Chapter Text
In general, Lucien liked being outdoors. He also liked being around most people, seeing as he was the extroverted type. And he could enjoy a nice hike.
However, today the combination of those things was rapidly pushing him to the brink of insanity. Lucien didn’t want to be trudging through the Middle in the company of one aggravated High Lord who only wanted to talk about his wife and son, a sullen silent scowling shadowsinger, a paranoid general who flinched at every unnatural sound, and his own eldest brother who wouldn’t stop purposefully irritating the other three. It was like being the childminder for the world’s most entitled set of brats.
And he wasn’t even being paid.
He climbed over a half rotten fallen tree, sweating in his Illyrian leathers, his left hand getting covered in slug slime that he hadn’t noticed. A bit of magic wiped it away but he could still feel it. “Where did you say the sentries last saw this thing?”
Lucien already knew, but Rhys had been jabbering about Nyx eating peas for the last five minutes. While Lucien thought the world of Nyx, he didn’t want to hear anything else about the boy’s newfound obsession with mushed vegetables.
“Near Fionn’s Mire, where we were twenty minutes ago,” Rhysand said, “Were you not paying attention to the debrief?”
“I’m sure he forgot after half an hour of listening to you drone on about how your bat-let discovered he has fingers,” Eris drawled. Unlike the others, he was wearing Autumn Court armor, deep red almost black boiled leather with subtle fire patterns stamped into it. He had a crossbow strapped across his back. “Or about how he can sit up on his own now and speaks five languages and how he hung the moon last week.”
“Don’t forget the stars too, he’s a busy boy,” Rhys said in the same nonchalant tone, though his was a tad sharper, more defensive.
Lucien glared at his brother’s back, willing him to drop it. Yes, Rhys was going on and on about his family, but if Eris kept poking at those same beloved topics, Rhys might snap. If Rhys snapped, so would Cassian and Azriel, almost a dead guarantee. While Lucien believed in his own fighting abilities and in Eris’, three against two with one of the trio being a High Lord didn’t sound like the best odds.
What a great place to get rid of a body, here in this putrid, stinking, desolate wasteland that used to be the Daglans’ hunting ground.
Too bad Eris hadn’t figured out a way to murder Beron yet. Then at least Lucien would presumably have a High Lord on his side, too.
Cassian bounded over the tree and came to stand close beside Lucien. His hand hadn’t left the hilt of the sword at his side since they had landed in the Middle. He had on four swords, two attached to his sword belt and two strapped to his back between his wings. While Lucien knew that two were simply back-up swords, he would loooove to see the giant Illyrian try to wield all four at once. Would he hold two in each hand or were his bat wing claws strong enough to hold a sword? Quadruple wielder Cassian would be something to behold.
Cassian’s siphons gave off a continuous wary glow. “We should be quieter. It’s always listening.”
Lucien patted Cass’s back. “We won’t let it get you.”
Cassian’s eyes were half-wild and haunted. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. You haven’t seen what I’ve seen.”
Lucien gave him another pat because what exactly was he supposed to respond with? “All right, then. If you get eaten, I’ll tell Nesta you went out fighting.”
Cassian snorted. “Yeah, please do.”
See, it actually wouldn’t have been so bad if the team had been Lucien, Cassian, and a few of the Valkyries. Lucien would’ve liked that better. Gwyn and Emerie were nice and Nesta didn’t hate him as much now. And he got along well with Cassian these days. At least the conversation would’ve been more entertaining.
But the Valkyries were currently dispersed across Prythian in search of others to join their ranks. The report had come in last night that Bryaxis had been sighted in the Middle and they had to act fast to recapture it. It had been years since its last appearance that day on the battlefield. Rhys had decided that seasoned fighters were probably best for this mission to gain control over what Cassian called “the library demon that hell itself doesn’t want.” Guessing that Bryaxis wouldn’t want to come back even though they had installed a nice window (odd choice) for it and knowing the creature wasn’t fond of fire, he had called upon Eris and Lucien for help. Lucien was technically Rhys' emissary and couldn’t refuse without potentially losing his job so here he was. Eris wanted to stay on Rhys’ good side, presumably for future schemes and plots.
“If it hasn’t jumped out and eaten you in the time that we’ve spent traipsing through this misbegotten dung heap of a land, I think you’ll survive,” Eris mused.
He was taking the lead at the moment. Lucien felt it was a little juvenile how he and Rhys kept surging forward and switching places like they desperately felt like they should be the leader. However he was waiting for just the right moment to point it out and humble them.
Secretly, even if he would never say it, he did think that it was best to let Eris lead since he was an excellent tracker. He had left his hounds behind, not wanting to endanger them in the Middle, but he was highly skilled on his own. They would get there faster if Eris led. But Lucien kept his mouth shut. Not like anyone would listen to wisdom anyways. They would probably accuse him of siding with his brother and he wasn’t giving Eris the pleasure of thinking he agreed with him.
Cassian bristled. Lucien shook his head. “Let it go. If you attack him, he wins.”
“No, he won’t,” Cassian said, making a fist with the hand not clutching the sword hilt.
“I meant metaphorically,” Lucien said, “Just ignore him. It only pleases him when you get annoyed.”
Luicen fully believed Eris actually could trounce Cassian if he wanted. Eris was the High Lord of Autumn’s heir apparent, filled with fire and deviousness. Lucien often wondered why Eris had let him and Feyre go back on the ice. With Finnien and Eoin helping, it actually wouldn’t have been much of a competition.
