TIMELESS - An ACOTAR Fanfiction

CHAPTER 16

“A bit windy up here, huh?” Seth commented as he peered down into the city of Velaris below them.

“I suppose you figured that out given that it was named ‘House of Wind’” Zivia snorted.

They were currently on a break after an hour-long session on the training grounds at the top of the house. After a long sip from her jug, Zivia poured the remaining water into a bald patch on her left wing. The feathers that Seth had pulled off during their altercation were already healing and it was starting to get itchy.

“And it’s almost summer, too.” Seth joined her on the bench where she was resting. “I guess I’m too used to Cretea’s weather. Want more water?”

“No, thank you. I’ll put some salve on it later.”

He nodded and downed his water in one gulp. “I’ll go wash then.”

“What? We’re done?”

Zivia and Seth had been sparring since she woke up this morning and although she can already feel the strain on her bones and muscles, she’s still game for more. Cassian and his brutal training games could be blamed for that.

“You sure you wanted to go for a second round?” Seth’s eyes glinted with a spark of challenge.

She knew well that she couldn’t beat Seth in a fight of stamina but she’s ready to take him on. “Yes.” If she wanted to face Koschei again, she has to be prepared. “We need to work on our weak spots.”

“What do you mean 'we'?” Seth leered at her. “I don’t have any weak spots."

Zivia narrowed her eyes at him. “You know that thing that hangs between your legs? Kinda gross looking? Yeah, that’s a weak spot.”

“You know those things that hang from your chest?” he retorted. “Kinda small looking? Yeah, that’s a weak spot.”

“Touché.”

Instead of continuing with the training, they ended up scampering around the city in search for the chocolate shop that Zivia once visited. She had to convince Seth more than once that they weren’t lost and was just talking a leisurely stroll.

After a few more of her ‘detours’, Seth finally snapped and approached a woman carrying a basket to ask where the confectionery is.

“Everybody back home knows how dreadful you are at directions, Ziv,” he said.

“Then why didn’t you ask earlier?”

“I was trying not to hurt your pride.”

Turns out, they were on the completely opposite part of the city to the shop they were looking for. When they finally reached their destination, they were parched and tired they decided to sit down at a nearby saloon to have a proper rest and drink.

It was still a little early in the morning so there weren’t much people out on the street and some of the stores were still boarded up. The sky was partially cloudy, bringing in shade to the city that is very conducive for an early morning stroll and relaxation, and so they chose a table outside the store to fully enjoy the crispness of the morning breeze.

“Reminds you a bit of home, doesn’t it?” remarked Seth, sipping on his freshly brewed coffee.

The aroma brought her back to Cretea. The storefronts reminded her of the buzzing marketplace she frequents back home. From the freshly picked flowers hanging on the windowsills of houses or on the tables of stores, ready to welcome customers with its beauty, to the assortment of goods displayed on every counter from which people can make their purchases for the day – it’s all very similar. In fact, if it weren’t for the unfamiliar faces of the people passing by, she would’ve thought she was spending another regular day back at Cretea.

It looked so peaceful it was hard to believe this place was one of the casualties in the war.

A loud crashing sound pulled Zivia out of her daydream.

“What was that?”

The door of the saloon banged open and out came a lady, clearly dishevelled from a night of drinking. The crown of hair pinned around her head looked like a robin’s nest and stains of wine dripped down her worn-out tunic. She turned to them and Zivia caught her breath.

Even her straggly hair and scruffy clothing couldn’t take away the beauty of her face. And her eyes – they looked so fierce and determined it seemed as though flames of silver were dancing behind her pupils.

The woman turned away and abruptly barrelled down the corner of the street.

“Nesta, wait!”

Another figure came out of the store, clearly in chase after the woman. He stopped short when he noticed Zivia and Seth looking at him from the table, surprise and confusion palpable on their faces.

Cassian stared at them for a second before managing to breathe out a greeting. “Hi.”

“He-llo,” Zivia raised a hand and waved awkwardly.

“Rough night?” asked Seth, giving Cassian a look that is passed only between men.

