[ jessie mei li. manderly c. 28. genderfluid. she/they. ] the king welcomes wylla of house manderly of white harbor ! all of court has heard that they are +ardent and +cordial, but whispers claim that they are also -finicky and -imprudent when no one is looking … how much of that is true, we will soon find out. asking around, we are told that they remind people of warming hands by the fireplace, salt and wind on your hair as the ship sails further into the waters, a hero complex you can never fully satisfy, is it self-sacrifice or pure selfishness? ─ that should give the bards something to sing about ! unbeknown by most, to support the north, her house and house stark is the real reason why they answered the call of the king, but with so many rumors flying around, who is to say what the truth is ? [ written by : azi. 27. she/her. gmt+1. no triggers. ]
i. statistics
name: wylla manderly. alternatively: tba. nickname(s): n/a. age: 28. date of birth: december 1st, 153 a.c. place of birth: by the white knife shores, on her mother's way back to white harbor. gender: genderfluid. pronouns: she/they. sexual orientation: bisexual. religion: light of the seven. title: lady of white harbor. languages: common tongue. affiliation: house manderly, house stark.
faceclaim: jessie mei li. hair color: black, a fading blueish tint from dying it. hair style: straight, messily braided. eye color: brown. height: 5'4. distinguishing characteristics: dyed hair, calloused fingers from archery. signature scent: salt water, honey, fire smoke.
youngest manderly, golden child, wylla holds most fond memories of her childhood. first sail with father, teaching her how to wield a sword, mother teaching her how to use bow and arrow. they were warriors, honorable people and wylla has always strived to take the best out of them ( or the idealized versions she holds in her head for them ). she loses both her mother and father, and she swears that she will honour their legacy by being great.
winter is harsh, though wylla feels not as harsh on the manderlys as the rest of the north thanks to their riches and port, for which she feels immense guilt and frustration - for being self-perceivedly better off, for not having the power or means to do more. her hatred towards the south and the crown only grows deeper when the help stops, when they let cregan stark die. deeply loyal to the starks and the north, wylla breaks off southern connections even if they damage white harbor's trading and port business. it is her belief that morals and integrity come above all.
iii. headcanons
saviour complex is strong in my girl <3 guilty for being rich + a bit out of touch. she means well tho, bless her heart.
wishes to be a great warrior like her mother. good with the sword, but is a better archer thanks to her size and agility.
the tantrum is responded with an arched eyebrow. with four children under the age of ten, and two more from theon, gilliane is well used to gimmicks — but from a child, who knows not yet that is wrong to raise one's voice. "you speak like a green girl of ten, parroting after your septa." serena has more sense than wylla, but gilliane bites her tongue not to say so. "who has never been anywhere. have you known of many worshippers of the old bellow the neck? there are few because the andals have cut down our trees, and the old can only see through them. you have not been in dorne, but i have — the old gods do not speak as well as they do here; and, so, the new ones have no place in here." just like wylla has no proper place in winterfell, regardless of her nosing around.
the confirmation of the knights of white harbor do little to quell gilliane. as someone from the mountains, the talk of tournaments and praises to the seven have always felt just like something so distant it may as well be a fantasy; the wall, the wildlings, the first men, all of the old felt more real to them than this. "winterfell appreciates white harbor well, liege manderly, as long as your knights are sworn to theon and the stark, not to the gods of the south." she attempts diplomacy, knowing the truth does not betray her; white harbor was, indeed, very important. gilliane knows without them, perhaps things would have been worse — but things had already been terrible for her, so she can only be so solicitous. "then perhaps you should be near them, and not skulking around a sacred place." gilliane wonders if arnolf knows the girl is here, but she may as well have come for keyla. well, perhaps wylla does have enough friends around winterfell.
