Lord Tywin rose as well. “A duty to House Lannister. You are the heir to Casterly Rock. That is where you should be. Tommen should accompany you, as your ward and squire. The Rock is where he’ll learn to be a Lannister, and I want him away from his mother. I mean to find a new husband for Cersei. Oberyn Martell perhaps, once I convince Lord Tyrell that the match does not threaten Highgarden. And it is past time you were wed. The Tyrells are now insisting that Margaery be wed to Tommen, but if I were to offer you instead -”
“NO!” Jaime had heard all that he could stand. No, more than he could stand. He was sick of it, sick of lords and lies, sick of his father, his sister, sick of the whole bloody business. “No. No. No. No. No. How many times must I say no before you’ll hear it? Oberyn Martell? The man’s infamous, and not just for poisoning his sword. He has more bastards than Robert, and beds with boys as well. And if you think for one misbegotten moment that I would wed Joffrey’s widow…”
“Lord Tyrell swears the girl’s still maiden.”
“She can die a maiden as far as I’m concerned. I don’t want her, and I don’t want your Rock!”
(A Storm of Swords)
Tywin Lannister melting Ned Stark’s sword to Lannister steel while burning wolf pelts with the Rains of Castamere playing in the background before the intro tune even starts (◡‿◡✿)
Weddings have become more perilous than battles
I organised the defence 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.
She’d left them long ago. The Gods have no mercy.