(274 AC, Casterly Rock)

The guards flocked to their sides, the metallic shuck of heavy armor ringing against the stone as they walked, echoing against the barren halls. Strangers stood at the entrance of her home, dark of hair and skin with deep brown eyes and the air of something grand. Diamon held the sliver of gold chain tightly, peering at the lockets with curious eyes as they entwined, the ornaments barely meeting before they unravel only to coil together once again. It was mesmerizing in a way, the tedious pattern repeating itself again and again without fail, and for some inexplicable reason it was comforting for her to watch. For a curious child such as herself she revelled in the unpredictability of life, but lately she had found herself shying away from the things that once held her fancy, favouring the monotonous routines that she once detested so fiercely.

"What is that in your hands?"

Diamon blinked, the trance broken at the sound of a queer voice, and she lowered her chains with slight discontent. Green eyes met quizzical brown, a lovely shade that reminded her of mud. He was peering down at her, and she got the feeling that he didn't think much of Casterly Rock or that of her family. Sometimes Diamon didn't think much of it all either.

"It's treasure." She finally spoke, "Found it in the rock pools."

His gaze rested on the trinkets, the sun and moon on twisted shavings of an off-gold chain, the ornamental faces tarnished, and for the first time since he stepped foot in the castle he found himself smiling.

"I am Oberyn Nymeros Martell of Dorne. You must be the little lion."

When she heard her brother and sister speak her eyes strayed, she neither confirmed nor denied his claim, though her grip on the curio never eased up. Golden hair came into view, and strong arms plucked her from the windowsill she had perched herself on. Jaime was wearing a smirk, the facade he wore for guests and the spectators that watched their every move, but today there was a crack in his bravado. It was strained, and there was no amusement in it at all, he was feeling weary and tired and unsure of himself all at the same time. And that scared her, because if Jaime felt that way then there was no hope for the rest of them. With her small hand in his large one he led her closer to the small group that had accumulated, where the strangers were talking to her sister. She could tell Cersei revelled in the attention they gave her, though Oberyn looked more bored than anything.

"Can we see him?"

It was just a whisper in a strangely accented voice, pretty but foreign much like the owner, yet Cersei's smile fell and Jaime gripped my hand tightly. He was no longer smirking, looking like he wanted to say no, to scream and shout and cry until his voice was hoarse, but he did none of these things. Instead he looked to his twin for guidance, something Diamon had seen him do many times before. Cersei always made the decisions, it was simply easier to appease her than to put up with her unforgiving glare or cruel taunts. She looked as if she were going to refuse too, but then she gave a sharp nod and Diamon found herself being led down the familiar route to the nursery.

Diamon knew the strangers had been asking to see him since they had first entered her home, in hushed voices and poorly conveyed excitement. Soon, that's what Cersei had told them, over and over again as the days trickled through their fingertips and the suspense hung in the air buoyant and thick, but soon had come much too quickly for the likes of Jaime and Diamon. These strangers though, well it seemed as if soon could never come quickly enough, and they were so very keen to see her brother, as if he was the seventeenth wonder of the world. That's why Diamon had hid, toddling through the halls of her home and escaping the curious gazes of foreigners that intruded on what little peace they had mustered up since her brother's birth. Only the boy with the mud eyes seemed to take much notice, to actively seek her out as all the while Diamon clutched Jaime's tunic and burrowed her face into his back, much like she was doing now.

The endless hallways of Casterly Rock were unusually solemn, and yet despite it being abnormal she found it appropriate all the same. The only sound, barring their footsteps, was the humming of Oberyn, a soft sound that made her inch closer to the boy in order to hear it clearly. She didn't let go of Jaime though, keeping a hold of his shirt with a chubby fist as she walked or stealing his hand every now and then. Oberyn offered her a carefree smile, a sight that had become entirely foreign within these walls for a while now. She feared that she had forgotten how to smile, but as his own broadened she supposed that she had managed just fine. And if she had, in fact, managed to smile, it must has died as the nursery came into view.

Cersei struggled to push open the old door, heavy set and too big for its frame with a small crack where a dim light glowed from the room behind. She prayed it wouldn't open, that it were locked, they would have to turn around and find something else to do. Find another source of amusement, she thought bitterly, and she realised that she had become a lot more cynical lately, always finding the faults in everything everyone would do or say. Maybe she was growing up, or perhaps it was simply because of her. But then the door crept open with a creek that made Diamon wince, and the group swept into the room. They weren't supposed to be in here, she knew, and felt uneasy as to what would happen if their Lord Father found out.

There was a certain dampness to the room, the moisture in the air made it hard to breath and all of a sudden it felt as if she were suffocating. She listened absentmindedly as Cersei argued with the wet nurse, but her hand never left Jaime's. On the windowsill was a single candle, the only source of light in the entire room, and she prayed to the seven that it would never go out. Darkness seemed a terrifying notion at the point in time.

