#i should post some pictures of them. omen us bigger than she was when i left. her belly is also still shaped funny. i think its permanent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zeciex · 5 years

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Obsidian & Angelite Ch. 10

Oya has spend centuries bound to one single plot of land when one day a stranger with a voice of velvet and presence that can only be described as dark and outmost interesting. He comes with an offer she can’t refuse and suddenly her entire world changes, both for better and worse.

But what does Langdon need of her? And how can she use him to get what she want? Maybe they’re bound by something bigger than fate.

Warning: Dark themes, Strong Language, rape mention, blood, death

A/N: Since tumblr kills everything with links, I’ll reblog this post with the links to previous chapters and archive link

The stone ground of Venice clicked under their heels. Around them buildings rose from the floor, some old and cracked while others remained fine and proud. It was beautiful, with arches of all kind cut out from stone and marble, with channels and gondolas, green plants in window sills, marble statues. It was a whole other world than what she knew.

Michael had held out his arm for her to take and like that they walked over the stone, backs held straight, following the black wings in the sky that soared through the air. Tourists and inhabitants took pictures of them and why wouldn’t they when the two matched so perfectly, so out of place with their clothe that resembled something more fit for the runway than a walk through a tourist attraction. Michael wore a deep emerald green velvet jacket with a black shirt underneath, a fine black vest over it to keep the onyx tie in its place. On the tie were small silver specks, barely visible to the eye. His shoes were fine and polished with silver tips. In all honesty, he looked like a young god.

When she first saw him she stood still in silent admiration of his angelic look that turned something darker by the serpent gleam in his eyes. At the inner corner of his eyelids were the same emerald green that matched his jacket. That matched her.

Oya’s dress were black, the fabric thin and all too showy for casual wear. It showed the soft skin of her breasts covered in tyl that drew all the way up around her neck and only two strips went through the see through fabric covering up her nipples. The sleeves were puffy, with small silver specks. Her black hair waved over her shoulders, covering up heavy emerald earrings shaped as snakes.

This was what they wore, their war attire, their war paint. It was showing the best side of themselves, cover up insecurities and instead make them sharp weapons to be used ruthlessly against their enemies. And this was the exact reason why their pictures were taken.

They walked towards what looked like a cathedral, the roof in high bows, with spires shooting up from the fine stone, reaching towards the sky. Statues were carved out of marble, all of old deities and gods, none of which Oya recognized. Columns held it up, thick and round, with patterns carved finely into them just like the carvings on the walls. Outside the heavy wooden door, dark against the sandy walls, stood guards. They kept the tourists from entering, they stood as the first line of defence.

Oya’s crows landed on the roof, basking their wings and crowing. Craw, craw, craw. An omen of death. As they approached the crows landed at the stone floor, watching the guards look at each other before walking towards them.

“The cathedral is closed to the public, you’ll have to return another day,” one of the guards voiced first in italian and then in english. Oya and Michael continued towards them. “I said-,”

“We heard you,” Michael voiced, elegantly moving a finger through the air. The guards stiffened with their backs completely straight, eyes blank. They turned around and walked back to their spot by the door. Oya slipped her hand from his arm, walking further towards the cathedral, hand stretched out in from of her, moving it softly through the air as if she were moving it through water.

The spell put up were intricate but not unbreakable, it was to keep mortals and other witches out, it was to keep her out more specifically. Now that her chains had been broken her power had grown, flourished in the release and with Michaels guidance controlled. She crouched down and started to draw on the marble floor, a half circle resembling the sun with four spikes running through it, in each compartment she drew different sigils and outside a square. Her crows jumped closer curious of her movements and when she suddenly stood they violently bashed their wings in surprise.

She wanted to the antique door, disregarding the old wood and what the chalk might do to it and began drawing a square on it, each side given a symbol. Michael came up behind her, intertwining his fingers with hers when she finally finished drawing. The chalk discarded over her shoulder to break against the stone floor. Their powers laced together, humming at their fingertips. Words that had not been spoken for centuries left her mouth soon to be replicated by Michael who followed her lead.

He didn’t question her methodes, he didn’t correct her or think that he knew better, that his way was better, instead he allowed her to do this her way, it was her revenge and he would not stand in the way of that.

There was a part of him that wanted to tear down every column, every statue, every fucking stone and see it sunk to the bottom of the ocean for what they did to her, the pain they had caused her. But he knew just how much revenge was worth and how much it meant, she needed to be the one to do that, not him. He was there as a spectator, a witness, support.

The chalk seared itself into the door, glowing embers following the pattern, edged and still burning. The spell was destroyed, the defence fallen. With a groan the door was opened by the guards that closed it behind them as they entered.

The inside of the cathedral was all marble, arches cut from stone, statues with a dead gaze staring after them. The arched ceiling were covered in paintings, trimmed with gold and safferic blue. It was beautiful and old, a reminder of a different time. The air was still and cold, the only warmth coming from the candles.

Oya and Michael walked further in, passing rows of dark wooden benches all faced towards the magnificent alter and the circle of chairs all manned by witches and a few warlocks. They watched silently as the two of them approached, some panicked while others kept a mask of stone on their face resembling the statues. The seat with its back towards the altar, the single tallest chair, were manned by none other than her mother, dressed in a fine tailored suit that matched her surroundings. Her hair was pinned up in a tight bun, not a single hair out of order.

Obsidian eyes ran over the two intruders with a cold glance. “We knew you’d come.” It was strange the way her voice carried through the room, distant and cold but somehow striking. It had always been like that, devoid of warmth especially towards her oldest daughter.

“You think your little protection spell would keep me out?” Oya questioned and found her voice just as cold as hers. She entered the circle, all eyes on them. Michael stood a few paces behind her, hands calmly held behind his back while he observed with mild indifference towards them.

“No,” Haesoo spoke calmly. “You’d find a way to get in regardless of the spell.”

Oya glanced to her sister that stood a total opposite of her own form, embraced by golden sunlight, catching her blond hair that fell in soft curls down around her shoulders, lips fine pink and skin pale and soft. She wore a dress of white fabric, stars and suns and moons cut into the fabric. Darkness met with light.

“We wondered who it was that released you, who could be powerful enough to do that without our involvement,” Haesoo stood from her chair. With her mother standing it was as if it send ripples through the room, the rest of her coven moving in their seats ready for a fight. Michael wasn’t having it, he clenched his fist in the air and brought it down with a harsh swing to his side, nailing every single member to their seat, unable to move. The only one he let go was her direct blood, her mother and sister.

The sound of her mother's steps rang out into the silent room, echoing over the marble floor, climbed the arches and walls, filling it up with one step at the time. Oya remained a statue of stoic nature, calm beneath her mother's hardened gaze. The sound of flesh hitting flesh replaced the sound of her steps. It screamed in the cold room, making the flesh of her cheek red with scolding, the bite of her mother’s palm a familiar sting. Michael moved behind her, she felt his anger through the tethers of magic around him but he contained it to a poisonous glare.

“I knew I should have left you to the wolves when you were born.”

Oya rolled her head back in place, eyes black orbs fixed on her mother with a cold anger Michael couldn’t help but be proud of. Hidden beneath the stoic mask, the child that wanted nothing more than her parents approval cried. No matter what ones parents did to their child, there would always be a part of them, a tiny part hidden beneath layers of emotions, that wished for their parents acceptance, their love. She was no different.

“I was weak, you were my flesh and blood, my first born. How could I do such a thing?” Haesoo’s voice wavered if just a little. Softly she brushed the hand that had stuck her daughter over her burning cheek and it broke something within Oya. She flinched away from her mother's touch, anger burning in her eyes, tearing up her throat.

“You had me raped,” she hissed out venomously. “You had me raped and left bound to that fucking place for centuries!” Her voice echoed through the chapel, climbed the sacred walls and made home under the arching dome, painted gold and blue. The magic in her lashed out, every flame rising to critical levels with a hiss and the many rows of benches screeched over the floor.

