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The badge looks good on you.
Almost as good as it looked on me.
Are you enjoying your new position?
Am I enjoying it?
I was very happy as Hand of the King.
Yes.
I heard how happy you were.
You brought a *** into my bed.
It wasn't your bed at the time.
I sent you here to advise the king.
I gave you real power and authority.
You chose to spend your days
as you always have,
bedding harlots
and drinking with thieves.
Occasionally I drank with the harlots.
What do you want, Tyrion?
Why does everyone assume I want something?
Can't I simply visit with my beloved father?
My beloved father who
somehow forgot to visit his wounded son
after he fell on the battlefield.
Maester Pycelle assured me your wounds were not fatal.
I organized the defense of this city
while you held court in the ruins of Harrenhal.
I led the foray when the enemies were at the gate
while your grandson, the king,
quivered in fear behind the walls.
I bled in the mud for our family.
And as my reward,
I was trundled off to some dark little cell.
But what do I want?
A little bloody gratitude would be a start.
Jugglers and singers require applause.
You are a Lannister.
Do you think I demanded a garland of roses
every time I suffered a wound on a battlefield?
Hmm?
Now, I have seven kingdoms to look after
and three of them are in open rebellion.
So tell me what you want.
I want what is mine by right.
Jaime is your eldest son, heir to your lands and titles.
But he is a Kingsguard, forbidden from marriage or inheritance.
The day Jaime put on the white cloak,
he gave up his claim to Casterly Rock.
I am your son and lawful heir.
You want Casterly Rock?
It is mine by right.
We'll find you accommodations
more suited to your name
and as a reward for your accomplishments
during the battle of Blackwater Bay.
And when the time is right, you will be given a position
fit for your talents
so that you can serve your family
and protect our legacy.
And if you serve faithfully,
you will be rewarded with a suitable wife.
And I would let myself be consumed by maggots
before mocking the family name
and making you heir to Casterly Rock.
- Why? - Why?
You ask that?
You, who killed your mother to come into the world?
You are an ill-made, spiteful little creature
full of envy, ***, and low cunning.
Men's laws give you the right to bear my name
and display my colors since I cannot prove that you are not mine.
And to teach me humility, the gods have condemned me
to watch you waddle about wearing that proud lion
that was my father's sigil and his father's before him.
But neither gods nor men
will ever compel me to let you turn Casterly Rock
into your ***.
Go, now.
Speak no more of your rights to Casterly Rock.
Go.
Oh, one more thing.
The next *** I catch in your bed I'll hang.