K okay, my mom was cranky today so I began to write, and this happened.
Just for your info: Tija's name is pronounced Tia. Tija is about twelve years old, and God, it made me want to cry when I wrote what I did for her, but, behind the scenes in my head, she's an actress living the high life in Pentos with 100 servants and a tiger that protects her from evil hags. .
AUTHORS NOTE Okay, okay, just so you know, Tija, DOES NOT have any real part in the story, she is just a literary tool to convey Viserys' desperatism and the hags' uncaring, apathetic nature toward who or what they eat. I also didn't want to just introduce Viserys up front, I mean where's the fun in that?
But if you don't want to read about Tija, skip down to like, the 12th paragraph from the bottom.
Chapter 5::: Qohor
She was hurting, inside and out. Her mother had come home angry again, raving how her disobedient wretch of a daughter had caused her nothing but trouble since the day she was born. She screamed at the girl, too young to have been visited by the monthly blood, that she wished she were dead. Even after hearing this a hundred times over, hurt beat against her chest at her mother's words. She did not know what had happened that provoked her mother's rage, but it did not matter. Tija still went to sleep with bruises and whip marks on her back and tears streaming down her cheeks.
Their farm was a small one, just on the outskirts of what was left of Qohor. The other people in the area called her mother a madwoman, but Tija didn't believe them. She was her daughter and Tija would know if her mother was insane. Her father was long gone, her mother scared him off when she took a hatchet to his leg but he did not have enough kindness left in him to take his only child. Tija was left with her mother, her scars doubling each year under her care and the fire of life that blazed in every young person's heart was slowly beginning to die.
The night was creeping into the city, darkness chilling and covering. Tija's mother had gone off to do whatever she did and left the young girl alone once again. Tija sat outside of the cottage, looking out into the thick woodland. That was where her father had walked into when he left. That was the last place she'd seen him.
"Tija..."
Her head snapped up at the sound, the whisper. She nervously glanced around, but found no one that would have called her name, only their goats and the old black cat with only one eye. Her shoulder's relaxed and she rested her chin on her knees. Just the leaves playing tricks with the wind, she thought.
"Tija..."
She flinched and her eyes widened. That was not a whisper and it was not a windy trick. It was a woman, her voice sweet and kind and soft, far away from her. It took Tija a long moment to realize whose voice that was: her mothers. She was not used to hearing it so soft and without contempt.
"M-mama?" her voice was scratchy to her ears.
"Tija, come here." said her mother's voice. It was not the angry tone that meant a licking, it was soft and loving, not a tone that she was used to hearing from her mother. But she still feared what it would mean if she disobeyed.
Tija stood on her sore legs. "W-w-where are you?" she called weakly.
"In here, my dear." Tija's back stiffed at the endearment. The voice was coming from the forest, she was sure, by the light glowing a ways inside.
Her mother never called her anything but 'girl' or 'Tija!' on a good day. That wasn't her mother...but it had to be, right? It was her voice, strange with tenderness as it might be.
Slowly, Tija slid one foot forward on the dry grass, feeling unease tug at her stomach. She jumped when she heard her mother call, "Tija, don't keep mama waiting." there was a silent warning in the statement that made Tija's feet rush forward into the forest.
The burning sun's warmth did not reach here within the dense thicket, so it was considerably colder than it was where the sun's rays had been. The small twigs and shrubs cracked and crunched beneath the soles of her bare feet, and the tickle of fear crept up her back.
"Tija..." her mother whispered to her left. Tia turned left. "Tija..." she whispered again somewhere further ahead. Tija fallowed the sweet and calm voice of her mother.
Her mind whirled with questions. Was her mother angry with her again? Would her punishment be cruller than the rest why she led her out here? Or was she happy? Was she really and truly happy? Had papa returned to them why she sounded so sweet and loving? Hope, foreign and beautiful grew inside her and her feet began to speed toward where her mother was calling.
Somehow, her mother eluded her, try as she might to find her. Tija twisted her way through the trees, distress beginning to creep in.
"Tija Tjia Tija Tija Tija Tija Tija Tija Tija..." her whispering voice chanted relentlessly. Tija's feet ran, trying desperately to capture her mother, but never finding her where she thought she was before she called her to another direction.
"Tija Tija Tija Tija Tija Tija Tija..." her voice thundered in her ears although she still whispered. Tija ran faster, desperate to find the kind talking woman that sounded like her mother. Tija ran and ran, mother's echoing louder, when suddenly, she broke through the trees and fell into a clearing.
Her aching, bruised body began to scream in protest as she laid there. Her feet were dirty, cracked and bleeding and all her body wanted was for her to fall asleep until it no longer throbbed the way it did. But her foggy mind refused, needing to know what was going on.
Panting, she began to push herself up, noticing little scratches from bush thorns on her bare arms. Finally standing straight on her bleeding feet, Tija walked forward a little, whimpering in pain before stopping and gingerly sitting on the cold grassy floor.