“You slaughtered a village did you really think that would be forgiven? I made sure we weren't all hunted and killed, I made sure the world thought it be poisoned water and not magic,” Haesoo exclaimed at her daughter. “For that I should have bound you to a cave never to be found. But I was your mother and I could not do that. I loved you, in my own way, and your sister begged for you to have a life, a proper one.”

“You never loved me. You hated me since I was born,” Oya said with a deep and hoarse voice. “Lies won't save you.”

“You never did believe me, regardless of my words.” Haesoo smiled with sharp lips, eyes still as cold as ice. “But I did love you in a way. And you, my dear child, wanted to be loved so bad.”

“Years of imprisonment made sure that need were snuffed out. The moment you tore my powers from me, the moment he raped me, that need for you love died. You killed the girl and created something far more dangerous.” It was a wonder how her voice fell into a sneering drawl. For a moment she saw her mother’s eyes flash in fear, for just a moment. Haesoo had put everything into her entrapment, the spell draining every drop of magic in her blood. Oya could feel it, the void of it, the lack of magic around her mother's presence. There were nothing she could do, nothing she could protect herself with, she stood defenceless in front of a goddess and stared her dead in the eye. No one could deny she was brave in the face of death.

“If I knew you would break the spell, I would have killed you instead.”

“And now you’re without powers to defend yourself.”

“I’m without powers, yes. But I’m far from defenceless.” At this her sister rose in all her glory. Her magic radiated off of her with a pulsating glow, the feeling of sun climbing along Oya’s skin. It was strange how her sister had become the complete opposite, her magic being light and full of life while her own were dark and with a whisper of death.

“Oya,” her sister spoke, brows lifted in sympathy. She couldn’t get used to the blue in her sisters eyes, the color of clear angelite, beautiful. They matched with Michaels. Oya could feel him behind her, silently watching, his familiar tendrils climbing along her back with a soft caress, telling her that he was right there with her. His powers never wavered, never withdrew from her but instead luled her with its touch.

“You can still change. You’re my sister and I love you, please you don’t have to do this.”

The laugh that left her mouth were cynical and sharp. “I will do this. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be betrayed by the ones who should have loved you unconditionally! I trusted you and you held be down as I was raped and stripped of parts of me I didn’t think I could regain. And for that you will all pay.”

With a harsh flick of her hand Haesoo and Ina flew backwards over the floor, planting themselves firmly in their chairs, hands gripping so tightly at the armrests their knuckles turned white. She took over the iron grip Michael had held on the circle. Glass smashed above them, coloured pieces breaking in to much smaller speckles when they hit the floor. Her crows soared in and landed on her sisters chair, croaking and basking their wings at her magic.

She lifted one hand and watched as the coven did the same, forced to replicate her movements. They froze in position, some crying while others cursed, when their palms were forced to face up. The goddess looked over at Michael who stalked to her side, lifting his jacket to pull out a long thin dagger, the same one her mother had used during the ritual. He placed the shaft gently in her palm, letting his fingers trace the skin of her inner wrist. It was a sweet caress that stilled the nerves within her body.

“Don’t do this!” Ina managed to cry out.

“Please don't kill us,” someone else croaked at the same time.

“Oh, I’m not killing you. Most of you have done nothing but associate with the wrong person, the ones present at my binding died long ago, you’re just very unlucky. How you managed to stay alive all these years did surprise me, Mother.”

“I had to make sure you were never released.”

“You failed.” Haesoo looked at Michael, her face unreadable but eyes burning with anger Oya had seen so many times before when she was but a child. It was burning with disdain.

“Are you the one who took down the New Orleans coven?” Haesoo spoke. Her question halted her daughters ritual, who looked up at Michael. His face remained the same, the smug glinse in his eyes and a satisfied tug at his lips. There wasn’t a single hair out of place. He didn’t even blink at her question. Power, raw and unadulterated, emanated from every fiber of his being. In the face of this accusation, she couldn’t help the flutter in her heart.

“Yes.”

“Oya,” the fear was evident in her voice. “This man is far more dangerous than you can possibly imagine. He’s using you for your power. He will be your destruction.”

“This man released me, he didn’t tremble in fear of my power, he taught me control.”

“He is-,”

“I know who he is!” She screamed and let her power flicker out in the form of cracks climbing up the columns. The blade bit into her palm, drawing blood forth. It burned and stung, the pain nothing compared to the anger that was ignited inside of her. Did she really think so little of her own daughter that she wouldn't be aware of the circumstances? If Michael was using her then so fucking be it but she would not for one second let him destroy her, regardless of her feelings towards him. If he were her destruction she would be his.

Every palm held upwards now bleed, the steams of it running from the wounds and onto the marble, staining it red with blood. Michael took the knife from her and walked over to one of the coven members, her white shirt now ruined by the blade. He dried it off in her fabric before placing it in the pocket he had taken it from. One of her crows took wind under its wings and flew to land on her arm. It screeched as she picked feathers from its body, its claws biting into her skin and tearing at her dress.

“I will not kill you,” she voiced, placing a feather inside the wound and careful guided their palms shut around the feather. Some signed in relief and she couldn’t help but smirk at their naivety. “Instead I show you the future.” She when on to the next member and replicated the ritual she had just performed, placing the feather in the wound and closing their hand around it. Most of them shook, she didn’t know if it was out of fear or straining against her magic or just maybe it was at the prospect of facing of against a goddess of the underworld. There are no vengeance that can compare to a goddesses. “You will see and you will know. That is your punishment, knowledge of what the future will bring and how utterly insignificant your actions to prevent it will be.” Now every single wound were sealed with a feather. She let her tendrils grow, wrap around their fragile human from, go under their skin and reach into their very being. All eyes turned white, clouded by the vision of the future, the very vision she herself had experienced. It unfolded before them, the cries of billions, the bombs falling, the fear leaking into their souls. When they returned, their eyes were wide with horror.

“You will end the world because you weren't loved enough as a child!” Haesoo roared, trying with all her might to break free of her daughters hold over her body. Ina silently stared into the floor.

Oya walked to her mother, placing a hand upon her chest and forcing her back against the spine of the chair. Her mother clenched her hands, her wound bleeding in an endless stream while the other held the chair in a breaking grip. “I will burn this fucking world down because I can and you will all know what is coming but can do absolutely nothing about it. You are burdened with knowing and will never be able to tell anyone about it, not in any way.” She let her mother go, stepping backwards into the circle until her back were met with Michael’s chest. There in the middle the two stood, a pair of darkness. “I curse you with that but it is not the only curse. If you use magic, any form of magic, you will kill the people you love. For every flick of the wrist, for every spell, for every curse or blessing, whatever magic you use, you will kill someone in your circle, the more you use the more you kill.”

The feather burned in their palms, some screaming in pain, tears staining their cheeks in spite of wanting to remain as passive as possibly. The broke in the wake of her power digging into their very being. What they felt were a fraction of the pain she felt but the fear, the fear was a far greater weapon that caused so much more dispare than pain.

The feather grew into their flest and with black webs it climbed up their arms, under their skin until it settled in their hearts and only then the black webs disappeared. Her tendrils retracted, releasing them from their bindings. Ina gasped and fell to her knees on the ground, fingers gripping at the stone as if to steady herself in reality. Her mother weren’t so docile, she stood with force removing a carved out piece of the chairs arms producing a knife. She created a monster and she would do anything to make up for that mistake. With an angry howl she moved through the room, slicing through the air in an attempt to end her daughters life, to remove from the world what she brought into it.

Michael wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back out of the way of the biting blade. The utter madness in her mother's eyes struck her, the desperate look of a woman who had nothing left to lose.

Oya stopped her, the anger burning through her skin, climbing over the floor with cracks to the marble. It climbed her mother’s pale flesh, blood pouring from the wounds that split open her skin, tearing through the fabric of her cloth with invisible claws. The noise she made, an inhumane sound caught between a wail and a blood curdling scream, echoed in the cathedral. The air seemed to vibrate the same way it does just before a thunderstorm, electricity knitting through the air.

