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Sansa Dragomir

A young woman with a secret hidden away by her parents. Shunned by her village people of Torholden, Sansa begins to seek a place where she belongs.

0 · 285 views · located in Wulfhaven

a character in “Chronicles of Valore”, originally authored by Prose, as played by NotAFlyingGirl

Description

Sansa is a woman with a sorrowful gaze when she looks upon another. There is fear there too, hidden beneath; fear of rejection. Beaten down emotionally and repressed by the people of her village, Sansa has not a single friend to divulge her innermost thoughts. One would believe that at such an age, Sansa would already have been married to a merchant man or one of the farmers. And yet, she remains completely alone. Her loneliness shows in every step, the slouch of her shoulders, and the way she has given up meeting another’s gaze.

The woman is not shunned for her appearance. No, Sansa is a very fair maiden. Hair tussles loosely down onto her shoulders and holds a auburn color in the sun’s rays. Her skin is smooth and unblemished, even her hands remain un-callused from lack of work—the villagers of Torholden do not trust her to touch anything. Sansa’s eyes are a deep brown which is uncommon to Torholdeners, being they of fair hair and eye.

She is the weed in the garden of roses.

Personality

Sansa is a very well spoken girl well above the average of the common folk in her village. Having read many books—for she was allowed nothing else to do—Sansa holds a theoretical intellect. All the songs and stories of G’ael and the histories of the people have been memorized to the point where Sansa can recite them verbatim. Song and Book are the only friends she has known throughout her entire life, having been forced into an introverted personality.

However, she does not wish to be so. Sansa battles within herself with the simplest of social tasks. A merchantman may pass her or a village watchman causing Sansa to have anxiety. She wants to gaze upon him and say a greeting but knows that nothing will come of it aside from a grunt, or a quickening in step. Sansa is no fool. She knows the villagers do not like her but for what reason, that she is clueless on.

It is almost as if they fear her, but for what purpose?

Sansa is nothing more than the gentlest of maids with a sweet singing voice and a shy smile. She would love nothing more than to read stories to the children and hear them laugh. The woman so loves the children but the villagers have more than once forbade her to go near them.

In a sea of faces, Sansa remains isolated.

History

Image


“Narcisa, leave the child, we must go now,” Florin said gently to his wife through the cries of their second born child; a beautiful girl. His strong hands wrapped around her thin arms while the mother of Sansa wept tears of mourning. Florin shed not a single one for he was the foundation and strength of his family. He had to remain strong for his wife as she held their remaining child. It seemed that Narcisa was never going to let the child loose from her arms.

“I cannot leave her. We cannot abandon her after losing our son,” Narcisa cried through her sorrow. The babe in her arms wailed even more loudly from the distress of her mother as she was held against Narcisa’s breast. Sansa was held even more closely and tears fell onto the expensive wool wrap. The soft baby’s hand reached for her mother’s face and Narcisa took it in her own travel-worn fingers.

“You must leave her if you want Sansa to live,” Florin stated with more sternness coming into his voice, “The vamp—“

“Do not dare say that vile word,” Narcisa spat, fury growing in her brown eyes. The fair-haired couple shifted around nervously while eyeing the wagon of food, lumber, and tools brought as payment to take the child. They wanted nothing more than this entire ordeal to be done with so that their new wealth could be used to better their home. It was odd, a noble family coming to give them their child along with several years worth of valuables. Looking glasses, sturdy and rich wood furniture pieces, bolts of elaborately embroidered cloth, and it was all for the Torok family to have and hold.

Florin sighed heavily, the weight of this great burden setting down on his shoulders. The towering man seemed to dwindle by several inches. Heavy and bushy eyebrows shadowed over the man’s dark eyes. A frown made his face long and deep, etching it with lines that created ravines in Florin’s visage. He seemed carved from harsh wood, standing there as the rain pattered down on them all.


***


Five years later, Sansa had began to start reading books from her adoptive father’s shelves. She wasn’t allowed to play with the Torok’s children nor even speak to them. Instead, the young girl played with her dolls, attempted to understand the letters on pages, and sang to herself.

One day sitting in front of the hearth on a cold winter’s morning, Anton had come in from working to break his fast. Sansa’s dark eyes had lit up and she pointed to the book in her lap.

