Crescent City: A Court of Thrones and Glass

Chapter Nineteen: Bryce

A/N: Thank you @throneofglassrules for voting!
The day had been one Hel of ride, but Bryce did not expect it to end with her crying and spilling her life story to people she had just met that week. However, there she was, tears rolling down her face as Aelin told them how she was whipped and tortured for months, and she was 19 fucking years old. Bryce had been to literal Hel and back, and her Ordeal was some fucked up nightmare, but Aelin....what she went through.....Bryce didn't know how the Queen could still smile and laugh. Or breathe, if Bryce was being honest. Then Feyre told her story. Her words pierced Bryce's soul, because she understood. Damn, Aelin and Feyre were some of the strongest females Bryce had ever met.
     After Aelin and Feyre had finished telling their story, and dried their tears, Bryce took a deep breathe and told the Night Court and the Erileans about the past year. Hunt chimed in too, explaining his side of the story. He told them about the Fall, and then the slavery,  Sandriel, and Micah's bargain. He expected the others to look down on him for his failed rebellion, but Rhys just had grim understanding in his eyes. Even Rowan's stone cold face was slightly empathetic. When she had finished speaking, Bryce felt....relieved. She had never told anyone the full story, except Hunt. Had never felt comfortable enough to do so. When Bryce mentioned Danika, Aelin's eyes welled with tears as she looked down at her scarred palm—right, she understood that kind of loss too.
     What shocked Bryce the most was how young Aelin was. Bryce and Feyre were around the same age, Bryce a few years older, but she easily had five years on Aelin. The Queen could have been 800 years old and Bryce wouldn't have batted an eye. Trauma aged a person. Bryce almost snorted at the fact that Hunt, Rowan and Rhysand were considered some of the most powerful warriors in their respective worlds and were centuries old, yet they were completely wrapped around Bryce, Aelin, and Feyre's fingers—20-something year old females. Bryce was yanked out of thoughts by Rhysand's voice.
     "Thank you," he said, "for sharing your stories. We will do everything in our power to get you home."
     "We will find a way," Aelin said, nodding to the High Lord, "but does anyone have any idea how we got here in the first place?" Feyre shifted in her seat, looking slightly guilty. Bryce watched as Rowan noticed the movement, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as he discreetly sat a little closer to his Queen.
     "There's this place in Prythian, called the Prison," the High Lady said tentatively, "and it contains the most dangerous and powerful criminals. We take sentencing someone there very seriously."
     "Have you ever sentenced anyone to this Prison, General?" Hunt asked Cassian. He received a tight nod in response that invited no further questions.
"Anyways," Rhys continued, "a highly dangerous prisoner has escaped, and is still at large. They are the only being known to have summoning powers—capable of travelling through worlds."
"So this....creature," Rowan interjected coldly, "brought us here, on purpose? Why don't we hunt it down, torture it until it sends us home, then you guys can do whatever you want. Kill it, send it back to the prison, I don't particularly care." Azriel cleared his throat.
"It's not that simple. My shadows haven't been able to locate it and we don't have free reign to travel wherever we wish. There are still inter-court rules that need to be followed." He looked angry at himself, for not being able to fulfill his duties.
"Let us help," Aelin suggested, putting a hand on her mate's arm. "Lysandra can track scents, while Rowan in his hawk form can travel quickly and undetected by the other High Lords." Manon looked at the High Lord and Lady, a wicked gleam in her eye.
"I also happen to have centuries of experience hunting down those who do not wish to be found." The firelight glinted off her iron nails, casting her face in shadow.
"And what did you do to those unfortunate souls, Your Majesty," Cassian taunted. Manon's head whipped to meet Cassian's stare with cold, lethal calculation.
"I ended them. Brutality. Then kept their hearts as trophies and drunk myself silly on their blood." Cassian visibly paled under the weight of that golden gaze. Amren barked a laugh.
"You. Oh I like you," she said. Manon snarled at the approval. Cthona spare them this was going to be a long night.
"We just might have to put your skills to work," Feyre amended, not wanting another fight to break out. "Remember how I said Hybern turned my sisters to Fae with the Cauldron? Well the Cauldron gave Elain the gift of clairvoyance. Before you guys arrives, she had an episode and said 'Nameless and the King of Ice/The Umbra Mortis and the Starborn Bryce/Old enemies shall return/In the end they all must burn.'" Bryce quickly solved the riddle. "I'm obviously the 'Starborn Bryce' and Hunt is known as the Umbra Mortis in my world. And either Rowan or Dorian could be considered the 'King of Ice' given your status and mastery over the element, so 'Nameless' is......."
     "Me," Aelin interrupted, somewhat dejectedly. "Nameless is my price," the Queen whispered to herself. Rowan put an arm around her, pulling her close.
     "What about the next part, 'old enemies shall return'?" Rhys mused. Mor's golden head whipped to Feyre's.
     "You don't think......" Feyre shook her head.
     "It would be impossible." Bryce thought of her own enemies. Would Micah or Sandriel come back? No. They were dead. Irrevocably dead. Bryce burned Micah as Hunt did with Sandriel. She was pulled out of her thoughts by Aelin, who was staring intently at a painting over Bryce's shoulder. Bryce turned slightly to see what the Queen was looking at. It was just a painting of three mountains, three stars crowning them. It was beautifully rendered with swirls of purple markings covering the black background. The Night Court insignia presumably. Aelin turned her focus to Bryce.
     "Does Lunathion have an insignia? A special symbol to represent it?" She asked. Bryce thought for minute, unsure as to why the Queen was asking.
     "Yes actually. I have a picture of it." She brought it up on her phone. The internet didn't work her, but luckily she had the photo saved to her camera roll. "Here." Aelin gingerly took the phone, studied the picture for a moment, then wordlessly handed it back.
     "We need to plan our next course of action," Dorian announced, "As beautiful as your Court is, we can't stay here forever." Suddenly, a loud, panicked banging sounded through the House. It was coming from the front door. Everyone immediately stood up and rushed to the foyer; Rowan and Hunt had the weapons half drawn, while Bryce remained in casual reach of her gun. Rhysand swung open the door, just to be greeted by a torrential downpour of rain in the gloomy evening. But there, collapsed on the step was a thin, white-haired female with the palest skin Bryce had ever seen. She looked up at the group with her piercing ice-blue eyes, rain and blood leaking down the side of her face.
     "We have a problem."