“He will never love you, he cannot love,” she managed to utter as her eyes turned red and blood claimed the trail of her tears. There was a sound of ripping, of something being torn from her mother, yet she remained in one bloodied piece and fell the the floor lifeless. Her pupils had ruptured, exploded into the obsidian and ruby coloured eyes.

Oya felt Michael beside her, his presence calming. It was strange how her skin tickles with the touch of power, she felt her blood course through her and heart beat with impressive force within her chest. Every part of her were electric. In this moment she felt the world gravel at her feet and she loved every second of it. She was drunk on power and smirked when her sister screamed at the sight of her mother’s body.

Michael let her turn in his arms so that she could look upon him. The fire in his eyes send vibrations down her spin and lit up a fire inside of her, the fumes from her powers igniting just by the look in his piercing eyes. There were no other words to describe it other than desire, unrefined and in its purest form. Their bloodlust had been satisfied, her vengeance taken with out most pleasure and now they longed for something other, a more carnal satisfaction.

“Lets go home,” she said and took his arm. Behind her she listened to the coven members mourn their leader, lose their minds in the face of annihilation and most of all her sisters cries. Ina had been the good daughter, the one who loved the most and were loved the most, the prodigy. She had lost her sister long ago but never accepted that she was dark to the fullest. And now, sitting by her mother’s dead body, the woman she loved the most in the world, she felt herself hate her sister.

Oya’s crows left the same way the came in, with a haunting laugh leaving them as they flew through the broken window, a mocking of the life that had been taken. They carried the soul of her mother, the messengers of death, their wings carrying death with them.

Vengeance were a virus, it spread and spread until there were nothing left.

#michael langdon #michael langdon fic #michael langdon imagine #ahs apocalypse #ahs fic #obsidian & angelite

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liesandarbor · 6 years

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A Falling Star in Westeros Pt II: Analyzing Ashara Dayne

A Falling Star in Westeros

Part II of V in a collection of writings regarding the mysterious and ‘late’ Ashara Dayne, her potential effect on narrative, and compelling arguments for and against her fate. Part II deconstructs popular - yet unlikely - theories surrounding Ashara's fate, and, while not as thorough as Part I, lays groundwork for future parts of the series.

Ashara Dayne by Bellabergolts

Tower of Joy: a Conspiracy

Ned's wraiths moved up beside him, with shadow swords in hand. They were seven against three.

"And now it begins," said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light.

"No," Ned said with sadness in his voice. "Now it ends." As they came together in a rush of steel and shadow, he could hear Lyanna screaming. "Eddard!" she called. A storm of rose petals blew across a blood-streaked sky, as blue as the eyes of death.

-Eddard X, AGOT

Readers are left puzzled by George RR Martin’s remarkably vague accounts of Robert’s Rebellion. Whether the fever dream retelling of the Tower of Joy in Eddard X, or missing birth timestamps, everything has been left deliberately unfinished, leaving room for major speculation. Martin’s tight-lipped nature on the Rebellion even transcends into what HBO adapts:

We're not doing Robert's Rebellion either. I know thousands of you want that, I know there's a petition... but by the time I finish writing A SONG OF ICE & FIRE, you will know every important thing that happened in Robert's Rebellion. There would be no surprises or revelations left in such a show, just the acting out of conflicts whose resolutions you already know. That's not a story I want to tell just now; it would feel too much like a twice-told tale.

(Notablog, 5/14/17)

The Rebellion changed how war was waged in Westeros, destroyed relationships, and scarred our main characters in the process - both physically and emotionally (promise me/the tolling of the bells/Jaime, my name’s Jaime). While Martin’s exposition throws us in the shoes of main characters (a brother and a girl dying in a bed of blood, a melancholy but noble prince, the ever-paranoid king, a man at war to bring his betrothed home to him, independence from the crown), we are reminded of what the ‘Game of Thrones’ is about: power, money, land, and control. Smallfolk fought for their homes against rebels (Gulltown, Summerhall, the Reach), many dragged into war for lords they had no reason to respect. The suffering was on a different plane than ever before, and not just for the high lords.

The Rebellion wasn’t necessarily about Rhaegar leaving his wife to get his rocks off with a Northern girl. In fact, the Northern girl was merely a blip - whether prophecy, lust, romance, or fate - in the middle of a bigger plan. With Tywin Lannister financially backing Rhaegar at every turn (The Fall of the Dragons: the Year of the False Spring, TWOIAF), and Rhaegar ready to depose his paranoid, cruel father from the throne, tensions were at an all time high throughout the kingdom. Add insulting the North, Dorne, and someone with an influential social network - and big ‘ol warhammer - and you have a mess on your hands.

Other essayists have more than explored pre-ASOIAF plots and politics in depth. Whether you’re reading the so-gripping-it’s-almost-dubious Harrenhal Conspiracies by Reddit user U/KingLittleFinger, the impeccably thorough Southron Ambitions by Stefan Sasse, or the illustrious Rescue at the Crossroads by Lady Gwynhyfvar, these compelling pieces highlight one similar train of thought: there’s information about this Rebellion that we, as readers, are missing.

Martyn Cassel had perished with the rest. Ned had pulled the tower down afterward, and used its bloody stones to build eight cairns upon the ridge. It was said that Rhaegar had named that place the tower of joy, but for Ned it was a bitter memory. They had been seven against three, yet only two had lived to ride away; Eddard Stark himself and the little crannogman, Howland Reed. He did not think it omened well that he should dream that dream again after so many years. -Eddard X, AGOT

Ned remembered the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black. After that he remembered nothing. They had found him still holding her body, silent with grief. The little crannogman, Howland Reed, had taken her hand from his. Ned could recall none of it. "I bring her flowers when I can," he said. "Lyanna was … fond of flowers."

-Eddard I, AGOT

Eight cairns stand in the blazing heat of Dornish mountains. A small crannogman and a silent, grief-stricken man built them, after defeating three Kingsguard members, emerging the final surviving combatants out of the eight “dead”. How long would it take a semi-catatonic, grieving man to pull down that tower? Days? Weeks? Did Ned Stark suddenly snag a +3 in Masonry while we weren’t paying attention? These two men - and whoever ‘they’ were - lugged the body of a dead sister, a newborn baby, a wet nurse , and an ancestral sword southwest to Starfall, following their weary hearts out of the mountains to return north; to return home. Not a single body’s bones returned to their families: not Arthur Dayne, Oswell Whent, Gerold Hightower, Willam Dustin, Ethan Glover, Theo Wull, Martyn Cassel, or Mark Ryswell.

Rejoining the current narrative, the state of Westeros reads mostly as ‘everything has been swept under the rug, and everyone is pretending nothing happened.’ Ned hasn’t seen Robert Baratheon in nine years, or Howland Reed in fifteen; he hides in his winter fortress, safe within PTSD encrusted walls. Every loose end from the Rebellion tucked behind Winterfell’s gates, threatening to spill out at any moment.

Why did Benjen join the Night's Watch? Good question. One day you will get an answer. But it will not be today.

-SSM

If the only other Tower of Joy survivor was Howland Reed - and no one has seen him in years - the weight of hiding Lyanna’s dragonspawn becomes far easier to manage. But we know that’s not the case. They weren’t the only ones carrying the knowledge of Jon Snow’s parentage - they couldn’t be.

With indefinite language like “they found him still holding her body”, and conflicting stories, like Edric Dayne’s Dornish milk-brother story ("Brother?" Arya did not understand. "But you're from Dorne. How could you and Jon be blood?" "Milk brothers. Not blood. My lady mother had no milk when I was little, so Wylla had to nurse me." Arya VIII, ASOS), we’re sideswiped with waves of mystery.

