King's Landing – Temporary Stage, Silk Street & Flour Street Intersection, Backstage
Unlike the dusty chaos at the docks and Dragonpit, this temporary performance area felt organized and artistic.
A large semicircular wooden stage stood ready, with simple tiered seating out front. It was basic but could easily hold several hundred people.
The cleverest touch was the huge canvas awning stretched above the stage. It blocked sun and rain while its curved shape naturally funneled sound forward, acting like a built-in amplifier so even the back rows could hear every line clearly.
Backstage consisted of connected large tents divided by screens into dressing rooms, prop storage, and rest areas. The air smelled of makeup, paint, and fresh lumber.
Right now, in one of the more private dressing rooms, Pierce handed Nia a thick stack of parchment pages. She had just finished removing her Siren's Love makeup but still carried the tragic heroine's aura.
"This is the script for the next play—The Bear and the Beauty."
Pierce's voice was calm and even.
Nia took the pages with both hands, eyes shining with gratitude and reverence, as if she'd been handed a sacred text.
"Thank you, Lord Pierce! I'll work harder than ever to bring it to life!"
Her voice was slightly hoarse after three straight days of performances, but it only added to her appeal.
In her eyes, Pierce wasn't just her patron—he was the man who had pulled her out of the gutter, given her a new life, and crowned her with glory.
She had originally thought Littlefinger was the mastermind. Only later did she realize the true genius behind every brilliant idea was this seemingly young lord.
At that moment the tent flap lifted. Willas Tyrell and his "squire" Matt stepped inside.
They had come to compliment Nia on The Siren's Love. The girls really loved these plays—happy endings or tragic ones, they threw themselves into the stories.
"Miss Nia, your performance was absolutely moving!" Willas said politely. Then he spotted Pierce and looked surprised. "Lord Celtigar? You're here too?"
Margaery's gaze flicked quickly between Pierce and Nia, finally landing on the script in Pierce's hand. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity.
Nia was sharp. She immediately recognized "Matt" was a girl in disguise and sensed this young noblewoman was no ordinary page.
She shot Pierce a questioning look. He gave a tiny nod—he already knew.
"Lord Willas, Matt… sir!" Pierce greeted them with a smile. "I didn't expect you two to be fans of stage plays."
"The story of The Siren's Love… was so unique," Margaery couldn't help saying. She kept her voice low, but that bright, girlish tone still slipped through. "The ending was just heartbreaking! The prince was awful—the siren gave everything for him and turned into sea foam. It wasn't fair at all!"
Her words carried real emotion. She had clearly been swept up in the tragedy.
Pierce smiled. "The tale comes from legends I heard in the east. I just… adapted it for Westeros. As for the ending—maybe the fact that their love couldn't be fulfilled makes it more unforgettable. A tragedy that lingers in the heart."
On a continent starved for entertainment, The Little Mermaid hit these people like a hammer from another world.
"If the siren and the prince had actually ended up together, facing the world's judgment and the difference between their races, how long could their love have lasted anyway? The foam ending makes the tragedy eternal and beautiful."
Margaery blinked, caught off guard by Pierce's little lecture on "the beauty of tragedy." She still felt bad for the siren but couldn't argue.
"And this?" she asked, eyes locking on the title of the new script.
Thinking back to the heartbreak of The Siren's Love, a spark of nervous excitement lit in her chest. She desperately wanted to know what this new story was about.
She pressed, "So… your new play The Bear and the Beauty—is it some northern tribal legend?" She was thinking of the old stories about the Children of the Forest and the First Men.
Pierce shook his head, a mysterious smile playing on his lips. "No. This is an entirely new tale. It's still about love, about appearances versus what's inside, about redemption… and the price you pay for it."
Margaery's eyes narrowed. Remembering how gut-wrenching the last play had been, she asked warily, "And… will this one have a happy ending? The beauty won't turn into foam or… something worse, right?"
Pierce looked at her tense expression and almost laughed. He decided to tease her. "The ending? It's… acceptable, I suppose. At least better than the siren's."
In his head he had already planned a twisted version of Beauty and the Beast—more drama, more heartbreak, and maybe the "beauty" would have to sacrifice something important to free the "bear." Perfect for hooking those noble ladies' romantic, weepy hearts.
He even considered adding some mother-in-law drama and family intrigue if the setting allowed. Now that would be entertainment.
Margaery stared at Pierce's mild but unfathomable smile and decided this man was definitely not writing a fairy-tale happy ending. She felt a pang of sympathy for the poor "beauty" who hadn't even appeared yet.
Meanwhile, Nia began asking Pierce for performance notes—how to better show a character's inner struggle, how to layer emotion into the lines, etc.
Pierce wasn't a professional actor, but his modern knowledge and deep understanding of human nature gave him razor-sharp advice: eye work, body language, rhythm and tone. Nia nodded eagerly, her admiration growing brighter by the second.
In her heart, Pierce was her true savior. Without him she would probably still be a miserable bed slave, lucky to live to old age but riddled with disease.
Even though King Robert had already taken her maidenhead, Nia secretly hoped she could one day give her body to Pierce.
Unfortunately, Pierce had always treated her strictly as a business partner.
Watching Pierce talk so effortlessly, Margaery found herself a little dazed.
