From Guns of Avalon

“Dara,” she replied. “My name is Dara, after my grandmother.”

Dara is a Chaosian shapeshifter, member of House Hendrake, recurring villain and committed enemy of Amber. She is also Merlin’s mother.

Although Dara claims descent from Benedict in two unreliable contexts:

1. When lying to Corwin to gain access to the Pattern and to trick him into fathering Merlin
2. As a Tir ghost, while speaking to Corwin in Sign of the Unicorn:

“I am the great-granddaughter of Benedict and the hellmaid Lintra, whom he loved and later slew.” Benedict winces at this, but She continues. “I never knew her. My mother and my mother’s mother were born in a place where time does not run as in Amber. I am the first of my mother’s line to bear all the marks of humanity. And you, Lord Corwin, are but a ghost from a long dead past, albeit a dangerous shade. How you came here, I do not know. But it was wrong of you. Return to your grave. Trouble not the living.”

Dara is considered to be Benedict’s descendant and Lintra’s great-grandchild through Triumph and Triump’s unnamed child.

Dara’s History

Dara was trained in warfare by Duke Borel of Chaos, the former guild second of the Warrior’s Guild who Corwin slew in the final battle of [the Patternfall War)(PatternFall).

Dara met with Martin, after Martin had partially recovered from being stabbed by Brand and riding along the Black Road. She helped him further recover and he told her of Amber, as she told him of Chaos.

Dara brought Oberon’s signet ring to Amber to announce his plans for the final battle of PatternFall, and was his choice for Corwin’s queen if Oberon had died and Corwin became the next King of Amber.

Dara’s canonical hatred of Amber

From Guns of Avalon:

The firefly form seemed to change shape as it moved. For a time, my senses kept rejecting the tiny subliminal glimpses that I knew must be coming through to me. I heard Random gasp beside me, and it seemed to breach my subconscious dam. A horde of impressions flooded my mind.

It seemed to tower hugely in that always unsubstantial-seeming chamber. Then shrink, die down, almost to nothing. It seemed a slim woman for a moment-possibly Dara, her hair lightened by the glow, streaming, crackling with static electricity. Then it was not hair, but great, curved horns from some wide, uncertain brow, whose crook-legged owner struggled to shuffle hoofs along the blazing way. Then something else . . . An enormous cat . . . A faceless woman . . . A bright-winged thing of indescribable beauty . . . A tower of ashes . . .

“Dara!” I cried out. “Is that you?”

My voice echoed back, and that was all. Whoever/ whatever it was struggled now with the Final Veil. My muscles strained forward in unwilling sympathy with the effort.

Finally, it burst through.

Yes, it was Dara! Tall and magnificent now. Both beautiful and somehow horrible at the same time. The sight of her tore at the fabric of my mind. Her arms were upraised in exultation and an inhuman laughter flowed from her lips. I wanted to look away, yet I could not move. Had I truely held, caressed, made love to-that? I was mightily repelled and simultaneously attracted as I had never been before. I could not understand this overwhelming ambivalence. Then she looked at me.

The laughter ceased. Her altered voice rang out. “Lord Corwin, are you liege of Amber now?”

From somewhere, I managed a reply. “For all practical purposes,” I said.

“Good! Then behold your nemesis!”

“Who are you? What are you?”

“You will never know,” she said. “It is just exactly too late now.”

“I do not understand. What do you mean?”

“Amber,” she said, “will be destroyed.” And she vanished.