Stark returns home with a baby on his hip, quite obviously carrying the family genes, and his younger brother immediately signs up for a life of celibacy in a freezing tundra (SSM). Three kingsguard are placed in the mountains of Dorne, with the knowledge that what they are guarding is worth more than their lives. House Dayne sends their own serving woman, Wylla, to the tend the tower. Ashara plunges from the Palestone Sword Tower as the Rebellion ends, her body conveniently never found (SSM). Martin has even hinted the Reed children “might know something about it” (SSM), something backed up by Bran II, ASOS. The question is no longer ‘what happened in that tower?’ - it’s what created that tower? What actions put our leading lady in this tower, and why?

Compelling Arguments against Ashara Dayne as other “Popular Theories”

Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me – The Carriage held but just Ourselves – And Immortality. - Emily Dickinson

The shadow cast by Lyanna and Rhaegar’s romance found many agency-deprived Rebellion ladies meeting their doom. Often called “The Dead Ladies Club” by members of the fandom (commonly coined by JoannaLannister), we rifle through pages of women led to slaughter by the same societal standards that they’re told will nourish them. While not the leading, love interest, Ashara Dayne encompasses the “lady-in-purple” idea; a sexualized enigma. Ashara’s reintroduction furthers her importance, the reader glimpsing her through Catelyn, Arya and Barristan chapters.

As far as dead ladies go, Lyanna Stark clocks in at a whopping twenty-six mentions by name in AGOT, while Ashara Dayne bottoms a lowly ten for the entire series. Does that ten look small? Of course. But the consistent spacing of that ten serves as an important reminder: Ashara Dayne’s mystery still lies in the ocean, unresolved.

The game of Telephone surrounding Ashara’s fate warrants questioning. Characters hiding post-Rebellion are constantly being introduced to the story, and each page begs: what reveal comes next?

It’s not enough to ask “why” Ashara would be in hiding to justify some of the crazier theories. Isolating her arc helps us closely examine the mystery at hand, balancing theories by what adds depth to her story.

If Ashara fakes her death, as popular theories tend to offer, there are many interesting ideas about her fate - but many tend to fail under a microscope.

Justice for Elia

Yet sometimes Dany would picture the way it had been, so often had her brother told her the stories. The midnight flight to Dragonstone, moonlight shimmering on the ship's black sails. Her brother Rhaegar battling the Usurper in the bloody waters of the Trident and dying for the woman he loved. The sack of King's Landing by the ones Viserys called the Usurper's dogs, the lords Lannister and Stark. Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for mercy as Rhaegar's heir was ripped from her breast and murdered before her eyes. The polished skulls of the last dragons staring down sightlessly from the walls of the throne room while the Kingslayer opened Father's throat with a golden sword. -Daenerys I, AGOT

One dark day in 283 AC, Elia Martell of Dorne learned that monsters were real. As family and life were ripped from her arms, one thing was certain: Dorne would not forgive the parties involved until Justice was served. From ASOS on, we are introduced to the Justice For Elia plot, and as we travel along, the plot thickens - as it tends to. A long-thought dead exiled Lord and a ragtag crew of Rebellion Nobodies turns up, advocating for what seems to be the lost son of Rhaegar and Elia, Aegon Targaryen.

The Soiled Septa

There was something wonderfully wicked about the thought of peeling the septa out of those chaste white robes and spreading her legs. Innocence despoiled, he thought … though Lemore was not near as innocent as she appeared. She had stretch marks on her belly that could only have come from childbirth.

-Tyrion IV, ADWD

At the surface, Ashara Dayne as Septa Lemore is an easy fit. A group of B-List Rebellion members emerge from the depths of the story, embarking on a journey to enthrone Rhaegar Targaryen’s suddenly-alive-son. A mysterious septa with long, dark hair and tactfully placed stretch marks ignite a spark in the reader. “Wait! You said everyone is in hiding from the rebellion! This is the perfect place to find Ashara!” Readers wait with baited breath for a reveal in (fake!)Aegon’s camp, and they’re waiting for something that will never come.

Afterward, Nurse had Ser Jorah's chains fastened to a stake near the cookfire whilst he escorted the two dwarfs inside the master's pavilion and showed them where they would sleep, in a carpeted alcove separated from the main tent by walls of yellow silk. They would share this space with Yezzan's other treasures: a boy with twisted, hairy "goat legs," a two-headed girl out of Mantarys, a bearded woman, and a willowy creature called Sweets who dressed in moonstones and Myrish lace. "You are trying to decide if I'm a man or woman," Sweets said, when she was brought before the dwarfs. Then she lifted her skirts and showed them what was underneath. "I'm both, and master loves me best."A grotesquerie, Tyrion realized. Somewhere some god is laughing. "Lovely," he said to Sweets, who had purple hair and violet eyes, "but we were hoping to be the pretty ones for once."

-Tyrion X ADWD

Lemore is introduced through both Tyrion and Jon Connington. Tyrion spends a solid half of ADWD gushing about Valyrian Lore in his brain, and the other half feeling sorry for himself (and being a general drunken sack of crap). Given what we know about Tyrion’s obsession with old Valyria, and what we know about Ashara’s physique: why didn’t Tyrion mention Septa Lemore’s eyes? ‘He’s distracted by her body,’ arguments arise, ‘he was already overwhelmed by the stretchmarks.’ Well, friends, those arguments are ridiculous.

When Lemore climbed back onto the deck, Tyrion savored the sight of water trickling between her breasts, her smooth skin glowing golden in the morning light. She was past forty, more handsome than pretty, but still easy on the eye. Being randy is the next best thing to being drunk, he decided. It made him feel as if he was still alive. "Did you see the turtle, Hugor?" the septa asked him, wringing water from her hair. "The big ridgeback?"

-Tyrion IV, ADWD

The most defining description of Ashara in eleven on-page mentions are her haunting (or laughing) violet eyes. In Tyrion IV, Tyrion sees Young Griff’s eyes are a dark blue or purple in the dusk. In Tyrion X, a few chapters after Lemore’s stretch marks appear, Tyrion makes note of a slave’s purple eyes. Too easy to miss, and completely out of character for Tyrion to ignore.

The prince arrived to join them four days later, riding at the head of a column of a hundred horse, with three elephants lumbering in his rear. Lady Lemore was with him, garbed once more in the white robes of a septa. Before them went Ser Rolly Duckfield, a snow-white cloak streaming from his shoulders.

-The Lost Lord, ADWD

Prince Aegon Targaryen was not near as biddable as the boy Young Griff had been, however. The better part of an hour had passed before he finally turned up in the solar, with Duck at his side. "Lord Connington," he said, "I like your castle."

-The Griffin Reborn, ADWD

Tyrion isn’t the only POV with an affinity for purple eyes, either. Connington turns attention to Young Griff’s eyes, reminiscing on Rhaegar’s deep purple set.

"Your father's lands are beautiful," he said. His silvery hair was blowing in the wind, and his eyes were a deep purple, darker than this boy's.

-The Griffin Reborn, ADWD

Yet Connington - one of Ashara’s famed tourney dance partners (Bran II, ASOS) - fails to mention that Lemore catches his eye in the same way. In fact, there is no mention of Lemore’s eye color in any of the chapters she appears in.

Were eye color not enough to dispel the Lemore/Ashara theory, age throws it where it belongs: in a trash can. Tyrion guesses Lemore past forty - where Tyrion has misjudged age in ASOIAF before (“Tyrion sighed. "You are remarkably polite for a bastard, Snow. What you see is a dwarf. You are what, twelve?" "Fourteen," the boy said.” - Tyrion II, AGOT), one to two years is not a very drastic difference. Martin has stated Ashara would be in her thirties if alive (SSM) - to be in her forties, she would have been born between 250 and 260 AC, which puts Ashara 22 to 32 years old during the Tourney at Harrenhal. While 22 isn’t unbelievable, anything older just doesn’t fit Martin’s thematic and harrowing depictions of young, tragic Rebellion ladies. (see Ashara Dayne Age Calculation in Pt.I reddit/tumblr)

Aegon’s crew unfolds in ADWD, revealing these nameless survivors of the Rebellion - and countless questions. An exiled lord, a rogue almost-maester, an apprentice smith with a shady past, and a soiled septa; all with reasons to hide, implementing the “rightful king” on the iron throne. But where does Ashara fit? Besides Connington, the group seems to be comprised of… well, nobodies. In fact, the whole plot is pretty dead end, whether the real Aegon or not - Aunt Dany and her Dragons loom just ahead, surrounding Young Griff’s political campaign with fire, blood, and ultimately death.

