Lucerys stared up at the Stranger with keen eyes. For once, the ghost was quiet; looking death in the face intimidated him. But death, it seemed, had no face. Beneath the stone hood of the towering statue, no face was carved. Just empty blackness, a skeletal finger pointing up to the heavens from beneath the god's robes.

Aerys, Elaena, Aelinor, Rhaegar, Alysanne, Corlys, Tywin. All of you I failed.

A list of those either dead or who he had no hope of seeing again. It seemed the Stranger was truly the only one who answered prayers. Only a few scarce weeks since he had entered this city with his army.

The body would not look like Rhaegar anymore. He knew that. It had been two months, and they preserved corpses in strange ways that left them waxy and inhuman, husks left behind. Death, for some reason, didn't scare Lucerys much. But the things it left behind did. He tried not to picture Aelinor, so still and cold, lips white and skin pale in death.

When do I stop outliving the people I love? Does this ever end?

He held eye contact with one of the Silent Sisters for a moment. Willowy and tall, with a thin face and haunted eyes that flickered like wildfire. Too young and too pretty to be what she was. When she moved to the antechamber where Rhaegar's body lay, waiting for the flames, he watched her go with an odd sense of deja vu.

He stopped when he saw Rhaella rise, as if he had been waiting on her to finish her prayers. Why bother? They aren't listening.

Under different circumstances, he might smile and remark how they always seemed to run into each other in the oddest places, but Lucerys was not sure he had any smiles left within him. Certainly not here.

"Your Grace," he greeted her softly, unsure of what else to say. "I... I did not mean to disturb you. If you would rather be alone, I will leave."