Chapter 17:
Pompey Manor, deep into the night.
Although it was already late autumn, thanks to the groundbreaking constant-temperature system of the [Level 1 Ecological Greenhouse], the main building of the manor remained as warm as spring.
The front door was pushed open, letting in a gust of cold wind.
"Prepare hot water and clean clothes."
Victor strode into the hall, carrying the girl wrapped tightly in his bloodstained cloak.
Hearing the noise, Alice — with her slightly protruding belly — hurried down the stairs with the help of a maid. She glanced at Sansa Stark, who was trembling in her husband's arms with half her pale little face exposed. There was no jealousy or surprise in her eyes, only a calm acceptance as if she had already foreseen this.
As a clever woman, she had sensed Sansa's feelings for her husband ever since the girl's previous visit. And on this night of city-wide chaos, the fact that her husband had brought her back spoke volumes.
"Morsen, prepare the west wing room," Alice quickly took charge, her voice gentle yet firm. "Bring the velvet nightgown and the 'calming essential oil' my husband recently made."
She walked up to Victor and reached out, gently stroking Sansa's disheveled red hair.
"Don't be afraid, child," Alice's voice was as warm as a mother's. "Now that you're here, no one can hurt you anymore."
Perhaps it was the strong maternal aura, or perhaps the word "child" touched the fragile nerves of a girl who had just lost her family — Sansa lifted her head, looked at the gentle, pregnant woman before her, and finally broke down after holding herself together all night.
"Lady Pompey… waaah…"
Sansa struggled free from Victor's arms and threw herself into Alice's embrace, sobbing loudly.
Victor watched the scene with a satisfied smile.
This was exactly why he had insisted on making Alice his primary wife.
She understood the bigger picture and knew when to advance and retreat. In this chaotic world, a woman who could help him manage the inner courtyard was worth more than gold.
…
Half an hour later, in the bathroom.
Steam filled the air, and thick rose petals floated on the surface of the water.
Alice personally held a towel and helped wipe the bloodstains from Sansa's back.
"My father… they said he's a traitor…" Sansa hugged her knees like a frightened little quail. "But my father is the most honorable man in the world…"
"In this city, honor is often a crime."
Alice gently combed through Sansa's tangled hair as she spoke softly. "But you don't need to worry. As long as you're in House Pompey, not even the new King Joffrey would dare break in to take you."
"Victor… I mean, Lord Pompey… can he really protect me?" Sansa's eyes were full of hope.
"He can protect you, and he can protect your family," Alice planted the seed of trust in Sansa's ear. "Did you know? Last night, my husband risked offending the Queen herself just to save you. In this world, there is no man more reliable than him."
Sansa listened, her cheeks turning slightly red. The fear in her eyes gradually gave way to blind admiration and dependence.
Yes.
That man had drawn his sword and killed for her in the Red Keep. He was her hero, her only safe harbor.
[Ding! Sansa Stark Favorability Breakthrough: Attachment (80/100)!] [Status Updated: Canary (Has初步 developed "Imprinting Complex" and now sees the host as her sole support).]
…
The next morning, Red Keep.
Although a bloody purge had occurred the previous night, the morning sun still rose as usual.
The air, however, carried a heavy scent of slaughter. Heads of "traitors" hung from the city walls, and Gold Cloaks were searching every street and alley for remnants of House Stark.
Inside Maegor's Holdfast, the newly appointed Queen Regent — Cersei Lannister — was in a rage, smashing a vase to pieces.
"Where the hell is that damn girl?!"
Cersei roared at the Kingsguard. "I ordered you to bring Sansa back! And you tell me she disappeared? Ser Meryn's hand was crippled? Who did it?!"
"It… it was Baron Pompey."
A surviving red-cloaked guard knelt on the ground, trembling. "He… he said the Queen doesn't know how to cherish beauty, so he took her away."
"Victor?"
Cersei paused, then the anger in her eyes turned into a complicated mix of jealousy and suspicion.
"Bring him to me! Now!"
A moment later, Victor walked into the room.
He looked refreshed, showing no fatigue from last night's killing. He even carried a bouquet of fresh lilies.
"It seems Her Grace the Queen did not sleep well last night."
Victor ignored the murderous glares from the surrounding guards as usual and walked straight up to Cersei, placing the flowers in a vase.
"Enough with the act!"
Cersei slammed her hand on the table. "Where is that little Stark wolf pup?! Where did you hide her? Victor, don't think that because you've slept with me I won't kill you! She is an important hostage!"
"Hostage?"
Victor let out a light laugh. Instead of retreating, he stepped forward, placed both hands on the table, and looked down at Cersei.
"Cersei, use your head. Lock her in the black cells? Or let your idiot son Joffrey torture her?"
"That would do nothing but enrage the North and drive Ned Stark's bannermen completely mad."
"Then what do you suggest?" Cersei's tone softened slightly under his pressure.
"I took her back to Pompey Manor to 'train' her for you."
Victor reached out and gently lifted Cersei's chin, his eyes turning slightly wicked. "A frightened little girl locked in a dungeon will only think of revenge. But if she's kept in a warm cage and given 'false' kindness, she will turn into an obedient canary."
"I will make her write letters to the North urging her brother Robb Stark to surrender. I will make her publicly admit her father's crimes."
Victor leaned close to Cersei's ear and whispered:
"This is called winning hearts, my queen. It is ten thousand times more effective than killing."
Cersei narrowed her eyes, studying Victor.
His words made sense and perfectly fit Victor's "cunning and ruthless" persona. Moreover, compared to handing her over to the sadist Joffrey, keeping her with Victor was far more useful.
And most importantly — deep down, she didn't want to fall out with Victor over a little girl. Especially now that she might already be carrying his…
"Hmph, well said."
Cersei snorted coldly and slapped his hand away, but the killing intent in her eyes had already faded.
"You just want to train her into your own little bed toy, don't you? Don't think I don't know how men think. That girl may be stupid, but she is quite pretty."
"And if I do?"
Victor didn't deny it. Instead, he openly admitted it. "In this city of King's Landing, besides you, I need some other entertainment. I can't run to the Red Keep every day, can I? That would drive Jaime mad."
At the mention of Jaime, Cersei's expression stiffened for a moment.
"Fine, get out."
Cersei waved her hand impatiently. "You can keep the girl, but she must write letters urging the North to surrender. Also… if you dare let her get pregnant with a bastard, I will personally castrate you."
The corner of Victor's lips curled up.
He knew — this round was won.
"As you command, Your Grace."
Victor bowed and turned to leave.
The moment he walked out of the Red Keep, he let out a long breath.
Letters urging surrender? Of course they would be written.
But their content would not be what Cersei hoped for. They would be a signal to the Young Wolf Robb Stark in the North — "My sister is in my hands. If you want to save her, do as I say."
Victor looked up at the sky.
Ned Stark had already been thrown into the black cells.
Next came the famous "trial at the Great Sept of Baelor."
Joffrey would order Ned's head to be cut off.
And what Victor needed to do was seize the final and greatest political capital for House Pompey during that chaotic moment —
Save Ned's life? No.
That was a death trap even the gods couldn't change.
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