TIMELESS - An ACOTAR Fanfiction

CHAPTER 17

Zivia was watching Elain paint plant pots in her garden with the materials she borrowed from her sister. She had volunteered to help her seeing that she had nothing else to do for that day.

Word has been sent to the High Lords a few days ago and they were still waiting for their replies regarding the council meeting. Earlier that morning, when she woke up, Seth and her father were gone so she went to the estate assuming she’d see them there. Elain was the only one who greeted her.

“Where are the others?” she asked.

“Feyre went with the High Lord and Cassian to the Hewn City,” Elain replied.

Her hands were full with brushes and paints. Zivia offered help and took the cans of pigment from her before she could spill any of it on her tunic. As they walked towards the garden, she learned that Drakon had also been here and went out with Seth and Azriel although she wasn’t sure where’d they gone to. That leaves the two of them alone on the estate.

As she mixed the different dyes on a small pot, she was reminded of the conversation here not too long ago. Her father stood beside her, twirling a stem of thorned rose he plucked from the vines around the fountain. It was just after the High Lord had dropped that bomb of an information to her.

“During the war with Hybern,” Rhysand explained, “Feyre and I had to fix the Cauldron. We had to give some of our powers in order to put it back together.” He glanced at his mate woefully. “It took more than what we could give, and I had to make a sacrifice.”

“Don’t get it the wrong way,” Drakon told her, “Rhys is still strong, just not as he used to be.”

A small price to pay for saving their world, Zivia thought.

But still, it must have been difficult for them.

“Zivia?”

Elain’s voice brought her back to the present.

The way she was looking at her expectantly meant she must have asked her a question.

“Sorry, what was that?”

She raised a dome-shaped pot with decorative holes painted in yellow. “What do you think goes with this one?”

“Oh, uhm,” Zivia looked down at the paint she was mixing. “I think turquoise would look great on that.” She added some green paint and kept stirring until the mixture achieved the perfect shade, then handed the container to Elain. “Here.”

They spent the better half of the morning replanting and painting pots and redesigning the south corner of the garden. It wasn’t until noon that they decided to take a break when Mor arrived, expecting to join them for lunch. Elain excused herself and told them to wait as she prepared food in the kitchen. Both offered to help but she insisted and said she can manage.

“Where’s the rest of the party?” asked Mor when Elain was gone.

“Feyre and the High Lord went to the Hewn city with Cassian,” said Zivia as she wiped her hands clean on a rag. “My father, I don’t know where they went.”

“Drakon’s here?”

“Yeah, those suckers.” Zivia gritted her teeth. “They were gone when I woke up this morning. Didn’t even left a note.”

“Sounds like something he would do,” Morrigan chuckled. “Anyway, how have you been?”

“I should be asking you that.”

Nobody had seen the Night Court’s third-in-command for a while and everyone had the same speculation as to why she hadn’t made a visit to them yet.

“Her work at the continent must have been too hectic for her to have time for a leisurely drop by,” said Feyre.

But Zivia knew better. Although the last time she saw Mor at the Starfall, which was weeks past, she was sure that she had been back to Prythian a few times without letting them know.

“I was with Briar.”

Of course.

That was something else Zivia knew that the others didn’t. Mor’s mortal lover who she had kept secret from her friends, and has been living with her at her another secret mansion far from the court.

“The others were getting worried about you,” Zivia said. “Especially Azriel. Athelwood’s not that far, maybe you could show yourself once in a while.”

Mor wasn’t looking at her, as if intentionally. She was busy admiring the flowers around the garden and making remarks on the pots they were painting. When she turned to her and their eyes met, Zivia held her gaze.

“You’re hiding something.”

Mor didn’t look away. The corner of her mouth curved into a smirk and she shrugged. “You’re as sharp as ever.”

“You’re just too easy to read.”

They both laughed. Then Mor sat at the edge of the fountain, looking around to make sure they were truly alone. “I was with Briar at the mortal lands.”

Now that’s something she didn’t know – nor expected.

“What? But I thought there were inter-territorial laws regarding crossings. Does the High Lord know? Does Jurian? He’s in charge of the mortal lands, right?”

