SEE HOW IT SHINES

X.

A sharp, jagged bolt of lightning pierces the sky, turning the wide onyx expanse to a dozen shades of blues and purples in an instant. No sooner has the sky faded to black again than a deafening boom of thunder sounds. Viserra flinches, though she'd known to expect it. She pulls her velvet shawl tighter around her neck and watches the sheets of rain beat against her windows in a relentless onslaught. She has always loved storms like these, so powerful they bring the whole world to heel. Lucerys hated them; as children, he'd come running into her room and throw himself beneath her blankets, rubbing his ice-cold feet against her calves and cowering as though the storm would burst through the castle walls and steal him away. He was fearless in all else, but a little rain made him the coward and her the hero.

She sighs and burrows deeper into her bed, chasing the warmth left against the sheets by her own body. Her mind is restless, a cacophony of names and titles swimming in endless circles through her skull each time she tries to find sleep. Lady Sara Graceford and Lord Leon Estermont and the six Piper siblings, Lord Buckler—not to be confused with Lord Buckwell—and both sets of Lannister twins, and each of the seven branches of House Goodbrother...the words blur together by this point, new houses being created and ancient houses merged with their enemies whenever she blinks. All of the hours she spent as a child memorizing the seats and sigils of houses great and small make no difference now. She's half-mad with the hundreds of noble families of the Seven Kingdoms after so many council meetings and hours spent listening to her mother and the queen fret over invitations and seating charts and lists, lists, lists for the king's tourney.

And the other list, too, the one she has kept a secret from her siblings, the one with fewer names but far more meaning for her, the one Muña pressed into her hand three nights ago and said they'd discuss later. Later has yet to come, but the square of parchment has never left Viserra's thoughts. Blackwood, Celtigar, Corbray, Lannister, Mallister, Manderly, Redwyne, and Stark, eight potential futures laid out in her mother's looping script as easily as she might write a letter to Baela asking after the weather on Driftmark. It makes Viserra's stomach churn as well as her mind.

She sighs again in frustration and sits up straight. She's been trying and failing to fall asleep for hours, the sounds of a storm that she'd typically find soothing instead providing a thrumming harmony to her dread. She swings her legs out of the bed and pulls on slippers and a dressing gown quickly. A cup of tea might help.

The Red Keep is eerily quiet save for the pattering of rain and occasional drum of thunder. Viserra passes through the hallways without encountering another soul, only a rat or two skittering by in the shadows. Her candle flickers when she passes open windows and galleries, the only sign of life on her journey. Soon enough she reaches the kitchens, descending the narrow spiral steps into the perpetually warm, circular room. It does not surprise her to find a trio of large candles already burning on a butcher block table in the center of the room; at this hour, cooks may well be already starting their work for the day.

What does surprise her, however, is the figure she sees seated at the table, hunched over a plate of biscuits and long scroll of parchment.

He senses her before her feet reach the bottom step, and she sees his hand drift to a knife on his belt without turning to look at her. She smirks, ignoring the odd way her heart skips one beat, then another. "If I did not know any better, uncle, I would think that you are starting to enjoy my company heartily. To go to such extremes to seek me out...it's flattering, really."

"And how do you suggest I knew to find you here?" He abandons the blade and glances over his shoulder, not quite smiling, not quite scowling. "A special sense reserved just for you?"

She shrugs. "Perhaps. Would that be so terrible? You could use it to avoid me just as easily as find me."

He hums as she crosses to the huge hearth and stokes the fire. "What are you doing out of bed, princess?"