“No, it wasn’t like that. Its…” The Illyrian struggled to get his words out. “It’s complicated.”

“Hmm,” Seth agreed. “Women.”

Zivia nudged her brother and gave him a silent warning to keep his mouth shut. She then nodded to Cassian and pointed down the alley. “She went that way.”

The Illyrian followed to where she pointed, contemplating whether to follow the woman or stay for a while. He went with the former.

“Couldn’t blame him,” commented Seth after he was gone. “She was pretty.”

“Otherworldly, you mean. Her eyes…” Zivia couldn’t find the right words to describe them. “They were…something.”

“Yeah she is.” Seth tossed the remaining of his drink and stood.

“Where are you going?”

He didn’t even look at her when he answered, “Somewhere. Stay here, it’ll be just in a jiffy.”

“Wait – what? Hey!”

Zivia just had time to finish her second bagel when Seth returned, pulled her into the street and practically dragged her by the hand, giving her no chance to ask questions about where they were going.

*****

“Be careful on that overhang over there.”

“Where?”

“To your left. You might hit your head.”

Zivia carefully stepped away from the slab of stone protruding from the wall in an alley they were in. It was a tight space – just enough for their folded wings to fit through.

“Why are we whispering, though?”

“Shhh.”

She stared at Seth’s back as they trudged the small path. There was an uneven patch on his right wings, close to his shoulder blades, where she had managed to take a handful of his feathers too.

“Where are we going really?”

Instead of giving her an answer, he just shushed her again and motioned for her to keep going. What they’re doing right now looked so suspicious they might as well be creeping into an off-limit area.

Zivia stopped.

“Seth, are we creeping into somebody’s house? We better not be creeping around someone’s house.”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Nope,” Seth looked over his shoulder and grinned. “But to be fair, when have I ever been?”

“Seth!” Zivia hissed. “Father wouldn’t like us to be going around and stirring up trouble in here, especially not as guests of the High Lord.”

“Relax, will you?” He stopped at a corner and pointed. “There.”

Zivia strained to look at where he was pointing, what with Seth’s wings blocking her view. When she finally caught what was on the other side of the alley, she almost stabbed her brother in the gut.

“No, you did not.”

Seth just shrugged like it was no big deal. “I was curious. I just wanted to make sure we don’t have another case like that Mr. ape-man the other day.”

“Cassian isn’t like that,” she countered, although a hint of hesitance crept into her voice. The woman did look like she didn’t want to be followed.

She must have been frowning so hard Seth pinched her nose. “I said relax.”

Zivia couldn’t believe how casual he is about this. She pulled him back so they were both hidden in the nook of the street. “Were you really trying to spy on Cassian? The Illyrian general? Are you trying to get us both killed?” Seth rolled his eyes at her. “If you don’t value your own life, can you at least show some concern for mine?”

“You’re being overly dramatic.”

If only killing somebody for testing the end of your patience was legal.

Zivia was about to drag Seth back home when they heard a door open.

“How many times do I have to tell you to just leave me the hell alone?!”

“Please Nesta. I just – “

The door slammed closed so hard some of its hinges might’ve broken.

Seth and Zivia exchanged looks. They both peered and saw a dismal-looking Cassian pacing infront of the woman’s door.

“He should just leave her be,” said Seth. “Nesta clearly doesn’t fancy him.”

“You don’t know that.”

Zivia doesn’t know how but she could tell that there was something more going between those two, and the Illyrian couldn’t seem to let her go that easily.

“She just told him to leave her alone. He should at least respect that.”

Seth was right. Sometimes you just have to give someone their space alone. Which brings her back to their current situation: they have absolutely no business sticking their noses into somebody else’s personal affairs. They have to go – now.

“Zivia?”

Panic shot through her entire being that it took her a moment to face Cassian, smiling sheepishly at him. “Hii.”

“What are you doing here?”

A thousand lies sprang to her mind but she couldn’t decide which one to use. She looked back at Seth for some help only to find her rotten brother gone.