“Nobody knows – except you.” Mor’s expression was hard. “Briar, she didn’t feel safe going back to the estate and I had to be with her. I feel the same sentiment about her being in the mortal land, especially with that foolish Jurian overseeing it.”

“What if they caught you?”

“They won’t.” Her expression turned mischievous. “Besides, it’s me. I can do what I want.”

Zivia couldn’t help but feel bothered. “Is that a thing with the Night Court? You enjoy breaking the rules a lot.”

“I make my own rules. It’s Rhys you should see, he makes himself above the rules.”

“Nobody should.”

Silence passed between them. Mor was gliding her fingers on the fountain water looking sullen again. Zivia knew all too well how much Briar means to her and just what she would be willing to sacrifice for her lover. Her primary concern is both their safety, even if it means breaking the law for it.

She knew the others definitely wouldn’t approve.

She sat beside Mor and took her hands. “I know I can’t say anything for you to change your mind,” she assented. “But please, do be careful.”

Mor gripped her hand gently and smiled at her. “Thank you, Zivia. I promise, I’ll be cautious.”

While they wait for the lunch that Elain was preparing, Zivia and Mor decided to catch up at the gazebo near the river. Summer is almost upon the land and some trees are already copious with buds that will soon grow into a plentiful harvest. Others were quite ahead of their time and were already teeming with lush produce. Zivia picked some blueberries on the way for them to munch on.

The sun shining on the river reflected lights that made the gazebo look like it was shimmering. It looked pristine and just as beautiful as the last time she was there.
An image of Azriel sitting too close to her as the rain poured around them popped into her mind and she couldn’t help but turn red at the thought.

“You alright?” asked Mor as she plopped into the sofa. “You look flushed.”

Zivia stammered. “No – uhh its…it’s the light. So how were your negotiations on the continent?”

Her companion held her gaze, staring intently as she chewed on a berry. It was uncomfortable; as if Mor could bore through her head and see what’s inside, which was, of course, impossible, since she isn’t a daemati like Feyre and the High Lord. Her power isn’t mind-reading – it’s truth.

Which meant that she might be seeing through her lie right now.

That thought didn’t ease her at all.

As luck would have it, Mor moved on and started talking about her diplomatic trip.

“There wasn’t much problem on the fae kingdoms,” she recounted. “Vallahan decided to agree with the treaty’s term, finally. That self-important king was such a pain in the backside I almost gave up trying to persuade him.”

Zivia was sure calling a king vain isn’t proper especially if he rules one of the strongest fae realms in the Continent. But maybe Mor was right. She hasn’t met the ruler herself and the title his kingdom holds is definitely something to brag about and take pride in.

“That’s good news,” Zivia commented. “With Vallahan’s participation, the other realms may finally join too.”

Mor nodded, although her tight expression remained. “After you and Az returned to Prythian, I received word from Rhys and decided to pay a visit to the mortal continent myself.” She took another piece of berry but didn’t eat it, instead rolling it between her fingers then flicking it away. “It’s not looking good.”

The last time Zivia heard, the various lords of mortal territories in the continent had convened for the second time. However, just like she and Azriel, the shadowsinger’s spies weren’t able to determine the nature of the said convention.”

“I fear the mortal queens have started to move,” Mor continued. “Word is that they’ve sent their very own representative to the latest gathering of the lords. They seem to be looking for Koschei.”

Cold crept up Zivia’s spine. They were expecting it to happen, just not this soon.
She told Mor about the happenings on their end while she was away – from the incident with the sorcerer at the lake to their very own council meeting that is yet to happen.

“We’ve got to move things along, quickly,” Mor agreed. Then she stood up and dusted her emerald green dress. “I’ll see if I can speed things up on my side and maybe get some help while I’m at it.” She procured a folded parchment from her pocket and handed it to Zivia. “Give this to Rhys when they return.”

Zivia reluctantly took the letter from her. “Wait, you’re leaving already? Aren’t you going to wait for them?”

A look of hesitance crept on Mor before she schooled her face into a determined expression.

“Zivia, can I ask you a favour?”

**********

“She was here?”

The High Lord had his brow in a perfect arch as he took Mor’s letter from Zivia. He examined it carefully, turning it from side to side before tearing the wax seal off and sweeping over its contents.

