A Dragon's Tale

In a far-off land,  

The king was cold but just,  

The queen loved beauty and finer things  

But was kind, and held the people's trust.  

Prince and princess worked the fields,  

No gap between the throne and earth;  

Though some lived in humble hovels,  

Hunger was no longer a curse.  

The castle stood with walls of glass—  

All could see within;  

Yet no one threw a stone to break,  

For no hatred had ever been.  

A lone guard stood by the gate,  

There without duty to fulfil,  

A quiet symbol of royalty,  

In a place so safe and still.  

Then a witch came seeking shelter,  

Bruised and half-burnt,  

With nowhere else to flee;  

Abandoned by her own mother

And the guard saw herself in her. 

The witch  begged the guard 

To let her in—  

Her brother, her father, dead—  

An orphan with no one left,  

No life waiting ahead

The guard’s heart broke, 

And she let her pass;  

The king showed pity and care,  

Offering the witch a place to guard,  

To serve the crown and his heirs.  

The witch cast spells,

The glass turned red,  

Walls thickened, closing tight;  

Roses with iron thorns grew tall—  

A fortress hidden from sight. 

The witch with her half-burnt face,  

Chipped front teeth,  

And honeyed words to say.  

The king felt grateful;  

The queen, displeased—  

But glad for a hidden room,  

Safe from the king’s prying gaze.  

The prince received an iron knight,  

Venturing forth, alone;  

With that magical knight by his side,  

He never returned home.  

The princess drank a love potion,  

Meant for her heart’s desire—  

But instead, fell deep asleep,  

Lost in a dreamland fire.  

The guard saw it all, warned the witch—  

But the witch laughed, sneered:  

"They don’t need you anymore,"  

With anger and desperate fear,

The guard drew her sword to cut the vines;  

The witch cried out in feigned alarm—  

"The guard’s gone mad! 

She breaks our wards!"  

And the king took her post away.  

Now the guard, demoted low,  

Served the queen, cloaked in grief;  

Yet the witch’s hatred grew,  

Her malice simmered beneath.  

She poisoned minds and the land

And soon enough,  

The hungry people threw stones high;  

One struck the queen, who cried in pain—  

And the rebels were cast aside

With witch's magical sway

And the queen was pleased, 

Much to the guard's dismay.

Then the witch hid bees  

In the queen’s cup,  

Their stings sharp on her majesty’s brow;  

The witch turned, blamed the guard,  

Turning light to shadow.  

The guard was cast out,  

And lies spread far and wide—  

One rebel in the cell was claimed  

To have died by the guard’s own hand,  

Or so the people cried.  

They stoned the guard,  

Tied her down to a stake,  

No one heeds her word.  

Just as they lit the fire,

The witch came close to the guard,

Disguised in a black veil,

To rescue the abandoned.

The witch's twisted grip held firm,

Her whispered words dark and low:

“We are the same,” she said,

Stroking the guard's dishevelled hair.

“We protected those

Who would rather burn us bare,

 Still, why do you care?”

The guard trembled, though safe now,  

For each touch burnt—  

Each stroke a searing pain,  

Each whisper darker and dire

Promising tales of eternal servitude 

In hellfire.

Then the witch cut the guard’s hair,

Gave her a smiley mask to hide her face,

Bestowed a new name,
Led her to the castle,
Claiming her as heir.

The king had lost his mind,
After slaying his unfaithful wife.
The witch ruled with an iron fist,
Brutally massacring rebels,
Teaching her heir to float above bloodshed,
To dance in the shadows of fallen foes,
To crush a rose until it bled.

Each petal a lesson in betrayal,
Each thorn, a reminder of pain.
She made her heir recite the unholy code:
“To love is to kill, to trust is to lose,
To cry is to fail, to fail is to die.”

The heir parroted those words,
Though a voice inside her roared to stop,
A spark of fire flickering in the dark.
The witch offered her heir the best of the best—
Freshly poisoned apples,
Venomous snakes as pets.
Her power cloaked in terror,
Yet beneath it all,
The witch feared the fragile humans
Who smiled genuinely at her heir.

On those days, she starved the heir,
Then fed her rusty nails,
A twisted game of power and pain.

Yet in quiet hours,
The heir dreamed of freedom,
Where love didn’t bind,
Where trust didn’t betray.
Holding onto whispers of hope,
An ember of defiance,
A will to escape.

One night, the heir threw away her mask

 And set fire to the witch’s rose garden,
The guard’s bold act met with a cruel fate.
Locked away in a dungeon of grey,
With a grilled window facing eternal night,
The stench of decay and dead bodies lay.

But a firefly entered, burning bright,
Like a thousand shining stars.
“Who are you?” asked the guard.
“I am you,” said the firefly,
“For my fire is born from the fire within you,
A spark of your spirit, a flame breaking through.”

Then the firefly sang of guardians bold—
Dragons with scales of shimmering gold,
Wings that could soar and breathe heaven's fire.

“Where is my dragon? Where is my saviour?
Where was it when they tied me to the stake?
Where was it when I vomited in shame
After my first kill, my heart nearly pulled out?”
The guard, with resentment,
Tried to swat the flame,
But it slipped through the darkness
And she missed the light.
Yearning for warmth, she felt despair rise.

The next day,
A glowing worm graced the eternal night,
On one of those decaying bodies.
“Are you too born of my fire?” the guard asked with a sigh.
“Yes,” said the worm softly, “it’s true.”
In that moment, a truth struck her clear,
The fire she sought was already hers.
“How do I get my fire?” she inquired.
“Embrace the darkness, let your pain arise,
For fire is born not from light alone,
But from the ashes of battles fought, won, and lost.

Learn to love, learn to trust, learn to cry, learn to fail—
Break the chains that bind your soul.
In the depths of despair, find your roar,
For only then can you unlock the door.”

With each whispered word, strength ignited,
A flicker within her.
For the first time in forever, she let her tears spill,
Chose to trust the glowing worm,
To find the flame within that burned with love and light.

The guard’s body grew as the dungeon shrank small,
Golden scales shimmered,
Sharp nails like swords.
Dungeon walls trembled, broke with a sound,
As the castle toppled, crashing down to the ground.

With a mighty roar, the guard made her stand,
Magical sentinels charged with spears in hand,
But they fell with a thud, efforts in vain,
Not even a scratch on the dragon’s thick hide.

Then the witch appeared, her face filled with dread,
“How could you unlearn what I taught?” she said.
“How could you be ungrateful? I raised you!”
The dragon paused.
“I saved you!” the witch yelled.
The dragon, with fury, summoned her fire,
But only black smoke rose.
The witch broke out into sarcastic coughs
And sneered,
“A dragon without fire is just an oversized dog.”
But the dragon stood tall, spirit ablaze,
Determined to conquer--

 Even though she failed,

With one final effort, she focused her might,
The witch stood her ground,
Confident as if she had already won the fight.
Out came the fire, a brilliant display—
Heaven’s fire erupted,
Banishing everything owned by night..

And then, there was light.

Tagging @BastionKnight —I’m not sure if it’s a positive muse, but it does have a positive ending! 

@withpeACE  I took a leaf out of your book and tried to channel my inner strength and hope