That pathetic –

“I was just…I,” she stammered. “On my way home, actually.” She flashed her brightest smile, hoping Cassian couldn’t see through her blatant lie. He obviously did, since his brows furrowed.

“The other seraphim’s not with you?”

“You know I was wondering about that too.”

He seemed to think about it. “On your way home, huh.” Cassian looked far into the distance and Zivia followed.

Crap.

Of course, just her luck – the House of Wind was in the opposite direction.

*****

“I don’t even know what to say,” mumbled Zivia, covering her face in embarrassment. “I am truly sorry. It was Seth’s idea. I tried to stop him.”

Cassian chuckled and handed her a bag of bread. She didn’t even have the will to tell him she already had breakfast and a snack.

They were on the rooftop of a building east of the city, which has quite a view of the mountains and the river beyond. She didn’t exactly know why there were there as she only followed the Illyrian when they left that alley. It didn’t feel right to just leave after what happened – not when she was caught red-handed spying on him.

So when he told her to wait on the top of some tower, she did, and despite being full, she nibbled on the loaf he gave her. Her only consolation was that Cassian doesn’t look mad about it all. He propped down beside her and took a long sip from his mead.

“Isn’t it too early to get drunk?” she commented.

Cassian grinned at her and raised his cup in a toast. “In Night Court, it is never too early to get wasted.”

Zivia frowned. She was a bit confused. “Are you…okay?”

“Yes.” He paused. “No. A bit.”

That just confused her more. “Do you want to talk about it?”

The Illyrian turned to her, his gaze unreadable.

“Sorry,” Zivia quickly apologized. “If you don’t want to, it’s perfectly fine. It’s not any of my business anyway.”

“Tell me, Zivia.”

“Yes?”

“Why are women so complicated?”

She looked around, hoping to get some answers. “I’m not sure myself.”

It’s definitely a love problem going on with him. She wished she could do more to help him, but given her paltry experience with regards to the matter of the heart, the last thing she should be doing is giving pieces of love advice.

Funny, ‘coz she just did that with Mor, didn’t she? Oh well.

“The woman',” she began. “Nesta, right?”

Cassian nodded. “Feyre’s older sister.”

Oh. So that’s why the name sounded familiar.

“You care for her a great deal more than you could admit.”

He was staring deeply into his cup, wisps of his hair flying around his solemn face. “Was it that obvious?”

“Considering the fact that you chased after her back to her home and stayed even after she slammed the door in your face? Nope. Not a bit.”

He laughed then; a short but warm laugh. He finished his drink and set the cup down, longingly staring into the horizon the way he longingly wished for Nesta to open that door for him.

“Did you two have a quarrel?”

“Not exactly.”

The cloud parted, temporarily basking them in sunlight. Zivia spread her wings a little to allow some of it to shine on the bald patches caused by Seth.

“What happened to your wings?”

“Oh, these? Seth and I had a bit of a tiff.” She tried reaching into a particularly tingly spot but she just couldn’t quite get to it. “Sorry, but can you pull that dangling feather off? It’s moulted anyway.”

Cassian appeared mortified by her request, as if letting him touch her wings was such a grave offense.

It wasn’t until she remembered how different their ‘wing culture’ is, especially when it comes to their sensitivity, that she understood his hesitation.

“Oh right,” she said. “It’s not like that with ours. Sorry to confuse you.” She had to bend awkwardly in order to reach the annoying feather herself. “Got it, ha!” She waved the feather infront of them. “Do you have any idea how itchy it gets when they grow back? I should’ve pulled more of Seth’s to make it even.”

“Wait,” interrupted Cassian. “They grow back?”

“What, you actually thought they don’t?”

He shrugged his featherless black wings as if to say ‘Haven’t got any feathers. How would I know?’

They stayed quiet for a while.

The sun went back to hiding beneath the clouds once more and the shadow they cast seemed to pull back Cassian into his gloomy affair as well. “I might’ve done something that might permanently severe what’s left of whatever this is between us, if there’s any.”

“Why, what did you do?”

