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"We don't kneel for anyone beyond the wall." | Game of Thrones| Novella| 18+

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Put a player here.

Novella/ Multi para


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Even still, we do not kneel.

Groups: , 𝕱𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖔𝖗𝖓𝖊.,

     Kιng Bєуσn∂ The Wall's Details
Status: Single
Here for:Dating, Networking,
Relationships, Friends,
Body type:Average
Characters: Mance Rayder, The Mance, Abel, The Unburnt King
Verses: Game of Thrones, GOT, A Song of Ice and Fire,
Playbys: Ciar�n Hinds
Length: Novella
Genre: Action, Crossover, Gore, Humor, Romance, Spar/Fighting,
Member Since:October 06, 2014

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Kιng Bєуσn∂ The Wall's Latest Blog Posts  [Subscribe to this Blog]

V. Freedom.   (view more)

VI. Love In The Chill of Winter.  (view more)

IV. Winterfell.   (view more)

III. The White Shadows.   (view more)

II. Night Gathers, and Now My Watch Begins.   (view more)

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   Kιng Bєуσn∂ The Wall's Blurbs
About me:
.vicarious{Second Hide Blurbs Code}
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We do not kneel.

After a group of wildling raiders were put to the sword, Mance was a wildling child taken by the Night's Watch and raised as one of them.[5] When Lord Commander Qorgyle traveled to Winterfell to meet with Lord Eddard Stark, Mance rode escort and met the young Robb Stark and Jon Snow. Mance was a loyal member of the Night's Watch for much of his life until he was attacked by a shadowcat while ranging, and was healed by a wildling woman. While he recuperated, she mended his torn cloak with swatches of red fabric. Upon returning to the Wall, Ser Denys Mallister required him to replace his mended cloak with one of uniform black. This infringement of freedom caused Mance to abandon the Shadow Tower and live with the free folk in the way he wished.

Legal Information
NAME: Mance Rayder
ALIASES: King Beyond The Wall, The Unburnt King.
PLACE OF BIRTH: Beyond the Wall.

Physical Details
HEIGHT: 6�1�
WEIGHT: unknown
SCARS: He has a few from various battles.

Family Ties
MOTHER: Unknown
FATHER: Unknown
SISTER(S): Unknown
BROTHER(S): Unknown
Other Family: Aemon Steelsong (Son)


Traits: Charismatic,Calm,Determined,Honorable,Cunning.
Disorders: None.
Addictions: Unknown
Likes: Drinking,fighting, songs, being free.
Dislikes: Rulers.
Quirks: Unknown

STRENGTHS: Intelligence, battle strategy, sword play.

The Wall can stop an army, but not a man alone.


