Edited by: Ravensgryff

(1099 A.D.)

I opened the window and allowed myself to breathe in the Mediterranean air. It was easy to see why so many battles were fought to gain control of this coastal city. He had ruled it under the flag of King Alfonso, but in reality, Valencia was fully independent; he had created a unique city that was both Christian and Muslim. He had also made the French bishop, Jérôme the archbishop of this city; the revered archbishop was soon to be quite busy.

‘El Cid Campeador is dead!’ Those were the distressed wails that echoed through every street and every home here in Valencia. El Cid Campeador was not his real name, it was a mere title that made him seem larger than life; his true name was Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar, a Mudblood. I cared not for the man; I had my own reason for serving under his army and submitting to his leadership.

I picked up my chalice and drank to his death. Sera had completed her task, and did it well. Sera was no ordinary viper; potions and magic had enhanced her poisonous venom. I kept her in a stone urn inside my room. She had always been eager to do my bidding; it had not been difficult for her to slither into Rodrigo and Ximena’s room to end my rival’s life.

Yes, Rodrigo was dead and Ximena would need a bit of comfort; comfort which I fully intended to offer.

I walked to my bureau and picked up a golden locket; I caressed its serpentine symbol. It would be an easy task to make her believe that it was a final gift from her dead husband. This simple trinket would be my key to securing Ximena and the City of Valencia for myself.

The following day, the man called Minaya Alvar Fánez, nephew and second in command to Rodrigo, and a thorn in my side, continued to eye us suspiciously. I barely heard him as he talked about the ‘Almoravid’ army that was headed towards our city. I fingered ‘Tizona’, Rodrigo’s blade, as it hung by my right hip. It was made from pure Damascus steel, a Wizard’s blade. A blade that only a Wizarding sword smith could create; no creatures of filth could ever hope to create such a masterpiece. What a sacrilege it had been to allow a Mudblood like Rodrigo to wield it.

Fánez would take care of the ‘Almoravids’. After all, the heroic fool would not allow harm to come to his Aunt Ximena and his cousins, Cristina and Maria.

I stood by the window, Ximena pressed beside me, eyes glassy and contented. Fánez led our army further north, to meet General Masdali and his Almoravid army. I watched as those little insignificant dots clashed upon one another. I watched our numbers dwindle; although Fánez was a capable soldier and general, he was not El Cid. Dark velvet curtains drew to a close, I wished to see no more.

The fool, Fánez, had returned from that ill-fated battle, wounded. Useless Muggle dirt! He had failed to stop Masdali and his Almoravid army. Yet, I am no fool; I doubt that I could have won the battle where Fánez had failed. Those Moors feared El Cid Campeador, but he was dead. I cursed this fate: What was the point of Rodrigo’s death if I could not rule Valencia?

I pulled out the Tizona; a magical blade to put an end to a magical creature. Many had wondered how such a frail looking creature like Babieca carried Rodrigo through so many victories. Those filthy delusional fools could not even see that Babieca was a unicorn cleverly disguised as a horse. Ximena had been instrumental in hiding this creature’s true nature.

I surely hoped that Sera was right about the ancient ritual to raise the dead. I had heard of such spells performed by ancient wizards, yet the process had been lost. Sera claimed that this plenitude of knowledge lost to humans had continually been passed through the generations of her kind. Unicorn’s blood was needed for this business of raising the dead.

She came at an inopportune time; she saw me use her husband’s blade to kill Babieca. I had to explain my plan to her, I had no choice, I could not afford for her to call attention to my activities. Because she too wanted to save Valencia from the invading Moors, she volunteered to help. I thought it to be a golden opportunity, for Ximena was a very powerful and talented witch. I was wrong.

A soft ocean breeze ruffled my hair; I sniffed the air with appreciation, enjoying the fresh salty scent. The fighters who had been assigned to the foremost trenches were settled in place. The remainder of the men, both cavalry and foot soldiers, were spread out strategically. They were well-hidden by a heavy growth of tall sea grasses and thicker brush that lined the upper edges of the dunes that led down to the sea on both sides. Everything seemed quiet and peaceful, if all went well, we’d be hauling the enemies’ bodies to the sea at the end of the day.

The silence was broken, as horses and men sprang to life; hundreds of thundering hoof beats shook the ground beneath them as if an earthquake were about to ensue. Masdali had arrived.