He went to tell her about Nesta’s circumstances and how he feared that Rhysand and Feyre might send her far away, so despite his reluctance, he suggested she go to the Illyrian mountains with him even though he knows well she didn’t want to.

“I know it’s not the best option but – ” He threw his head back, defeated. “What choice do I have? I couldn’t just leave her to deal with this on her own and I don’t want her to be taken away from me either.”

By what the general told her, Nesta is definitely in need of help. But them insisting a decision about what to do with her really isn’t helping the case.

“Why not consider giving her a chance at her own choice?” Zivia said. “You can’t make those decisions on her behalf. Let her find time for herself and offer all the support that you can to her.”

She faced Cassian and tried to put as much compassion as she can into her words. “She’s healing. And it’s not easy especially since its way more than just a physical adjustment for her. She’s still getting used to her new life and the losses she had to endure – I’m sure you know how hard it is for her.”

“That’s why I don’t want her to go through it alone.”

Zivia totally understands where he is coming from, but people deal with trauma differently. They don’t even know if Nesta needed them to become better.
“Maybe you just have to let her be for a moment. You making her choices for her isn’t gonna help. You might as well have hammered the last nail on her coffin and wait if she would break free or rot.”

Okay, that last bit didn’t come out right.

The Illyrian looked like he was about to rot himself.

“What I’m trying to say is don’t push her too much. Just…be there. Let her know that you’re not forcing her to accept your help, that you’re always there willing to lend a hand should she ever stumble and needed somebody to help her up.”

“What if she doesn’t let me?”

“Give her space. She’ll come to you eventually, when she needs to.”

“How am I supposed to know that?”

Zivia smiled at him. “You will, trust me. You just have to be patient.”

Cassian let out a long sigh, trying to absorb all of Zivia’s words.

How stupid he had been. Now that he got this chance to see Nesta in a different perspective than what the others are trying to make him see, he realized all the things he had done that might have made it worse for her. Guilt built up on his chest like lead pulling him down to the ground. He wanted to go back and apologize. But first, he had to have a talk with Feyre.

With his newfound resolve, he took Zivia by the shoulders and regarded her with relief. “You are a Cauldron’s blessing. Thank you so much. I owe you this one.”

“Uhh, you don’t have to?” Zivia wasn’t sure what to say. “Just helping a friend out. So, where you off to now? Surely you don’t plan on going back to harassing Nesta again?”

He made a face at her and nodded towards the river. “I’m going to the estate. I have something to discuss with Rhys and Feyre.”

“I think father’s there too. I’ll go with you.”

While on air, Cassian made a comment on how it was so easy opening up to her and how good she was at it. “No wonder Az is perky around you.”

She stiffened at the mention of the shadowsinger’s name, almost forgetting that she was flying.

“He just seems different around you altogether, to be honest.” The Illyrian glanced at her, gauging her reaction.

Zivia tried to brush it off casually. “How so?”

“Have you noticed how talkative he got?”

“Can’t say I have,” she shrugged.

“He smiles a lot and laughs a lot too.” Cassian was shaking his head like it was a miracle.

“What? He doesn’t do that with you guys?”

“Rarely. He always looks like he’s about ready to kill anyone.”

“Or maybe thinking about lunch?”

“Exactly! With that eternal frown of his, you just couldn’t tell.” Cassian scratched his chin as if thinking. “The last time he was this lively, as I recall, was when he was assigned by Rhys to discipline a few of the Illyrians who went rogue. I’ve never seen some of them again after that.”

“Should I be worried?”

They both laughed.

They were flying a bit lower that Zivia could practically reach out and touch the roof of several houses. Some of the citizens were looking at them as they passed by and she waved to back to some of the children.

“What are you doing for him to act like that?” she wondered out loud.

“Well, there’s me and Rhys to begin with.”

“I can see that.”

He squinted at her as if waiting for her to deny it, then gave up and nodded to himself.

The estate is now in view and they both started to slow down. A flock of birds was flying alongside them, most likely headed to the swamp near the manor.