It is later revealed that when King Robert Baratheon comes to Winterfell to see his old friend Lord Eddard Stark, Mance is present at this event. Hearing of the king's planned visit via sources in the Night's Watch, Mance, inspired by the Bael the Bard legend, decided to partake in the event. He scales the Wall near Long Barrow, purchases a horse south of the New Gift, and journeys to Winterfell. His presence is unbeknownst to both Eddard, who did not remember Mance from his previous visit, and Benjen Stark, who had never met Mance despite being in the Watch for a few years. Under the disguise of a musician, Mance plays the lute during the feast. He meets Dalla during his return to the lands beyond the Wall. Mance undertakes the monumental task of uniting the notoriously individualistic wildlings under his guidance to invade the Seven Kingdoms. They assemble in the Frostfangs. Following the rumors about Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-the-Wall, and the wildlings deserting their villages, the Night's Watch assembles in force in the great ranging beyond the Wall.When Jon Snow meets with Mance under pretext of joining his campaign, Mance explains that he has taken possession of a magic horn known as the Horn of Winter that can topple the Wall, and will use it as a last resort if he cannot bypass it militarily. However, Mance reveals that the wildlings, including his own people, have been hunted by the Others and their wights, and are unable to stop them. His true aim therefore is not to destroy the Wall, but to use it as a shield against the Others.Mance undertakes his invasion of the Wall while it is manned by a skeleton crew commanded by Jon Snow. Despite overwhelming odds, Jon successfully holds Mance's forces at bay long enough for Stannis Baratheon's unexpected reinforcements to arrive. Although Mance personally leads a wedge of mounted free folk against rangers from Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, the disorganized wildling army is demolished by Stannis's knights.Mance's wife, Dalla, dies giving birth to their son during Stannis's attack on the wildling camp.Jon smuggles Mance's son away from the Wall in the care of Samwell Tarly because he suspects that Stannis's sorceress Melisandre is looking to sacrifice a child of royal blood, and that Mance's title of "King-Beyond-the-Wall" could be construed as a royal lineage.Gilly later suggests the name Aemon Steelsong for Mance's son.Mance is supposedly burned alive by Stannis with the wildlings, members of the Night's Watch, king's men, and queen's men there to bear witness. Jon Snow orders him killed by archers of the Watch during the burning to give him a quick death. In actuality the man killed is Rattleshirt, who is glamored by Melisandre's magic to appear like Mance. Meanwhile, the actual Mance is glamored by a ruby worn at his wrist to appear as Rattleshirt. No one but Mance and Melisandre know the truth of the deception. Melisandre keeps the secret from Stannis due to Stannis's strict code of following the law. "Rattleshirt" even spars with Jon Snow in the yard and Jon is shocked by the man's speed and skill, not knowing it is actually Mance. Later when word reaches the Wall that Arya Stark is to wed Ramsay Bolton, Melisandre offers to send Rattleshirt to retrieve her, but Jon refuses, not trusting Rattleshirt. Therefore, Melisandre reveals Mance's disguise in order to make Jon reconsider the offer. Jon holds Mance's son so Mance would do everything in his power to rescue Jon's sister for the sake of his son. However, Mance does not know that Jon has switched Mance's son with Gilly's son. Mance takes six free folk spearwives with him - Rowan, Holly, Squirrel, Willow Witch-eye, Frenya and Myrtle. He arrives at Winterfell as a bard under the assumed name "Abel", an anagram for "Bael", and claims the women are camp followers and relatives to him. Mance performs songs throughout the wedding and subsequent feast at Winterfell, while during the following nights his spearwives kill several northern men. Suspicion is cast on Theon Greyjoy at first, then Manderly knights, causing tension in the castle between the Boltons, Freys and other northern houses. They also receive the help of a reluctant and fearful Theon to help them free "Arya", though he knows she is really Jeyne Poole. Tensions explode in the castle when Little Walder Frey is murdered, though the spearwives claim it was not their doing. Theon assists Mance's spearwives in rescuing Jeyne, but when Jeyne gives their position away by screaming, Theon and Jeyne are forced to jump from Winterfell's battlements to the snow below. It is reported in a letter to Jon purportedly from Ramsay Bolton that Mance has been captured. Ramsay claims Mance has been thrown in a cage which is exposed to the elements and that the six spearwives that came with him have been killed and skinned. Mance is allegedly being forced to use their sewed-together skins in the cage, as it is his only source of warmth.

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Kιng Bєуσn∂ The Wall's Friends Comments
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𝕭𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝕱𝐢𝐫𝐞

Apr 21st 2019 - 1:30 AM

Fire is a fickle thing.

When tended with care it fills a hearth with warmth and necessity. The flames lick below a pot filled to the brim of food to be divided amongst a family. The sound of the crackling wood becomes a soothing feeling within a child that is being rocked within his mother's arms. However, when misused in the selfish nature of men, through fire and blood, it becomes the inferno of the shattered hopes and dreams. It consumes within a simple moment. The raging flames destroy everything in its wake. The anger and destruction leaving ashes falling as though it were blackened snow. The flaming red marks on skin.

Leaning back against the warm stone, the warmth seeped passed the thin layer of her blue tunic. Violet eyes watched with a love and tenderness that only a mother could bear as Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion flew back and forth through the clouds. They were the exception to fire. For her dragons were fire made flesh. An embodiment of the sweet calming nature of flames and the raging inferno of death. Like every child they had their flaws. They were only learning right from wrong at present but that made no difference. They were still children. Creatures of the old Valyria yes, but children all the same.

My children.

“What are you thinking about, Khaleesi?” Jorah's low voice broke her concentration from her children.

Turning her head slightly, the silver platinum locks caressing her cheeks fell before her eyes. Brushing back a strand and tucking it behind her ear she hummed softly “My dragons.” A small smile forming at the last word.