"where have you come from? i can try fetching one of your friends to keep you company." gilliane is not obtuse enough to pretend she is one of them.
wylla regrets letting her temper run loose, it is only a losing game against gilliane. so she swallows the what she considers insults with pride and self-control, almost surprising herself. perhaps the willingness to keep a good relationship with the starks and knowing how much the flint had influence over them overpowered the fire fueling her soul. " karstark blood ruins through my veins, my lady. they're as northern as they come, more than most, and they have suffered endlessly. i have seen my mother's house devastation, watched my dear cousin lyanna pray over her family, just like i have stood in this same place as i am now, watching over arnolf praying to your gods. they haven't punished me yet, neither for my presence nor for my lack of faith in them. they must be more merciful than you.. my lady. "
her heart is pounding, gods, why did she say that? she cannot help it, however. the lady flint's words both as fiery as her hair and cold as the north, wylla is not willing to back down. she had her own fire within her, a dignity to protect. she only wishes she had more power over house manderly, but elder sibling has almost totally iced her out. surely, gilliane could not know anything of it. or could she? " our knights are sworn to both. every last of them are willing to give their life for lord theon, house stark and the north. as am i. " words spoken with such intensity, the manderly truly means them.
she does not like who she is being right now. what was she doing? " i should not have-- i did not mean to disrespect your gods or the godswood. " guilt overwhelms her, but so does wounded pride. she almost turns around to leave in shame, conflicted mind runs wilf; gilliane would never like her, no matter what she did. manderly did not belong here after all.. no. enough, she was not the little insecure girl her sibling wanted her to be, to no one, not even the starks.
" no need. " wylla speaks with her new found confidence, though both nervousness and bitterness linger beneath as well. " arnolf should be back anytime now. we are to be married and he's grown fond of my gods as well, so perhaps i won't meet him here after all. " a joke meant to lighten up the mood in a poor attempt, irritate gilliane or perhaps both. she isn't sure herself as she lets nervous laughter escape her lips, unable to keep serious demeanor any longer. " it was merely a jest, but i did promise your good brother and the castellan's boy-- " gods, how she hated herself for not even remembering his name. she was not one of those stuck up nobles " to get them to drink more than their weight in ale. we could all use a good night out and some fun, with all that's happened and what's to come. "
with : @cldgods
where : karhold
when : days before the northern gathering
wylla had always found karhold to be intimidating, as if an ominous presence lingering over the land and old castle. it was her mother's home, so it also brought her comfort in a way. the last of her stop, she had decided to ride with her cousins instead of house manderly. elderly sibling had been doing their best to exclude wylla, ice her out. she did not need them. string of thoughts are interrupted as she arrives to her destination at last and the gates close behind her.
the manderly jumps off her horse in excitement as she immediately spots little cousin, more like a sister really, running to hug and embrace her, almost tackling the girl down to the ground. she couldn't help it, ever so expressive and communicative. " lya! " wylla exclaims before pulling away, hands holding the other's. she looks around the court to take in the atmopshere, see everyone busying around. " how have you been, cousin? are you all prepared? "
the atmosphere and wylla's mood shifted so suddenly, arnolf isn't sure what to do. sure, it was a mistake, but he'd known wylla almost all his life, why would it affect her to such a degree, so unlike her? it is not until the utensils start flying at him and the stark does his best to both avoid them and approach the manderly at the same time. love declared? " i don't recall that-- " perhaps the worst words he could speak out right now, even if they were true, as he ducks once more as goblet is sent flying up the wall, barely avoiding his head. what a big mess they'd gotten themselves in and he was willing to take full responsibility for it.
finally her hands reach arnolf instead of stark's cutlery and he lets her have a go at it, express her frustration and anger, fists banging against his chest, before he grabs her wrists in an attempt to get her to listen. " wylla -- " she pulls away at last, all the servants have scattered out of the kitchens and he is wondering how not to fuck this up even more. his jaw tightens, as if bracing for a blow. " i'm sorry, alright? it is all my fault. i should have never let it go this far. i had no idea you felt.. the way you did. " he is being honest, as gentle as he knows to be.
of course he is willing to take full responsibility, for all her faults as well. stupid, stupid, clueless, honorable man, she thinks as he holds her wrists after letting her take out her frustration out on him violently before she pulls away, it is so painfully arnolf and part of why she loved him so much. wylla cannot even be angry any more, but that is dangerous, as all she will have left is the rest of her feelings. he would probably marry her out of guilt as well, wylla thinks, if she were an innocent maiden wronged by him, but he knew she wasn't, or perhaps if she demanded it strongly enough while being so close and such good friends, out of spite for having feelings hurt, his honour and guilt would have him cave in, she was sure of it.. yet, it is something she would never do, her morals wouldn't allow it, no matter how much anger and hurt filled her soul at the moment.
