King's Landing – Rosby Road
Pierce chose a misty dawn to leave King's Landing. A thin veil of fog hung over Blackwater Bay, and in the distance the Red Keep flickered in and out of sight like a crimson dream floating above the clouds.
The memory of last night still burned in his blood—the wild, desperate hours spent with Cersei in the secret passage behind her royal bedchamber. A slow, satisfied smile curved his lips.
She had clung to him like a woman who knew a long separation was coming, her hunger almost frantic, as if she could brand herself into his skin. Between gasps she kept whispering in that proud Lannister voice, claiming ownership, warning him not to chase any skirts back on Crackclaw Point.
Pierce had answered the only way he knew how—harder, deeper—until the proud queen finally melted into a trembling puddle of pleasure and fell asleep in his arms.
This level of control, this raw intimacy… it was exactly what he'd been building toward. Only now did he fully understand the old saying: "You don't know what you're missing until you've had an older woman."
Littlefinger and the Tyrell siblings had shown up together to see him off—an unexpected trio. Petyr wore his usual knowing half-smile, the one that always looked like he was three moves ahead.
"Lord Pierce," he said with a graceful bow, "may the Seven bless your journey. Rest easy—the Dragonpit and the new tourney arena will move forward exactly as you planned. I look forward to the day you return and see the next miracle we've built in King's Landing."
His tone was warm, but deep in his eyes there was a tiny flicker of relief. With Pierce gone, the invisible pressure on his spy network and business schemes would ease. He'd still follow the blueprint, but now he'd have more room to maneuver.
Willas Tyrell leaned on his cane and gave a solemn nod. "Lord Celtigar, the partnership between the Reach and Crackclaw Point has only just begun. The Dragonpit is our top priority. House Tyrell honors its word—we will keep the work on schedule and up to standard."
His sincerity was genuine. After watching Pierce in action, Willas had decided this new power was worth riding with, not against.
Margaery—still disguised as "Matt"—offered a perfectly polite smile. "Safe travels, Lord Pierce. I hope the next time you return to King's Landing you'll have even more fascinating stories from the east."
Her voice was light, but those clever brown eyes held a swirl of emotions—curiosity, a hint of unspoken longing, and the iron discipline that kept both firmly in check.
Pierce said his goodbyes one by one, full of confidence about their future cooperation. Then he swung into the saddle, took one last look at the great city, and rode out.
The walls loomed high, the streets already waking with noise. Inside those walls sat his massive investments, his carefully placed agents, the seeds of future chaos he had planted, and the queen whose bed—and heart—he had thoroughly claimed.
The board was set. All that remained was to let time do its work.
He touched his heels to his horse's flanks. With his elite guards riding behind, he left King's Landing and its endless schemes behind him. Ahead lay Crackclaw Point—his true stronghold and the launchpad for the next stage of his conquest.
…
…
Rosby Road – A Few Miles Outside King's Landing
Once the city's silhouette had vanished into the morning haze, Ser Lothor Brune nudged his horse closer to Pierce. The big knight's face showed clear confusion.
"My lord… Lady Melisandre didn't ride with us? Where did she stay behind?"
Pierce kept his eyes on the road ahead, expression calm. He'd been expecting the question.
"She has her own mission, Lothor."
"Mission?" Brune sounded even more puzzled. The red priestess had followed Pierce like a shadow all the way to King's Landing. Why leave her now?
"The Lord of Light needs more kindling for his flames in Westeros," Pierce said with a faint edge of mockery. "King's Landing is the hardest fortress of the Seven to crack. It's the perfect stage for her to prove her god's power and recruit more… devoted followers for our cause. Cersei has already opened a crack for her. Melisandre needs to stay and turn that crack into a doorway."
He glanced sideways at his knight, eyes dark and knowing. "Don't worry about her safety, and don't underestimate her skill. When it comes to twisting hearts and staging 'miracles,' she's a true master. She'll do far more good for us in King's Landing than riding at our side."
Lothor Brune nodded slowly, though the deeper political and religious games still felt slippery to him. Still, he trusted Pierce completely.
"Understood, my lord."
Pierce said nothing more and urged his horse into a faster trot. Melisandre was a double-edged sword—dangerous if mishandled, devastating if used right. He was certain he could wield her.
Leaving her in the most complicated city in Westeros kept her away from his inner circle while letting her create chaos on his behalf. Win-win.
…
…
King's Landing – Red Keep, Hidden Chamber
That same morning, in an ultra-secret chamber only Varys knew existed, a very different kind of tension filled the air.
Varys rubbed his soft white hands together, bald head gleaming in the candlelight. He studied the fat man in the heavy cloak across from him.
"Old friend, you were supposed to bring good news. That look on your face tells me the game in Essos has taken an unexpected turn."
Illyrio Mopatis pushed back his hood. The usual cheerful smile was gone; his round face was lined with exhaustion and barely contained fury.
"Turn? Varys, this isn't a turn—it's an earthquake!"
He lowered his voice, almost hissing. "The little dragons we spent years grooming—Viserys and Daenerys—they've slipped our control. Or rather… they've found a far stronger patron."