Jorah lifted his eyes to the sky briefly before returning to lock with her own. “Are you worried for them?”

“No. Yes.” Her voice spoke with that melodic tone as a sigh escaped her lips. “We faced warlocks. Masters who made humans...men, women, and children slaves.” Her eyes watched as Drogon slowly lowered himself to the ground. “None could take my children from me. No one ever will.” The steel in her tone leaving room for arguments.

No one.

{ continued here if you are interested: ❖ FIREBORNE || drabble #1 }

• • • ❖ • • •

Did I just send you a little snippet of my writing to get you intrigued enough to write with me... why yes, darling. I 100% did.

My name is Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen,First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea,Breaker of Chains, andMother of Dragons.

[ Thank god for Missandei for being the amazing human she is and reading my 3 lines of titles for me! ]

But no— while i am shamelessly seeking a writing opportunity with you, the point is I wish to create a worth-wild storyline with you that is filled adventure, mystique, maybe even a modern au world. That has magic and legend with some dragons slipped in between. I hope you agree and if you do you can shoot me a message. I have a discord if that is easier for you and would be more than happy to share that your way if you wish. Let me know darling, and if not I hope you enjoy a short bit of my writing.

—The writer behind Dany.

Maya Stark

Mar 27th 2019 - 2:10 PM

Maya had been there when her father was killed and like Sansa she was forced to watch him being killed and ther was nothing she could do to stop it...all her skills and yet she was still powerless to save the man she had looked up to as a hero and yet it hardened her as she suspected it had with Arya who had also been so close to him. 

The fate of her brothers other than Jon of course was unknown and she hated that fact. She had to get out that night and she knew that all too well, but she hated leaving her sister with those monsters,but she also knew that shr had to in order to not end up like her father had. 

Maya travelled to many places and changed her name everytime. She had her Dire Wolf shadow by her side but one day when she was on the path to a new village she was found by Lansiter Knights and even though she was able to kill a good number of them and enjoyed every moment of it, she was forced to flee to keep Shadow safe from them and so they went beyound the wall into th territory of the wild. 

Maya had a sword made of Dragon's glass smoothed into a blade to fit a sword of that she was sure and thus she knew it would help her if the Walkers ever attacked her, though she had killed a few with it in the past but no one knew of that of course, she had even seen the Night King himself and lived to tell about it like Jon had. 

She heard some yelling and saw some Freefolk being attacked by men in black and she knew who they were "Leave them alone" she told the men who looked at her and saw the Dire Wolf by her side and backed away, though Shadow stayed by her side growling for now as if Maya and her were of one mind and in some ways they were. 

She smiled to this and had the girls come to her speaking to them in their language and she smiled watching them play with shadow and how gental the wolf was being. Her attention went back to the men who had their swords up now "You are Men of the Nightwatch, what do you think Jon might say if he knew you attacked his older sister?" they looked at each other and then attacked her and she sighed taking out her arrows killing two of them without flunching with a head shot watching them fall and the last man came at her avoiding the arrows so she took out her sword watching it gleam black in the sunlight and with that she felt his sword against her own and the battle started. 

Maya used the skills she had tought herself along with those she learned from her time in Dorne and in the end his head was off his shoulders and her blade was dripping with his blood as the body fell. she then sighed washing her sword off with the water they had on them and burning the bodies so that they could never become Walkers. 

Maya then put away her sword and when she was surrounded by those like the girls she just saved she put it back in it's sheath and Shadow stood by her side now. The girls ran to their father and told him what happened and how Maya and her wolf saved them and so they took her to their camp and she walked into the tent seeing their leader there and she smiled, though she said nothing for now and shadow stood by her side, but with one look from Maya as if they were speaking without words the wolf lay down by the fire and stayed there for now and Maya herself waited for the man to speak to her, showing nothing but respect to him at the moment, for she never judged or hated his people in any way. 

Jan 5th 2019 - 3:48 AM

If there had been a time when Sansa could remember her previous family it had been long since forgotten.

