ELLIPSISM, aemond targaryen

[069] the black queen

WINTERFELL. CROWNLANDS. WHITE HARBOUR. The Neck. Greytower watch. The Bite. The Twins. Oldstone. Vale of Arryn. Fairmarket. Riverrun. Harrenhal, . . .

Lucerys Velaryon knew most of the places that were carved into the surface of the Painted Table, but he could not feel proud of this fact. After all, his knowledge of the geography of Westeros was poor compared to his older siblings, and until now, he hadn't been bothered by that fact.

His brother was supposed to be a king who knew his country. His sister was supposed to be the Lady of Driftmark, who knows not only Westeros but also the waters on which she sails.

Well . . . it was supposed to be as such . . .

But now Lucerys was the heir of Corlys Velaryon. Future Lord of Driftmark. It was up to him to perfectly understand the geography of Westeros and the seas that separated it from Essos. It was up to him to control the royal fleet when he will take the position of Lord of the Ships in his brother's council. It was up to him to become an even better sailor than Corlys Velaryon himself.

All this while Aemma will sit within the walls of Winterfell for the rest of her life, Luke thought, his thoughts picking up on the bitter tone of voice he'd heard his sister mutter under her breath just recently. His eyes moved from Harrenhal, the castle he'd heard Aemma talk about so many times as if she were there herself, back up to the North, where he found the inscription Winterfell among the carved trees.

It was only then that he realised how far Winterfell was from Dragonstone, and that was only the distance on the map. He knew geography well enough to understand that the distance in reality was much, much bigger.

His mother had told Joffrey as they traveled by ship that Aemma would be fine in the North. She claimed that Winterfell was even bigger than the Red Keep, that Aemma would have a large room, a library and everything she could think of. That she would be able to spend a lot of time in the woods, that she would be able to spend her evenings reading books by the fireplace as she had done until now, that Meraxes would have the freedom she didn't have before.

Joffrey believed her. Maybe because he was still a child and maybe because deciding to believe his mother's words was easier than thinking about the truth. But deep down, him, Luke, and even Rhaenyra herself knew the truth well.

However, it began to seem to Luke that he was the only one in his family who loved his sister enough to not close his eyes to her suffering.

"Luke?" came a girl's voice, echoing through the large spaces of the chamber.

It wasn't a melodic or smooth voice, at least not one that Luke registered among his other family members. But there was a gentleness in this voice that sounded almost otherworldly, and Luke thought for a small moment that he really was in a dream.

Even when he turned and looked at Gwyn, he still felt like he was in a dream. She was sitting in one of the chairs further away from the table, still dressed in her work clothes, but her hair was down and falling in curls down her back and into her face. In her lap was a heavy book with pages long since destroyed by time and by many other hands that had once turned its pages. A pair of dark eyes, black as night, looked at him expectantly, and it took Luke an embarrassingly long time to realise that she had probably asked him something.

"Fifty-five years," Luke said after a moment spent thinking about what they had last talked about. "Jaehaerys ruled for fifty-five years."

Gwyn's eyebrows furrowed the longer she stared at him and the realisation hit Luke like a heavy stone. He looked away from her to avoid her gaze in a moment and shifted in his place uncomfortably.