A Fairy Tale... (Written For Both Wednesday and Thursday)

A very long time ago, in the age of sorcery, was a kingdom, ancient even then. The kingdom was one that had been built through hardship, sweat, blood and tears. It is said that the blood of the battles fought for the land had soaked straight through, staining the ground so that it became brick red. When the winds reared up like angry snakes it seemed like the gods had painted the world with red paint. It was hot and arid in the low lands, but chilly higher up. The buildings were a light orange, made from the red soil, mixed with brown water and left in the sun to dry and bleach. In the exact center of the country was the capital city, and in the city’s exact center was the Palace. The palace that kings, queens, princes and princesses had occupied since the placement of the last stone, their slippers sliding gracefully on blue tile, their elegant hands skimmed black walls and their wise eyes delighted in rare animals, like the blue Ih-jel bird from the south. The broad ornate ceilings had housed great rulers like Tiger Jan and beautiful queen Malah. It had also held terrible rulers, like Tahbet Hul, or the feared and cruel Lady of the Crows. Sometime past the seven hundredth summer of the red realm, the old and beloved King Spider began to die. His reign had been one of peace and tranquility and booming trade. As King Spider lay on the opulent royal death bed, he knew two things, one: his enemies would soon attack his realm, jealous of its riches and angered by how he’d cleverly maintained peace. Two: he had no sons, therefore no one to lead his armies. He had however, one extraordinarily intelligent daughter, who’d been gifted by a share of her mother’s legendary beauty. Her mother had been the famous Queen Ariana, beautiful like the blazing sun and shining moon. She’d died two years previous, having many years before become barren due to birth complications. Their only child was their daughter Drach-Lu. She was known as Little Moon. Little Moon knew her father's concerns. But she knew also that she was not weak, or stupid. She had studied defense under her father’s head general, and spent long afternoons watching the soldiers train in one of the courtyards from her balcony. She knew combat, and she also knew magic. Her grandmother, know as Raven, had taught her for hours, sometimes days, in the hot, fume filled dungeons that were used as a witch’s workshop. Little Moon had learned curses and hexes and spells and blessings. She’d stirred potions and poisons until her arms felt so sore she’d suspected they might fall off. All those around her had trained her to be king. Her father had never really realized this, but even Queen Ariana had schooled her daughter in politics, when she realized she’d never bear a son and that her husband wouldn’t divorce her or take up a concubine. Little Moon was a girl with a destiny, and she knew this well. As her father began the first hours of his agony, she called together all the important officials and wizards and soldiers in the Grand Meeting Hall, tiled with white and gold, the ceilings filled with skylights and pink edges and images of gods and men. She had them wait and begin to slip on the black mourning bands. Little Moon then returned to her father’s, room and held his hand, and listened to his delusions about her mother being in the room with them, and heard him both profess love for her and curse her for not being for a boy. Within two hours the silver death bell rang throughout the city. Men and women fell on the ground wailing for the lost and beloved king, and afraid that Little Moon would see her father’s kingdom torn asunder. Little Moon sat for a while, alone, holding her father’s cooling hand, and shed a few silent tears for him, his big white moustache and his brown skin and how lovely he'd looked on his horse and his ringing laugh. She stood up, and wiped her face. Grieving would come later, but she had a kingdom to save. She walked briskly down to the meeting hall, her hair and coat flying out being her. The talk went on at length, and Little Moon listened carefully and politely to all the ideas about how to defend their kingdom. She sat calmly, head slightly tilted, nodding and looking serious and comprehensive. Finally she cleared her throat and held up her hand for silence, which spread like wildfire throughout the hall, until it was so quiet you’d think they were ghosts instead of men. She had a plan, and she was High Queen now. She told them that they had to create such an intense fear of the Red Realm’s power, and make it so costly in lives and resources to attack them, that no one would dare threaten them. This was something they all knew, but the path to this eluded them. It did not elude Little Moon. “What we need” she said, “is a dragon.” At this, the listeners were both awed and aghast. They all seemed to wail in one pathetic desperate voice “But Princess, sorry, Queen, it cannot be done! There haven’t been dragons in this territory for ages, and we couldn’t tame one if there were! It would be a feat my Queen, and definitely gain us terror and respect! But how…” they would’ve gone on for hours, had Little Moon not raised her hand for silence once again. She had a plan, of course, and had only managed to share half. She knew of a spell, a spell of transformation, which worked only if the heart and intentions were true. And she had golden thread into which the spell could be spun, and then used to sow cloth. Thus, Little Moon, Raven, and hundreds of sorcerers, and enchantresses, and seamstresses and tailors worked for three months, under sun and moon. The gold thread was worked into a great beautiful silky green fabric, and in turned made into a breathtakingly beautiful robe, trimmed with the magically charmed white fur of the Oftun-Gard bears of the cold island countries that resided northward. When it was finished, Little Moon washed her hair, painted her eyes, donned her crown, and slipped on the robe. With the magic words, she went from a beautiful teenage queen to a roaring, scaled monster with acrid, fiery breath. She said the words to undo the spell, slipped of her crown, and smiled. Then she turned to her assistants, who helped her strip herself of the robe. She handed the crown to another assistant and asked that both items be properly stored. She then went to bed for the first time in many, many days. The next day, she began her terrorizing of her enemies. She roasted armies encroaching on the west, clawed and gutted those in the east. She roared through the night above the houses of the southern neighbors, and destroyed buildings in the north. Soon the word of the Dragon on the house of the Spider was known and feared. Thus, Little Moon saved a kingdom, became a great queen and gave an invaluable weapon to monarchs to come. She also gained a new name, as she and her house were then called Empress Dragon.