"Explain," Varys said, purple eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Viserys has stopped ranting about 'the Dragon King's return.' He's meeting with advisors I've never heard of. They talk about 'new laws,' 'constitutions,' even limiting royal power. And Daenerys—strange northern guards now shadow her. Their fighting style is nothing like common sellswords. Most alarming, the pair suddenly has steady funding—far more gold than the crumbs we've been feeding them."
Illyrio took a shaky breath. "I thought the Golden Company would be our ace in the hole, but… some of the best officers and men have broken their sacred oaths. I suspect they're heading east—toward the Targaryens."
Varys shot to his feet, still graceful but visibly shocked. "The Golden Company is splitting? Impossible! My little birds in Pentos and Lys heard nothing?!"
"Your birds rule Westeros, Varys, but Essos has changed." Illyrio's voice trembled with real fear. "Braavos and the Sea Lord are moving in ways I don't understand. Their reach is stretching east and south at terrifying speed. And Volantis… that city behind the Black Wall is restless. A faction calling itself the 'New Party' is rising fast. Their slogans—overthrow slavery, make Volantis great again—sound disturbingly similar to the ideas Viserys's new advisors are whispering. And they, too, have mysterious, massive funding."
The two old spiders who had spent years spinning their web across two continents now felt a chill they hadn't known in decades.
The game they thought they controlled had been invaded by players who didn't follow any known rules—and whose power seemed bottomless.
Varys slowly sat back down, voice grave. "Braavos expanding, a New Party in Volantis, the Golden Company fracturing, Targaryens with unknown backers… Is there an invisible hand behind all of it? Illyrio… we may have underestimated how complicated this continent truly is. The game in Westeros is still undecided, but our foundation in the east is already cracking."
The candle flames crackled in the long silence, throwing uneasy shadows across two faces that had suddenly realized the board was no longer theirs alone.
…
…
King's Landing – Tyrell Estate
Margaery dropped the polite mask the moment the door closed. A faint trace of melancholy lingered as she stared out the window at the lifting fog.
"Willas," she said quietly but firmly, "it's time for me to return to Highgarden."
Willas turned his wheelchair, sharp eyes reading her instantly. He saw the flicker of disappointment she tried to hide.
"King's Landing's glamour… or a certain someone… has you reluctant to leave, sister?"
Margaery didn't answer directly. She gave a small sigh and a rueful smile. "I came to see the famous tourney and… to meet the legendary Pierce Celtigar. The tourney's over, he's gone, and all that's left here are endless parties and fake smiles. It's grown dull."
Willas's expression turned serious. He wheeled closer. "Margaery, put those thoughts away. Pierce Celtigar is impressive—very—but he is already betrothed to Shireen Baratheon, and the web of interests behind him is far more complicated than we imagined."
He knew his sister well, so the warning came gently but firmly. "He is an excellent ally, but he could also be the most dangerous enemy. You are the future of House Tyrell. Your marriage must be a cornerstone of our power. There is no room for childish daydreams."
Margaery turned, the melancholy already gone. The clever, composed "Little Rose" was back in full control. She lifted her chin, voice calm and confident.
"Don't worry, brother. I know exactly who I am and what House Tyrell needs. Yes, Pierce is an incredibly attractive man—his knowledge, his skill, even that air of mystery… but that's all. I understand the distance between us. It was never possible, and I never truly hoped for it."
She paused, as if smoothing out the last tiny ripple in her heart, then steered the conversation back to business.
"What matters now is our position in King's Landing. The Dragonpit project—we must accelerate. Pierce and Littlefinger stole the spotlight with the tourney and the Star Selection, but when it comes to actual construction and future operations, House Tyrell still has every chance to shine. The wealth and craftsmanship of the Reach must be displayed through this unprecedented commercial wonder. We will make every noble and merchant in the Seven Kingdoms remember the golden rose!"
She tapped the Dragonpit layout spread across the table, eyes sharp. "Willas, write to Father and Garlan today. We need more master craftsmen and materials from Highgarden—immediately. Advance the schedule! And we must begin planning the grand opening for our half of the Dragonpit. It has to be spectacular, unforgettable. Let everyone know that in King's Landing, beside royal power and mystery, there is also the unmatched richness and elegance of the Reach!"
Willas watched his sister snap back into her true self and felt a surge of pride. This was the Margaery he knew—the one who would move heaven and earth for House Tyrell.
Romance might be a fleeting distraction for a girl her age, but family ambition would always be her guiding star.
"You're right, Margaery," he said, nodding firmly. "I'll send the ravens at once. The Dragonpit will be our first real foothold in King's Landing—and our chance to show the entire realm what House Tyrell can do. We will not fall behind."
Brother and sister shared a determined smile, eyes bright with the same fierce ambition.
Pierce had left the stage for now, but the Tyrells' performance in King's Landing was only just beginning its rise to the climax.
And somewhere on the road to Crackclaw Point, Pierce himself was already wondering what kind of "blossoming garden filled with thunder" he would find when he returned to this city in a year's time.