I opened my eyes, but all I could see was utter darkness.
Then—suddenly—I noticed a distant light. The closer I moved toward it, the brighter it became.
A voice rang out:
"Congratulations, my lady. The child is healthy."
"Oh my God… I actually succeeded," I thought.
I tried to speak, but all that came out was infant babbling.
"His name will be Lucerys… Lucerys Lannister. May he grow strong and healthy."
The first days of my life as a baby were utterly dull.
Milk, sleep, and… the occasional diaper change. That was all my tiny body could do.
Sometimes I cried on purpose, just to avoid suspicion, after overhearing some maids whisper:
"This child never cries…"
My mother was Dorna Swyft, daughter of Ser Harys Swyft.
A graceful, gentle woman with light brown hair and warm green eyes.
My father was Kevan Lannister, second brother to Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock.
Contrary to his usually stern demeanor, he was unexpectedly kind toward me.
And so, one peaceful year passed.
By my second year, I could walk… and speak.
By my third, I could understand more than a child should.
I often overheard the servants whispering:
"This child is a genius."
I would sneak into the library whenever I could, devouring every book within reach.
My father noticed, of course, and he smiled. He personally instructed the maester to oversee my lessons.
By the time I was four, I had memorized all the noble houses of Westeros—their banners, sigils, and words.
It was surprisingly easy.
I discovered I had an exceptional memory.
I never forgot anything I had learned since my birth.
While other children my age played childish games, I occupied myself differently:
I designed wooden tent stakes with ridged edges, which held better in the ground.
I suggested flat-headed iron nails, less likely to bend than the common ones in Westeros.
I helped improve door hinges, reducing friction and noise.
I modified tool handles for farmhands to be easier on the hands.
Small things. Practical things.
Nothing that would raise suspicion, but things that could help in the future.
I always worked under the watchful eyes of the maester and the master blacksmith, pretending it was just childish curiosity.
My father was immensely proud of me.
But this did not escape Tywin Lannister's attention.
Tywin Lannister – POV
It seems my brother has given birth to a prodigy.
At four years old…
A child building things even grown men had not considered.
Perhaps I should invite him to meet Cersei and Jaime.
Maybe, when he grows older—Lucerys—he will become Jaime's right hand,
Just as I was, and just as Kevan has always been mine.
"Send for Kevan," Tywin ordered a servant.
Kevan arrived promptly.
"Kevan, bring your son to my study. I wish to see him.
He should also meet his cousins. Though they are slightly older, it would be wise to strengthen family bonds early."
Kevan understood his brother's intent immediately.
"I will send word at once," he replied.
Lucerys – POV
"My young lord, a letter from your father."
I took the letter, broke the seal, and read.
So Tywin wishes to see whether I am a blessing… or a curse, I murmured to myself.
I left the library and headed to my mother's chambers.
Maria was embroidering when she heard a soft knock on the door.
"Come in."
"Mother, Father sent for me. He wishes me to visit Uncle Tywin," I said, putting on my most innocent expression.
"Truly? Then you must prepare yourself properly. You are a Lannister, after all," she replied, smiling softly.
After an hour of torment—changing clothes, fixing my hair, and pinching my cheeks to appear lively—I was finally ready.
"Ser Bard, is everything ready?" I asked the knight standing before me, my father's loyal guard.
"Yes, my young lord. Everything is prepared. All that remains is to depart," Ser Bard replied respectfully.
"Good…" I whispered under my breath.
Now, all that remains is to see with my own eyes… the cunning lion, Tywin Lannister.