Many know the story of the five headed goddess of the dragons. Of the primordial well from which all dragons were birthed, a being forged in hate and cast in malice: Tiamat. They say her cruelty is unmatched anywhere except the deepest pits of the Hells, though some would say it was in those pits she was birthed.
Fewer know of her greatest enemy, Bahamut, a silver beacon that stands alone against the tyranny of the Dragon Queen. Were it not for him, Tiamat would've destroyed our world a half thousand times over. While Tiamat is anger, malice, hatred, Bahamut is compassion, generosity, love.
Only two know their truth of their origins. Tiamat once had six heads.
The white head was the dullest, for her head was filled with bestial rage and a chill streak ran in her blood. She was vicious like a starving beast.
The green head was a natural liar. That every word that left her lips was a lie was the only guaranteed truth about her was her venomous tongue.
The black head was cruel and sadistic. She took great joy in torture, playing with her prey like half-interested cat. Even her mere presence would sting like bitter acid.
The blue head was vain and arrogant, her scales little more than mirrors for her to gaze upon herself with, a conduit for her electrifying self-importance.
The red head had a fiery temper and a greed that could not be sated by all of the gold in the universe. They say she swallows clouds and exhales smoke.
And finally, the gray head was the wisest and most powerful of them all. She had a contingency for every outcome and layers of plans within plans. But strangest of all, while the other heads were at best ambivalent about mortals, the gray head took great interest in them. She would demand worship. She needed their love.
When Tiamat was young, the heads were in agreement. The young world was her toy. Seas were frozen solid, swamps choked with toxic miasma, plains drenched in acid, deserts scarred by lightning-glass, and entire forests reduced to little more than ash. The mortals of that time, barely able to work stone and flint, looked upon the six headed dragon with utter fear. She looked back at them with unending contempt.
The gods, both high and low, feared Tiamat. An accord was struck, a deal unlike any before or after it. They whispered to the gray head in its sleep. Taught her love and empathy. Taught her that she could make the mortals love her, truly love her, not just fear her.
The gray head would begin to bicker and argue with the other five. Wanton destruction was fun, yes, but it was unnecessary. A needless waste of energy. The other heads listened at first, but hatred was Tiamat's blood. For her, destruction was inevitable.
The gray head eventually tried to stop the other five. The insult was so personal, so grave, such an affront to their very nature that their rage boiled the earth. At once, the five bit down upon the gray head's neck, severing it from the body.
The head, now free from she who's hate was ancient when the world was young, would take up the name Bahamat, growing a new body and wings, and his scales shifting from lifeless gray to glorious platinum. He vowed to stand as the world's guardian against Tiamat.
The blood that dripped from the fresh wound would form eggs upon the surface of the world. From these eggs the first dragons would hatch, and these dragons, each a fraction of Tiamat's endless rage, would torment the world much like their mother, but they were lesser than her even with their number. And at times, a dragon would hatch with the same compassion and love as Bahamut.
Bahamut would lock Tiamat in a prison of his own making. He was weaker than the Dragon Queen, but he was smarter, and the Dragon Queen's rage was easy to manipulate. Her cults, formed by the gray head in Tiamat's youth, still seek to free her, to return the world to the days when her primordial fire would bathe the world in fear. Their efforts were in vain. Tiamat, even freed, would never be the terror she once was.
The five headed dragon was a mere fraction of the six headed dragon. The wound never stopped bleeding, a permanent reminder of the rift between the heads. Each day the red head cauterizes it, but it does not change that the heads now rarely agree, only bound by their common hatred of the Platinum Dragon.
They say if you are unlucky enough to bear witness to the Dragon Queen, you can see the heads shuffling, as if hiding an embarrassing secret. They also say that Bahamut never shows the end of his tail, for the one time he did it was as if a blade had freshly severed the tip, a flat end slick with fresh blood.
The truth is now known only to the Dragon Queen and the Platinum Dragon.
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This alternate dragon creation myth was born of an idea I want to talk about soon relating to dragon colors being defined by their personality, rather than the other way around. Tiamat and Bahamut don't exist in my worlds, so I wrote this more for fun and practice than anything, but I do think it's an interesting idea and I think it has a proper mythological feel to it.
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