A Game of Thrones - Book 1 by Book 1

Author:Book 1
Format: epub

“I took you for a king. Jaime and Tyrion are your own brothers, by all the laws of marriage and the bonds we share. The Starks have dr iven off the one and seized the ot her. This man dishonors you with every breath he takes, and yet you stand there meekly, asking if his leg pains him and would he like some wine.”

Robert ’s face was dark with anger. “How many times must I tell you to hold your tongue, wo ma n? ”

Cersei’s face was a study in contempt. “What a jape the gods have made of us two,” she said. “B y a ll r ig ht s, you ought to be in skirts and me in mail. ”

Purple with rage, the king lashed out, a vicious backhand blow to the side of the head. She stumbled against the table and fell hard, yet Cersei Lannister did not cry out. Her slender fingers brus hed her cheek, where the pale smooth skin was already reddening. On the morrow the bruise would cover half her face. “I shall wear this as a badge of honor,” she announced. “Wear it in silence, or I’ll honor you aga in,” Robert vowed. He shout ed for a gua rd. Ser Meryn Trant stepped into the room, tall and somber in his white armor. “The queen is tired. See her to her bedchamber.” The knight helped Cersei to her feet and led her out without a word. Robert reached for the flagon and refilled his cup. “You see what she does to me, Ned.” The king seated himself, cradling his wine cup. “My loving wife. The mother of my children.” The rage was gone from him now; in his eyes Ned saw something sad and scared. “I should not have hit her. That was not ... that was not kingly.” He stared down at his hands, as if he did not quite know what they were. “I was always strong... no one could stand before me, no one. How do you fight someone if you can’t hit them?” Confused, the king shook his head. “Rhaegar... Rhaegar won, damn him. I killed him, Ned, I drove the spike right through that black armor into his black heart, and he died at my feet. They made up songs about it. Yet somehow he still won. He has Lyanna now, and I have her.” The king drained his cup.

“Your Grace,” Ned Stark said, “we mu st t alk...”

Robert pressed his fingertips against his temples. “I am sick unto death of talk. On the morrow I’m go ing to the kingswood to hunt. Whatever you have to say can wait unt il I return.” “If the go ds are goo d, I shall not be here on your return. You commanded me to return to Winterfell, remember?”

Robert stood up, grasping one of the bedposts to steady himself. “The gods are seldom good, Ned. Here, this is yours.” He pulled the heavy silver hand clasp from a pocket in the lining of his cloak and tossed it on the bed.

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