Chapter 16:
Red Keep, Maegor's Holdfast.
The once-mighty King Robert Baratheon now lay in bed like a pile of rotten mud. The wild boar had torn a massive hole in his belly — one could even see his intestines writhing inside.
"Victor… cough cough…"
Robert struggled to open his swollen eyes and accurately found the young man he had recently grown fond of among the maesters and ministers surrounding his bed. "Come here."
Victor stepped forward, knelt on one knee, and took the hand that had once wielded a warhammer but was now pale and powerless.
"Your Grace."
"Don't… don't make that funeral face." Robert grinned, blood foam trickling from the corner of his mouth. "In this life… I drank the strongest wine, rode the fastest horses, and slept with the most beautiful women… it was worth it! Just… cough cough… just didn't get to drink one last cup with you…"
"The wine is already prepared, Your Grace."
Victor took out a flat silver flask from his chest — the high-proof distilled liquor he always carried. He unscrewed the cap, and a strong aroma instantly overpowered the stench of death in the room.
He poured a small amount into the cap and gently fed it to Robert.
"Ah… good wine…" A final spark of life flashed in Robert's eyes as he gripped Victor's hand tightly. "Listen, Victor… you are a true knight. Help Ned… he's too stubborn… in this shithole called King's Landing, he'll get eaten by the wolves…"
"And… take care of my 'children'…"
Victor's eyes flickered slightly.
He knew Robert meant Joffrey and the others, but what Victor thought of was the child in Cersei's belly — the true "Seed of the Usurper" that belonged to him, yet would carry the Baratheon name.
"I swear it, Your Grace."
Victor's voice was steady and powerful — the last "mercy" to a dying man, and the greatest lie.
"I will take good care of this realm."
Robert's hand fell limply.
The usurper, the stag of Storm's End, had fallen.
…
Several hours later.
Night had fallen, and the Red Keep was wrapped in an eerie silence.
Following the original timeline, Eddard Stark should now be walking into the fatal Throne Room with Robert's will in hand. He believed that with the Gold Cloaks and the will, he could depose Joffrey. He had no idea that Littlefinger had already betrayed him.
But Victor was not in the Throne Room.
He had no interest in joining that doomed mess.
His target was the Tower of the Hand.
"Ah! Let go of me! I am a daughter of House Stark!"
"Father! Father, save me!"
Chaos filled the corridors of the Tower of the Hand.
Dozens of heavily armed Lannister red-cloaked guards, led by Kingsguard Ser Meryn Trant, were smashing against Sansa Stark's door.
The coup had begun. Cersei's first order was to seize Ned Stark's two daughters as hostages.
"Break the door down!" Ser Meryn ordered coldly. "The Queen's command — we need her alive. Even if you have to break her arms and legs, so be it."
Boom!
The heavy oak door was smashed open.
Sansa huddled at the foot of the bed, staring in terror at the soldiers who had once treated her with respect but now looked like vicious wolves. Her septa had already been stabbed to death at the doorway, blood pooling across the floor.
"Come with us, little bird," Ser Meryn grinned savagely and reached out with a bloodstained hand.
Sansa closed her eyes in despair.
Her prince dream had shattered. Her father had disappeared. At this moment, who could possibly save her?
At that critical instant—
Whoosh—!
A piercing whistle cut through the air.
A black crossbow bolt, like Death's invitation, instantly pierced through Ser Meryn Trant's outstretched palm, nailing his hand to the bedpost!
"AAAHHH!!!"
A scream echoed down the corridor.
"Who?!" The red cloaks turned in horror.
At the end of the corridor, two figures slowly emerged from the shadows.
One wore black plate armor and held a bloodstained longsword, looking like the king of the night.
The other was built like a mountain, half his face burned, carrying a greatsword and radiating suffocating killing intent.
Victor Pompey and his mad dog — Sandor Clegane, the Hound.
"When did Lannister men learn to lay hands on a lady?"
Victor's voice was ice-cold. The longsword in his hand reflected a bloodthirsty gleam under the torchlight.