overwhelmed by feelings now, wylla holds so much guilt that the tears once again threaten to spill out. it felt like winterfell itself was rejecting her, memories of her encounter with lady gilliane resurfacing. was she not worthy of the old gods, however cruel were they? were they punishing her, overpowering her own gods? " why not me? why.. what is.. " what is wrong with me? manderly regrets words that leave her lips after a long time of silence and retracts the rest that are left unsaid, always too honest and spontaneous for her own good and now too vulnerable.
" you're so afraid of being loved, you reject every chance you get of it because you never knew what it truly feels like. and mayhaps, you do not wish to find out and never will. " such cruel words spoken suddenly, such a low blow, wylla hates herself for it. but it is necessary for she both did not want arnolf to follow her on her way out, out of his own guilt and nothing else, plus let out her frustration in the meantime, emotions pent up, even if it hurt doing so. friendship ruined nonetheless, she left winterfell's kitchens in a quick manner, headed to the stables to find her horse.
are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? & 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : what memory does your muse hold onto most tightly, and why?
wylla considers herself a lover and not a fighter; but she is quick to lose her temper and resort to physical actions if her words aren't getting through to the other party. she will always attempt to deescalate the situation with words & good intentions first, though.
the memory she holds most tightly onto is her mother teaching her archery for the first time. she remembers the sun reflecting of white knife's waters, the autumn leaves crunching under her foot.. mother's face is fading with each year from this memory, but wylla shall never forget the overwhelming love, warmth and excitement she felt in that moment.
the atmosphere and wylla's mood shifted so suddenly, arnolf isn't sure what to do. sure, it was a mistake, but he'd known wylla almost all his life, why would it affect her to such a degree, so unlike her? it is not until the utensils start flying at him and the stark does his best to both avoid them and approach the manderly at the same time. love declared? " i don't recall that-- " perhaps the worst words he could speak out right now, even if they were true, as he ducks once more as goblet is sent flying up the wall, barely avoiding his head. what a big mess they'd gotten themselves in and he was willing to take full responsibility for it.
finally her hands reach arnolf instead of stark's cutlery and he lets her have a go at it, express her frustration and anger, fists banging against his chest, before he grabs her wrists in an attempt to get her to listen. " wylla -- " she pulls away at last, all the servants have scattered out of the kitchens and he is wondering how not to fuck this up even more. his jaw tightens, as if bracing for a blow. " i'm sorry, alright, i should have never let it go this far. i had no idea you felt.. the way you did. " he is being honest, as gentle as he knows to be.
how much of a fool was she, to think drunken kisses and a reckless night spent together meant a declaration of love? gods, he couldn't ever remember her confession. yet, in typical northerman fashion he is willing to take fault, as if to protect her honour. wylla cares for none of it. her sibling cares little about her honour or existance overall as it is. " perhaps you should have known. i've loved you for years, yet you were too blind to see it. " the harm was already done, she might as well pour out that heart she wore on her sleeve. " alarra knew. your good sister that hates my guts and everything i stand for, i am certain knows as well. only you didn't, you fool. " wylla walks up to him, fists clenched and places a kiss on his cheek. it is her farewell, for she both loves him and hates his guts right now. i could have given you all the love in this world you would need. her love has nowhere to go, though, so she must leave as soon as possible, wyman awaiting her in the stables, and her bow in white harbor.
hangovers never affected arnolf that much, as long as he got his sleep and tons of broth and bread in the morrow. noon was approaching, he notes as he wakes up and heads straight to the kitchens. no one was around but the servants, who had not began preparing lunch yet as it was too early, but were more than happy to serve arnolf his usual after a rough night. " gilly, your broth is to die for. " the stark compliments the older woman as he gulps it down, it was a delight each time and she took great pride in her recipe.