She could remember her father, her new father, offering to return her back over the Wall, sending her to the Night’s Watch, and that they would surely send her home. Honestly he had been surprised when Northmen hadn’t stormed across the wall searching for the small child at the time. Had she been able to remember her previous life perhaps things would have been different, she would have chosen to return to Winterfell, to her family that had mourned the loss of their firstborn daughter, but she couldn’t. Those memories had since passed and the only thing that Sansa could remember was the freedom that had come since being with her new family.

Very much it had been as if the entire village of wildlings had become her family. It was a feeling that had grown very important to the girl as she had continued to grow. Unlike the others she could remember some of the manners she had been taught, the proper way a lady was expected to act, but none of that truly seemed to matter among the wildlings. Each time that it slipped out she noticed the smile sadden on her father’s face and it was during one of those times he had offered to return her home.

Her own fault she had become a wildling, she knew that, the singer had been so good that she couldn’t bear the idea of him leaving. Winterfell had been dark by this point, everyone asleep, having imbibed more alcohol than they probably should have in order to stand guard, but she had wanted to hear more songs. Hot water rushed through the walls, she had listened to her parents explaining that much, but she had wanted to hear songs about the South, about knights and rescuing beautiful ladies, once more, that she had followed the singer, pouting every step of the way, having been tossed in with the rest of the group. How odd they had been leaving at night, she thought, and somehow she had fallen asleep in one of the sleds that had held instruments. The next thing she could remember was waking up in the freezing weather to a man standing above her nearly as stunned as she was.

That had been the extent of her memories. Of course she knew she wasn’t truly Mance’s daughter - if nothing else the flaming red hair, kissed by fire, she had heard the wildlings talking, would have been a dead give away. None of it mattered to her though. By all accounts he was the only father she had known, the only one that had been there for her since she was nearly five years old, she believed, why should it matter anything else? He had considered her as one of his own, the wildlings had accepted her after they learned about the ‘adoption’ of sorts, and that Mance was willing to share his own home with the small child. Many of them, she could guess, knew that she wasn’t a true wildling, but the whispers and rumors about who she truly was, had been put to rest when she was eight years old.

She hadn’t been meant to hear but the voices had carried over from the fire. It would do none of them good if word spread that Lord Stark’s daughter was with the free-folk, it would certain cause more problems if they continued to talk about the kissed by fire free-woman, that was still just a child, and had shown up to their community after Mance’s little walk south of the wall. After that there had no other mention, none that passed the ears of Mance, or even Sansa herself, about her true parentage.

Footsteps moved swiftly through the snow, barely a sound made underneath the boots on the girl’s foot, hunting and many other tasks still evaded her that the rest of the free women seemed capable of doing, but she had found it easy when it comes to sneaking away. Her feet and body barely made a sound and the delicate way she moved stopped many tracks from being made. Mance’s back was turned toward her as she continued her move. Though many others weren’t able to notice with the girl was around, being able to scare and sneak up on them easy enough, it never seemed to work with her father. The tent doors flapped open as she moved gracefully into the large area.

“I heard there was talk, cold ones, and zombies?” she asked with a small laughter. There might have been many things that Sansa was willing to believe in; the idea of those coming back from the dead wasn’t even on her list. It was unnatural and something not even the gods themselves were meant to be able to do. “You surely don’t believe this nonsense, father?” she asked curiously. Of course she didn’t wish to believe it. It was completely and utter nonsense, spread through the free-folk that were willing to entertain such ideas, but her father was meant to be a level headed person, the king beyond the wall, and if he told her that he believed them… well… she wasn’t entirely sure what it would mean to her.


Sep 7th 2017 - 8:09 PM

Sansa's breath hitched within her throat as she felt the door being forced from her hand, every bit of her wishing to scream out, but honestly she wasn't even sure if the guards would come to her rescue. Already she had listened to Ramsay boasting about his friends' certain attraction toward the redhead - that perhaps when he was tired of her, he'd allow the others to take their way with her. Cruelty had been in his voice as he mentioned that even his dogs might have a chance with the bitch of Winterfell. A damned dog, if he had ever seen one and it took everything for Sansa to keep her strength when the words had shattered everything that she had once thought. Of course she knew how Ramsay was - her entire body bore the marks from the harshness that he exuded with ease. But she had thought if he was going to allow any of his friends the chance to torment her� he'd be there himself. To enjoy the show. Direct them in the proper ways that he wanted things handled. The man standing before her wasn't one that she recognized that normally hung around with Ramsay. His finger was pressed to his lips in a hushing moment and her mouth closed as she swallowed the scream that had briefly threatened to escape.

