Then you had best learn to control them. I will not have the city plundered.
The city? Tyrion was lost. "What city would that be?"
King's Landing. I am sending you to court.
It was the last thing Tyrion Lannister would ever have anticipated.
He reached for his wine, and considered for a moment as he sipped. "And what am I to do there?"
Rule, his father said curtly.
Tyrion hooted with laughter. "My sweet sister might have a word or two to say about that!"
Let her say what she likes. Her son needs to be taken in hand before he ruins us all. I blame those jackanapes on the council, our friend Petyr, the venerable Grand Maester, and that cockless wonder Lord Varys. What sort of counsel are they giving Joffrey when he lurches from one folly to the next? Whose notion was it to make this Janos Slynt a lord? The man's father was a butcher, and they grant him Harrenhal. Harrenhal, that was the seat of kings! Not that he will ever set foot inside it, if I have a say. I am told he took a bloody spear for his sigil. A bloody cleaver would have been my choice. His father had not raised his voice, yet Tyrion could see the anger in the gold of his eyes.