♛ → THE NORTH present(s) NAIJA JANNAT MANDERLY, the LADY of WHITE HARBOR. when the dragons danced in the sky they thought the BLACKS would still fly, but in the blink of an eye, they would all die. the TWENTY-EIGHT year old FEMALE who was REVERENTIAL & BENEVOLENT before they saw the first of the flames, is now ALOOF & RETICENT after seeing the last. they’re often associated with the glimmer of a freshly plucked pearl, the nurturing pressure of a tightly wrapped bandage, and a lingering cloud of sea salt, vanilla and cinnamon. ( coco jones fc )
- every notable action that naija's taken to date, has been on her own time, and her birth was the first to be seen of it. she'd been born only a few minutes after amir, but it was enough to strike fear into those who witnessed. they feared the babe would perish, but she emerged with an ear-piercing cry, awaking one of the same pitch in her older brother. the manderly twins had finally arrived, healthy and mighty as they would be for years to come.
- being the last born child of hashim and manal manderly has given naija plenty to look up to. she holds her parents ahind siblings in the highest regard when she gets the chance to verbalize it, with her late father and sister being the focus of those conversations. while she may not agree with everything they do, (and will respectfully let them know her displeasure), she will defend them until her last breath. marriage may be wading within the tides, but naija will always be a manderly at heart.
-while all known efforts in war to come from the youngest manderly are quiet acts of service and aid, she was very vocal during the search for manal, going as far as to try to venture out herself. heavy guard kept her plans from coming to fruition though, and without her twin there to anchor her she fell into a deep darkness. her recovery didnt bring much alleviation to naijas mental state. it broke whatever was left of her soul to see manal in such a state, and she exhausted every effort to help her return to some semblance of the sister she admired so dearly.
- the death of manal manderly ii dealt a devastating blow. with her father since passed, and amir seemingly silent in skagos, she found herself clinging to the shreds of family she had left. shes become fiercely supportive of nasir despite the deep rooted respect she already had for the way he led the family through hashims death and every other tragedy since. it strikes a new fear in her when he must leave for his duty as hand of the king, often inventing reasons she should come along. she far from possesses the physical traits to protect him, but she still feels as though she must try.
- naija focuses a busy mind on humanitarian efforts, first and foremost. her most cherished act of charity is the education of lowerborn girls. she teaches them to read and write, using stories of the seven as the framework of her lessons. they bring comfort to both teacher and pupils, and it helps her feel connected to her faith during hard times. during times of war, she can be found nursing wounded soldiers to health and distributing food to those who come to white harbor from battle-ravaged villages.
- the arts hold a special place in the youngest manderly's heart, and that love extends past mere spectation. naija often associates sounds and feelings with colors, and will paint what she feels if the pull is strong enough. tucked away in a chest of drawers are countless works, most are vivid recollections of conversations that elicited an emotion from her, and acts as a catalyst for her to understand them better. amir may be the only one who can even begin to decipher the meaning behind them.
- matters of the realm are far beyond her knowledge, but she can say that her support for owen and his vision for the north are strong. she tends to fall in line with the eldest manderly's views, but this is decision shes made for herself. the time for change in north has been brewing, and she's prepared for a shift in the tides.
“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”
who: @naaijas
when and where: white harbour, within the manderly apartments after nasir returns home from his journeys, he meets with his little sister.
nasir sat across from naija, the low candlelight casting soft, flickering shadows across their faces. it had been some time since they'd shared a meal alone, and he found himself silently enjoying the quiet of the manderly apartments. the familiar, comforting scent of roasted meats and herbs filled the air, blending with the sharp, crisp chill from the winds outside that carried the salt of the sea. white harbour’s chill seemed to seep into everything—into the marble walls, the finely embroidered tapestries, even the food, though it was warm enough to soothe the weary traveller.
he watched her attentively, letting the curiosity build before he allowed himself to continue. "as i travelled back from starpike, i ran into a few old friends. lady mariela egen among them," nasir said, his voice steady but carrying a hint of something deeper. he took a sip of his wine, his mind briefly flashing back to the brief but sharp exchange with mariela. she had looked much the same—graceful, poised—but the years between them had left a distinct weight on the conversation. "strange to see her again, after all this time," he added quietly. his gaze wandered momentarily, fixing on the frost-dusted windows. "it feels like a lifetime ago, but its always part of going south."
he watched his sister, her posture poised, a soft smile playing on her lips as she picked at the meal. there was a knowing comfort between them in moments like this, though nasir could sense the slight distance in her gaze, as if she had changed in ways even she hadn't fully realised. the time away, the growing responsibilities... it all seemed to have marked them differently. "you've been quiet tonight," nasir finally remarked, his voice low and thoughtful. he let the question linger for a moment before speaking again, his fingers toying with the edge of his wine goblet. "go on then, lay it on me; what you got for me?"