In candlelight he didn't look so bad, she decided, and this was the first time she had set eyes on her baby brother. He had one green eye, and the other was black, be it from the lack of light or simply because he had a dark eye. Mayhaps it was brown in the light, the colour of mud that both Oberyn and his sister shared. The head was too big for its tiny frame, but she supposed he'd grow into it eventually, his nose looked misshapen and his features either too defined or all blended together. It was a strange mix. His limbs looked small, too small for his body like his head was too big, but all in all he looked like a simple babe to her. Ugly, of course, but all newborns were ugly little things, and she was sure he'd be ugly for a while yet even if he were to be normal. Once upon a time she were ugly too, now everyone told her she was pretty. And she was sure Jaime and Cersei were both equally unbecoming as they came out of the womb, though her sister would surely deny it or throw a tantrum at the very thought.

"He's my brother." Cersei hissed, and Diamon finally peeled her eyes from him. This was the first time Cersei had called him as such, and if felt as if she were admitting some vulgar secret. Mother bore the child, carried him in her swollen belly for nine months without complaint, and she lost her life giving birth to him. She had heard the servants whisper that it was the ultimate sacrifice, and that she would live on through this child. All the whispers died along with her Mother when they found out he was a dwarf. He didn't look like Mother, he didn't look much like Father either, but he was a Lannister. A lion. That was the truth, whether Cersei or Father liked it or not.

Joanna Lannister was just a lullaby, another ghost that walked the halls of Casterly Rock. Diamon couldn't remember her much, even though it couldn't have been all that long ago, but it felt like an eternity in her head. She probably had blonde hair, but Diamon's hair was bronze, so maybe it was light brown. Did she smirk like Jaime, speak like Cersei, or maybe she had a kinder voice and a softer smile. The only thing Diamon could really recall was her eyes. Green eyes that stared at her all through the night. Though they were never there when she woke up, only in the mirror did such a shade of green stare back at her. Sometimes, when she could not get to sleep, she'd hear a voice. Just a whisper, the words too quiet to hear, but for some reason it set her at ease. All of it was one big mess, in a tangle like the chains. That made her grip the necklaces harder, Mother had said they were very pretty and it served as a reminder. If Diamon couldn't remember her Mother at all then she had this at least, a small piece of her shattered remains.

With a cruel glint in her eyes Cersei plucked Tyrion from his cradle, holding him like he were some distasteful animal she had caught pilfering through waste.

"Here he is, the little beast."

"That's no monster, he just looks like any other babe to me." Oberyon called idly from the window, his eyes roaming the horizon in the far distance, more intrigued with the idea of escape and being somewhere far from lions and rocks.

Cersei softened some, pulling the contented child closer to her budding breats, soothing the child with the rise and fall of her chest and her steady heartbeat. She almost looked motherly then, like she sometimes did when she played with Diamon's hair or dressed her up like a doll. Except those moments could never last, they were fleeting at best, and more often than not their games would end in tears. Cersei would tug and pull at her hair and slap her wrist for moving, pinching and scratching her skin when she made a sound, when she was told how lovely she looked in her dress she would be pushed in the mud or have the reddest of wines spilled over her lap, and when she dared retaliate there would be bruises she had to hide. There was nothing loving or affectionate about her sister, only hate and bitterness.

"Yes he is, he killed my Mother."

He squealed as she pinched his cock, and tears brimming in his eyes and threatening to spill over.

"Stop it." Diamon spoke hesitantly, stepping forward only to be pulled back by Jaime's iron grip. It was the grasp of someone frightened by what they were seeing, the absent mindedness of shock as he pulled her close.

Slender fingers twisted and turned the little pink rod, and Tyrion was red in the face from all his screaming and crying. The wet nurse was gone, and no one was here to help him now. She remembered all at once once that one of Mother's rings had went missing, the gold one with the pretty emeralds that shone as they caught the sunlight. Cersei said it was the sweet little handmaiden that Jaime had complimented just a few days beforehand. Father had her bludgeoned to death. Later on Diamon found the ring hidden under Cersei's bed, and when she saw her with it she had smacked her hard and said if she old anyone else she'd have her bludgeoned to death as well. She still had that ring somewhere, most likely hidden where no one would ever find it again.

"Cersei, leave him alone!"

Oberyn watched the whole ordeal, somewhat detached in a morbidly curious manner, unable to tear his gaze from it all. He had never seen someone harm a babe before, not even on accident. In Dorne they treasured their children, they didn't hurt little girls and boys. He decided that he wouldn't let his sister marry the boy, and he most certainly wouldn't be marrying Cersei by any means. He was shaken from his quiet contemplation as all of a sudden Cersei let out a cry, and her grip on the babe faltered enough for Jaime to pry it out of her hands. He turned to find the little lion standing there defiantly, watching her sister with an unyielding determination in her eyes.

And on the floor lay a tangled mess of chains, with a sun and a moon sitting side by side.

(This is one of Diamon's first memories, and the story will follow through with the main events of her life before we get into the actual TV series. I know George R.R. Martin said he doesn't like fanfiction, and to an extent I agree with his point, but I like to think I've taken a creative licence here. Diamon is my character in his world, and everything bar my character is all his, which I respect. The next chapter will likely come out soon, because I've actually wrote a lot more for this fic than I first thought and it's just editing what I already have to hand and shifting through documents at this point. Au revoir, amigos. And yes I did purposefully use french and then spanish.)