Joff's only a boy, Tyrion pointed out. "At his age, I committed a few follies of my own."
His father gave him a sharp look. "I suppose we ought to be grateful that he has not yet married a whore."
Tyrion sipped at his wine, wondering how Lord Tywin would look if he flung the cup in his face.
Our position is worse than you know, his father went on. "It would seem we have a new king."
Sir Kevan looked poleaxed. "A new, who? What have they done to Joffrey?"
The faintest flicker of distaste played across Lord Tywin's thin lips. "Nothing... yet. My grandson still sits the Iron Throne, but the eunuch has heard whispers from the south. Renly Baratheon wed Margaery Tyrell at Highgarden this fortnight past, and now he has claimed the crown. The bride's father and brothers have bent the knee and sworn him their swords."
Those are grave tidings. When Sir Kevan frowned, the furrows in his brow grew deep as canyons.
My daughter commands us to ride for King's Landing at once, to defend the Red Keep against King Renly and the Knight of Flowers. His mouth tightened. "Commands us, mind you. In the name of the king and council."