silent thank you is sent up to the gods with each flavor-filled morsel naija takes in. prayers whispered from the cool dawn of the morning to the unforgiving winter dusk have been answered so clearly in the form of a brother returned unharmed. at least in the physical manner. shes sure that somewhere behind the steady cadence he has when bringing up mariela, lies a heart dented by the endless possibilities of a future dismantled. "indeed it is.. i trust the meeting was somewhat amicable." slow sip of wine as she studies him, unsure of whether the topic is fleeting small talk or something he wished to venture into. despite their undeniable blood connection, she never trusted her insticts in reading the silent mannerisms of the eldest manderly. "it must have been for you to count her amongst these other comrades you meandered across during your travels. which you have yet to tell me of, by the way."
shes more unprepared for his line of questioning than she thought she would be once asked. does she disclose that her time has been consumed by prayer? that moments between education and erractic depictions of her own inward spiral, which should have been spent aligning for her future, were instead spent begging the gods for another deep breath or beat of a heart? "nothing too exciting," naijas tone is an octave away from monotonous, exchanging the onset of dread for something more manufactured. "the girls are coming along quite nicely, though theres more work to be done in terms of their penmanship." its uniform, the way she carries on about things she should be focused on. has she said this before? a quick blink sees the thought ushered from the forefront and she takes another bite to buy herself time to think.
"oh, i almost forgot!" a sudden shift in demeanor to one more excitable as she motions for her nearby maid to join her, taking the rolled canvas from her patient hands into her own. one might have thought the page hot to the touch by the way she tosses it so flippantly in his direction. "open it up, and spare no thought. i want an honest truth or none at all."
location: during the westerlands event, after his confrontation with amir manderly, axell is looking for more trouble to cause
@naaijas
the glow of golden candlelight spilled across the hall, casting fleeting shadows over the laughing faces of nobles and the clinking of goblets. axell royce stood near one of the towering stone columns, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd. hundreds of people moving around enjoying each others company the ghost of runestone’s eyes were set only on one person.
she moved with grace, her presence understated but unmistakable. axell watched her for a long moment, his expression unreadable and calm but his thoughts anything but. naija manderly. he knew of her well enough but never had any reason to speak with her. she was pleasant to look at but not exactly his taste. but he could be persuaded if must. he knew he shouldn’t speak with her. he knew approaching her would draw ire—especially from her brothers. but wasn’t that the point? the thought alone sent a flicker of excitement through him. how could he pass up such a delectable thought?
with deliberate slowness, he pushed off the column and wove his way through the throng of revelers, boots striking a measured rhythm on the stone floor. he approached from the side, his towering frame casting a shadow over her as he reached her.
“lady naija,” he greeted, his gravelly voice low but unmistakably smooth. the faintest hint of a smirk curled at his lips as he inclined his head, though his posture radiated confidence rather than deference. “it seems the manderly family is out in full force tonight. i’ve already spotted your brothers lurking about, looking like wolves in the wrong forest.”
he let the words linger, knowing the implications wouldn’t be lost on her. “but you,” he continued, his eyes flicking over her with an assessing, almost predatory edge. “you don’t seem the lurking type. no, you seem… different.”
myriad of voices clashing and melding are slowly becoming a source of contention for the northern lady. she doesn't enjoy the west as much as those buzzing around her, though the opposite would surely be spoken to save face. theres something hanging in the air when foot meets lannister soil that causes a relaxed spine to become rigid as the rules set in place by their king. she's on edge and the unfamiliar voice that draws attention once fixed on an intricate tapestry is an unwelcomed addition to her discomfort.
"lord royce." dip of pinned coils is the only formality she gives him. his features may escape her at the moment, but comments on his stature are cemented into the parts of her mind where irritation makes home. amirs descriptions of the man, though negative and exaggerated in his ire, were aligned enough for her to know who had come to interrupt her rouse of social interaction. "and it seems you have a habit of singling us out instead of confronting the pack. is there a particular reason for that?" doesnt bother to meet what she assumes to be a smug gaze, not until a goblet of deep red liquid rests between fingertips adorned in sparkling silver rings. only then do the matching set of hues reunite. his are different though. theres something lacking within them, even now as charm snakes its way around his taunting words.
"make no mistake, lord royce. i am cut from the same cloth as my brothers." leaves little room to question the pointed statement, yet she's sure someone with his reputation could find a way. "but i am interested to know what it is about me you find so different aside from the obvious?" arms fold defensively, dominant hand rising to allow the lady a sip as she awaits an answer shes not sure she even wants to hear.
amir stood silently at her side, feeling the familiar cold bite of the wind tug at the edges of his furred cloak. he didn’t mind the chill; it was her that he worried about. yet, naija had a way of making even the cold feel like something that could be weathered, especially when she spoke like this. he stepped closer to her, the sand beneath his boots soft and familiar. the shores of white harbor had always been a place of quiet contemplation for them, especially as children.
they had been inseparable then, like two halves of the same whole, and as much as he liked to project his outward confidence to the world, there was something about naija that made him feel more himself, more true. a soft laugh escaped his lips, but it wasn’t one of those loud, raucous ones he often shared with others. this was different. a quiet laugh that was just for her. "i remember," he said, the words thick with warmth.
