Saint Tooru
I can finally post my piece for the @hqmythologyzine ! I used the legend of Sant Jordi (Saint George) and the version we tell on Catalonia. For those who doesn’t know what’s about, there’s a dragon involved, a prince and some blood turned roses. If you wanna know more about the legend and how we celebrate it, I’ll be ecstatic to share it with you!
Since this is sort of long, I’m going to post a small excerpt. You can find the whole thing here in ao3.
Saint Tooru
There’s blood on the battlefield, although it won’t be blood for much longer, nor does this cursed middle place deserve the gravity of being called a battlefield.
The crops are tainted red, a massive mountain of muscles and fire and life groaning its pain through this kingdom, through the hundreds yet to come. There’s a knight at its belly, chest swell and sword sharp. The glitter of the setting sun turns his steel into fire. It’s hard to discern where the legend ends and where it begins. Men have always been easily confused by heroes in the depths of tragedy.
The mountain falls. Red blood starts shaping into silky scarlet and protective green. The knight breathes in, breathes out, and as the echoes of the mountain’s death vanish on the vast sky, the knight goes to his knees.
If he cries, no one remembers. Heroes’ tears have no place in fairytales.