"Prince Aegon was Rhaegar's heir by Elia of Dorne," Ser Jorah said. "But if he was this prince that was promised, the promise was broken along with his skull when the Lannisters dashed his head against a wall."

-Daenerys V, ACOK

Many find themselves desperately wanting to fulfill the Lemore connection, to find closure for the mystery behind Ashara Dayne. But when readers tug at the plot to make their theories fit, there are parts that don’t flow.

So be it. He had grown fond of Lemore, but that did not mean he required her approval. Her task had been to instruct the prince in the doctrines of the Faith, and she had done that. No amount of prayer would put him on the Iron Throne, however. That was Griff's task. He had failed Prince Rhaegar once. He would not fail his son, not whilst life remained in his body.

-The Lost Lord, ADWD

Ashara Dayne, after losing friends and family, goes into hiding, only to emerge, championing Elia Martell’s born-again child and teach him about the Faith. Heck, let’s take it deeper, like most fans tend to: Ashara Dayne, who had a stillborn child, mad with grief after Ned Stark returned her family’s ancestral sword home, ‘slaying her brother’, emerges from committing suicide, championing Elia Martell’s born-again child and teaching him about the faith. Ashara once more is turned into the sexy woman getting watched by seven guys on a boat, much like her place in the Tourney at Harrenhal, and much like her place in the fandom: stuck on a pedestal.

The months Ashara spent attending Elia of Dorne - yes, months, and definitely no more than a year - weren’t months of Ashara skipping down hallways, giggling and singing songs with fellow bedmaids and the Princess. Rhaenys’ birth was extremely traumatic, leaving Elia bedridden half a year (The Griffin Reborn, ADWD). It is doubtful the Daynes and Martells were distant, per se, but besides Ashara’s dancing with Oberyn at Harrenhal, Arthur being a sworn brother to Lewyn, and House Dayne’s fealty to House Martell… we don’t have textual basis for a strong relationship between the Dayne and Martell family. In fact, the strongest friendship Arthur is referenced having throughout TWOIAF and ASOIAF (besides Connington and sworn brothers) happens to be with Rhaegar Targaryen.

Comparing it to present-day ASOIAF, Alys Karstark hadn’t seen the Stark brothers since she was six years old (ADWD, Jon IX). Northmen are loyal (to a fault, as we know the Dornish vassals can be), but there is nothing that suggests that House Martell and Dayne’s children were more than casual friends, just as House Karstark and Stark: it is more likely they merely met whenever their parents convened/arranged.

The Rebellion Dayne gang aren’t brought up in a single Dornish chapter, barring Gerold’s introduction (The Queensmaker, AFFC). The first mention of Ashara through someone related to her, Ned Dayne, informs Arya her dad was in love with her; with not a single Martell name-drop. Beneath the theory’s already fragile surface, there is weaker motivation: Ashara Dayne showing up with a group of B/C-list Rebellion characters to help a son she never met, of a friend she barely knew, relies closely on House allegiancy.

And what about the eventual demise of “Aegon” “Targaryen”? With Young Griff’s heritage speculated (and arguably accepted as fandom-wide canon at this point) to be from the Blackfyre line or faked, the laid seeds of “Aegon Targaryen” are lost in Ashara Dayne’s narrative. Jon Connington spends years in exile raising the “perfect Prince”, only to fail once more, never avenging his silver Prince. Ashara once more finds herself enveloped in tragedy for someone else’s story. This ending does nothing but cheapen her original demise.

Fan theories often outline outlandish ideas, too complicated to be solved in the last two ASOIAF books: Ashara was in love with Rhaegar and couldn’t be with him, Ashara was dishonored by Aerys II and had his baby; there’s even a rather unsavory “Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne” theory I’ll tear apart later.

So where are the textual ties to the stillborn/baby alive theories?

Daenerys has the same eyes. Sometimes when the queen looked at him, he felt as if he were looking at Ashara's daughter …

But Ashara's daughter had been stillborn, and his fair lady had thrown herself from a tower soon after, mad with grief for the child she had lost, and perhaps for the man who had dishonored her at Harrenhal as well. She died never knowing that Ser Barristan had loved her. How could she? He was a knight of the Kingsguard, sworn to celibacy. No good could have come from telling her his feelings. No good came from silence either. If I had unhorsed Rhaegar and crowned Ashara queen of love and beauty, might she have looked to me instead of Stark?

-The Kingbreaker, ADWD

Not a single character factually knows of Ashara’s stillbirth; Barristan, an established unreliable narrator, thinks of how he might have done things differently to avoid the war, and the memory of Ashara’s “child” come rushing to the front. Martin time and time again wants the reader to remember that characters don’t always see things through a “20/20” lens, as seen in Barristan’s thoughts regarding Quentyn Martell.

Prince Quentyn was listening intently, at least. That one is his father’s son. Short and stocky, plain-faced, he seemed a decent lad, sober, sensible, dutiful … but not the sort to make a young girl’s heart beat faster. And Daenerys Targaryen, whatever else she might be, was still a young girl, as she herself would claim when it pleased her to play the innocent. Like all good queens she put her people first—else she would never have wed Hizdahr zo Loraq—but the girl in her still yearned for poetry, passion, and laughter. She wants fire, and Dorne sent her mud.

-The Discarded Knight, ADWD

Dany unrolled the parchment and examined it again. Braavos. This was done in Braavos, while we were living in the house with the red door. Why did that make her feel so strange?

She found herself remembering her nightmare. Sometimes there is truth in dreams. Could Hizdahr zo Loraq be working for the warlocks, was that what the dream had meant? Could the dream have been a sending? Were the gods telling her to put Hizdahr aside and wed this Dornish prince instead?

-Daenerys VII, ADWD

It becomes easy to accept Barristan’s thoughts on Daenerys’ suitors at face value, until we remember Daenerys’ thoughts on Quentyn. We know that, had he come to the Dragon Queen earlier, it would have been an easy alliance. Barristan finds Daenerys’ behavior rash when it comes to Daario Naharis, the studly sellsword with nothing to offer her but his weapon and member. But at this point in the story, Daenerys has ceased sleeping with Naharis, and sacrificed personal and political ambitions to keep peace in Meereen.

Where Barristan sees a young girl choosing fire, he does not know every conflict that plagues her mind, each internal thought she grapples with. The idea that Barristan projected what happened to Ashara isn’t farfetched. Once more, the reader is given more information than Barristan seems to know - we know that there is more at play in the story than the idea that Daenerys is a silly little girl with silly little girl dreams. Barristan’s projections on Quentyn sound a lot like “might she have looked to me instead of Stark” come again.

The Baby Swap

“Or was it the grieving sister, the Lady Ashara? She threw herself into the sea, I'm told. Why was that? For the brother you slew, or the child you stole?” -Eddard XII, AGOT

The idea of the Tower of Joy being part of a bigger conspiracy allows ideas and answers that, while eccentric, are open minded approaches in sifting through text. With the amount of information that we aren’t given, credit where credit is due: some crazy stuff could have gone down surrounding the Tower of Joy. We just don’t know. What we can use to reel us in is how the reveal would come to be - and how it affects the overall story.