"you were shitting yourself, but you knew...you know i ended up taking the blame for that, don't you?" he asked, a familiar spark in his dark orbs as he looked upon his twin. "on gods, i told her i pushed you. you're as clumsy as an arse, still." he responded, his face one of mischief as he looked upon her, noting their footprints against the black sand beach. he wasn’t sure why the words came out like they did, but it felt like the right thing to say. his hand brushed through his shoulder length dreadlocks, a quiet reminder to himself that he had always carried his burdens out loud, had always been the one to make noise and stir things up.
but naija, she could keep everything locked inside, waiting for the right moment to share. and now that moment had come. "whatever it is, you know i’ll keep it here, with me," he said, his voice firm, but gentle. "don't be telling me you've done something mad though, like try to shoot your shot at that weird bolton. ugly ass." he let out a low laugh that was more like a taunt as he looked toward his sister, moving before she got the opportunity to hit his shoulder. "nasir can listen to our issues, it's fine. he's meant to."
remembrance brings with it a wave of nostalgia that naija tends to push out of her mind when it hits her. not that she doesnt enjoy looking back on the days of their youth, time spent on this shore slowly shaping who she is at her core. its the missing stones in their strong family foundation that make each memory as bittersweet for the manderly as shes sure it is for her mirror. "all too well," humor is evident in a heavy tone, "she asked why i hadn't returned the favor, and told manal and i that the next time anyone aside from she lay a hand to us, kin or otherwise, that we come to our own defense." thinks fondly for a brief moment of silence on the vision of regality that was and still is manal manderly i. lessons from the woman held a wide range of knowledge, from that still fresh on shivering lips to the poised way she holds her posture even in the presence of said kin.
"yes, yes, i know." favors a knowing mumble for her typical inflection. irritation doesnt plague her, as the assurance mught suggest, but rather a hesitation that stifles what she wishes to say until words are nothing more than a dull, constant ache in her chest. brows furrow in response to both that ache and her brother's daming insinuation. hand raises to instinctively lay a soft, yet pointed blow to his shoulder, disappointment evident when it doesnt connect. "gods no, amir, what is wrong with you? me with a bolton? i think this family has suffered enough don't you?" momemt of levity before returning to the thoughts lingering in the back of her mind. perhaps there are things nasit needn't hear, like the fracture in her faith or the fear she carries within at the very thought of his departure.
"does it worry you?" asked frankly, though she doesnt break a gaze intent on ebbing and flowing tides. "the position nas has found himself in. it is an honor of the highest. a blessing from the gods hands directly to his, yet i cannot feel the pride i know i should over the.. dread." a carefully chosen word to cover every conflicting emotion. "lord karstark was not present at the ceremony, and you would be bereft of my truth if were to say his absence doesn't unnerve me." blame cannot be placed upon the lord, if she were in his shoes she might not be in attendance for the person thats replacing her. she can, however, worry about the implications of his absence with the current northern turmoil. "i worry that there may be retribution and that our dear brother will be at the core of it."
squinted, misty brown hues finally lower to the dark sands before making a familiar path to amirs. "do you think that they could hurt nasir?"
cold rush of wind exposes the spaces of a loosely wrapped fur cloak. naija knows better than to be this close to the shore when the weather began its metamorphosis. frostbitten limbs are hard to come back from, yet she's sent for amir to join her in this very spot. her mind is heavy and her paintings aren't doing their job in helping her to make sense of what troubles her most. this is an inner quarrel meant for the one person who knows her better than she does herself.
"do you remember coming here- when we were small?" doesn't need to turn to know whose footsteps disturb the still sand underneath steady feet. "i got that jagged seashell stuck in my hair right here," boot juts out from the warmth of the cloak to place emphasis on the focal point of her memory. "i remember i was so panicked, i can even feel the heaviness in my chest thinking how mad mother would be to find out i had done something so silly, that she might have to cut me short like you." chuckle causes a ripple effect on stoic features, thr apples of her cheeks rising enough to obstruct her vision, "you comforted me, though. you held my hand and assured me we could figure it out together. we might have been unsuccessful, but i knew i could trust in you for just about anything." she knows her stalling tactic has run its course with the widely known revelation and she finally adjusts herself to peer up at him. "if i tell you what plagues me, it mustn't leave this shore. nasir has heard enough of my worries."
