Beyond the exhilarating tussle amongst the various nobles and exiled heiress (aka. Daenarys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regnant of the Seven kingdoms, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons) for the illustrious Iron throne, the show has caught the attention of many for reasons other than its remarkable plot. It is quite difficult to miss the gratuitous bouts of sexual raunchiness, extreme bloody violence and the ubiquitous depictions of cultural and religious taboos that shadow the HBO chef d’oeuvre.
In a bid to protect another similarly vulnerable ‘Iron throne’ housed within the confines of my skull’s red keep, I have wrestled with the decision on whether or not to watch the blockbuster a myriad of times. The series has in fact cycled between the recycle bin and video folder of my computer a couple of times. My surmise was that, one can only see so many gory decapitations and rapes before thoughts related to the aforementioned become implanted in the maze of his mind, seeking an escape route to a less ephemeral and more tangible aspect of his humanity, expression.