Well, since my lovely followers were yelling at me to do Ashara, here she is!
So far in the Women in Ice Cells series, I’ve studied Elia Nymeros Martell, Joanna Lannister, and Rhaella Targaryen–all women who, despite their status as members of the Dead Ladies Club, have a fair amount of information available on them. Today’s going to be a little trickier, as the subject of this essay is none other than Ashara Dayne, and she remains very much a cipher. Elia, Joanna and Rhaella were all related or significant to point-of-view characters; by contrast, to the few characters who think about her–principally Ned and Barristan–Ashara seems more of a footnote, another sad thing to pile onto their mountains of manpain. That doesn’t fly here, though. Today, I’m focusing on Ashara, and–far more importantly than her death–her life.
TW: This essay mentions suicide. Please stay safe and don’t read if you think this might trigger or upset you.
House Dayne of Starfall is a noble house from Starfall in
Dorne. They are among the principal houses sworn to House Martell.The
Sword of the Morning is a title given to a Dayne knight who is
considered worthy of wielding the greatsword Dawn, a blade said to be
created from the heart of falling star. Their sigil is a sword and a
falling star on a lavender background.A cadet branch of the family are
the Daynes of High Hermitage.
House Dayne claims ancestry dating back ten thousand years to the dawn of days. The Sword of the Morning is a title given to a Dayne knight who is considered worthy of wielding the greatsword Dawn, a blade said to be created from the heart of falling star. Their sigil is a sword and a falling star on a lavender background. The Sword of the Morning is always a member of House Dayne. The title is not necessarily passed to the lord of the house, but to the knight considered most worthy to wield it, as decided within the House. If there is no Dayne knight considered worthy, the title lies dormant; the last to bear the title was Ser Arthur Dayne, a famed knight of the Kingsguard.
In appearance, members of the family are stony Dornishmen whose characteristics mostly resemble the rest of the Seven Kingdoms in look, customs and traditions. Unlike the rest of the more Rhoynish-looking Dornishmen, they have pale skin with hair ranging from dark brown to pale blond and they often have violet eyes. The current Lord of Starfall is Edric Dayne.
House Dayne of Starfall is a noble house from Starfall in Dorne. They are among the principal houses sworn to House Martell. The Sword of the Morning is a title given to a Dayne knight who is considered worthy of wielding the greatsword Dawn, a blade said to be created from the heart of falling star. Their sigil is a sword and a falling star on a lavender background.
House Dayne of Starfall is a noble house from Starfall in Dorne. They are among the principal houses sworn to House Martell. House Dayne claims ancestry dating back ten thousand years to the dawn of days. They have taken part in many battles between Dorne and the Reach. Their sigil is a sword and a falling star on a lavender background.
Discalimer: Sigils and Swords belongs to Anna, Supernatural belongs to Kripke
You, who I call brother.
Dean sits fully dressed on the edge of his bed for hours after Claire’s fallen asleep. In the end he gives up reasoning what the hell happened and digs out his phone from his pocket. He’s almost given up getting through when the call is picked up.
“Yes?” comes the sleepy reply.
“Dean, what the hell, man. It’s three in the morning.”
“I know, Sam, I know. Just that things are about to explode down here and I don’t really know how to handle it.” Dean gets up and leaves the room as quietly as he can, casting one last look at Claire’s turned back, moving as she breathes. Dean has a fleeting thought about how tiny she looks like that, before Sam’s voice is demanding his attention.
reindeercastiel (normally endversecas) gave me the prompt: Tender Destiel palm- and fingertip-kissing <3, and here it is, after a few weeks. I was feeling nostalgiac, so this is set somewhere mid-season five.
Dean is sitting in Bobby’s living room, surrounded by a sea of books and watching Castiel delicately examine Dean’s amulet where it lay in his palm, when he realizes that Castiel must have touched every inch of his body.
He watches the veins shift beneath Castiel’s skin with each small movement, long and slightly calloused fingers examining the charm that is supposed to lead him to his absent father. Castiel rolls the cord between his thumb and forefinger, and Dean imagines Castiel summoning a vessel of blood or a string of muscles into being the same way, slowly rolling them around and spinning them into being, threading them around bones and tying it all together with nerves. He must have molded the bones like clay or chiselled away at them like marble, rebuilding from the very base what had begun to deteriorate in a box buried six feet beneath the ground. Inside and out, Castiel, whether he used the hands of his vessel or the true essence of his being, must have handled every minute fiber of Dean’s being, from the soft and tender meats of his inner organs to the slightly misshapen cartilage of his ears.
Dean knows that Castiel isn’t the borrowed body that sits in front of him. Castiel hunches over in his skin and shifts in it like his body is as cumbersome as the ill-fitting trench coat that drapes over his frame. The real Castiel, the part that recreated his body from dust and dirt is somewhere deeper and further away than the body that sits three feet away from Dean, irritability only visible in the slight downturn of his mouth and the thin line between his brows.