"Pompey?!" Ser Meryn clutched his ruined hand, cold sweat pouring down his face from the pain. "Have you gone mad? This is the Queen's order! We are to arrest the daughter of the traitor Stark!"
"The Queen?"
Victor gave a cold laugh and stepped closer. "The Queen's order is to 'invite' Lady Stark to Maegor's Holdfast as a guest. Not for you filthy animals to touch her with your dirty hands."
"Hound, clear the room."
Victor gave the order calmly.
"Leave no one alive."
"Heh, I've been waiting for this."
The Hound let out a cruel growl and charged into the crowd like a whirlwind, his greatsword swinging.
What followed was not a scene suitable for delicate eyes.
Although the Hound lacked his brother the Mountain's monstrous strength, his swordsmanship was even more vicious and ruthless. In the narrow corridor, he was a meat grinder. The ordinary red-cloaked guards were nothing but wheat waiting to be harvested before him.
Severed limbs flew. Blood sprayed.
Sansa tremblingly opened her eyes.
Through the gaps in her fingers, she saw the figure engraved deep in her soul.
That man had appeared once again in her moment of despair — like a ray of light tearing through the darkness.
"Lord… Victor?" she called out, her voice choked with tears.
The fight ended quickly.
Victor stepped over the corpses on the ground and walked to the bed. He sheathed his sword, removed his bloodstained cloak, and gently wrapped the trembling Sansa in it.
"Don't be afraid, Sansa."
Victor lifted her into his arms, letting her bury her face in his chest so she wouldn't see the hellish scene.
"I promised your father I would protect you."
"My father… what happened to my father?" Sansa clutched Victor's collar desperately, as if holding onto her last lifeline.
"He… is fighting for his honor."
Victor didn't tell her the truth — that Ned had likely already been betrayed by the Gold Cloaks and taken prisoner.
"The Red Keep is no longer safe. It's full of madmen and butchers."
He lowered his head and looked at the girl in his arms with an irresistible firmness.
"Come home with me. Back to Pompey Manor. There is a greenhouse, flowers, and absolute safety."
"I will protect you here until… the storm passes."
Sansa, already overwhelmed and exhausted, burst into tears the moment she heard the word "home."
She nodded vigorously and surrendered herself completely to this man.
…
Half an hour later.
A black carriage quietly slipped out of a side gate of Maegor's Holdfast under the cover of night and chaos.
The Gold Cloaks at the gate tried to stop it, but upon seeing a golden token engraved with the Lannister lion (Cersei's special privilege) and the demonic figure of the Hound driving the carriage, they immediately stepped aside.
Inside the carriage.
Sansa had fallen asleep in the corner from shock and exhaustion.
Victor looked out the window at the Red Keep, where flames were rising into the sky. He listened to the distant sounds of slaughter and screams with an expressionless face.
[Ding! Congratulations, host, on completing the key quest: Bird in the Cage!] [Successfully intercepted core heroine: Sansa Stark!] [Current Status: Absolute Control (Brought back to your territory).] [Special Reward: Legal Claim to the North (Activated when Sansa conceives your child).] [Additional Reward: Stark Family Talent — [Skinchanger (Weakened Version)] (Your descendants have a chance to awaken the ability to control animals).]
"Skinchanger…"
Victor stroked his chin.
If the opportunity arose, should he also bring those direwolves over?
But right now, the most important thing was…
He glanced at the sleeping Sansa. Tears still clung to her delicate, porcelain-like face.
From tonight onward, this "little bird" — who was originally destined to be tormented by Joffrey, used by Littlefinger, and imprisoned by the Lannisters — had officially flown into the golden cage woven by Victor Pompey.
And in his "Crystal Palace," besides his primary wife Alice, a second resident had finally arrived —
The future Queen of the North.
"Hyah!"
The Hound cracked the reins.
The carriage disappeared into the labyrinthine alleys of King's Landing.
At the same time.
News spread from the Throne Room:
Eddard Stark had been arrested for treason.
The sky over King's Landing had changed.
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