“Father, I learned new wor—“

“Do not ever call me by that name again, do you hear me,” Anton’s threatening voice stated with absolute disgust. Even his expression reflected the tone of his words.

Tears fell from Sansa’s eyes and the girl nodded her head, turning back to her book. She could no longer read it. The letters had started to squirm around and drown in her eyes.


***


Four years later, Sansa had met a new boy in town. His father had come to live in Torholden to become the new blacksmith. Sansa adored Petre and thought he was very handsome. They were almost a man and woman grown at nine years! It would not be long until she would bloom into a real woman and Sansa wanted nothing more than for Petre to be her husband.

Their friendship grew fast and quick. Petre had taking a liking to Sansa as well. All day they would slip from the village and visit the vast plains surrounding the Torholden. Sansa would pick flowers while Petre slashed through the air with a long stick.

“You look like the Serghei the Great Hunter,” Sansa stated with a blush to her cheeks. Petre turned and grinned his toothy grin.

“And you are my Cosmina, one of the most beautiful women G’ael has never known,” the boy yelled out for all to hear. And someone had. A horse can galloping over and the man upon saw the two children together. It was nothing to punish but it was Sansa that Petre had decided to play with. The man looked down on the boy and dragged him up onto the horse by the scruff of his collar. They rode off at a sprint, abandoning Sansa and leaving her with only the few white flowers in her hands.

After that, Sansa never saw Petre again. She wept for days for her lost friend. Even his home was empty.


***


Twelve years later, Sansa spent her time in the old abandoned manor after having explored there. No one ever stepped foot in the house nor spoke of its history. Dust clung to every facet of furniture. Nothing had not been covered with sheets and nothing had been moved for years, Sansa realized.

Going from room to room, the maiden finally discovered one filled from roof to floor and wall to wall with books. Beautiful leather-clad tomes were crammed into shelves that not only lined the walls but filled the room in rows that seemed to never end.

It was in the manor that Sansa found her sanctuary. Sometimes she would not return back to the Torok’s home—it was never her home—and spent nights in the manor. Sansa drank up the tales of Elisabeta and how she stole the hearts of men with just a look upon them, and of Tatiana who sailed around the world before disappearing over the edge. But by far, Sansa’s favorite were stories of Virgilui III and his tyrannical rule over a city lost to time and the throne made of his enemies skulls.

But one day, Sansa returned from the market after being entrusted to buy potatoes for the first time in her life by her adoptive mother. Finally, someone had given her a task. A hope grew in Sansa’s chest. Maybe now they would accept her as part of the village. All those dreams died abruptly when she smelled smoke on the air. Sansa ran through the village as fast as her feet could carry her while carrying the potatoes. Turning a corner, the young woman’s heart leapt into her throat and the basket of vegetables slipped from her fingers. Sansa’s knees met the earth and she began to scream in her loss.

The manor had been burned down and all the books along with it.

That was the day when Sansa realized that they all hated her. Every single one of the villagers. They did not want her there. Sansa was going to leave Torholden. She packed up a satchel with bread, cheese, apples, and a skin of water. A dagger she took from Old Torok was for defense from bandits or wolves on the road. And Sansa took her last remaining book with her, filled with songs of legendary creatures in far away lands.

Sansa had left at sunrise and not a single soul who saw her leaving said a farewell.

So begins...

Sansa Dragomir's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sansa Dragomir
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0.00 INK