"You've no cause to be frightened," part of Sansa wished to laugh at the words spoken. There was plenty for her to be frightened of. The strength that she gained while being in Winterfell wasn't any match to the strength of her forced husband. Especially when he had others afraid to do anything, none of them willing to lift a finger when it came to protecting the Stark. Her parents would be ashamed, she thought, if they could see how the North was being run now. But they never would. Perhaps it was the reason the Northerners felt so at ease at their treatment of her.

"Jon Snow sent me to fetch you."

"He knows all about this damn bastard you've married, and he's not happy about it. He wants you at Castle Black, and he wants you safe."

Jon. The name was like a beacon of hope from the moment that she could remember Ramsay tormenting her with the knowledge that he was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. They had forsaken all family, all duty that belonged South of the Wall, was no concern of theirs. Knowledge had been torturous knowing her half-brother was so close and yet unable to do anything that could have protected her. While the physical abuse was nearly impossible to handle it was the psychological abuse that he seemed to excel at. She had truly believed that while her half-brother, her brother, was so close, that it wouldn't matter because he had given up his family and became brothers to the Night's Watch. The sincerity and honesty was something that she didn't expect from the man at first.

Every part of her was screaming not to trust the male. She could remember Theon's warnings about traps and tricks that Ramsay would do in order to elicit more punishment. Was this a trap to see if she was loyal and would stay? Telling the man to leave only to report her answer to Ramsay. Warnings ran through her mind but it was the honesty that seemed to be evident in the male's eyes that caused her a moment's pause. She had heard the dogs leaving earlier in the morning as the dawn was breaking. Myranda's laughter followed the noise that always came from the hunt - if it was going to be a trick surely he wouldn't have left the castle? What would happen if the male standing before her changed his mind? Or she the warning to heart and tried escaping on her own? There were too many variables in the situation for it to be a trick, she thought to herself. There wasn't enough control that Ramsay had over those moments.

"You going to trust me? Or am I going to have to throw you over my shoulder and scale down the wall that way?"

The old Sansa would have bristled at the tone of the male, telling that she was a lady, an honorable lady, and higher than anything that he could even imagine. She could hear herself in her mind, the same nasty tone that she would have taken with her sister or half-brother. The old Sansa had died a long time ago, she thought though, she had died the moment they had taken her father's head. Her eyes glanced up to look at him as he took a step closer to her. At one point she would have been terrified of him. There was something uneasy about the way he approached, his voice, and the way he carried himself, he wasn't a Northerner, that much was obvious, but he wasn't from the South either. "I trust Jon," she finally managed to say as she forced the thoughts from her mind and only listened to what he was telling her. It didn't matter that the male was a stranger. Jon had always been like their father - an honorable and honest man - he wouldn't have sent someone to rescue her unless he trusted him. Though they had never been close she'd have to trust Jon in this moment even if he wasn't there.

The dagger was held out toward her as she resisted the urge to cringe. Weapons had never been her strongest suit. A lady's curtsey was the armor she had worn and her words had been her weapons. The instrument he was giving to her seemed more to be handmade than something that could have been got from a blacksmith. "Best keep this hidden on you, don't use it unless you have too." Unsteady hands reached out as she willed her hands to stop their shaking, taking the dagger from him, the small dagger fitting easily within her hand, and she could tell that it wasn't something that many males would use. Instead it seemed to be the perfect dagger from dainty fingers of a female to hold. "Unless I have to?" she asked as if unsure of what he meant but everything in her mind told her that it was a rather silly question. She understood exactly what he had meant. It was her reaction to recoil from the idea of having to use the weapon yet she tried her hardest to steel herself.

Porcelain. Ivory. Steel. She reminded herself that she was stone, steel, and that if the moment came to it, she would rather someone else take the brunt of the weapon, than spend another night with Ramsay. Another day being tortured by the male that was meant to help her avenge her father. Her eyes looked at the weapon and though the blade wasn't as smooth as she could remember father's weapon, she knew that it would end a life, if need be, perhaps even her own, rather than being taken back alive for Ramsay to punish for her trying to escape. �

"Be ready to leave this place by sundown, do you understand?"