Some theories go too far. When the phrases “Ashara + Aerys = Aegon”, “Ashara + Brandon = Jon/Aegon”, “Ashara + Ned = Jon/Aegon” pop up in any which order, I can’t help but cringe. I say this at the risk of crucifixion, but if you’re with me thus far, some of these ideas are too outlandish to work. Whether you accept the canon of the show, or have actually read the same books we have been reading, Jon’s parentage has been more than hinted at. However this mess pans out, I feel we’ve come to the point in our adult lives where we can and should accept that Rhaegar and Lyanna are the parents of Jon Snow/Stark/Garyen/Sand. Ned’s fever dreams, his trauma, sheltering his family and daughters, and his entire AGOT investigative arc loses all emotional resonance when Jon’s parentage is assigned to someone not Lyanna and Rhaegar. Daenerys’ House of the Undying visions, Ned’s ferocious love for ‘whoever Jon’s mother must have been’ (Catelyn II, AGOT); they become hollow thoughts on a piece of paper, and not at all how Martin plants and harvests his writings.

“Prince Rhaegar's friend might have been on hand when my father sacked King's Landing, to save Prince Rhaegar's precious little son from getting his royal brains dashed out against a wall."

The lad flushed. "That was not me. I told you. That was some tanner's son from Pisswater Bend whose mother died birthing him. His father sold him to Lord Varys for a jug of Arbor gold. He had other sons but had never tasted Arbor gold. Varys gave the Pisswater boy to my lady mother and carried me away."

"Aye." Tyrion moved his elephants. "And when the pisswater prince was safely dead, the eunuch smuggled you across the narrow sea to his fat friend the cheesemonger, who hid you on a poleboat and found an exile lord willing to call himself your father. It does make for a splendid story, and the singers will make much of your escape once you take the Iron Throne… “

-Tyrion VI, ADWD

The younger sister of Arthur Dayne gets knocked up in King’s Landing by someone of extremely convenient genetics, and has the child taken away from her - possibly as “the Pisswater Prince”. Varys, being the one who stole a child from Ashara, switches the babies, and she raises Elia’s son as her own until the time is right.

When the lad emerged from the cabin with Lemore by his side, Griff looked him over carefully from head to heel. The prince wore sword and dagger, black boots polished to a high sheen, a black cloak lined with blood-red silk. With his hair washed and cut and freshly dyed a deep, dark blue, his eyes looked blue as well. At his throat he wore three huge square-cut rubies on a chain of black iron, a gift from Magister Illyrio. Red and black. Dragon colors. That was good. "You look a proper prince," he told the boy. "Your father would be proud if he could see you."

-The Lost Lord, ADWD

Martin highlights Aegon and Rhaegar’s difference in eye color through Connington’s chapters. As PoorQuentyn mentions on Tumblr, Martin drops a Doylist hint for the reader in these chapters: the son’s eyes are not like the father’s - something Connington clings to, refusing to actually confront (“his eyes were a deep purple, darker than this boy's.”-The Griffin Reborn, ADWD). If one of Ashara’s purposes in the story is to serve as a red herring for Jon Snow’s parentage to the public eye, she can’t possibly fulfill that and some sort of pseudo-mother for F!Aegon. The truth of the matter: that’s sloppy, and there isn’t enough page-time for it.

Clear pathways lead from the stories of the Rebellion, and unite in current narrative. Elia Martell’s plot lives on through relatives as they seek revenge for the injustice done to their family, but ends in fire and blood through miscalculations along the way. Lyanna Stark’s tragedy fronts us the savior, and allows us to follow Jon Snow as he transforms into the front line of battle against the Others and the Long Night to come. Is Ashara Dayne left with no real end to her plot, solely serving purpose as a sacrificial lamb? Where do her lines lead, and what results because of her story?

The Wild Wolf

"Someone has been down here stealing swords. Brandon's is gone as well."

"He would hate that." She pulled off her glove and touched his knee, pale flesh against dark stone. "Brandon loved his sword. He loved to hone it. 'I want it sharp enough to shave the hair from a woman's cunt,' he used to say. And how he loved to use it. 'A bloody sword is a beautiful thing,' he told me once."

"You knew him," Theon said.

The lantern light in her eyes made them seem as if they were afire. "Brandon was fostered at Barrowton with old Lord Dustin, the father of the one I'd later wed, but he spent most of his time riding the Rills. He loved to ride. His little sister took after him in that. A pair of centaurs, those two. And my lord father was always pleased to play host to the heir to Winterfell. My father had great ambitions for House Ryswell. He would have served up my maidenhead to any Stark who happened by, but there was no need. Brandon was never shy about taking what he wanted. I am old now, a dried-up thing, too long a widow, but I still remember the look of my maiden's blood on his cock the night he claimed me. I think Brandon liked the sight as well. A bloody sword is a beautiful thing, yes. It hurt, but it was a sweet pain.

-The Turncloak, ADWD

If the Rebellion and main text revolve around Lyanna and Rhaegar’s Tower of Joy lovefest - and the bouncing, bundled product of it - there are silly theories we can knock off from the start. Ashara Dayne and basically anyone producing Jon Snow, for instance.

Passion is a driving force where this Ashara theory is concerned, and hinges on little to no textual evidence, but rather, once more, an easy means to ending Ashara’s plot. Brandon Stark, the older wolf brother: sexy, arrogant, wooing the tantalizingly ‘hot’ Dornish girl. First requesting her favor to dance with the solemn younger brother, and later ‘dishonoring’ her in the heat of the night. Where this theory works as an easy fit (‘had she turned to me instead of Stark, losing a child, killing herself out of grief’) the finer details fail under examination.

Look. We get it. Brandon Stark was a Northern Stud. He hooked up with highborn girls, had long hair, dared to ride to the red keep - with an army - to call out the problematic silver-haired prophecy abiding hipster, Rhaegar Targaryen. He was “badass”. Cat knew it, Ned knew it, Barbrey knew it. But did he really have time to throw one more highborn Lady into his juggling act?

Following Brandon’s timeline, his betrothal to Cat took place somewhere between 276 and 277 AC (Catelyn VI, ACOK). In 281 AC, Brandon would have been posing as next-in-command for House Stark at the Tourney at Harrenhal, as Rickard didn’t attend - possibly keeping an eye out for an advantageous betrothal for Ned, the middle brother. With Hoster Tully’s lack of attendance (speculated via the insult of Jaime Lannister’s Kingsguard induction - and not marrying Lysa) there’s no chance Brandon would risk further spectacle. Brandon, the born leader, was still seeing Barbrey (tourney was pre-wedding date announcement to Catelyn) and betrothed to Catelyn Tully; someone would tell. Someone always tells.

Some theorists latch on to forbidden love in the dungeons of the Red Keep, and the dates just don’t line up. The only opportunity for Ashara Dayne to get pregnant by Brandon Stark would have been during the Tourney at Harrenhal in 281 AC. Following the tourney, Elia Martell returned home to Dragonstone, giving birth to Aegon in early 282 AC. Ashara, ‘not long at court’ (The Kingbreaker, ADWD) would make for Dorne; and if rumors were true, pregnant. Brandon Stark’s famous death at the hands of Aerys II Targaryen took place in early 282 AC in the throne room of King’s Landing.

Ashara’s ‘death’ - and Brandon’s more certain one - is used as a convenient device in these theories. Without either to give their living word, how can we possibly disprove it? But at the same time, how can we possibly prove it? Brandon’s story is over; the songs have been written, the wild wolf has been put to sleep. But Ashara’s mentions don’t fade, like her story has. What would Ashara Dayne’s romance with a very officially dead man, many years ago, add to the narrative? With Jon Snow’s parentage being of the Dragon and the She-Wolf, and both Ned and Brandon long gone, there would be zero point in any Ashara and Brandon reveal: dead or alive.

Wrapped in Starlight

"If you have some warning for me, speak plainly. What do you want of me, Quaithe?"

