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Tyrion's life boiled down to eating and defecating—or rather, drinking milk. Tyrion, speaking frankly, had never been at a woman's breast as much as he had in the past few days.
It was supposed to be encouraging, but Tyrion found it tiresome. His wet nurse was a fat woman with pale skin and black hair; she looked like a commoner with no title, at least that's what Tyrion thought.
His wet nurse had shown many times, while nursing him, how much she despised him.
"Damn it, just because I'm a dwarf do I have to be humiliated like this? Damn Westeros and all the other kingdoms."
(Time skip of 3 years)
Tyrion was born in the year 273 A.C., and at that time, Jaime and Cersei were seven years old.
This meant that Tyrion was the youngest, his siblings Cersei and Jaime seven years older than him.
Tyrion didn't know how to feel about that. He personally found it… sometimes good, sometimes not, being the youngest.
But overall, it was good.
During his early years, Tyrion hardly saw sunlight. He knew it wouldn't help him develop; he would be a dwarf his whole life, and there weren't many ways to prevent that.
So he didn't worry much about getting any sun.
Most of his days were spent in the library of Casterly Rock—a long library filled with books. His siblings didn't enjoy it much—not that they hated it, but no child likes studying.
Tyrion's days in the library were long; he almost never left. Whenever anyone saw him, he had a book in his hand. When Tyrion turned two, he started going to the library and never stopped.
He felt, personally, that his father liked it; it was good for Tywin Lannister that fewer people saw his "shame" wandering around.
Even when his siblings came asking to play with him—
Games that Tyrion mostly didn't like; he almost always refused.
Tyrion wasn't naive; he sometimes feigned innocence. It was strange how curious a child could be to want to learn.
So sometimes Tyrion would go out to play and act foolish like other children.
Tyrion quickly learned the common tongue of Westeros.
It shocked him how easily he picked it up.
Even though it was his first language, he thought it would be harder.
After a while, Tyrion realized he wasn't "ordinary." His intelligence was far above average; he could perform complex calculations easily.
He could remember countless things, had a memory capable of storing vast amounts of information, and learned quickly.
All of this surprised Tyrion.
But what surprised him most was his natural instinct for understanding things.
Tyrion knew chemical formulas even though he had never studied them.
Besides the common tongue of Westeros, Tyrion also remembered the language of his past life—a language he began to use to write things down.
Yes, secretly he would scribble notes on papers to record his plans.
Notes that only he could understand.
He wrote in a strange way that seemed random. He knew no one would understand anyway.
These incredible abilities would surely help him greatly in the future.
Tyrion's first step in this new life would be to gain power.
He knew he might never wield a sword. His arms were shorter than many children's, his legs were short; even the slowest cripple in the Seven Kingdoms was faster than Tyrion.
He was weak, slow, and vulnerable.
He would need to be strong; he would need something to help him defend himself.
But he was still young. At the moment, he was writing down everything important he could remember.
Tyrion was noting all 118 elements of the periodic table. He knew it would be useful, so it was good to store that knowledge.
Tyrion was only three years old but already had some ideas in mind.
His first idea was to invent the world's first repeating crossbow.
In his world, it was known as the Chu-no-Ku—a repeating crossbow created by the Chinese that allowed multiple arrows to be fired rapidly without constant reloading.
He had looked in books for anything about repeating crossbows and it seemed none had been invented yet. There were crossbows and bows, but no repeating weapons.
It would be an arms revolution. The main advantage of swords and melee weapons was that crossbows were slow to reload—an average crossbowman could fire only one or two bolts per minute.
By then, he would already have been killed a million times by the enemy.
But the repeating crossbow was different: five arrows per minute, maybe more.
An army equipped with this weapon would decimate opponents and hold a significant advantage over an army without it.
If he invented it, he would certainly gain influence—but it would draw a lot of attention.
And he didn't have enough power to protect himself yet. The moment he invented something, some lord would probably kidnap him to force him to reveal the formula, to pass the information along.
Until he achieved stability, he would need to be cautious with his inventions; they couldn't be too revolutionary.
After thinking for a while, Tyrion decided not to make the crossbow yet. It would be too problematic, too strange, and attract unwanted attention. He decided it was better to stay discreet.
Another thing Tyrion had in mind was inventing cement.
Even if it wasn't a defensive weapon, it would be revolutionary.
With cement, he could build warm and cheap houses for anyone.
He could charge less to construct a house; Roman cement hardened over time and became stronger.
He could earn money with it, but at three years old, it would be odd to start inventing revolutionary things. Nobles would notice him immediately.
He didn't want that.
So Tyrion decided to focus on learning for now and put inventions aside—he would worry about them later.
(Time skip of 1 year)
Tyrion was lying in the library reading a book, as usual.
Yes, Tyrion could already read and write. He had learned many things over the past year.
He spent most of his time studying languages. Soon he would leave home, travel north, west, and east—maybe even to the damn Wall.
He couldn't just know the common tongue of Westeros. He needed to learn more, and his intelligent brain helped him.
By age four, Tyrion already knew High Valyrian, the common tongue of Westeros, Common Valyrian, and the Dothraki language.
And he was still learning more.
When his father Tywin discovered his gift for languages, Tyrion mistakenly thought it might earn him some respect. He was wrong—he underestimated his father's hatred for him.
He already showed signs of intelligence in childhood, but no one except his brother Jaime ever expressed pride or encouragement.
This upset Tyrion. "Damn, I know you hate me, but some recognition now and then wouldn't hurt."
Tyrion was studying when his brother Jaime suddenly appeared in the library like a ghost.
"Tyrion, I still don't know why you like this place so much. This must be one of the dullest places in the world," said his brother.
Tyrion was used to Jaime's sudden appearances, so he wasn't very startled—just a small jolt in his heart.
"When are you going to stop sneaking up behind me?" Tyrion asked.
"I don't know… maybe when you grow up," Jaime replied with a mocking smile.
"Why does everyone like to joke about dwarves? I don't like it," Tyrion said with a grumpy look.
"Maybe you don't like it because you're a dwarf," Jaime replied.
"I guess I would never have discovered that if you hadn't told me," Tyrion said sarcastically.
"You're welcome. Now you owe me a favor for telling you something you didn't know," Jaime said.
"I am forever grateful to you. I am in debt to you, and a Lannister should always…"
Tyrion was about to finish when Jaime interrupted him.
"Don't say those words," Jaime said.
"Pay your debts?" he asked.
"I hate that phrase. Who was the idiot who invented it?" Jaime responded.
"I don't know, but it was definitely an idiot. But brother, tell me, what did you come here for?"
Jaime sighed and replied:
"Tyrion, I thought you knew me well… how could you think I came here to ask you for something? I just came to invite you to play," Jaime said.
"Play?" Tyrion pondered.
He needed to go out sometimes; it would be good for him, even if he would never grow taller. He needed exercise.
"Will Cersei be there?" he asked.
"Yes…" Jaime replied.
"She doesn't like me," Tyrion said frankly.
"Everyone at Casterly Rock has noticed that… are you coming or not?" Jaime asked.
"I'll go…" Tyrion replied after thinking for a moment.
"Great, little brother. Can you keep up with these little legs?"
"Should I ask that?" Tyrion said, pushing Jaime.
Jaime fell on his backside.
Tyrion started running through the corridors of Casterly Rock.
His legs moved quickly—it was funny to see a dwarf run, or at least try.
Jaime burst out laughing and ran after Tyrion.
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