last night's memories start flooding down as wylla enters the kitchens, some missing, but that's how you know you had your fun, no? a bit on edge at first, arnolf is worried if this will affect their friendship. he'd known the manderly since they were kids. but she seems happy enough, does her usual jests and arnolf can't help but out a laugh at the thought of wylla sleeping in the stables. truth to be told, he had little memories of how they returned to winterfell, but at least he had made it to his chambers. " i'll let cayn know, he would appreciate it. he never shuts up about the hay. " gods, how he loved the people of winterfell, whether stableboys, servants or blacksmiths.
as he is slurping on his third cup of broth and munching on fourth piece of bread, arnolf cannot help but notice wylla looking at him weird and her next words almost make him choke on his food. surely, it is another jest, but he should set the record straight, confirm they're good as always, right? two friends who found solace in each other for their own reasons. " aye, but listen. i think it's best we say no more of last night, for our sakes. we let it go too far, such things happen. we're still good friends. " words were never his strong suit, but surely wylla would understand and feel the same. " i do not wish for things to feel strange, you know? "
his words are like a dagger to her heart, wylla feels a hot flash go throughout her whole body, a mix of anger, hurt, embarrassment, sadness. she watches him, perhaps it is typical inappropriate arnolf jest, but no, he is being serious, so nonchalant as well. gets up from her chair, eyes widen and she is speechless. " i can't.. i can't believe you.. " the manderly finally speaks, words filled with wrath, despair, disbelief, though which overpowers the other, she cannot tell.
she should try and talk this out like the mature adults they are or perhaps just storm off; but wylla and her temper run as wild as the waters by white harbor, emotions always clouding her logical judgement. so, she lets them take over her, on top of a broken heart. " you arsehole! i declare my love to you in that stupid room, you lay with me and now we must forget about it? " the manderly yells in frustration and hurt, grabs the nearest glass or any utensil she can get her hands on, missing barely as they shatter on the wall behind the stark. " fuck -- " a fork is thrown, emphasising each word. " off! "
the servants all take several steps back, lingering just outside the kitchens. tears threaten to spill and wylla tries her best not to let it happen. she cannot be weak or vulnerable, not now, especially as she attempts to fight arnolf, throwing erratic fisted up hands at him, before giving up and walking away. " gods.. " she wants to go home.
wylla woke up in the winterfell stables, hay in her hair and a pounding headache. how much ale did they have last night? and how did they return to winterfell? her horse, wyman watched her from the corner, giving a huff. it seemed he was the more responsible out of the two, after all, taking her back safely while she hadn't made the trip from the stables to the guest chambers. manderly laughs at the thought, gathers herself to get up and places a kiss on wyman's forehead, giving him a few pets. " what a good boy are. "
last night a bit blurry, but all the important moments wylla could recall, they filled her heart with happiness & stomach with butterflies. the dancing, the kisses, her dragging him out to one of the guest rooms in the tavern ( had arnolf paid for it? did they sneak in? she did not know ), a declaration of love at last. absolutely starving, wylla makes her way to the kitchens and is not surprised to find arnolf there, servants busying around him. " good morrow. " was it still the morrow or later into the day? " the hay in your stables is very comfortable, i must say. slept like a babe. " wylla only half jests as she takes a seat and begins spreading generous amount of bread over a piece of bread, stupid grin on her face.
she steals glances like a shy maiden and wants to hit herself for it. what was wrong with her? " suppose i will have to write to mother to start arranging the betrothal. we musn't lose any time now. " another jest is said and she lets out a laugh. of course that would be something that would not be considered yet, as she and arnolf adjusted to their new dynamic.
it is noble lies wylla tells from time to time, or so she likes to belive. she does not enjoy lying, being dishonest or inauthentic -- but will do so if it's for a good cause, such as protecting a loved one, sparing their feelings or her own.
hello, cognatihq ! after our exciting dornish arc, we have decided to host a meme week to encourage interactions between characters as we move ahead with our time skip ! you are encouraged to plot where your characters are going and discuss if there are any major events happening in their families, regions and houses as well ! meme week will run from wednesday ( 17th december ) to wednesday ( 24th december ) and will consist of these four memes below ─ memes are to be sent during this time but can be answered at any time after, if preferred. members are encouraged to reblog this post to indicate interest in participating in meme week and to prevent clogging of the dash with these long posts ! furthermore, sentence starters that are made into threads will be considered for activity, so these could be for present day or as flashback threads whilst we move towards our next chapter ! we hope everyone enjoys meme week !
