Lucerys is dead. The sweetest of brothers, he is dead, no, murdered by Aemond, and may he and the rest of his rotten kin choke upon their fables!

It doesn't seem real...

How can he be dead? How can be be... not here?

At times it almost seems as if Luke's voice rings out through the hall, that if you turn around the corner, you will see him there, reading or talking, but he is never there anymore.

'My brother is dead.'

That painful thought became your company, day and night now... not only to you though.

Jacaerys, your other brother, he cannot believe it either, he cannot accept that Luke is gone, he knows it's true, but refuses to acknowledge it. Almost everyone still do, some even cling to some false hopes, but...

'My brother is dead.'

The door to your chambers creaks quietly, almost shy, uncertain. You've told nobody to enter, but it is your brother who still lives. Jace. Even if he puts on the 'prince heir' face, you know he's hurting too, how his hands grip the pommel of his sword and fidget with the clothes, how sometimes his lips and neck twitch, as if holding back a mournful cry. You can see it in your brother's eyes. Jacaerys doesn't speak, but he doesn't have to, everything is written plain on his face.

Jace closes the door behind him, he steps inside your room, not speaking, not looking at you, just... trying to collect himself for a moment there. The young prince's brown eyes glance at the fireplace, at the table, the wardrobe... anywhere. Then, with a heavy exhale, Jacaerys looks to you, his lips twitch, that he has to bite on the inside of the cheek, to keep himself quiet. Your brother moves to your bed and sits on the edge of it.

There is a storm raging in both of you.

A brother's anguish.