Tyrion’s tale of rocks, bugs, and the unwitting forces that bring them together would be the biggest moment—not that anything else in “The Mountain And The Viper” steals its resonance. If anything, the trial by combat underlines the monologue’s importance: This is Tyrion speaking of his own existence, as an insect that fate knows only to smash. The metaphorical hand bears the name Lannister for obvious reasons, but this is more than a parable about Tyrion and Tywin. It’s about all of these characters, so many of them seemingly introduced for the sole purpose of suffering. The hand goes by many names (Ramsay Bolton, Joffrey, the maesters), its beetles spread across the Seven Kingdoms and beyond. In the end, Tyrion’s only crime may have been that he was more invested in decoding these cruelties and less invested in putting a stop to them. “Certainly I had the wherewithal to unravel the mysteries that lay at the heart of a moron,” he tells Jaime, slyly nodding toward whichever lunkheaded gods make the people of Westeros fear the giant rock.