The silence was deafening. Tears prickled her eyes as she listened intently, desperate for her mother's voice to call to her, or better yet, for her to come to her so she didn't have to run any more. Had it all just been an illusion? Had her mother really been calling her or had she just imagined it? Was she asleep? No, the pain was too real for it to be a dream. When you sleep you don't hurt.
She wanted it to be real, for her mother to sound like she didn't want to take the long thin whipping stick to her legs or back or hands. She wanted her to sound like she had when calling to her, kind and happy. Maybe it all was just pretend. Maybe her fantasies of such a mother had taken a life of its own.
The thought made her cry.
As she wept, lamenting and pleading for her father or the kind mother she wished she had, the moon raised high in the sky, making the eyes watching her shine.
"M-mama," she sniffed. "Where are you?"
"Here, my sweet." Tija's head snapped up, her face beaming when she spied her mother. She was smiling, not scowling as she usually did when looking at her daughter. Her dark eyes shone with an emotion that Tija had not seen in such a very long time and suddenly, her pain filled body was forgotten as she ran to her.
As she wound her arms tightly around her mother's waist, resting her head low on her bosom, she prayed to the Black Goat her mother would stay this way forever. The woman's move was so swift she felt no pain, no fear, no surprise. Tija only felt the warmth and comfort of her mother as she passed into the next life.
Viserys watched with a grimace of disgust as the three hags devoured the corpse eagerly. He had seen them eat Illyrio so greedily that the only shock and disgust that came from this kill was the fact that the girl had been so young and they made her death so painless whereas Illyrio had not been lucky.
As if reading his mind, the beautiful hag looked up, her copper skin dark with blood. "She was an innocent child, not even flowered and sweet at heart. She did not deserve pain. She is with her goat god now." she then went back to her meal. Viseys empty stomach churned as he spied the hand of the girl, so small and pale. She was a child, but her life had been pointless and hallow before. Her sacrifice for his army and crown made her life meaningful.
"Your servant was loyal, but he was a very wicked man." said the armoured hag. As usual, the ugliest of them kept silent. The three of them were very different, but each had as much power as the one before her, and he needed all three.
The beautiful hag was every bit as he title suggested. She looked Dothraki, dark inky hair braided down her back, her cheek bones high, her lips full and red, her skin was smooth and without a blemish. She was shorter than he, her hips flaring delightfully and her breasts full and succulent. If Viserys wasn't so disgusted by her and her 'sisters', he would have taken her the day her looks returned to her.
The armoured hag was plain and masculine looking, her face square and her body muscled more than a woman's should be. She was scarred and her nose appeared to have been broken several times and her hands were large and her fingers were crooked. Despite her appearance, he needed her the most.
The ugliest of them, she had stayed the same after eating Illyrio, while the other two changed; the first becoming beautiful the other becoming fuller. Not her. She stayed a rotted corpse.
"So is that offer enough? Will you lead me to the sword now?" Viserys demanded impatiently. How humiliating, asking permission from the three hags of the deep Essos desert. The thought made his fists clench in fury. He was a king, the rightful king! Soon as he got his army and crown, he'd... well, he couldn't kill them, he'd die too...he needed them. More rage bubbled up from his gut.
The beautiful hag lifted her head, daintily whipping her blood smeared mouth on the back of her new robes. She cleared her throat. "Well, my love," she said. She always called him some sort of pet name, and though he was repulsed by what she did, on a beautiful woman's lips it was not so revolting. "This will buy you," she thought a second. "Five soldiers, but they will be weak. This sweet little girl was small and too young, not even a woman. Her body was wounded and fickle." she said this with a sickly sweet voice as she looked down to the girl's pale dead face, brushing her light hair back from her brow.
"But you told me, I'd have my army, when I brought you a sacrifice!" Viserys screamed, his rage bubbling forth. The armoured woman sat up, coming to the offended looking hag's aid.
"You heard what you wanted to hear, Dragon King." she grumbled out. Her voice was like hearing a pubescent boy talking, feminine, but also very male. "Be thankful we came at all to this place." she wrinkled her crooked nose in disgust as she looked around.
"My sweet you need a bigger offer to get Odo's sword." said the beautiful hag. A wicked smile came to her face. The ugliest of them came up from the dead flesh, looking satisfied. She and the other two stood, and when she snapped her too bony fingers, the body sparked and was ablaze with flames. The beautiful hag came before him, her steps so graceful she seemed to slither on her feet.
"Perhaps, my sweetest, most gracious and noble king," she cooed as she leaned her body against his. "Perhaps, you will get us...dragon's blood? The blood of one dragon, will lead you to Odo's sword and his army would take you home to your throne."
sooooo... click the button...do it!...c'mon!... please?...okay, I'm outta here *walks away frustraited*