Moonlight shone in the woman's eyes. "To show you the way." -Daenerys II, ADWD

Quaithe of the Shadow appears in Daenerys’ POV’s across ASOIAF (ACOK I, II, III, ASOS III, ADWD II, X). A Shadowbinder from Asshai maintaining a certain amount of mystery, she appears periodically to deliver cryptic messages and prophecies to Daenerys - she even projects herself through the stars. Where Quaithe is bathed in starlight and enigmas, many speculate the imagery and mystique matches Ashara Dayne, leaving hints to help the Dragon’s daughter.

Once more, an easy fit from outside - a woman with a hidden identity and lacquered mask, speaking in riddles, never revealing herself to reader or POV character.

Dany had not noticed Quaithe in the crowd, yet there she stood, eyes wet and shiny behind the implacable red lacquer mask. "What mean you, my lady?"

-Daenerys III, ACOK

Much like the Lemore theory, diving skin-deep into the Quaithe as Ashara theory is enough to break it. Dany mentions Quaithe’s eyes twice - once in ACOK, another in ADWD. Wouldn’t Daenerys be surprised by and eager to explore Quaithe’s purple eyes, something that would signify some sort of Valyrian connection to her; Daenerys, who yearns for home, constantly craving the company of the family she never knew?

Two direct mentions of Quaithe’s eyes make the page, with zero descriptions of color. In ADWD alone, Daenerys focuses specifically on Ser Barristan and Missandei’s eye colors. if Quaithe had anything majorly important about her eyes, the audience would be aware.

Most sinister of all the sorcerers of Asshai are the shadowbinders, who's lacquered masks hide their faces from the eyes of gods and men. They alone dare to go up river past the walls of Asshai, into the heart of darkness.

-TWOIAF

"All sorcery comes at a cost, child. Years of prayer and sacrifice and study are required to work a proper glamor."

"Years?" she said, dismayed.

-Arya II, AFFC

And so the theory goes. Ashara Dayne, in hiding from the Rebellion, begins training to become a shadowbinder, with 15-20 years under her belt to suddenly become heckin’ mystical, wearing a mask, communicating to Daenerys with a glass candle, haunting her dreams, meeting her in Qarth.

"What feeds a dragon's fire?" Marwyn seated himself upon a stool. "All Valyrian sorcery was rooted in blood or fire. The sorcerers of the Freehold could see across mountains, seas, and deserts with one of these glass candles. They could enter a man's dreams and give him visions, and speak to one another half a world apart, seated before their candles. Do you think that might be useful, Slayer?"

-Samwell V, AFFC

Last of the three seekers to depart was Quaithe the shadowbinder. From her Dany received only a warning. "Beware," the woman in the red lacquer mask said.

"Of whom?"

"Of all. They shall come day and night to see the wonder that has been born again into the world, and when they see they shall lust. For dragons are fire made flesh, and fire is power."

When Quaithe too was gone, Ser Jorah said, "She speaks truly, my queen . . . though I like her no more than the others."

-Daenerys II, ACOK

While House Dayne’s mystical qualities seem to be important, Shadowbinders are of the night. They work their art in darkness, where Ashara and her immediate family seem to be of the light, Arthur as the Sword of the Morning. With so little text about Quaithe and House Dayne, this is a theory that’s as hard to rebuff as to prove.

If Quaithe is using a glass candle to communicate with Daenerys, or at least is aware of the burning glass candles, she is using/seeing a Valyrian method of magical contact; which ...isn’t very Dayne. Descending originally from First Men, and commonly theorized from the Great Empire of the Dawn, Valyrian sorcery and Shadowbinding both hold one similar trait: House Dayne doesn’t seem to have a history with it.

The woman took a step backward. "You must leave this city soon, Daenerys Targaryen, or you will never be permitted to leave it at all."

Dany's wrist still tingled where Quaithe had touched her. "Where would you have me go?" she asked.

"To go north, you must journey south. To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward you must go back, and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow."

-Daenerys III, ASOS

So where does the Daenerys connection come into play? Did Ashara Dayne hold so much regard for Rhaegar Targaryen - and whatever prophecy may or may not have come into play - that she threw herself off of a tower, faked her death, and dedicated the next decade and a half to becoming a magical sorceress for his sister? Doubtful - that doesn’t seem to be where her loyalty lie.

The biggest truth of any of these theories? We don’t have enough page time for them. Whatever Ashara’s fate becomes in the books, the nature of its reveal won’t take up more than a handful of pages - at best. With eleven mentions (ten by name) in the story, and 155+ plot threads to be wrapped up, Ashara currently has about 850 words surrounding her plot - out of 1.77 million words in the entire story. That’s far less than 1% of the plot. This story is huge, and while Ashara Dayne played an integral part in the Rebellion - whatever it was - a chapter long reveal of these theories is not in the cards at this point.

#ashara dayne #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #ashara meta #house dayne

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stephicness · 7 years

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What are your thoughts on a fan theory that all the events of episode prompto only happened in Prompto's head and weren't real? (Is it safe to discuss the episode now?)

Well, on my blog it is, at least, but I’ll tag for spoilers just in case. c: Because I REALLY want to talk about this theory because, to be honest, I’m really close to agreeing with it. To an extent, I mean, since Episode Prompto was an odd one in my eyes.

So spoilers ahead, because we’re talking EPISODE PROMPTO! Read below for my rambling!

So to me, this idea that Prompto had this all running through his head can be really plausible, I think. Of course, Square can pretty much tell us that they changed up Prompto’s story a bit to fit with his own episode, but honestly? I don’t buy it that much. Episode Prompto is a DLC that Tabata and the others KNEW they wanted to happen, just as they knew they wanted Episode Gladiolus to talk about him running off in Chapter 7, and Episode Ignis to discuss just how in the world Ignis was blinded. I like to give Square credit, and perhaps it might be too much credit, but I will when I say that Episode Prompto should be more well-thought out than we all assume.

Like, for me, and I’ll level with you here, I didn’t like Episode Prompto as much as I could have because it was so odd to me. Literally. Wandering through the snow after mysteriously finding a new outfit, stumbling upon an MT base where Verstael is trying to conduct an immortal experiment that turns him into a sentient version of the Very Hungry Caterpillar, and Aranea miraculously finding Prompto in a period of about two days/less after meeting Noctis and the others in Tenebrae and sending them on their way to Gralea? Perhaps it’s me being overly analytical, but Aranea isn’t THAT good at tracking someone. In a snowstorm. In, again, less than two days or so. Because by train, you can probably make a trip across a country (which I personally assume is about the size of Europe, more or less) in about a day if you really didn’t have any complications. Sans, of course, Ardyn appearing and Gentiana blessing Noctis with her icy presence.

Needless to say, ALOT of things didn’t add up in Episode Prompto, more than they actually did. They of course try to give us the bonus Episode Prompto stuff nevertheless though, like the outfit and the Lionheart gun too (which is super cute by the way…!).

But that’s where this whole fan theory comes into play: There’s so many weird things in the Episode that we can only assume that there’s something FAR more intriguing about just a Metal Gear wannabe DLC. One of the only real ways that can explain EVERYTHING in this DLC is by the fact that it is, in fact, a dream. An illusion that Ardyn conjured up to make Prompto relive the guilt about being an MT, to unravel himself and become the monster he was truly destined to become.

AND HERE’S A BUNCH OF REASONS WHY. SO KICK UP A SEAT BECAUSE THIS POST IS GONNA GET LENGTHY.

1) How the hell did he end up in the middle of the snow? Without any help? In a few days?

So the time frame of FFXV is super weird because we’ve got moments where they’re riding on a train, they’re suddenly stopping in Tenebrae, and those sorts of fun and merry things. So we never really get a rough timeframe of how long it took the boys to travel from Altissia to Gralea where the keep was. But we know for a fact that a good majority of the boys’ traveling is done by train. If you want to go in the comparison of the empire being about the same size as maybe Russia just for relativity sake, it takes you about seven days of train traveling to get across the continent to Gralea, give or take. (Again, this is all just speculations and guessing). Either way, they’re VIA train, at one point by car too with only one major stop to restock in Tenebrae. Beyond that, we pretty much see them make an almost continue train ride to Gralea.

