They used to have a stud back in England that had bred some of the finest racing horses in the country. Tywin had spent a lot of time there when he was a child - until Tytos got his hands on it and lost it in a bet. This horse, however, wasn't a racing horse. It was of sturdier and heavier build, bred for war rather than entertainment.
"Oh, you shouldn't have. I believe my quota for that has already been filled." Giving the horse a small pat, Tywin turned around to face his son who must have been wearing the same look his father had when he discovered the animal.
"It's safe to assume it's not a belated birthday present from you, then?"