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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 39/751
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The
king
touched
her
cheek
,
his
fingers
brushing
across
the
rough
stone
as
gently
as
if
it
were
living
flesh
.
"
I
vowed
to
kill
Rhaegar
for
what
he
did
to
her
.
"
"
You
did
,
"
Ned
reminded
him
.
"
Only
once
,
"
Robert
said
bitterly
.
They
had
come
together
at
the
ford
of
the
Trident
while
the
battle
crashed
around
them
,
Robert
with
his
warhammer
and
his
great
antlered
helm
,
the
Targaryen
prince
armored
all
in
black
.
On
his
breastplate
was
the
three-headed
dragon
of
his
House
,
wrought
all
in
rubies
that
flashed
like
fire
in
the
sunlight
.
The
waters
of
the
Trident
ran
red
around
the
hooves
of
their
destriers
as
they
circled
and
clashed
,
again
and
again
,
until
at
last
a
crushing
blow
from
Robert
's
hammer
stove
in
the
dragon
and
the
chest
beneath
it
.
When
Ned
had
finally
come
on
the
scene
,
Rhaegar
lay
dead
in
the
stream
,
while
men
of
both
armies
scrabbled
in
the
swirling
waters
for
rubies
knocked
free
of
his
armor
.
"
In
my
dreams
,
I
kill
him
every
night
,
"
Robert
admitted
.
"
A
thousand
deaths
will
still
be
less
than
he
deserves
.
"
There
was
nothing
Ned
could
say
to
that
.
After
a
quiet
,
he
said
,
"
We
should
return
,
Your
Grace
.
Your
wife
will
be
waiting
.
"
"
The
Others
take
my
wife
,
"
Robert
muttered
sourly
,
but
he
started
back
the
way
they
had
come
,
his
footsteps
falling
heavily
.
"
And
if
I
hear
'
Your
Grace
'
once
more
,
I
'll
have
your
head
on
a
spike
.
We
are
more
to
each
other
than
that
.
"
"
I
had
not
forgotten
,
"
Ned
replied
quietly
.
When
the
king
did
not
answer
,
he
said
,
"
Tell
me
about
Jon
.
"
Robert
shook
his
head
.
"
I
have
never
seen
a
man
sicken
so
quickly
.
We
gave
a
tourney
on
my
son
's
name
day
.
If
you
had
seen
Jon
then
,
you
would
have
sworn
he
would
live
forever
.
A
fortnight
later
he
was
dead
.
The
sickness
was
like
a
fire
in
his
gut
.
It
burned
right
through
him
.
"
He
paused
beside
a
pillar
,
before
the
tomb
of
a
long-dead
Stark
.
"
I
loved
that
old
man
.
"