Prompto, however, was thrown off the train just outside of Tenebrae, probably meaning he was traveling with the boys for about 2-3 days already before he had an early departure. He’d have to catch up with Noctis and the others in about 2 days or three after spending about two to three days dealing with the Verstael situation in Episode Prompto. BRINGING IN MATH HERE, but that means Prompto would have to make up that distance at approximately 150 MPH on a snowmobile to catch up to a train going about 80 MPH. Again, in about 2-3 days to catch up on a snowmobile while also taking in account breaks, nights to rest, and getting around obstacles that a snowmobile might not be able to traverse through. Mountains for example? It’d be hard for him to do, no matter how cool he was in Episode Prompto running down a mountain on a snowmobile as it was. Possible, but highly unlikely too.

2) How did Aranea find Prompto so quickly after dropping everything in Tenebrae?

It strikes me odd that we find Aranea suddenly in Episode Prompto because wasn’t she helping in Tenebrae to get people out of the burning manor and escape from the daemon outbreak from the city of Gralea? Why would she immediately drop whatever she was doing to go help out a blond-haired kid that conveniently was there to help her stop a mad scientist from making himself into a human centipede with robo-lasers? To me, I find it hard to believe, considering that she, for one, only met Prompto once direction for about two days to help Noctis go through a dungeon, and maybe a few times within Chapter 8 when she appeared before them all in a mask. (or when she again dropped in and beat up Noctis, again in a mask). She didn’t even acknowledge Prompto throughout most of the Myrtlewood dungeon, I think, so why give a damn about Prompto being lost?

It’s good that we saw Aranea there, but if you think about it, Prompto would probably imagine her the most out of anyone else to save him. He can’t imagine Noctis, Ignis, or Gladio saving him because they’re gone by then, and he already felt like he wasn’t good enough for them. Cor as well wouldn’t be someone Prompto would imagine helping him because Cor’s a Lucian. He doesn’t know anything about the MTs. Aranea, however, does, since she’s a commodore in the Niflheim Navy and someone strong enough to kick Prompto’s ass into shape and help him. He respects her enough to want her aid, but also knows that she wouldn’t push an MT away after working with them for so long.

3) Why did Verstael turn into a goo boy?

From what I remember about Episode Prompto, Verstael was making a machine infused with daemons and humans that would act as his vessel to basically become something more powerful than the Astrals themselves. He was obsessed with this god-like complex of his, which we all can understand seeing how he behaved in his conversation about Lunafreya in Chapter 3 of the base game. He wanted her alive because she could communicate with the Astrals, basically acting as a conduit for him to discover what makes the Astrals so strong. So he made the machine to become some god-like beast.

But why was he turning all gooey anyways? Why did he have to die in order for him to trigger the machine? When he approached Prompto, he radiated dark energy that he was becoming a daemon, turning into a monster. Half of his face was messed-up, after all. But these kinds of traits of daemofication while still alive never happens unless they DIED at some point. If he wanted immortality, he could have just gotten Ardyn to turn him into a daemon like he did with Iedolas and Ravus. Unless Verstael was the first, I mean. This only adds onto the fact that perhaps Verstael was dead and immortal as it was? It’s odd to me that if he wanted to become immortal, he could have easily just struck a deal with Ardyn to become a daemon pet. Instead, he was infused to a giant worm? Why? Why go through all that trouble when daemification and infusing a daemon into something is possible? Verstael is a smart man and knows how to get stuff done, so the trouble he went through to turn into a goo boy, die, get infused with a worm, and get blown up is pretty cray to me.

4) What’s with the flashbacks and paradoxes?

This, I feel, is one of the bigger pieces of evidence to why Episode Prompto can be a dream theory. Things get really strange with Noctis trying to kill MT-clad Prompto, with Prompto reconciling with his younger self, with Pyrna appearing, etc. ESPECIALLY PYRNA. Because it was said that she had died when Lunafreya died, of grief at that. How is it that the dog managed to wander around when they were supposedly dead? They may be an Astral dog, but they still had an actual minimalistic form. We see that they too can die in the Omen trailer, despite that being a dream too. But still, even the Astrals can be killed somehow – just like how Eos was killed during the whole Lucian royalty are half-astrals theory. Why did these memories and illusions come trick him? Stress-induced hallucinations? A drug injected into him without us knowing? How? It’s odd to me, but most people assume it was an Ardyn mind-trick. He was there, as we see at the very end of the DLC, but why nearly freeze your immortal dick off just to mess with the broken child?

And most importantly – and my favorite detail about this in why Episode Prompto might be a dream theory – 5) How come Prompto wasn’t burned in Chapter 13?

We see at the very end of Episode Prompto that he’s strapped to the torture device and is just hanging there, not doing much and out of his change of clothes by now. Odd that he’d be redressed, but we see Noctis and the others come up and run to him to help Prompto. But later on in that chapter and during some of the Episode Prompto cutscenes, Prompto has that barcode on him. I believe there was a picture (Photoshopped or nah?) that showed that he had done something to his code. But still, those are not burn marks nevertheless, if that picture is real or altered. If they were burned, they be almost like something Ignis has on his face, not red and swollen looking like that, I don’t think. Yes, we get the option to say no to burning Prompto, but still. That barcode would have seen some pretty bad damage on it if Prompto clawed it off, burned it off, anything.

Instead, we see only the mark from when he was the restraint mark on his wrist from perhaps struggling to break free, or from hanging there limply. Fishy that there isn’t any other injuries on him, even after Episode Prompto. That mark over his nose isn’t there during the DLC, the injuries on his wrist aren’t during the base game. For the most part, the injuries that we know of besides you burning off his barcode are all injuries from the base game.

And most importantly, I bring this up too: During Episode Gladiolus, his ending was him walking with Cor to get back to Lestallum to meet the others, right? We see his resolution and ending, his reward and success for completing his task. How come at the very end, we only see Prompto hanging there in that prison? He’s not riding to Gralea to return to Noctis. We don’t see him get kidnapped by any of the Imperial Officers or Ardyn either. We only see Prompto. Trapped. Imprisoned. Why? After all we saw in Episode Prompto, how come they left out the major plot hole that we wanted to know: HOW DID PROMPTO GET TO GRALEA?

Well, with all of those details, wouldn’t it be logical that Prompto never left Gralea to begin with…? That Ardyn had him relive the psychological torture of Verstael and his insanity in hopes of Prompto turning against Noctis? We even know from the Versus XIII plotline that Prompto was initially supposed to betray Noctis during the point where he reveals he’s Verstael’s son. That was Prompto’s crisis point in the initial game, and he was going to turn on Noctis during Versus XIII. Perhaps Ardyn used these mind-tricks to try swaying Prompto to do so during XV. Perhaps he wanted to see their friendship break apart.

That, and Ardyn humming that Chocobo theme at the very end of Episode Prompto. Prompto only ever hummed that with Noctis and the others. How would Ardyn know that Prompto sings that too unless A) he’s a super mega-stalker (which I wouldn’t put it past him to be) or B) he knows Prompto’s mind and secrets and saw the memory of Prompto having sung/hummed that before. Ardyn knew Prompto’s mind more than we really thought, I feel.

So yes, I actually really do agree with the dream theory idea for Episode Prompto because alot of it is strange to me. But even if it all actually did happen, this theory is a fun one to ponder on. c;

#asks #dear anon #stephic writings #theories #final fantasy xv #ffxv #episode prompto #prompto argentum #episode prompto spoilers #I HAVE ALOT OF QUESTIONS ABOUT EPISODE PROMPTO #I LIKED THE DLC #BUT I HAVE A BUNCH OF QUESTIONS AND FEELS ABOUT IT #hope you enjoy the ramble reading though #c:#can't wait for episode ignis!

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