#, as written by Prose
ImageThe vegetable cart lurched from side to side in a lulling movement. It had not taken long for Sansa to fall asleep. An elderly couple had seen the poor travel-worn woman walking alongside the road. Apostol and Mirela could not leave her behind and offered Sansa a ride to Wulfhaven. In the back of the wooden wagon, the young woman’s head bobbed from side to side along with the motion of the cart.
Image“She is an absolute doll,” Mirela exclaimed in a quiet tone as to not wake the sleeping woman. The white-haired lady smiled at her husband with that smile he knew all too well. Apostol’s face grew stern and defiant.
Image“We’ll not be keepin’ ‘er. Don’ even know where she be from, Mirela,” the elderly man said around the piece of wheat dangling from his withered lips. He turned his hazel eyes away from the woman at his side and shook his head again. Staring at his wife for too long got the woman what she wanted almost every single time. But this time, Apostol was not having it, the damned woman. He loved her far too much and for the last forty years, but this was going far too far.
Image“She is all alone and without anyone to care for her. The poor thing was half-starved when we picked her up. Can we not do anything for her at least,” Mirela pleaded with the man in the same whispered tone she used before.
Image“We already done what we can for ‘er. No more. She got bread an’ she got water now. More than she had ‘fore we came alon’,” Apostol stated, his face growing into a scowl. He wanted to move on from this topic. The whole way his wife had been commenting on the scenery, or that animal, or that traveller. Why couldn’t the woman just go back to talking about trivial topics instead of idiotic topics. It was dangerous enough to pick up someone on the side of the road without knowing who they were. Apostol was not about to go around fostering or adopting random maids walking on their own towards Wulfhaven.
ImageSansa’s eyes began to open as the voices of the elderly couple permeated her subconscious.
Image“But she’s just a chi—”
Image“Mirela. She be not a child. Tha’ woman in the back could be a noble or’a werewolf or’a gods know wha’ else, some kind of terror jus’ waitin’ for us to trus’ it. I no’ abou’ to go an’ risk the life o’my wife jus’ so we can feed one more mouth than we can ‘fford.”
Image“Apostol—”
Image“There be no more talk o’this, no more, woman.” Apostol spat at the ground, leaning over in his hard wooden seat with the reins held in his work-worn hands.
ImageSansa’s ears had finally opened to the world and she had caught the end of the couple’s conversation. It had hurt. The woman had been so nice to her and had given her food for the journey to Wulfhaven. Sansa placed a hand on the edge of the cart and timidly looked over her shoulder to look at Apostol and Mirela. The woman was hanging her head in a sorrowful manner, chastised by her own husband for her girlish dreams. The man was staring straight forward towards the open road trying his hardest to not feel bad for his words.
ImageGathering up her things, Sansa slung her satchel over her shoulder and waited for an opportune moment to hop from the moving cart. They don’t want me here, the young woman thought to herself with dismay. Sansa almost felt tears well up in her brown eyes but the lack of water prevented them from falling down her fair cheeks.
ImageThe ground was hard when Sansa’s knees hit the earth after jumping from the cart. Her hands stung as well from the rocks littered along the road. But, she made not a single sound in case the old woman looked back and saw that Sansa was gone. They would turn around if Mirela did see her abandoning them, or maybe her husband would just keep driving off without her. He never did like the idea of taking Sansa along with them on their travels.
ImageA nearby tree provided refuge from sight as the cart continued to lumber away in the distance. Sansa sat beneath its shade and had lost time while reading her only book. By then, the girl had read it cover to cover over and over again. All the words were memorized, even the ones she did not understand.
Image“Well, well, well,” a male voice said above her as the sun was blocked from her book’s pages by a shadow. “You know, I am not the smartest man in my family or my town but I am certain that a woman traveling alone is not the safest of choices, m’dear.”
ImageSansa’s eyes looked up to the man but not a single detail could be garnered. The sun made her squint and nothing more than the outline of him could be seen while the stranger sat atop his horse. Sansa opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted before sound came forth.
Image“I do not need an introduction,” the man stated while folding his hands over the horn of his saddle, reins in hand. A grin was splayed across his weather-beaten face but Sansa could not see it.
Image“I—” Sansa started out.
Image“Now, you have two choices to make here. You can either sit beneath this tree for whatever reason, reading your book like you are now, or you can come with me to Wulfhaven and come be my wife,” the man stated rather bluntly. Sansa was taken aback and awestruck for a moment. Never before had a man simply approached her and proposed a life-long marriage to himself.
Image“You looked shocked and a little appalled. I can honestly say that I am a little hurt by that expression ... my Cosmina.” The man’s grin only grew wider and more devilish; a grin that many women had fallen in love with before on sight. And yet, for some reason, the man had never taken them as lovers nor wives.
ImageIt took Sansa a moment to realize who was sitting in that saddle above her. When the memory hit her full on forced, she stood up and the book that had been placed in her lap slid to the ground with a soft thump. Placing a hand over her eyes, Sansa was able to see the man for who he truly was and smiled a familiar smile at him.
Image“Petre.”
Image“Did you miss me?”




