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King's Landing – Rhaenys's Hill, a Hidden Mansion
While dust flew at the Dragonpit worksite and tension hung thick in the "Golden Rose Crown" tavern, a completely different scene played out in a discreet mansion tucked down an unremarkable alley on Rhaenys's Hill.
The air was thick with rose oil and expensive spices, warm and humid. Steam curled lazily through the room.
A massive oak tub big enough for several people dominated the center, filled with deep-red and golden rose petals that almost hid the water's surface.
Pierce Celtigar lounged against one side, warm bathwater lapping at his muscular chest.
Queen Cersei Baratheon lay back against him, completely relaxed. Her long golden hair clung wet to her smooth shoulders and back. Those emerald eyes were half-closed, her face flushed with pure satisfaction.
Four bed slaves in sheer, see-through silks knelt around the tub, moving with practiced grace.
Two used pearl-inlaid shell ladles to pour perfectly warm water over Cersei and Pierce's shoulders. Another rubbed fragrant ointment into their necks and shoulders with skilled fingers. The last held a crystal platter of chilled grapes and Dornish honey dates, ready to feed them at a moment's notice.
These girls had been hand-picked by Pierce from Slaver's Bay, rigorously trained, and brought with him to Crackclaw Point. They were experts at every kind of intimate service.
"Cersei…" Pierce murmured, one hand idly stirring the petals on the water while the other rested on her waist. His violet eyes sparkled with lazy amusement.
"Pierce…" Cersei sighed in pure contentment, letting the hot water and the girls' attentions melt every bit of tension from her body. "You always know exactly how to indulge. My husband only knows how to drink and whore… These girls, this rose bath… Even back at Casterly Rock I never felt this relaxed."
Pierce chuckled softly. "Just a few small pleasures, Your Grace. Once the Dragonpit market is finished, you'll see wonders from every corner of the world—spices, silks, jewels, and… even more interesting forms of entertainment."
Cersei lifted her head, wet gold strands brushing his chin. "I've been wondering, Pierce. Where did you learn all these… unique ways of enjoying life? Westerosi lords don't know anything like this."
His gaze drifted through the steam toward the distant east. "In Yi Ti. In cities far older and richer than anything we have here, I saw true luxury. Their nobles have a thousand years of wisdom."
He gave her arm a gentle squeeze. "A lot of what they do would make even the most decadent lords in the Seven Kingdoms feel like country bumpkins."
Cersei's eyes flickered with longing, then a flash of defiant pride. "Better than Westeros?" She had never left the continent; Casterly Rock and the Red Keep were the peak of power and pleasure in her world.
"In some ways… yes." Pierce answered honestly, voice warm with memory. "Bigger, richer, and… more dangerous. But a lot more fun."
Cersei was quiet for a moment, letting that sink in. Then she curled back against his chest like a satisfied cat, fingers tracing lazy circles on his skin.
Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, sweet and coaxing. "Enough about faraway places. Let's talk business. I've already sent the invitation north as the Ruby Lord. I asked the Amethyst Lord to send a trusted envoy to King's Landing so we can discuss deeper cooperation."
She looked up, green eyes gleaming with ambition. "When the envoy arrives, I want you to receive them as a promising new member of the organization. Win them over if you can. If we pull the Amethyst Lord to our side, our voice in the Rising Tide will be much stronger."
Pierce hid a private smile. Cersei still believed she was the Ruby Lord running the show—never realizing every move was guided by him.
He gave her exactly the expression she wanted: interested and thoughtful. "Of course. But tell me, Your Grace, do you have any guesses about the Amethyst Lord's real identity? Not many families in the North have the wealth and connections to dominate the fur trade."
Cersei frowned in concentration, clearly enjoying the intellectual game. "I think the most likely candidate is House Dustin of Barrowton. Old family, rich lands, and Lady Barbrey Dustin has never been completely loyal to the Starks."
"But White Harbor's Manderlys are also possible—they control the North's biggest port and have natural advantages in the fur business. Of course, we can't rule out the Starks themselves pulling strings from Winterfell. Eddard looks so honorable… but who knows what he does in the dark?"
She went on, proud of her own clever analysis.
Pierce watched the golden queen trying so hard to show her cunning and felt a strange mix of fondness and amusement. In this moment she seemed more real—almost… cute. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her smooth forehead, violet eyes warm with private humor.
That gentle kiss, combined with her own reflection in those deep violet eyes, made Cersei's heart skip. For one dizzy second she saw another handsome face with the same purple eyes—the Prince Rhaegar she had dreamed of as a girl, the one she could never have.
A wild rush of power, conquest, and forbidden thrill swept through her. Her cheeks flushed darker, her breathing quickened. She tilted her face up and kissed him back—hot, demanding, as if she could claim both the man in front of her and the ghost of the one she had lost.
...
...
Goldenroad – Ser Harys Rolland's Village
Far from the heat of King's Landing, Jaime Lannister rode hard along the Goldenroad with a squad of Lannister guards, golden armor flashing in the sun. His handsome face wore a faint scowl of irritation.
He had received word that his dwarf brother Tyrion had left Casterly Rock a month ago, supposedly to watch the "Star Selection" and the tourney in the capital. By now the Tyrells had arrived, so Tyrion should have crawled in weeks ago. Worried the little fool had gotten into trouble, Jaime had ridden out himself to look.
