Stannis sat at table with a grimace, his teeth grinding louder than the noise of his guests in half-hearted feasting. “I didn’t want this as much as I didn’t want to be king.” Stannis Baratheon chewed on his bitterness like a dog with his bone.
The king threw his slab of meat on the plate. The lords and ladies at table stopped, and the room was silent. Davos frowned. That was ill done. He wanted medium rare. -A Storm of Swords