“That’s unusual,” remarked Feyre as she tried to look at the letter over her mate’s shoulder. “Normally she’d stay over for the night.”

“Or at least show her face to us,” added Cassian, snatching the paper from the high lord’s hands. “No visits from her for weeks and this is what she leaves us?” He practically threw the letter back to Rhys. “I was expecting for some Vallahan-quality wine that she boasted about.”

Zivia and Elain had just finished with their painting project in the garden when the three arrived. They all looked a bit uptight that Zivia wondered if it was good to give the letter now or later, when they’ve rested and loosened up. Elain beat her to it by telling them that Mor left just after eating their lunch and Zivia had no choice but to hand the paper over.

“Did she say anything else?” prodded Rhysand.

“Well – “

Something at the edge of her vision caught her attention. Up across from where they stood were another three figures flying towards them. Drakon and Seth blended perfectly among the clouds, their white wings reflecting the warm orange of the afternoon light.

However, Azriel, with his pitch-dark ensemble and black wings, was a stark contrast to the brightness of the blue sky. He stood out remarkably – like an eclipse in the middle of the day; his darkness enough to swallow the light around him. There was as much grace in his landing as when a bird of prey swoops in for the kill – silent but deadly.

Beautiful.

Something soft smacked into her face and Zivia turned to see her father inconspicuously stretching his wings beside her.

“Ahh~” he dramatically sighed. “That was tiring.” He then smirked at her and mouthed, “You’re staring.”

Zivia managed to pull a few feathers off Drakon’s wings before he pulled it back, then stomped down her embarrassment and faced the High Lord again. He had handed Azriel the letter that Mor left her.

As the spymaster read it, she couldn’t discern what he was thinking as his expression remained placid all throughout.

“She was gone before we arrived,” Rhysand said. “She left that letter, detailing her job at the continent and a few notes regarding the mortal queens.”

Azriel’s piercing hazel eyes turned to her. It was a very subtle change, his face barely even shifted, but he looked as though he was asking her a question.

Under any other circumstance, Zivia would have no problem feigning ignorance. She’d done it a hundred times, to her parents especially, but lying outright to the spymaster’s face is an extreme risk she wasn’t prepared to take. She tried to avoid his eyes and instead focused on the letter he was holding as she narrated the story Mor asked her to tell them.

“She was in a bit of a hurry,” Zivia started. “Something about going back to a kingdom far-east of the Continent. She’d expected to see you but you were gone when she arrived here, left me that letter to give you and said she wouldn’t be back for a few weeks more, depending on how busy she gets.”

That was good.

Her story came out better than she expected – hopefully.

Azriel tilted his head and carefully folded the parchment. It was clear he wasn’t completely convinced.

“We must’ve missed each other then,” Drakon remarked. “I thought we could meet when we get there, but we couldn’t find her.”

Zivia looked at Azriel again. He was still fixed on the piece of paper on his hands, as if it could bring him to Mor herself.

“Well, this just confirms what we’ve suspected for some time now,” said the spymaster, his voice a low rumble, like he was saying those words out to himself. He handed the parchment back to the High Lord and fixed his sword strap. “My spies have been constantly monitoring the gatherings and have confirmed their agenda – the Queens seek to forge an alliance with Koschei.”

An involuntary shiver ran down Zivia’s arms.

Drakon seem to sense his daughter’s unease and stepped beside her, putting an arm around her shoulder. She didn’t want to look scared but the confirmation of the sorcerer’s involvement made her remember what happened the last time she came face to face with him.

For a few seconds, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath to shake off the feeling. When she opened them, she caught Azriel looking from across her, his shadows curling as if trying to reach out. He quickly reigned them back in and said, “I’ll go check-in with the other courts about the meeting.”

Zivia almost went with him, just to occupy herself and away from her thoughts, when Seth volunteered to go instead. He reasoned that he’s out to gather more intel to help in their situation, but knowing him, she was doubtful about her brother’s true intentions.

“That’s quite a frown you have there,” Drakon was leaning over her with a smirk on his face. “You wanna go that bad, huh?”

She swatted his arm away and gathered herself. “What are you talking about? I’m just worried what kind of mischief Seth is up to now.”

He stared at her, waiting for her to give up the lie.
She didn’t.

