours every Saturday. And the woman who set up the meeting even sent me some cash on Wechat for a taxi ride. I was unexpectedly touched by that gesture because no one ever does that for a person they potentially want to hire for a job. That’s ok with me because I was going to find my own way to the place. Still, the fact that a complete stranger did something nice for me lifted my spirits in unimaginable ways. I guess I’ve grown used to people I know being shitty to me lately and accepting that as the status quo, which is kind of sad. When did most people stop being decent human beings? Maybe all of this technology at our disposal in the modern world has only served to put up more barriers between us. It’s like G always tells me: I need to be purposely grateful for what I have and find the good in people and things again.

In light of breaking up with X, I really thought that I would shun everything to do with love and romance, including my penchant for cute and fluffy movies and dramas. If anything, I find myself clinging stubbornly to the notion that despite my string of bad luck, love is still a beautiful and wondrous thing. I guess I’ve always liked living vicariously through other people’s happiness, long before I found and lost love a few times over the years. I feel sad when people, real or fictional, are about to fall out of love with each other. Love is such a precious gift; if I could go back in time and retrieve every piece of those feelings I squandered away so recklessly, I would do it every time. Despite how many times I get hurt, I would never choose to not feel anything.

It’s funny how happy memories of X always hit me when I least expect it. The way her hair curls at the ends when it’s wet after she’s had a swim; the way she snorts at the end of a good laugh; the cheap mood rings I bought which served as our first set of couple rings when neither of us had that much money to spend on each other; the goofy look of adoration she’d get on her face when she looked at me that let me know how much she loved me. When the memories hit me, they sting and tear through my insides. That’s when I have to figuratively squint through the pain and turn my thoughts elsewhere, if only for a while.

Life is moving so quickly already and a part of me feels reluctant to leave X behind. She was such a big part of my life for three years; soon, we’ll both become wayward reminders of a simpler and happier time that can never be repeated. My friend D told me yesterday that I shouldn’t try to deny whatever feelings I have for X and just let myself be, so I’m trying to do that without overindulging in sentimentality.

I bumped into my friend and colleague, J, at the gym earlier, which was nice. She’s thinking of getting a membership. It would be nice if she did, then maybe we could hang out more outside of work. But it’s ok if she doesn’t. I’m slowly learning to give up my expectations for other people, even my platonic friends. After what happened, I don’t want to need anyone for anything, not even the little things like having another friendly face in a familiar place. I want to want people around me, but still be ok when I happy to be alone.

My workout was good tonight, but it still left me in an exhausted ball of sweat. My body hurts from all the strenuous exercise, but this is a pain I can endure and even enjoy in small spurts. I’ve never been good at dealing with emotional pain. I only want fluffy clouds and silly jokes from here on out. The uglier side of human nature and self-interest that I keep seeing these days makes my stomach turn. I’m beginning to realise that I feel true hatred for dishonest people. I can only deal with people when I know exactly who I’m dealing with, even if those people are vile and putrid in bodily form. I don’t like people who hide behind pretty lies.

X really did a number on me and it’s probably going to take a while before I make my peace with dishonest people. It probably stems from my complicated relationship with my mother who uses lies to not deal with her own unresolved childhood issues. I swore I’d never date anyone who resembled my mother in any form.

And then I met X.

I always seem to learn the most important lessons of my life after I’ve fallen flat on my face and knocked the wind out of my proverbial sails. I just hope that I’ll continue picking myself up and dusting myself off each time it happens.

I’m rambling now; I must be more tired than I realised. I’m going to a bar for ‘Ladies Night’ with C and some other friends tomorrow evening after work. SH agreed to let me do a Skype interview with him on Friday evening after work for his school, which I hope will go well. I don’t really like filling my schedule up like this since it makes me yearn for my ‘me time’. But maybe keeping busy will be enough to help me breathe life into my weary bones and to rely less on what I used to have with X to validate myself.

I’m going to eat a snack and watch more ‘Cinderella Chef’ before turning in for bed. A lot of bad shit happened in that drama, but even the main characters seem to be forging a new path for themselves in the hopes that they can get past the tragedies that wrecked havoc on their lives.

Just maybe, I might be able to do the same too.