-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джордж Мартин
-
- Игра престолов
-
- Стр. 35/751
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
How
are
we
to
go
home
,
sweet
sister
?
They
took
our
home
from
us
!
"
He
drew
her
into
the
shadows
,
out
of
sight
,
his
fingers
digging
into
her
skin
.
"
How
are
we
to
go
home
?
"
he
repeated
,
meaning
King
's
Landing
,
and
Dragonstone
,
and
all
the
realm
they
had
lost
.
Dany
had
only
meant
their
rooms
in
Illyrio
's
estate
,
no
true
home
surely
,
though
all
they
had
,
but
her
brother
did
not
want
to
hear
that
.
There
was
no
home
there
for
him
.
Even
the
big
house
with
the
red
door
had
not
been
home
for
him
.
His
fingers
dug
hard
into
her
arm
,
demanding
an
answer
.
"
I
do
n't
know
...
"
she
said
at
last
,
her
voice
breaking
.
Tears
welled
in
her
eyes
.
"
I
do
,
"
he
said
sharply
.
"
We
go
home
with
an
army
,
sweet
sister
.
With
Khal
Drogo
's
army
,
that
is
how
we
go
home
.
And
if
you
must
wed
him
and
bed
him
for
that
,
you
will
.
"
He
smiled
at
her
.
"
I
'd
let
his
whole
khalasar
fuck
you
if
need
be
,
sweet
sister
,
all
forty
thousand
men
,
and
their
horses
too
if
that
was
what
it
took
to
get
my
army
.
Be
grateful
it
is
only
Drogo
.
In
time
you
may
even
learn
to
like
him
.
Now
dry
your
eyes
.
Illyrio
is
bringing
him
over
,
and
he
will
not
see
you
crying
.
"
Dany
turned
and
saw
that
it
was
true
.
Magister
Illyrio
,
all
smiles
and
bows
,
was
escorting
Khal
Drogo
over
to
where
they
stood
.
She
brushed
away
unfallen
tears
with
the
back
of
her
hand
.
"
Smile
,
"
Viserys
whispered
nervously
,
his
hand
failing
to
the
hilt
of
his
sword
.
"
And
stand
up
straight
.
Let
him
see
that
you
have
breasts
.
Gods
know
,
you
have
little
enough
as
is
.
"
Daenerys
smiled
,
and
stood
up
straight
.
The
visitors
poured
through
the
castle
gates
in
a
river
of
gold
and
silver
and
polished
steel
,
three
hundred
strong
,
a
pride
of
bannermen
and
knights
,
of
sworn
swords
and
freeriders
.
Over
their
heads
a
dozen
golden
banners
whipped
back
and
forth
in
the
northern
wind
,
emblazoned
with
the
crowned
stag
of
Baratheon
.
Ned
knew
many
of
the
riders
.
There
came
Ser
Jaime
Lannister
with
hair
as
bright
as
beaten
gold
,
and
there
Sandor
Clegane
with
his
terrible
burned
face
.
The
tall
boy
beside
him
could
only
be
the
crown
prince
,
and
that
stunted
little
man
behind
them
was
surely
the
Imp
,
Tyrion
Lannister
.
Yet
the
huge
man
at
the
head
of
the
column
,
flanked
by
two
knights
in
the
snow-white
cloaks
of
the
Kingsguard
,
seemed
almost
a
stranger
to
Ned
...
until
he
vaulted
off
the
back
of
his
warhorse
with
a
familiar
roar
,
and
crushed
him
in
a
bone-crunching
hug
.
"
Ned
!
Ah
,
but
it
is
good
to
see
that
frozen
face
of
yours
.
"
The
king
looked
him
over
top
to
bottom
,
and
laughed
.
"
You
have
not
changed
at
all
.
"
Would
that
Ned
had
been
able
to
say
the
same
.
Fifteen
years
past
,
when
they
had
ridden
forth
to
win
a
throne
,
the
Lord
of
Storm
's
End
had
been
clean-shaven
,
clear-eyed
,
and
muscled
like
a
maiden
's
fantasy
.
Six
and
a
half
feet
tall
,
he
towered
over
lesser
men
,
and
when
he
donned
his
armor
and
the
great
antlered
helmet
of
his
House
,
he
became
a
veritable
giant
.
He
'd
had
a
giant
's
strength
too
,
his
weapon
of
choice
a
spiked
iron
warhammer
that
Ned
could
scarcely
lift
.
In
those
days
,
the
smell
of
leather
and
blood
had
clung
to
him
like
perfume
.