This man wasn't just insanely rich and skilled in battle. His business vision was unmatched… and now he was giving master-level acting advice too?
He seemed capable of anything—like a character who had stepped straight out of legend. The feeling left her both fascinated and faintly uneasy.
...
...
King's Landing – Lysene Love Coffee House
After the brief chat, Willas invited Pierce to a nearby new café for afternoon tea.
The moment Pierce stepped inside the elegant, dark-wood-and-soft-lighting establishment, he chuckled.
"Looks like we're on the same wavelength, Lord Willas!" Pierce gestured around. "This coffee house is also one of my businesses."
"What?" Both Willas and Margaery looked stunned.
Coffee houses were still new in King's Landing, but the bitter, rich drink had quickly become fashionable among the upper class.
They had no idea Pierce was behind this trend too.
The staff clearly recognized him. They bowed and led the group to a table, then brought three steaming cups of black liquid—coffee—along with a small pitcher of milk and honey.
Willas recovered quickly and got straight to business. "Lord Celtigar, is the supply of this 'coffee' stable? And the tea leaves you mentioned earlier… I heard both come from distant Essos."
Pierce stirred his coffee. "Coffee beans are currently imported from Essos. Supply is limited, so we're keeping it high-end for now. As for tea…"
He pointed at the delicate porcelain pot the server had just brought over, filled with clear, pale liquid. "This comes from another plant my people discovered in the far east, in Yi Ti. The locals roast and brew it. It wakes the mind and cuts through grease. I'm experimenting with planting it on suitable islands near Lys."
Margaery stared curiously at the clear tea, copied Pierce's sip… and immediately wrinkled her nose. "It's so bitter!"
Pierce laughed and offered the honey. "First time? Try a little honey. Or do it the Qartheen way—lemon and mint for different fruit teas."
He gazed at his own cup as if remembering something. "But plain tea… sipped slowly, you taste the natural sweetness that comes after the bitterness. Like life itself—first the hardship, then the reward."
Margaery looked at Pierce, then at the clear tea in her cup, half-understanding.
Willas, ever practical, immediately began discussing future trade cooperation on coffee and tea.
In this exotic little café, the Tyrell siblings once again felt the reach of Pierce's business empire and the depth of his resources.
...
...
Red Keep – Maegor's Holdfast, Cersei's Solar
Far from the calm of the coffee house, a very different kind of negotiation was happening inside the Red Keep.
Melisandre stood before Cersei in her blood-red robes, ruby eyes burning like live coals.
"Your Grace," her voice was magnetic and persuasive, "R'hllor is the one true god. His flames will light the darkness of Westeros. To better spread the Lord of Light's glory, I humbly ask your permission to build a temple to R'hllor here in King's Landing."
Cersei sat on her queenly chair, fingers tapping the armrest. Her emerald eyes gleamed with calculation.
She enjoyed the power and convenience Melisandre provided, and the intoxicating hint that she herself might be "chosen." But she was no true believer. She cared about political advantage.
"Lady Melisandre," Cersei said slowly, "the Faith of the Seven is deeply rooted in King's Landing. The Great Sept of Baelor stands on Visenya's Hill. The current High Septon may be a fat man who knows which way the wind blows, but the church is not united. Many septons and septas already resent the crown's interference. Openly supporting a foreign faith and allowing a new temple… do you have any idea how much trouble that would cause?"
Melisandre didn't flinch. She stepped closer, voice dropping to that hypnotic tone. "Your Grace is right—the Seven are powerful. Precisely because they are powerful, they need balance. Look at Braavos—dozens of different temples coexist peacefully. The Sea Lord and the gods live in harmony. Freedom of faith brings lively ideas and prosperous trade. Westeros already has the old gods, which proves the Seven Kingdoms have always been pluralistic."
She stared straight into Cersei's eyes, words sweet as poisoned honey. "Allowing a temple to the Lord of Light does not mean overthrowing the Seven. It shows the realm your wisdom and strength. You allow your people to choose their faith freely."
"More importantly, when the day comes that the Faith tries to bind your hands—or when you need to do something… not entirely in line with the Seven's teachings but absolutely necessary—the power of the Lord of Light and his devoted followers will become a sharp sword in your hand, unbound by old laws. Worldly power needs many kinds of support to remain truly secure."
This speech was completely different from Melisandre's usual talk of miracles and prophecies. It attacked the issue from pure political self-interest and power balance—the exact angle Cersei cared about most.
The change in approach was clearly influenced by her time around Pierce. She had learned to package and sell her faith in ways mortals actually understood and wanted.
Cersei's heart moved.
She could already picture it: in future struggles against the Faith or any other enemy, a fanatical force loyal only to the Lord of Light—and therefore to her—would be incredibly useful. This wasn't just religion. This was power.
She thought for a long moment, then a meaningful smile curved her lips. "You make… a very persuasive argument, Lady Melisandre. Perhaps King's Landing is ready for some… new winds. We can discuss the temple's location and support… slowly."
A flash of triumph lit Melisandre's red eyes. She had successfully pried open the first crack in King's Landing's solid wall of Seven worship.
And none of it would have been possible without the influence of a certain man who claimed to care nothing for gods—yet had quietly taught her how to spread her faith far more effectively.
The game of power and the infiltration of faith quietly intertwined in the undercurrents of King's Landing.