At the edge of a rather rundown village he spotted two Lannister guards in red cloaks looking exhausted. The second they saw him they rushed forward like drowning men spotting a rope.
"Ser Jaime! Thank the gods!" one of them almost wept.
"Where's Tyrion?" Jaime demanded, reining in.
The guard pointed at the best stone house in the village, face twisted. "He's… inside, ser. The local girls here are… very enthusiastic. Lord Tyrion…"
Jaime's mouth twitched. He swung down from his horse and strode inside. The room was dim and smelled of cheap ale and something far more intimate.
Tyrion Lannister sat at a rough wooden table, shirt half-open, one arm around a young village girl who already had the weary eyes of someone far older. He was telling some filthy joke that had the half-dozen girls around him giggling wildly.
"Tyrion!" Jaime's voice was tight with barely leashed anger.
Tyrion looked up, saw his brother, and grinned without a trace of shame. "Well, if it isn't my dear brother! When did you get here? Come, try the local ale—it's rough but it's got character!"
He gave the girl on his lap a playful smack on the rear. "Pour our gallant knight a cup!"
Jaime fought the urge to drag him out by the collar. "I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere! I've been worried sick in King's Landing. Pack your things. We're leaving now."
"Worried?" Tyrion raised an eyebrow and drained his cup. "What's to worry about? I'm having a wonderful time! These girls truly appreciate my… finer qualities!" He chuckled.
Jaime thought of his equally troublesome sister back in the city and his temper flared hotter. "Enough. I've rented you an entire brothel in King's Landing—Bravosi girls, trained in every art you can imagine. A hundred times better than these wildflowers."
Tyrion's eyes lit up like a child offered candy. "Bravosi girls? Oh, Jaime, you always know how to win me over!" He shoved the village girl aside, hopped down, and started gathering his few belongings—mostly books and a wineskin. "What are we waiting for? I'm already dreaming of soft beds and decent wine!"
He hurried the two relieved guards along and followed Jaime out.
On the ride back to the city, Tyrion's curiosity kicked into high gear. "So, the girl who won the Star Selection—Nia, right? They say even Robert is smitten?"
Jaime gave a distracted grunt. He couldn't care less.
"And the Dragonpit renovation—Pierce Celtigar and the Tyrells… sounds entertaining!" Tyrion sounded like he was already looking forward to the chaos.
At the mention of Pierce's name, Jaime's brow furrowed. "Just a lucky upstart," he muttered, voice dripping contempt. "Got rich quick with some shady tricks and a pile of gold dragons."
Tyrion caught the unusual edge in his brother's tone. He nudged his pony closer, grinning slyly. "Oh? I hear something personal there, brother. Did this Celtigar offend you?"
Jaime snorted, eyes fixed on the distant spires of King's Landing. "He hasn't earned the right. It's just… Cersei keeps talking about him. How capable he is, how… different."
He couldn't admit the real reason—the too-close moment he'd walked in on in the Red Keep study, the way Cersei had defended the man.
Tyrion, unaware of the twisted truth between his siblings, simply shrugged. "Come on, Jaime. She's the queen. She needs strong lords on her side. Every queen in history has had… close supporters. As long as Robert the drunk doesn't find out, what's the harm? Honestly, sometimes I almost feel sorry for her—married to that great lumbering—"
He didn't finish the sentence, but the meaning was clear. Even though Cersei had never been kind to her dwarf brother, the thought of her stuck with Robert Baratheon still gave Tyrion a twinge of complicated sympathy.
...
...
White Harbor – Manderly Auction House
Far to the north in White Harbor, inside the magnificent Manderly family auction hall, a lively fur auction was underway.
The building's interior was cleverly designed: a raised central stage for display, tiered seating around it, and private boxes on the second and third floors with one-way glass windows for important guests.
In the most luxurious third-floor box, a hooded figure sat in a deep armchair, cloak drawn low so only a pale, well-kept hand wearing a glowing purple crystal ring was visible. The hand tapped rhythmically on the armrest.
A capable-looking handmaiden knelt beside her, reading a freshly arrived coded letter in a whisper.
When the handmaiden reached the part about the Ruby Lord inviting the Amethyst Lord to send an envoy to King's Landing—and mentioning that a promising newcomer would help receive and recruit her—the hooded woman let out a soft, mocking laugh.
"So our Ruby Lord finally can't wait to sink her claws into the North?" The voice was deliberately lowered but unmistakably female, rich and amused. "She thinks controlling King's Landing means she controls the Rising Tide? How adorably naïve."
She twisted the purple crystal ring on her finger, eyes gleaming with sharp intelligence. "If not for the Lapis Lazuli Lord's revolutionary techniques and business ideas far ahead of their time, my fur trade would never have crushed the old guilds or reached across the Narrow Sea."
Her gaze drifted through the one-way glass to the stage below, where a batch of prime snow-fox pelts was being displayed.
"Still… a foothold in King's Landing does sound tempting." She tapped the armrest once more, decision made. "Let's play along. Let the Ruby Lord think her invitation worked. At the same time, I'll slip my own people into the capital… and find a way to make direct contact with the Lapis Lazuli Lord."
A quiet, satisfied smile curved beneath the hood.
The game in King's Landing had just become a lot more interesting.