Hello, sweet children. Have you come to hear my fairytale today? Why, I’m ever so glad. I have so few visitors. Of course, that will change soon. Yes, very very soon. I’m keeping a tally after this meeting, in fact. But that is besides the point; I only wish to tell my little fables in peace.

Oh? You say this is the first time hearing my tales? Well then… perhaps this will be interesting! Please, come, sit by my fire, sit by the chair. Let us all indulge in a few lovely little tales…

Of course, you must have seen the sign. Now, I must ask before we start, do you have any questions? Ah, yes, what does ‘Grimdark’ mean? Do you know that darkness when your dear parents turn off the lights at night, and leave you all alone? That emptiness that is left behind as you find yourself lying awake, wishing to sleep? That is what Grimdark means, and what is contained in my stories.

What am I? Well, I am handsome, charming, twisted, grim; I am, in every respect, a trickster and fiend; I am a thief, salesman, actor, storyteller, lover, fighter, savior, and martyr; but, to answer the question in the way you wish, I am a human. I stand on two legs and I smile on one face. I have fingers and toes and a nose and a grin. Truly, am I all that different within?

Why the fire? Well, it gets quite chilly in my little home here. It is nice to stay warm here. Don’t you all agree that warmth is so much better than the cold? In fact, warmth is so good, that shall be the focus of our first story!

And here is my book now. “Tales Of The Bard,” by, of course, The Bard! And, of course, The Bard is me. These stories are all my own - and, yet, you might recognize some of these fables. At least, you may at first.

All those of weakened hearts, leave whilst you can. Those who are strong hearted… Welcome to the show! It’s time for our first tale… “The Firebird”.

*~*~*~

There was once a young dragon, hardly more than a child. He was raised by ponies, under one of the great lords of the land. But, these were not the lands you sweet, naive children know. No, these were dark times of greed and hunger. The powerful queen held power over all. The dragon was her slave, and hated her greatly. He was not strong enough to overthrow the mare, however. As I said, he was but a child.

One day, the queen called him to her quarters. He found her, draped in cloth, gazing out her window. In her magical grasp, she held a single flaming feather. He gasped as he saw it. She twirled it around in her magic, smirking softly. “It is beautiful,” the White Queen said. “I wish to own the source.”

The queen handed him the feather for him to examine. He turned it around in his hands, examining it closely. It felt soothingly warm to the touch, though not hot enough to burn. “And where is the bird that has left behind this feather, Milady?”

The queen held out her hand, gesturing to a high mountain on the kingdoms far borders. “The Firebird has nested at the summit. Bring me the bird, and bring me him alive. I want him at my side in one weeks time.”

The dragon child was outraged. “The summit is a week away; I can never get back in that time!”

“You will find my bird,” the queen said, turning towards him. “You will find it, and you will bring it to me in a weeks time. If not, I will personally drag you back to this kingdom, form a great bonfire, and feast on the meat of a dragon child the night I roast you alive. Now go, and find me my bird!”

The dragon sighed, walking out after bowing to the queen. How would he make it back in time? “I had best move on,” he said, dejected. “I must find my way, and quickly.”

The child made a pack and gathered the few things he required. In the pack, he stuck the feather of the bird he looked for, as a constant reminder of the duty he now was forced to perform. He set off from the castle of the White Queen, his destination the great mountain.

The journey was a long one. He made his way throughout the wide kingdom, stopping only for rest and small bits of food. He caught wild rabbits, and being the carnivore he was, he ate them raw along the way. The blood that dripped from the still squirming animals onto his chin became a grim mask of warning to any he came across. He was left unbothered for most of his journey. For 4 days and 4 nights, the dragon traveled, seeing naught but villages and grassland as it slowly shifted to a desert like landscape.

Late the 4th night of his journey, the dragon came across a mare, cloaked in tattered rags. She stumbled towards him, obviously weak from exhaustion. He, being taller than the mare as he was a dragon, looked down on her as she stumbled to his feet. “P-please,” the woman croaked out in a raspy voice. “Please, spare me a thought, traveller. I have walked a long way, and I am so… so terribly thirsty…”

The dragon looked her over. She could be a thief, or worse. Living with the queen had taught him of the manipulative powers of greed however, and he had nothing on him of value. She could be a murderous mare, but as he knew his quest to be doomed anyways by a time limit he could not possibly survive, death was not unquestionable. She could be a temptress, but a crone as her could not will him for any bidding. Thinking it through, he shrugged off his pack and gave her his canteen.

The mare turned it up, taking only a small sip before returning it to the dragon. “Thank thee, kind sir… I will not drink of much, as you need it on your journey… Take this, please, as my appreciation, and let it serve as a reminder for you today.” Reaching into her cloak, she pulled out a single, flaming feather. The dragon took it from her hoof, finding it as warm to the touch as the other feather. When he looked up again, the mare was gone.

The dragon shrugged. The meeting had only wasted his already precious time. He traveled onwards, now with two flaming feathers stuck in his pack.

