She didn't know why she wanted the old man to speak. Each time he used that word, 'deformity' - oh, she just wanted to cut his mouth open at the corners. Daenerys started to snap at him, but Jorah beat her to it. She found it satisfying to watch Jorah throw the old man to the ground. Daenerys wished her body wasn't racked with pain and bleeding out by the second, for she would have stood right up and crushed her boot into his ribs. But as it was, she was limited to her chair.

"Call my child a deformity once more Maester," she hissed, adjusting her position a bit. "See how long you live."

She considered Jorah's words for a long moment. Normally yes, she would command a trial. But she looked upon the old Maester, pain still raking her abdomen, more blood dripping down her legs. "...cut off his fingers, cut out his tongue and carve out his eyes. He will not communicate with another person ever again, but he will live with the guilt of his actions for what remains of his years."

There would be no trial. He had admitted his guilt to her, in front of witnesses. "Do it now."