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- Джордж Мартин
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"
Old
men
deny
it
with
their
death
rattle
,
and
unborn
children
deny
it
in
their
mothers
’
wombs
.
They
deny
it
in
Dorne
and
they
deny
it
on
the
Wall
.
No
one
wants
you
for
their
king
.
Sorry
.
"
Stannis
clenched
his
jaw
,
his
face
taut
.
"
I
swore
I
would
never
treat
with
you
while
you
wore
your
traitor
’
s
crown
.
Would
that
I
had
kept
to
that
vow
.
"
"
This
is
folly
,
"
Catelyn
said
sharply
.
"
Lord
Tywin
sits
at
Harrenhal
with
twenty
thousand
swords
.
The
remnants
of
the
Kingslayer
’
s
army
have
regrouped
at
the
Golden
Tooth
,
another
Lannister
host
gathers
beneath
the
shadow
of
Casterly
Rock
,
and
Cersei
and
her
son
hold
King
’
s
Landing
and
your
precious
Iron
Throne
.
You
each
name
yourself
king
,
yet
the
kingdom
bleeds
,
and
no
one
lifts
a
sword
to
defend
it
but
my
son
.
"
Renly
shrugged
.
"
Your
son
has
won
a
few
battles
.
I
shall
win
the
war
.
The
Lannisters
can
wait
my
pleasure
.
"
"
If
you
have
proposals
to
make
,
make
them
,
"
Stannis
said
brusquely
,
"
or
I
will
be
gone
.
"
"
Very
well
,
"
said
Renly
.
"
I
propose
that
you
dismount
,
bend
your
knee
,
and
swear
me
your
allegiance
.
"
Stannis
choked
back
rage
.
"
That
you
shall
never
have
.
"
"
You
served
Robert
,
why
not
me
?
"
"
Robert
was
my
elder
brother
.
You
are
the
younger
.
"
"
Younger
,
bolder
,
and
far
more
comely
.
.
.
"