Before she could leave with the rest back to the manor, Drakon pulled her aside and waved off the High Lord’s invitation for a late lunch.

“Come,” he said to her and winnowed both of them to the House of Wind.
Drakon looked worn out from their journey to the continent but he took no time to change nor to take a rest.
Zivia knew something is up.

“You can go back now.”

At first, she thought he was playing a prank on her, asking her to go back right after winnowing her here, but later realized it was far from a joke when she saw his stern look.

He was asking her to go back home – to Cretea.

“What? Why?”

Drakon reached out and she unconsciously backed away. She was no more than surprised than she is mad. “No.”

“Zivia listen to me,” her father cooed. “You’ve done a great job here. Go back home to your mother, you’ll be safer there. Leave the rest to us.”

“I can fight with you. I want to.”

That was a brave statement coming from someone who, just moments ago, was scared about the possibility of facing Koschei in a battle. On the other hand, the idea of her safely waiting while others risk their lives to face the enemy she vowed to take down herself didn’t sit well with her.

The way her father looks at her is making her want to cry.

“Sunshine, you have to let it go.” He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. “You can’t keep blaming yourself forever. What happened was in no way ever your fault. You’re torturing yourself by trying to carry that burden of responsibility alone.”

“They all died because of me – because I was weak.”

“No, sweetheart – “

“I still am and honestly, I don’t think I’d be able to face him alone even if I did come and fight along with you.” She took a deep breath to keep herself from breaking down. “It’s just that, doing nothing only aggravates my feeling of guilt. Going home would make me feel like I’ve given up. Besides, you’ve kept me on that island my whole life, let me wander for once. Please.”

“I let you wander once and look where that got you.”

It was like a blast of ice water to her face, seeing her father look so shattered in front of her.

Zivia remembers those days following her incident, when she heard her parents arguing on her bedside while she was still recuperating from her brush with death – when they thought she had already fallen asleep and no one else around to hear them. She was too wounded and weak to open her eyes. But what she didn’t see, she heard through their words and voices: the blaming, the regrets, and the fear.

Just as much Zivia carried her burden of guilt about what happened three centuries ago, Drakon bears his own by himself too.

“I know for sure I can’t kill koschei myself, alone never.” Zivia pleaded. “But at least let me help – at least let me do something for them.” For myself.

It was selfish, to ask him that when she knows too well how Drakon blamed himself too for what happened to them – to her, his own daughter.

“Zivia.”

“Please, father.”

Her tears didn’t wait for any approval before gushing out of her eyes. Her father’s face became blurry as he pulled her into his arms.

“I still hear their screams some nights,” she whispered through her father’s tear-soaked shirt.

She felt his arms tighten, pulling her closer as his wings wrapped around her trembling body. It was the best feeling in the world. The warmth of her father’s hugs always makes her feel safe and loved. It is when she is most at ease, like nothing else in the world mattered – a safe haven where no one could ever hurt her.
Zivia slowly calmed down although her tears still refused to stop.

“Sunshine,” Drakon soothed. “You know I love you right?” He bent down to kiss the top of her head. “You mean everything to us, your mother and I. You know that right?”

Zivia hugged him tighter, feeling the steady beat of her father’s heart on her cheeks.

“We don’t want anything to happen to you. If giving up our life is what it would take to keep you from any harm, we’d do it.”

“Father”

“It’s a sacrifice we’re willing to take.” Drakon slowly pulled away and held her by the shoulders. “Sunshine look at me, I know how much you wanted to do this and I know how much you’re suffering for it. But I promised your mother. Please understand that.”

She begins shaking her head and refusing to meet her father’s eyes.

“We just want to protect you. Back home you’ll be safe. Let dada handle this, just like old times, okay?”

“No! I want to join you.”

“Zivia.” Drakon’s voice was sharp and stern it caught her by surprise. “You are going back to Cretea tomorrow. Seth will escort you home.”

“Tomorrow?! But – “

Zivia knew it was futile arguing with him but she just couldn’t help but feel that he’s being unfair with her. She looked straight at him, hoping to see a sliver chance of changing his mind, but was only met with disappointment. She opened her mouth to say something but no words came out and she stormed towards her room, ignoring her father calling after her.