A slight nod was all that I needed; an all too familiar figure emerged from one of the trenches. El Cid and Babieca charged forward, ducking a battle mace that whizzed by, so close. ‘El Cid Campeador’ had returned from the dead. I observed as Masdali’s face paled, fear evident in his eyes. The same could be said for his men. In a war, although numbers are an advantage, it is strategy and psychology that wins a battle, with this simple blow, the return of The Cid, we won.

True, we managed to raise both Rodrigo and Babieca from the dead; Rodrigo - El Cid Campeador, an Inferius, drove back the Almoravid army. Valencia was safe once more. Yet, I had not won.

Maybe it was because that spell to raise Babieca from the fires of Hades took too much from me that my spell upon Ximena was broken. Maybe it was the sight of her dead husband, or even her horror at our deed. Whatever it was, Ximena was released from my spell and the traitorous woman confessed everything to that know-it-all cretin of a priest, Jérôme.

Needless to say, the archbishop, being the narrow minded creature of filth that he was, gave me a choice: to give up witchery or leave Valencia forever.

Ximena came to take back ‘Tizona’ and to return my golden locket. She cursed me, claimed that I did not understand love and that love would be the force to cause my downfall, and that of my descendants.

I have no doubt that Ximena is a powerful witch, and this curse may be a very powerful one. My hand is clasped tightly upon the locket. This locket overcame Ximena once, it can act as a shield to protect myself and my future descendants from this curse. As long as my family holds this locket, Ximena’s spell will not be able to touch us.

I pack the last of my things as I prepare to leave Valencia. I have no wish to remain anyway. Ximena has disappointed me in her weakness; the woman willingly submitted to that Muggle’s demand and gave up witchery. I had watched as she sent Rodrigo and Babieca to ride off to the sea and vowed never to raise them again. She is weak and it will not be long before Valencia falls. I have no desire to rule upon a doomed city.

As I walk away, I heard the Archbishop’s voice - the delusional fool re-counted our victory. He claimed that his God had blessed the city; the clever ploy of strapping ‘El Cid's’ dead body on Babieca worked to drive away out invaders. I laughed at this, laughed at how those cretins foolishly believed him. Typical of Muggle fools, they prefer to settle for the mediocre superfluous explanations of small-minded cretins. However, they are no longer my concern.

I am Niccolo Gaunt, descended from the great Salazar Slytherin, in the end, it is I who will prevail; I, who will survive.

1. Damascus steel - The original Damascus steel swords may have been made in the vicinity of Damascus, Syria, in the period from 900 to as late as 1750. Damascus steel is a type of steel alloy that is both hard and flexible, a combination that made it ideal for the building of swords. It is said that when Damascus made swords was first encountered by Europeans during the Crusades it garnered an almost mythical reputation—a Damascus steel blade was said to be able to cut a piece of silk in half as it fell to the ground, as well as being able to chop through normal blades, or even rock, without losing its sharp edge. For reasons that are not entirely clear, the process was then lost to the Middle-Eastern metalsmiths around 1750, and has been eagerly sought by many since that time. (I just thought that it’ll fit that the process was lost in the 1750’s, because the Muggle and Wizard world has started to separate by then.)

2. Tizona - El Cid's sword "Tizona" can still be seen in the Army Museum (Museo del Ejército) in Madrid. Soon after his death it became one of the most precious possessions of the Castilian royal family. In 1999, a small sample of the blade was subjected to metallurgical analysis which partially confirmed its provenance as probably having been made in Moorish Cordoba in the eleventh century, although the report does not specify whether the larger-scale composition of the blade identifies itself as Damascus steel.

3. Babieca - El Cid's his famous war-horse, a white stallion. The name means 'stupid'. As the story goes - Rodrigo choose this frail looking horse above the strong looking one and his uncle stated that it was incredibly stupid of him ... thus the name.

4. Legend of El Cid - Legend has it that after El Cid died he was strapped onto his horse and ridden into battle. The enemy was so afraid of the invincible rider that they all went back to their boats and El Cid won the battle, dead, on a horse.

Author's Notes:

I initially wanted to use this Myth for the History-Mythology challenge, but after a bit of research I realized that the story had so many Christian connotation (and might not work due to MNFF rules) – Good thing I’m still able to use a bit my previous research for this challenge. :)

El Gaunt Herencia means 'The Gaunt Heirloom' - don't you just love how Spanish makes it sound a lot more interesting?