Tywin Lannister considered himself a kindly, benevolent, long-suffering father of a dysfunctional family. A dwarf, a ballet dancer, and… well… Cersei. He could not blame Joanna for their offspring, of course, but he did not think himself at fault either. He gave them opportunities few could dream of, and they kept squandering them like stupid, careless children. There was his eldest son, for instance. Jaime was blessed with abilities few men possessed and belonged to the most powerful family in the Seven Kingdoms. What had he chosen to do with these blessings? His eldest son and heir, still unmarried and childless, was a ballet dancer! An entertainer for crowds of dim-witted fools, who aspired to be something higher than they were. There was no denying that the Lannister Ballet Company was a success, and Tywin had been surprised more than anyone when he had been unable to dissuade his children from the mad pursuit or to stifle it in its crib. But success in what? Dancing?!
Then there was his youngest child. A dwarf. A constant mockery of Lannisters' reputation for producing handsome sons and beautiful daughters. True, Tyrion's mind was more practical and he was less inclined than Jaime to keep his head in the clouds. Unlike his elder brother, Tyrion had at least graduated, with honors, from King's Landing University. And what were his degrees in?! Well, yes, business, but also — theater management. Theater management! Tywin almost chocked on the words each time. True also, Tyrion at least had found himself a suitable woman from a good family. All that Lannister charm was not for nothing, after all. But what had he done, once he was lucky enough to have captured the heart of Margery Tyrell? Did he propose? No. Did they at least plan to get married? "Not in the near future, father!" Not in the near future. When, then, if not in the near future? When he was dead and buried, and they could hold the celebration in the crypt over his bones?!
And Cersei… The return of the eldest of his prodigal children was a poor consolation. He had told her not to marry Robert Baratheon. Did she listen? You guessed it, she didn't! True, Myrcella and Tommen were quite adequate, if not particularly bright at their advanced ages of five and three. He could only hope they would turn out better than either of the parents. His daughter worked at the Lannisters & Co, which, publicly at least, was a good thing. But her vicious character and constant, crazy intrigues created needless conflict and problems where everything had been running smoothly. Tywin would see himself publicly hung before he admitted that he used Tyrion's words — "the mother of madness" — to refer to his daughter in his mind. And now that mother of madness had taken to drinking like her swine of a husband.
Yes, Tywin occasionally thought that his children were an unjustified punishment. If he had not been present at their births, he might not have believed they were his.
As if this was not enough, now the Starks were moving into the city. His city. Ned Stark, an honorable fool, had been dragging the Lannister name through the mud for decades, and Tywin loathed the man with an intensity that would have tempted a lesser man to make a dartboard out of his face and place it in his study for amusement during breaks from work. Being a man who could always rise above himself, Tywin had placed the already-mentioned dartboard in his private gym.
And how did it come to pass that the Starks were invading King's Landing right under his nose? Haha! Yes, indeed, it was because his sons had hired one into their ballet company! Haha!
Tywin threw a dart that landed on the tip of Ned Stark's nose, but even this habitual amusement did not help him relax. He had been forced to invite the girl to the party. What else could he have done? Joanna would be spinning in her grave at the speed of light if he had not invited a girl from a good family and newly in town to the gala. Tywin threw another dart, but he was so angry, he missed the dartboard altogether and made a sizable hole in the seat of his new exercise bike. That was the last straw. Tywin Lannister needed a drink before the guests began arriving.