"And dismissing Selmy, where was the sense in that? Yes, the man was old, but the name of Barristan the Bold still has meaning in the realm. He lent honor to any man he served. Can anyone say the same of the Hound? You feed your dog bones under the table, you do not seat him beside you on the high bench." He pointed a finger at Tyrion's face. "If Cersei cannot curb the boy, you must. And if these councillors are playing us false... "
Tyrion knew. "Spikes," he sighed. "Heads. Walls."
I see you have taken a few lessons from me.
More than you know, Father, Tyrion answered quietly. He finished his wine and set the cup aside, thoughtful. A part of him was more pleased than he cared to admit. Another part was remembering the battle upriver, and wondering if he was being sent to hold the left again. "Why me?" he asked, cocking his head to one side. "Why not my uncle? Why not Sir Addam or Sir Flement or Lord Serrett? Why not a... bigger man?"
Lord Tywin rose abruptly. "You are my son."
That was when he knew. You have given him up for lost, he thought. You bloody bastard, you think Jaime's good as dead, so I'm all you have left.