slavocracy:

_{The slippers the Butcher King had sent her had grown too uncomfortable. Dany kicked them off and sat with one foot tucked beneath her and the other swinging back and forth. It was not a very regal pose, but she was tired of being regal. The crown had given her a headache, and her buttocks had gone to sleep. “Ser Barristan,” she called, “I know what quality a king needs most.”}

_{”Courage, Your Grace?”}

_{”Cheeks like iron,” she teased. “All I do is sit.” (x)}