Another day passed, another night came. He had reached the base of the mountain in the daylight, and had climbed to a reasonable height as moonlight peaked. He took a moments rest as he walked into a dimly lit cave. The flaming quills he possessed helped to light his way.

He walked further into the cavern, until he came across a pair of skeletons. They each had a pack, and both were simply sitting there. One wore a blue cap, and the other a red. The skeleton with the blue cap held a scroll in one hand, and the one wearing red held a sword.

The dragon tilted his head as he looked at the pair. Somehow, this felt… odd. He had an urge to check both packs - they might have climbing tools to make his journey easier. However, why were there skeletons here, of all places? Instead, his eyes turned to the sword. He could kill his way through any enemies he encountered. But, couldn’t he do that already?

Unable to leave the scene undisturbed, the dragon picked up the scroll. He unfurled it, and out came another flaming feather, its light having been hidden by the thick scroll. He glanced at what the message contained.

“You who have sought not money nor power, and instead looked to hold knowledge in your hands, is by far smarter than those who preceded thee and proceed thee even now. Take heart in the knowledge of your blazing mind, and let this quill light the path to the knowledge you hold.”

The dragon added the feather to the others. He now had three feathers. He smiled as he felt their warmth in the cold cavern. They kept him safely warm in the cold embrace of winter as it creeped ever closer to the kingdom. He loved their warmth. What a shame the bird whose lovely feathers would become slave, as he was, to the cruel tyrant.

The night was passing on, and it was the dawn of the sixth day. The dragon, having worked fast, had cut a day off his total; he reached the summit in only 6 days. However, he knew he would need 6 days to return, well past the time the queen wished him to return by. How futile a task.

Upon the summit, the old crone sat. Beside her was a blue and red cap. The dragon shook as he felt a cold breeze, the same which had blown the feather that started this fool journey with a feather in a window. “Kind traveller,” the crone said, her voice now beautiful as a crackling fire. “You have made it to my summit.”

“Where is the Firebird,” the dragon asked, confused. “I must see him.”

“There is no him here, child.” In a burst of flame, the cloak disappeared, revealing a beautiful mare underneath. Her mane was made of smoke, and her body of flame. Her hooves were painted ashen, and her eyes burned hottest of all in a iridescent blue. “I am the Firebird,” the mare said, bowing her head as she spread far her wings of flame. “Why do you seek me?”

The dragon was in awe of her beauty. He fell to his knees. “Fair Firebird,” he said, “I have come to take thee to my mistress. She begs to own thee as she owns me.”

“What do you think, Dragon?”

“I do not know, Milady. I only obey.”

“Look to my feathers. They know more than any can say.”

The dragon plucked the last feather he had received from his pack, staring at it closely. It represented the knowledge he had gained through his life. The dragon was in truth quite knowledgeable. All the books the queen found boring, he found fascinating. He read any chance he had. He knew just as much as the queen.

He plucked the second feather he had received. It represented his generosity, kindness, and altogether his ability to be reasonable. The queen was ruthless where he saw mercy. Justice was quick for her, while justice was flawed for him. He understood opportunity far better than the queen ever did.

The first feather he had ever received was the last plucked. As he watched it, the fire began to burn inside him. He felt anger. Rage. The queen had ruled him all his life, since he was a babe. He felt the rage warm him inside, much as the feathers had in the caverns. He smirked as he realized, slowly, what he wanted.

“I want to take you back to the queen. I want us to kill her.”

The mare smiled. “As you wish, as you have seen in the three feathers, so shall be done. Grab hold the trails of my smoke, and we shall be there in but a fortnight.” The dragon smirked and did as the mare asked, holding onto her tail. The mare flapped her great wings and flew off into the sky, the dragon trailing behind. He held tightly onto her tail as they sped across the kingdom, crossing over land and sea and everything between. They neared the castle as night broke, and soon landed on the very balcony where this tale began.

The White Queen stood tall, taller than even the dragon. “Is this my Firebird, child?”

The mare stepped forward. “I am the Firebird, but I am not yours.”

The White Queen scoffed. “Many have tried to dethrone me. Many have failed. You will be mine, creature.”

The dragon took a step back from the Firebird as the room grew hotter. The Firebird lifted her wings, her blue eyes blazing with heat. The White Queen tried to stand tall, but the room quickly became stifling. The mare stepped forward, the ground beneath her hooves charred. “You will not own me, woman! You will burn for your greed!”

Beneath her, the floor burst into flame. The mare was lost as the heat and warmth grew. It became so hot, it felt as though the sun itself burned in the room. The fires spread all around. The queen shrieked as the flames clung to her body, burning her fur and setting her aflame. The dragon watched in awe and fear as the White Queen became black with ash and burnt blood.

The fires spread uncontrolled. The dragon cried out in fear as he found the door locked - the flames blocked the balcony. He felt the flames reach his body. He felt warmth. He felt pain.

“Let this serve as a lesson,” he heard the Firebird for the last time. “Revenge is best served when the fires of anger have cooled.”

The entire castle burned down, and the Firebird flew home, free again to teach her lessons.

Author's Note

Ah, a tragic story to start us off. What a lovely tale. Revenge is a dish best served cold~