Azriel appeared out of the shadows to Cassian’s right, making the general wince a smidge before the shadows peeled away to reveal his brother. Azriel nodded to the north. “There’s a hut over the next hill. It’s occupied.”
“By what?” Cassian asked, his wings shuttering.
“A human woman,” Azriel replied, looking rattled. Which for the shadowsinger meant he had his arms crossed over his chest extreme tightly and his forehead was creased with a worry frown, not his normal frown.
Ahead of them, Eris and Rhys had stopped. Eris scoffed. “Rhysand, you might want to consider getting a new shadowsinger. This one has begun seeing things. Seems to be malfunctioning again.”
“Even if he was, which he isn’t, he’s still more reliable than you,” Rhysand snapped, turning toward Azriel. He shifted backward, eyeing Azriel like he wasn’t sure how to question him without insulting him now that Eris had challenged him. “Only one human woman?”
Azriel glowered at Eris. “I know it seems unlikely. But it’s what my shadows saw.”
“Hmm, I take it back,” Eris said, rolling his eyes, “It's only his shadows that are defective, can you replace those?”
“Bite your tongue off, Eris,” Rhys growled, losing some of his cool.
“Yeah, Eris. And that’s impossible, Az,” Cassian said, accidentally siding with Eris. “A human would die before they got five feet into the Middle. This is—” His wings extended. “We’re in the very middle of the Middle.”
“Excellent description,” Eris said. “Good job, pup.”
Cassian snarled. “I will tear the points off your ears and stuff them down your throat—”
“Shut up for one minute, all of you,” Lucien said, his patience fraying, “By the Mother, don’t you all want to catch this beast and go home? Be silent and let Azriel speak.”
An unwilling quiet dropped around them, and the Middle aided it with a heavier silence all its own. It pressed in on them like a sixth member joining their company.
Lucien resisted the urge to step toward Cassian, but Cassian apparently didn’t feel embarrassed about his nerves since he moved so close to Azriel their arms bumped together. He then reached out, snatched Lucien by the elbow, and hauled him over as well so Cass was stuck between the two of them.
“Do you feel better?” Lucien muttered.
Cassian nodded.
Azriel’s shadows hovered around him and Cassian and stayed as far from Lucien as they could. “It’s one human woman, but she does seem…abnormal. There’s a power about her that I’ve never felt before. It's immense in a way it should not be.”
Cassian stared. “Az…are you saying you found a witch?”
“Witches don’t exist,” Rhysand said, “That’s a story Devlon uses to scare children and insult Nesta.”
“Oh, she would be a good one though,” Eris said, smirking. “Could you imagine.”
“Gods, yes, and I hate it,” Rhysand said.
Cassian frowned. “Lay off, Rhys.” Lately he had become more protective of Nesta and would stand up against Rhys when he started criticizing her. Lucien respected the change.
“I don’t know,” Lucien said. He was unsure if the silence had lasted a full minute, but this turn of conversation made him uneasy. “There are histories that speak of witches.” Some were fearsome and terrifying while others were benevolent and merciful. If that hut really held a witch, he was going to bet it was the former, based on who else lived in the middle.
“The histories also speak of unicorns and vampyrs, and we have neither,” Rhysand said, “This is probably a woman who has gotten hold of a protective amulet or shield. Day Court makes such things.
“Yes,” Eris said, “But how would a human obtain one?”
“During the war somehow,” Rhysand said confidently, “Some of the human refugees scattered from Summer throughout Prythian. One must have found or been gifted an amulet and went to the Middle to, I don’t know, get away from everything.”
Eris laughed. “Are you suggesting a human woman went on holiday to the deadliest place in the fae realm?”
“Feyre would’ve,” Cassian said, grinning.
“She would,” Azriel mumbled.
Lucien begrudgingly nodded. He had actually known Feyre as a human, unlike them, and he agreed. The Feyre that he had once known would have happily stolen an amulet, grabbed a bag of bread and dried meat, and hauled herself off to the middle to get away from every fae in existence. He sometimes missed that Feyre.
“Right, of course she would,” Eris said, his jaw tensing at her name. After what Feyre had done to their mother at the High Lord meeting before the war, Eris had never liked her very much and only tolerated her. “But if there really is a human woman living here and your shadowsinger hasn’t finally fully cracked, we should avoid her hut. She must not want company and we don’t need to be detained by hysterics.” He gestured to Lucien. “I’d like to have this wayward mission completed so I can go home sooner rather than later.”
“She might have seen Bryaxis,” Rhysand said, “She may have good information.” He slapped a hand against Eris’ arm as he strutted forward, all swagger and certainty. “Besides, we’ll be excellent guests.”
Cassian and Azriel moved forward as one, Cassian sticking close by Azriel. Lucien stalked after them. When he reached Eris, his brother was glowering at the Illyrians' backs.
“This is a waste of time,” he said, “We might as well go find some quicksand to sink into if we need a delay.”
“It’s Rhys’ little adventure. We’re just here as support. Stop whining about it,” Lucien replied, frustration welling up in his chest. He was weary of the bickering. Besides, how much information could a hermit lady give them? And if she was actually a witch…
“Listen, Lucien. Stay close to me once we get there,” Eris said quietly, “Do you understand?"
“No, but I never understand you.” Lucien was already moving away from his brother to follow the bats. Was he now being juvenile? Yes, definitely, but Eris was so very good at bringing out that side of him that he couldn't care less.