Forcing her eyes away from the weapon as she gripped the antler hilt tighter with her fingertips she nodded her head. "Be ready," she repeated back to him. Not that she was going to take much - in the past she would have wished to take a huge trunk, the finest clothing, but now she knew that if she wanted to escape, many things would be left behind. Tully blue eyes searched the male's face, something about him seeming familiar, but she was unable to currently place where she had seen him. Perhaps he was there when she was younger, she thought to herself, one of the Night's Watch that her Uncle Benjen had brought with him to visit Winterfell.

She watched as he slipped from the door, with the stern warning to be ready at sundown once more in her mind, though she would have left that second if he had asked. There couldn't have been any place worse than with the Bolton's. Winterfell had been her home, had been her safe place for as long as she remembered, constantly clinging to the idea of returning once more, but it was tainted by the presence of the Bolton's. While it would always be her Winterfell - it certainly wasn't the Winterfell from her childhood. He left as quickly as he had come and Sansa wasn't even sure if it had been real until she felt the dagger once more in her hand. Now the only thing she could do was bid her time and wait for the sun to start to set before she knew if the plan was true or something of a test. Glancing around she hide the dagger underneath the mattress, close enough at hand in case she needed it, but someone that no one would bother to look for it.


Aug 11th 2017 - 4:33 AM

Don't scream.

Don't cry.

You're a Stark.

Be strong.

You are strong.

The thoughts continued through her mind as Sansa tried to block everything that was happening around her. She had hoped when word of the murdered guards had gotten to Ramsay that he would handle it; that he would be too busy trying to find out who had slaughtered his guards to visit her room. Perhaps, she thought to herself, tonight will be a night when she could sleep a bit, trying to heal the wounds that seemed to always get worse. It was impossible for the wounds to heal when the next night Ramsay would be back once more, adding more insults, more injuries to her body than she had thought possible. Each night it seemed that he was waiting for her to break.

The punishments getting worse when she forced herself to keep the tears hidden.

How easily they flowed when he wasn't in the room but she wasn't about to give him that type of pleasure. As she listened to the words he'd speak, to herself, to others, she knew it was a power play. Of course the bites hurt, the scratches, and beatings, the pleasure he took in anything he thought that would cause her pain, and while they always seemed to get worse, she knew that she couldn't break. Oh, yes, she was needed very much alive to keep the idea of her presence in Winterfell as a positive thing; there would be nothing that protected her from Ramsay. For the time being she was, strangely, under his protection. The others didn't bother her, not yet at least, because she knew that he was waiting. He wanted to be the one to break her, to break her spirit, to destroy the name that she held so dear to her heart, and he wasn't about to risk someone else doing it for him.

Her teeth clamped down her bottom lip stopping the cry from escaping her mouth as her face was, thankfully, buried in the bed. A sharp bite had pierced her shoulder and Sansa knew it'd be another scar to add to the rest. He was a worse than those mutts that he always had at his side, she thought to herself, trying her best to keep her mind focused on anything else other than the sun rising through the opened window. It was just a short few moments later, though everything felt like an eternity, before the pressure against her body was removed.

"Do you plan on joining me for breakfast, wife?" the question was asked almost in a taunting voice as if knowing the answer already. Any time she was left alone was something that she cherished and the meals that were taken were some of her least favorite times. She heard the soft chuckle as well as the kiss against the top of her head; little things that she would have enjoyed from a true husband, from a true and gentle knight like she had always dreamed, but things that when done by Ramsay made her skin crawl as if she couldn't take a bath quick enough. "No need to fret. You have just the morning to yourself. Myranda and I are going hunting this morning� unless you're ready to join me there." The shudder went through her body and she heard the sickening laughter as he left the room.

The sheets would need to be changed, she could feel the dried blood from the night's events against her body, and water would need to be drawn for a bath. There wasn't enough hot water in the world to make her feel as if she was clean whenever he left the room. But she knew that it was a start. At least she felt somewhat clean while she was in the water and the steam surrounding her. Shaky legs slide off to the side of the bed as she glanced around at the now empty room, wondering if Winterfell would ever feel the same, there had to be a way to escape, she couldn't allow herself to continue to be a prisoner in the one place that was meant to make her feel the safest.