“What I want to tell you,” Cassian continued. His words were spoken softly it was a bit of a struggle to hear them over the wind. “Is I can see him getting comfortable around you and letting his guard down a bit, which is totally a good thing. You bring out his emotions, and I think that he – ”

Zivia was lost in thoughts by what Cassian was saying that she didn’t notice she had swerved right into the cluster of geese. She tried to avoid it with a last-minute maneuver but it was too late.

It was a mess of feathers and beaks – the geese were honking and clucking at her, feeling threatened. A few others were knocked out of the sky by the impact of the collision and one had nipped her on the face, drawing a thin line of blood on her cheek. After a minute of struggling, she finally managed to get her bearing and get out of the mess.

“Are you okay?” Cassian was close to laughing.

“Fine,” she muttered.

They landed near the patio of the estate where Rhysand and Drakon were gathered.

“Zivia,” Drakon greeted. “What are you doing here?”

She scowled at him and looked him up and down. “You own this place?”

As if she forgot what he did last night.

Her father stammered and frowned at her. “What happened?” He reached and pulled a feather out of her hair. “Did you and Seth had a go at it again?”

“That’s not mine,” she grumbled.

“She collided with a flock of geese while we were flying here,” stepped in Cassian.

“What?”

She ignored her father and went to get some bandage inside for her scratch. She was almost at the door when it opened and Seth came out holding a tray and a teapot.

“Zivvy!” he grinned. “What happened to you?”

Feyre gasped behind him and pushed Seth aside to reach her. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” she assured the High Lady. “Just a little scratch. Do you have some bandage I could use?”

“Yes, of course.

She escorted her inside. As she passed by Seth, she took a piece of treat from the tray and pointed it at him menacingly. “You stupid son of a witch, we’re not done.”

“Are you threatening me with a cookie?” he just chuckled and continued on his way out.

After getting her wound cleaned and dressed, she and Feyre joined the others outside.

“Hopefully,” Rhysand was saying. “Thesan would agree to hold council at his court again.”

“What about Beron?” asked Cassian over a mouthful of biscuit. “After his epic participation in the previous battle, I highly doubt he’d be keen to take part on this one.”

The High Lord seemed to ponder over that. “His son Eris would be no better to ask.” He turned back to his general. “Any word on the Illyrian army and the darkbringers?”

Darkness descended over Cassian’s features. He dusted off the crumbs on his armour and poured himself a cup of tea. “The army and Keir are not very participating for another possible war.”

War. Zivia didn’t like that word.

“I fear they might be plotting for a likely uprising.”

Rhysand shook his head. “We don’t have time for that.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Cassian continued. “Both armies incurred significant losses in the battle and are still recovering as much as we are. Trying to push them into another bloodshed might not end well especially for us.”

“Not to mention Keir still holding me out on that bargain.”

“They’re our subjects,” Feyre interjected. “They just have to do as we command. This is part of our fight for peace and freedom among humans and fae. We have to win this war, whatever it takes.”

Zivia met Seth’s gaze across the table. “Is war really that inevitable?”

She knew the chance of resolving the issue in a death-less manner is very slim, but she had to ask anyway. One look at their faces gave her the answer she didn’t want.
Of course war is inevitable.

They are going to have to face an immortal and Zivia should know better than anyone what it would take to be able to defeat him.

“If the other courts wouldn’t join,” Rhysand said. “And my own army can’t be persuaded, then we’ll going to have to do this on our own.”

Feyre and Cassian nodded, sharing the steel determination of their High Lord.

“I appreciate the enthusiasm, Rhys,” declared Drakon. “But we’re going to need all the help that we can get if we’re to win this. Koschei is an ancient god and his powers are beyond what we’ve seen before. It will not be easy.”

As much as Zivia didn’t want to admit it, her father was right. “But if Uncle Rhys is the most powerful High Lord of Prythian, then maybe…”

She wasn’t able to finish her sentence. She trailed off when she saw the High Lord lower his head, avoiding meeting her eyes.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Zivia but,” Rhysand paused, clenching his jaw as if straining to speak out. He finally raised his head and looked at her dead in the eye.
“I no longer hold that title.”