MAGGY THE FROG
The smell of rotten flesh and the avid sound of women screaming on the streets, begging not to take the useless life they have, even ready to give away their newborn babes, such despicable beings to offer their children in exchange for their own. How about the men on cloaks who are willing to snatch these poor unfortunate young, not even grown enough to leave its mother's tit. It wasn't a pretty normal sight in the old years, on the old days, women die as little girls or in childbirth, rarely at old age. Men die at combat or in hunger but mostly died because they are all weak. The hopeless call it destiny, they are true, you know, but just half of it was.
Sure, blame it all to the gods for suffering such cruel fate. But these lowlife beings wanted to know more, They ask me, "Hag, tell me my fate" well, I told the bitch she's going to die that night, but what did she repaid me? Ha, the mangy woman she came restless, even called me a witch who would try to kill her, tried to set my hair on fire. I just told her what she wanted to know, her future, I say, the bitch had it coming. Splashed in to a well and did a bit of swimming, I laugh on how bit she was submerged into that well, Dead. Sometimes it's better if you don't know. But not for me, I've seen it all, nothing can prevent it, oh wait there is one, someone who can see more than two eyes can see. I will leave you to that judgement.
Seers, I was to be a king's seer, it was what I'm destined for, but who knows? My mother, ha, that good-for-nothing whore, she knows nothing, even tried to trade me for three pigs, I traded her for two crow hearts, and again, bitch had it coming. I never got those two hearts; the merchant gave me something else instead, better. My mother, her head stop resting on her shoulders just three miserable days later. seers have no place in the palace in these new days, men are afraid of anything a seer can do, men are not that great nor special, all suckled a woman's tit before they became man grown, I even saw the latest king hide under his mother's skirts, that boy does not disserve to be king, neither was his brother, you take me for a fool? I know the whore never gave birth to a living true heir, I saw it before, I saw it all, her fate. Another bitch who wanted to know her fate, I told her what she wanted to see, nothing more, nothing less, I took no place for her grievances, the blonde whore almost got me killed, too bad, I'm way ahead of her.
Her house, the sigil they have? Crimson and gold, spilled blood always accompanied with gold, explains. What a huge laughing stock, that family. Kingslayer, hand gone and all bloody, replaced by golden hand, his children, all dead, not with natural causes, all with stupidity. Gold where their crowns and so are their shrouds. Blood and Gold.
I saw great tales and stories as I go along with people who can't see things that I can, these poor naïve peasants yielded their faith to the wrong gods, even brand their slaves with tattoos, Tattoos used to be emblems of gods placed on the skin for power for they are forever branded with a gift and a burden of having such power, heroes secretly had theirs on the back of their necks, what a shame they only use the art to brand dim-witted beings.
I thought I almost lost my power after that bloody forsaken star strolled its way on the daylight sky, I was at sea, searching for nothing important when I was drowned by visions, so strong I almost thought I will lose my sights, and the priestess of R'hllor at Storms' End knew what's happening, too even the lord of the light responded highly on that event. The difference is, I know a thing or two in detail but I'm not telling anyone. That redhead woman thinks she knows what she is doing; little did the red bitch even know that she was only playing a part, nothing even more than that. All the lives she wasted for a mission that she was tricked to do, convinced that she got the right man for the work. I've known that the stag sibling will die with usurper crowns in their heads. They say, it's just a small price to pay for usurping a seat you don't even own, for taking too much than you need.
Once was an old tale about river nymphs who where brothers wanting to make the river flow from north to south rather than east to west, thinking that they would all be gods, The first one is blessed with his wits, the second has a strong grip, the third is ambitious. The eldest took his two more siblings at the end of both sides of the river, one brother on both side while he took the latter great half, since he was the biggest and the oldest, not knowing that the river is a goddess. The goddess hated what they are doing so she decided to break them up, but how? The river goddess was clever and came up with the idea to poison each with sweet words, She approached the first brother, tells him that it is nice to be the dominant brother among his brothers, since he was the eldest, he should rule them. The eldest knew what the river goddess was doing and decided to not pay attention on her. In rage she decided to kill the first born brother, she could take him; the goddess went to the second brother, this brother came lifting his side of the river, panicking, the goddess started to poison him the same way she attempted the first one, but this time, she told him that the third brother wanted it all, knowing his brother he was enraged, he let go his end side of the river with a slam and got his third brother crushed underneath the riverbed. The second brother thinks he is all great and invincible; the goddess told him that he is so great he can be a god… but only if he set the river in flames drying it out. He did what he thinks he can do, set the river in flames. As soon as he set his feet in the river, the river goddess started pulling him into deep water, causing him to perish straight to his doom.
The wolves, ha! The wolves, quite interesting story in my preferences. Honour brought them no good, If I was there at that fateful night at the twins, you cannot tell but I was, Was confined to a stable that night, all tied up as if I am a pooch on a leash, "This is not the day I die" I told myself, I know a wise man said it once at his dying day, funny story actually, I wore it better. I was all soaked up with piss, blood, sweat but I shed no tear, not even a single one, there are two reasons on why a person cries and one of them is self pity. I don't pity myself, I can't be killed, I see the way I die and it isn't even close to where I am . Knees scathed, all bloody from the pavement where I was kneeling, they tried touching me, but they won't, they don't want to be hexed do they now? One man lost a finger or two on one hand and I took off two of his nails at the other, bit them off. His blood came sparkling out of his thumbs, I was left all bloody but not with my blood, severed fingers and nails on the ground. The night came and all was on riot in full blast, I got out of my shackles of course, nobody can tie me down for a straight ten minutes without keeping a close eye. The moment I smelled the spilled blood, I knew their fates.
One I saw limping with only the thumb toe in tact from his bootless feet, face with covered with mucus and tears, that one will be dragged on the dead wagon, not sure if he will sprung maggots along him with that foot. Nonetheless, he will live. Another I saw, his head got crushed by a raging horse, the unfortunate soul was never got killed on battle, it just took him a horse carrying corncobs to get him killed, the sound of the horse shoe against his forehead is quite satisfying. After his skull got cracked open I still saw him shaking and clawing the dirt for a good one minute or two, pudding-like substance came out rushing on his nostrils, if it also sprung out of his ears, I can't tell, one cannot distinguish a crushed forehead. At one moment I smelled something distinct, highborn blood, three of them. Two will stay still for good, one has another fate. I won't meddle with that fate, a hollow vessel out to get anyone, so blank and shaded, my skin crawls at the vision. I see blue and the red on her, she will be forever be blue, cold, and jinxed by a cursed she wanted. Red, as she bleeds her enemies, she will equally bleed her own.
At that end, I saw tragedies in life without anyone noticing, maybe I wasn't at the dates of these people's deaths or maybe I had, this is just the start of meddling with the story, close but unnoticed. The important thing is I won't die unlike the rest of them, I know when I die, even dodged death, cheated the reaper, even. I will keep killing to stay alive. A curse I need to carry with me. For now the story will be left like this, unfinished.
I've traded someone's babe to a witch to cure my mother, if a mother can do that, what more for a stranger.
I was to be sold as a whore by my own mother.
Sold my own blood to the gods in exchange for a lover and a child
Never got what was promised, blessed by a gift-curse instead: to be able to see the future, to live in blood.