Who is lemore dance with dragons

She appears in A Dance with Dragons as part of Young Griff's storyline - largely seen from Tyrion's point-of-view - and serves as his spiritual tutor. She has a habit of bathing naked in the river, due to which Tyrion notices stretch marks on her stomach, indicating that she'd given birth and was not always a Septa. When she disguises herself as a merchant's daughter, he believes there's more to her than meets the eye. When it comes to Lady Lemore, there are two main theories.

The first, and more enticing, is that she is Ashara Dayne. Sister of Arthur, Ashara was a great beauty of Westeros who captured the hearts of men like Barristan Selmy and, supposedly, Ned Stark.

It's said the pair fell in love at the Tourney at Harrenhal, where Selmy also believes someone dishonoured her. After this, Ashara committed suicide by jumping from one of the towers, but the body was never recovered. Interestingly - and ignoring the rumours of her being Jon Snow's mother, which we know aren't true - suspected reasons for this include a stillborn or stolen child, which would explain stretch marks.

At the same time, her defining feature is her violet eyes, something Tyrion never mentions, so either it's not Ashara or she is disguising them which I suppose the character would do if trying to hide her identity. Lemore bathes in the Rhoyne, a river the Dornish have a strong connection to.

Given she attempted to kill herself, it's plausible Ashara would want to hide her identity if she survived, or just a necessity: much in the same way Griff and Young Griff are hiding theirs. The prince gave him a wary look. That pricked the lad's pride, just as Tyrion had known it would. This time I mean to smash you. They played on deck, sitting cross-legged behind the cabin. Young Griff arrayed his army for attack, with dragon, elephants, and heavy horse up front.

A young man' s formation, as bold as it is foolish. He risks all for the quick kill. He let the prince have first move. Haldon stood behind them, watching the play. When the prince reached for his dragon, Tyrion cleared his throat. It is a mistake to bring your dragon out too soon. No, I cannot claim I knew Prince Rhaegar.

Not as your false father did. Lord Connington was the prince's dearest friend, was he not? Young Griff pushed a lock of blue hair out of his eyes. He must be, to remain so fiercely loyal to the grandson of the king who took his lands and titles and sent him into exile. A pity about that.

Elsewise 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. 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. It does make for a splendid story, and the singers will make much of your escape once you take the Iron Throne She must. You are her perfect prince, agreed, bright and bold and comely as any maid could wish. Daenerys Targaryen is no maid, however. She is the widow of a Dothraki khal, a mother of dragons and sacker of cities, Aegon the Conqueror with teats.

She may not prove as willing as you wish. It was plain that he had never before considered the possibility that his bride-to-be might refuse him. The dwarf shrugged. I know that somewhere out upon the grass her dragons hatched, and so did she. I know she is proud. How not? What else was left her but pride? I know she is strong. The Dothraki despise weakness. If Daenerys had been weak, she would have perished with Viserys. I know she is fierce. Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen are proof enough of that.

She has crossed the grasslands and the red waste, survived assassins and conspiracies and fell sorceries, grieved for a brother and a husband and a son, trod the cities of the slavers to dust beneath her dainty sandaled feet. Now, how do you suppose this queen will react when you turn up with your begging bowl in hand and say, 'Good morrow to you, Auntie.

I am your nephew, Aegon, returned from the dead. I've been hiding on a poleboat all my life, but now I've washed the blue dye from my hair and I'd like a dragon, please Aegon's mouth twisted in fury.

I will come to her a kinsman, with an army. The dwarf could not help but think of Joffrey. I have a gift for angering princes. She will be my bride, Lord Connington will see to it. I trust him as much as if he were my own blood. Trust no one, my prince. Not your chainless maester, not your false father, not the gallant Duck nor the lovely Lemore nor these other fine friends who grew you from a bean. Above all, trust not the cheesemonger, nor the Spider, nor this little dragon queen you mean to marry.

All that mistrust will sour your stomach and keep you awake by night, 'tis true, but better that than the long sleep that does not end. Your false father is a great lord, and I am just some twisted little monkey man. Still, I'd do things differently.

That got the boy's attention. I would go west instead of east. Land in Dorne and raise my banners. The Seven Kingdoms will never be more ripe for conquest than they are right now. A boy king sits the Iron Throne. The north is in chaos, the riverlands a devastation, a rebel holds Storm's End and Dragonstone.

When winter comes, the realm will starve. And who remains to deal with all of this, who rules the little king who rules the Seven Kingdoms? Why, my own sweet sister.