hands instinctively reach out to grab other's wrists defensively, before familiar voice reaches his ears and demeanor relaxes. he hadn't realized how on edge he'd been until then. arnolf lightly shoves at wylla in response as she takes the empty seat next to his, unable to contain light smile forming on his lips. " not anymore, it seems. " the stark responds as he watches pieces of bread and meat leave his plate -- he really could've used all those ( hunger never ending, as cregan used to joke ) but lets manderly have a go at it as she pleased, regardless. " aye, she covers for me and my secret missions, always. " arnolf sarcastically responds, reaching out for some pie instead and avoiding answering the questions. he shoots wylla a side - eye as his ale is snatched before he could even reach for it, but once more, he says nothing.
he is glad wylla is eager to spill blood just as much as he is. arnolf knows of her deep admiration for elder brother theon, but discussing family matters, plans and theon's business with her was not something arnolf would do. her, or anyone outside of the starks, no matter how close. it was not his right to do so, nor to speak for his brother, the head of the house. " all in its time. do you not trust him? "
" arsehole. " wylla declares with an endearing smile as she harshly shoves her elbow at his arm. the lack of knowing was killing her, yet she decides not to press further. the gods knew arnolf has been going through a lot lately. instead, she orders some more ale, having decided to enjoy herself tonight, for the first time in a while. " of course i trust him! " the manderly bites back, almost offended by the accusation. " all i mean is, you can trust me as well. you can talk to me, if you wish. " moment almost too vulnerable, interrupted by more ale arriving. wylla immediately brings the cup up to her lips, taking a few more than generous gulps. " to the north! " she raises the cup, banging it against arnolf's, some ale spilling over her hands, but she is happy.
the hour of the eel approached rapidly, the tavern was packed, the musicians were exceptional. dancing, laughter, chatter filled the room. hard times were upon the northerners and wylla was tired of grieving, anticipating, waiting. she pulls at arnolf's arm a few times, attempting to get him to budge. " let's dance! we must, please! please. " she shouts over the music and is satisfied over her win when he gets up. manderly pulls the stark in the midst of people dancing, hands still holding his as wylla twirls, laughs, feels the music to her bones.
perhaps it is the ale bravery that lets her do this. black, warm orbs gaze upon cold, blue ones as she puts arms around the stark's neck. pulled closer, faces inching closer and closer, her heart feels as if it will escape her ribcage, tension could be cut with a knife. it is time. it is. wylla stands on her tippy toes, her lips crashing against his, with all her passion, as she runs hands through his hair. gods, would she regret this in the morrow? " i.. " breathless, wylla pulls away at last, eyes searching answers in the other's. " i'm sorry. "
the godswood is a place of silence. it is the place where the old gods rest and watch over the world and, for that, they require everything to be of their own accord — at least, that is how gilliane believes things to be, rather hypocritically for hadn't she done things other than praying in this very ground? but even her dessecrations could not be as sacrilegious as that of prayers to other gods. "clearly, i am not arnolf." at first, the wolf and the mermaid's friendship had been something to be encouraged; the manderly, however southern they may behave sometimes, are still north - bred and one of the most important vassals of the stark and the approach could be something useful, if one was to look at it cooly, which gilliane has done, until a certain point. her patience has begun to run out, however, an antipathy perhaps unearned growing at each day that passes that the mermaid chases after the wolf, without avail. clearly, arnolf is not interested — less so than karlon had been on herself (again, she refuses to note how hypocritical she is).
"not the right prayers." had this been another, perhaps she would relent. there is no sept in winterfell, so those that worship the seven often have nowhere to turn, but gilliane doesn't see it as a bad thing, but something righteous — hadn't she struggled so very often without the presence of heart trees during her time in the war? the seven and the way of their people have no place here, regardless of the kindness stretched towards the manderly (and, to this one, there is only so much gilliane can still offer). "not the right place, certainly. i would ask if you are lost, liege manderly, but you come around so often i wonder whether you wish to pledge yourself as some kind of knight to our household." she pauses. "the manderly do produce fine knights, don't they? in the light of the seven or whatever it is they are referred to." the redhead waves a hand, clearly derisive in her dismissal.