The knocking on the door caused the female to pause, her body instantly stiffened but when there were no voices to announce who they were she took a deep breath. If it was any of Ramsay's 'friends' they would have barged in and the females always announced themselves as they were coming into the word. A robe was quickly thrown over her shoulders, wincing in pain as the heavy fabric fell against her bruised skin, and unsteady legs she made her way toward the door. Opening it slowly she glanced around trying to see who was there and wondering if perhaps she was overlooking the obvious.

Divine Morality

Oct 4th 2016 - 11:24 PM

Hmm. I really like that idea, when you say destination, are referring to their individual destinations?

I am thinking that maybe Nessah and a small collective of her men are returning from a mission, headed back to Lyzia.

Or should be on a diplomatic travel to build bridges on behalf of her king or queen....

I feel as though Nessah's people would fall in the Wilding category�
Divine Morality

Oct 3rd 2016 - 10:45 PM


Did you by any chance have any suggestions coming from your end with Mance?

Divine Morality

Oct 3rd 2016 - 9:20 AM

Sweet! And below is a bit of information on Nessah and her people.

Nessah is a member the Lyzian Royal Guard, a sector called the Shadow Elites. �Shadow Elites are skilled assassins rather than battle field warriors. She is the most skilled�Archoress in 'my' tale.

Nessah was born from the pity, sorrow and hope of the Goddess Malivia. Malivia and her daughter Saru birthed the planet and all of its inhabitants. Malivia lost her daughter, a goddess of the night sky/ the northern light, because Saru fell into a depression once forbidden to travel to the planet she adored. As greed swept over the plains it was apparent to the Goddess that it was too dangerous for Saru, her daughter to reside or visit the planet. The Lyzian Nation was one of the few nations where the goddesses' teachings were being maintained, Malivia found pride and hope in this Nation. Out of pity she impregnated the Queen of Lyzia (whose womb was infertile), and mended both the baby's soul and Saru's soul together. That baby is Nessah.

Nessah was not raised in the palace, for her own safety and that of her people, the King and Queen entrusted the life of their daughter to their best friend who was to protect her. Borden was the King's right hand, and is also known at the Golden Knight. Nessah grew watching her father train the Nation's royal recruits and grew to adore both Borden and his line of work. She eagerly followed in his footsteps, much to his disagreement (solely due to her being the princess of the Nation).

However she was the first woman to join the Royal Guard, setting the stage for many who followed after her. She is very very skilled with a bow and arrow, and due to her lesser skills in sword combat she taught herself the art of knife throwing.

The Shadow Guards post themselves throughout the thick forest fortress that surrounds them, their job is to remain unseen and to kill with precision and accuracy.

The relationship with the King and Queen and the Nation is an unorthodox one. They are very personable with their subjects and are often seen celebrating with them. Due to the nature of the Royals Nessah knows her biological parents, very well, but does not know of her royal heritage.

Because her soul is mended with Saru's, Nessah has a deepened relatedness with the world around her. She can feel what nature around her feels (trees etc), and communes with animals..

Solin is like a supporting character that may make his way into the RP. Solin is like a big brother to Nessah, he is also a refugee on Lyzian soil, a prince from another kingdom. Nessah is unaware of this, as are many. Solin was entrusted with a mission to grow close to Nessah, and may often appear more like a body guard. He is a powerful mage, and is Nessah's partner in the field. �

Divine Morality

Oct 2nd 2016 - 2:28 AM

Oh the excitement! haha
We can start when ever you are ready! Do you need any more information on Nessah? I must admit that since I started revamping the profile there is less important information present .
Divine Morality

Sep 30th 2016 - 7:24 PM

OOC: When you are ready and see fit, I would love to entertain a SL discussion with you, or even a connection.

I am thrilled to have been accepted into your friends list. If you have rules you would like me to read, please direct my attention to them. Also, if you would like clarification on Nessah please do not hesitate to ask.

I look forward to hearing back from you.�

~ May The Light of the Moon and Stars Guide You.

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