TIMELESS - An ACOTAR Fanfiction

CHAPTER 3

The clashing of metal against metal echoed through the training grounds atop the House of Wind. It would appear that Rhysand thought it was a good time as any to have a sparring match with his Illyrian brothers, dragging along Feyre, insisting that it has been ages since she partake in her lessons with Cassian causing her to become rusty and out of shape. Mor thought it was just an excuse to let out his frustration over being regarded as a grumpy old man.

It has been a good few minutes before Feyre held up a hand and asked for a break. She floundered toward the small table where a pitcher of water awaits. Zivia, who was watching from the side-lines, offered her a stool. Panting heavily, she set herself down and poured herself a drink.

"Where's Mor?" she asked as she wiped off her sweat with the back of her palm.

"She left." The Seraphim's eyes were fixated on the two males clashing blades on the other open ring across from them. "Something about some personal business to attend to." She looked at Feyre and added, "Said she'll be back in time for dinner."

Feyre just loosed a long sigh and downed her drink in one gulp when Cassian joined them. Unlike his high lady, he doesn't seem to have spent that much effort in the training. Not even a drop of sweat glinted at his brows.

"Want to give it a go?"

The general seemed to have noticed Zivia's attentiveness in their matches. She met his look, assessing, and then turned her head back toward Azriel and Rhys who continued on with no intention of taking a break anytime soon. Throwing a sidelong glance back at Cassian, her lips slowly curled into that in between of a smile and a smirk.

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The emissary has foregone her finery and opted for a more battle-appropriate attire. She now wore pearl-white leathers, the sleeves ending in points at the back of her palm, held in place by a golden ring looped around her middle finger. Twirling patterns of interlocking vines were etched along the seams. Her pants were tucked in knee-high boots giving an overall appearance of a well-toned body. Together with her white wings that catches the light with every movement and again with that unnatural glow, she looked truly immaculate.

Two curving daggers glinted on either thigh as she strode for the ring where Cassian stood, waiting. The two are so in contrast with each other as they came face to face – a raven and a dove – but far more deadlier. Azriel and Rhysand halted their sparring to watch. Feyre remained seated on her stool.

"Do you want me to go easy?"

It wasn't exactly a mocking and Zivia seemed to take no offense nonetheless. She just angled her head and declared, "By all means, show me what an Illyrian is made of."

"Okay then."

The tension in the air rose as both warriors took their battle stances.

"My money's on Zivia!" blurted Rhys as he now stood crossed-arm beside Feyre, Az helping himself with a drink next to them. Cassian threw him a narrowed look and made a vulgar gesture when –

In a span of a heartbeat, Zivia has taken out one of her daggers, closed the distance between them and now have the tip of the weapon pointed directly at Cassian's throat.

"Never take your eyes off your opponent."

Everyone took a collective breath as the stunned general remained frozen for a second when Zivia lowered her weapon and backed away four steps. Cassian's throat bobbed as he shifted on his feet. A wicked grin appeared on his lips as he took his sword in his hand.

Silence fell as Zivia and Cassian looked eye to eye, and began, at the same moment, to circle each other. What came next were flashes of quicksilver as sword and dagger met. A strike here and a jab there; blades clanging as one tried to best the other. The three audiences to their fight couldn't help but marvel at the scene unfolding before them. At the female, who, mere hours ago looked every bit the lady and the epitome of grace and casualness, now going head to head with the Illyrian commander, refusing to yield to his might.

Zivia swung her dagger, aiming for the exposed left of Cassian but he quickly shifted, evading the attack then drove his feet hard into her chest, sending the female warrior skidding into the dirt. Twin gasps came out of Feyre and Cassian as the latter realized what he had just done. Guilt instantly cut across his face but before he could make a move to help, Zivia rolled and swept his feet out from beneath him making him fall to his knees, one arm braced on the ground. Fast as lightning, she had him in a chokehold.

"Never underestimate your opponent." She muttered in his ear.

She released him just as quick.

Cassia stood, rubbing his neck. "I'm sorry about that." Though he certainly didn't sound apologetic. In fact, he looked determined, that predatory gaze gleaming his eyes. This girl definitely has that fire in her.

Another bout of steel clashing ensued. Cassian raised his sword to strike while Zivia also raised both daggers to deflect the blow, going on the defensive. Both fought in earnest. Attack. Defend. Attack. Defend. A fling of Cassian's sword sent one of Zivia's daggers flying. Another swing would've hit her if only he didn't hesitate mid-swing. She countered with a quick thrust of her remaining knife, barely grazing his stomach. She then tossed the blade into the sky, watching with satisfaction as the Illyrian's eyes flick up to follow the weapon's path, before striking. She crouched down and slid her leg under him causing his knees to buckle. She was above him in an instant, pinning him on the ground as she caught the dagger, flipped it and brought it down, stopping mere inches between Cassian's brows.

"Never hesitate to land the killing blow" she panted.

A moment passed before she dropped her hands and jumped off him. Propping himself on his elbows, Cassian grinned.

"You would be headless by now if I did."

She returned the grin and extended a hand to help him up.

"Touché"