ImageThe rest of the trail to Wulfhaven was full of laughter and tales from both Petre and Sansa. The man had even been so bold as to trail warm kisses up the side of the woman’s neck which made the auburn beauty blush. Not a single day had passed that the man forgot about her or did not think about Sansa. Memories of their limited days spent together beneath the sun on the fields surrounding Torholden had been some of the most treasured.
Image“Tell me you will marry me,” Petre said brushing the woman’s long hair away from her neck. The sunlight shimmered off of it in such a way that it almost seemed like spun copper.
ImageSansa laughed and held the reins more gently in her hands before she said, “And why would I ever marry a blacksmith’s son? Cosmina would never marry someone so low born.” It was a tease and one that made Petre laugh his throaty laugh. Such a sound sent a shudder down the woman’s spine and Sansa’s breath caught in her throat before a smile spread across her fair face.
Image“Yes. I am just a blacksmith’s son,” the man mused, “but by night? By night I am a knight in shining black armor inlaid with gold and silver with glittering gem—” Petre’s words were cut off as they neared an unknown building. The woman sitting in the saddle in front of him was waiting for the rest of his sentence but had paused, too, in thought at the spectacle.
Image“What do you think is going on, Petre,” Sansa asked in a worried tone.
Image“I don’t know and I don’t think we should stick around to s—Sansa! Get back here,” Petre said while attempting to make a grab at the woman’s skirts. It seemed that her curiosity still got the better of her wit. Chuckling to himself, Petre followed after his betrothed on horse, forcing the crowd to part.
ImageSansa weaved through the crowd and stopped near a man. She turned to him and simply asked, “What is going on?” The unknown man noticed her accent and way of speech. He spat a black glob of mucus on the ground at her feet. Sansa lurched backward to avoid it and bump into someone. A yell came forth from the crowd and more bodies began to press around the woman.
Image“Petre!” Sansa called out before she was lost in a sea of bodies with the earth pressing against her face.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dorin Voiena Character Portrait: Sansa Dragomir
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#, as written by Prose
ImageSansa! Sansa! Sansa!” Petre called out to the throng of gathered denizens and foreigners alike. Panic struck his chest when she had been drug down into the sea of bodies where his eyes could no longer see her. Sansa was a creature of the small towns and surrounding countries. Petre should have known better than to let her loose in the city, even if for only those few precious seconds.
ImageThe man burst through the crowd on horse back, not caring if a few people had been caught beneath his steed’s hooves. Their lives were nothing compared to the life of the one Petre loved with every beat of his heart. The crowd surged at Petre’s behavior, and the man was unhorsed with a scream from the creature. The destrier rolled onto its side then stood once more on all four feet before the horse bolted.
ImagePetre was left standing in an ever more angry crowd.

ImageFeet trampled on Sansa’s back which made her cry out in pain. Her hands came up to cover the back of her head instinctively. There came a harsh tug beneath her arm and Sansa opened her eyes to see she was standing on her own two feet. Mud had caked alongside the fair maid’s face and clung to her auburn hair in dark clumps. The dress which Sansa wore for her travel was now beyond repair and aptly ruined.
ImageHer savior introduced himself, and Sansa lowered her gaze from his face in a modest bow of her head. “Thank you, kindly m’lord,” the timid woman spoke to him in a voice that most likely had not be registered over the yelling, screaming, and wailing of the nearby rioters.
Image“I—” she began to Dorin.
Image“Sansa,” a voice called out to her left and Sansa saw that it was Petre. Her eyes lit up and she waited there for him to come to her. In a few, long, strides of the man’s powerful legs, Petre had his hands wrapped around Sansa’s arms.
Image“Are you alright,” Petre spoke in a gentle voice before noticing the older man in Sansa’s company. Protectively, he drew Sansa in close to him, encompassing the woman in his arms.
Image“Sansa, who is this man?” Petre was not taking kindly to another man being in the company of his betrothed and it showed in his smoke-colored eyes. Sansa shifted her head and peered at Dorin with her deep brown eyes. Her brow knit together, raised and humbled toward him.