the flint had never liked her, even as clueless as wylla tended to be sometimes, that much was clear to her. lately, it seemed more evident than ever. perhaps she hadn't tried hard enough to earn gilliane's good graces, who was already so mysterious and hard to figure out for the manderly. or perhaps, she never would be able to and had to fight back in some way. would it at least earn her some respect at least? " there are no wrong prayers! " wylla responds a bit too passionately and for a moment she worries she seemed childish, but it was a weak spot gilliane had hit. " the gods listen all the same, both mine and yours. " she adds, more calmly.
another jab at her which wylla swallows down, she wonders if something is implied or the other is just sick of her presence. arnolf and theon trusted her so much, the all knowing, could she be inside her head? how much did she know? could she read thoughts? what was she capable of? wylla could not figure her out at all, she was confused, a little scared and irritated all the same. " we do have fine knights, my lady. good fighters, fiercely loyal to lord theon and the north. i am sure he has great respect for them as well. " order of the green hand, she wants to add but doesn't, for it feels like bringing up tradition left from their ancestors from the reach would be like walking into a trap. " though i myself have no intentions of becoming one. i have lots of good friends in winterfell, is all. "
it is as if everything had fallen apart, perhaps everyone was preparing for what's to come, wylla thought. she had just left the dreadfort, riding up to winterfell, only to find it different. it seemed almost empty, with old friends nowhere to be found, even the servants seemed distant, nervous or distracted. before she continued on her merry way though, wylla had to pray. she found it fitting to do it here, in this holy place, even if the manderlys prayed to other gods, they were are northern as they came and wylla needed to pray for her folk. the atmosphere of the godswood was powerful, so quiet, the weirwood tree seemed alive, following her every move, intimidating. yet she found solace in the silance, fell to her knees, hands clasped together, imagining she had a candle in front of her.
" maiden, gentle and unbroken, watch over alarra, held far from home. keep her safe from cruelty. father, who judges what is just and unjust, see me here and forgive me. mother, protect the north and guard us all. warrior, give us strength, so we may endure. stranger, take the enemy if you must, " suddenly she hears footsteps approaching amidst prayer. " arnolf, at last, you-- " wylla turns, only she didn't meet who she was expecting to. it is instead fiery locks and a graceful walk that meet her gaze, intimidation runs through her core, but the manderly keeps it together. " lady stark. " as manners dictated, she nods head down to acknowledge the other, perhaps a bit lazily. " i'm praying for lady alarra's safe return home and the north's prosperity. "
wylla found themselves spending lots of time further north, winterfell especially. ever since all the northmen returned and all that occurred down south reached their ears, blood boiled, eagerly waiting for lord theon stark's call to action. it was a specific face the manderly sought out as well, a childhood friend, a loved one.
it wasn't hard to find the stark man, knowing all his habits and favourite places so when wylla spots him, she sneaks up behind, placing hands over his eyes. " m'lord, can you guess who i am? " she jests before barely contained laughter comes out and she takes the empty seat next to arnolf.
" gods, you cannot possibly eat all that yourself. " wylla exclaims, helpfully grabbing herself a piece of meat and bread. thoughts racing, so much to talk about with old friend, she waits to finish chewing before the word salad comes out. " where have you been, anyway? nobody knew, even keyla- " another mouthful of bread interrupts speech for a few moments " -or mayhaps she was covering for you. " she shamelessly helps herself to arnolf's ale after, satisfied with dinner.
" and you ought to let me know, is lord theon planning anything? we must take action. show them the north is strong as ever. "
wylla jumps off her horse as little eddard greets her and she embraces his little self. to her delight, she spots his mother after him and after releasing the little stark, she walks up to the arryn, embracing her in a hug as well. oh, how she'd missed the starks and just how much catching up they had to do. the news of what went down already reaching her ears long before their return, she'd waited so long to hear the truth. elder sibling would have to forgive her for not meeting them in white harbor, as the news from their letter distraught her too much to stand still.
" wish i'd gone down south with you. " wylla admits, the usual feeling of guilt overwhelming her. a hand reaches out to grab keyla's. " is it true? they have alarra? "
