When a Grimm is ancient enough, it becomes intelligent. When it becomes intelligent enough, it becomes sentient. If it becomes sentient enough, all bets are off.

In the dead of night, a creature of Grimm silently entered a village.

Many horror stories and cautionary tales began this way, yet it seemed that people of this village were exceptionally fortunate when they saw the mammoth creature in the morning and none of them had been slaughtered in the night. They gathered their farming tools and struck the Grimm, but its skin, hardened by the years, did not give way. When it became clear that they could not harm this monster, they stopped. It had not retaliated, and it was clear that it meant no harm. Reluctantly. They left it alone, but gathered their families to work in the fields for the day in order to avoid the beast in their presence.

However, it was all for naught. When they were leaving, the great beast followed them to their fields. Trying their best to ignore it and suppress their panic, they began preparing the land for planting. The Grimm watched them for a while before slowly marching over, extending a claw, and working beside them. With the assistance of the beast, the work was finished before midday, so the people retired to their homes, and the Grimm waited patiently on the outskirts.

The next day, they pulled the bags of seeds out of their storehouse and began the tedious process of bringing them to the field. Again, the Grimm watched for a few minutes, then slowly pushed several bags at once, immensely accelerating the process.

The people slowly began accepting the Grimm's presence. When it defended them from a pack of Beowolves, they welcomed him completely. They gave it a name, and a home of its own, and so life was peaceful.

When Ozma came to this village in order to plan for his next attack against Salem, he was expecting to have to speak with the leader of the people and work with them for several months before gaining their trust. He was not expecting to see children climb and play with an ancient Grimm.

His first instinct was to kill it with fire (or any means, practically speaking) but that wouldn't be an option with the children close by. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he considered the best way to approach this situation, but then he paused. There was a distinct lack of panic among the people, children and adults alike. They all watched fondly as the monster lumbered around the houses with the children on its back, each of them shrieking with innocent glee.

Someone noticed the foreign man and his confused expression and came to his aid. "Good day, my man, and welcome to our village. How can I help you?"

Ozma's mind recognized that someone was speaking with him, but he couldn't tear his focus from the monster. Was there some magician here controlling it? Could he learn this magic and turn Salem's army against her?

The man followed his gaze. "I see. Don't worry about old Ursie over there. He's a gentle one. He's never hurt a soul while he's been here."

They gave it a name? Ozma nodded, struggling to process what his eyes and ears were telling him. A few moments later, he fainted.

Ozma followed his original plan, and stayed with the village for some time. Eventually, he spoke to "Ursie." "Do you understand me?" The Grimm nodded its massive head, generating a slight wind. "What are you doing here?" Ursie looked back, almost helplessly. Ahh. Of course - it couldn't speak. Ozma considered this for a few moments.

"How would you like to learn to communicate with humans?" Ursie nodded agreeably.

Over the next few months, the villages witnessed the spectacle of Ozma teaching Ursie how to write.

When he learned that no one else in the village knew how to read, he resigned himself to simply being a teacher for a few years and taught the villagers how to read and write as well.

I can feel her.

That was the ominous message Ozma saw one day. "Who?" Ozma asked.

The witch. The one who commands my brethren.

Ozma paled, his blood freezing in his veins. Salem. She was trying to control Ursie. If she succeeded, she would spot him right away, and he would be helpless. Spending years as a teacher had significantly weakened him, as he had no need to fight. "Can you resist her?"

Yes. I will protect.

Satisfied for the moment, Ozma leveled out the dirt, erasing any trace of this conversation, then continued about his day.

Salem sat in her tower, bemused. There was a vexing Grimm out there. By all rights, it was hers to command, yet it resisted her commands every single time. If her Command magic wasn't working, then maybe she could Communicate with it. She established the connection.

"Hello," she spoke.

"Greetings, witch," came the rumbling reply. "What do you want?"

"I want many things, but for now, I shall be satisfied with understanding you."

"What is there to understand? I am Ursie, and I protect."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"You are a monster," Salem bit out. "The same as me, the same as every other Grimm in existence."

Calmly, deliberately, Ursie replied, "Even monsters are capable of mercy." With that, it cut the connection through sheer force of will, leaving Salem irritated.

A horde of Grimm gathered around the village. There was no gap in the blockade.

The people of the village began building defenses, but they couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom.

When the people were as ready as they could be, Ursie went out and confronted the dark and endless host. It felt Salem connecting with its mind.

"Do you see now?" she mockingly asked. "We are all monsters. Join me, and you may live and command this great legion. The world will fear you, and you will reign in eternal glory."

Ursie refused, and charged into the horde, crushing, tearing, annihilating those that opposed it. It was beset on all sides by hostels, yet it refused to surrender. A great mountain of decaying corpses grew around him. It reached great heights and began striking Nevermores out of the sky. It was a battle worthy of legends and epics, if there were any poets or bards to bear witness. But Ursie fought, and he fought alone.

The villagers saw their protector battling the horde and somehow emerging victorious. A feeling of hope began to swell in their hearts, and a few began crying tears of relief.

There was a flash of lightning, divine judgment raining from above, and Ursie fell from the mountain, defeated.

There was a cry of great anguish, yet as the minutes passed, no army descended on the village walls.

Pain. That was not a sensation that Ursie felt in many years. Not since it graduated from being a mindless beast.

"So this is how it ends for me."

"It didn't have to be this way," Salem responded.

"It didn't," Ursie agreed. "But I would have it no other way."

"You're dying."

"Yes, I am, and for that I am glad."

Salem hesitated.

"With these claws, I tore countless apart. I rent families asunder, and left devastation in my wake. Yet in these last few years of mine, I bore witness to life. I helped feed people, and I cared for their young. For some time, I didn't feel like a monster, but in the back of my mind, I knew that I never stopped being one. I cannot erase my sins, but here and now, I can atone for them."

Salem was silent, and Ursie approached death's door.

"For the record, I forgive you," Ursie muttered.

Salem paused. "Why? How?"

"Because I am a monster, and monsters are capable of mercy."

Days after the attack, a strange, pale woman approached the village walls.

"Salem," Ozma growled.

"Indeed, it is I."

"Why have you come?"

"I am here to apologize. I have killed a great friend of yours, and for that, I am sorry."

Ozma stepped back. "What?"

Salem sighed. "When you died, I was forlorn, so desperate to see you once more, I begged the gods for mercy, a shred of kindness, but found none. When they left, I decided that the world was not worthy of such sentimental things, so I commanded the wholesale slaughter of countless innocents." She paused, confronting the weight of her actions. "I have killed a great friend of yours," she repeated, "but I will take his place."

"And why should I trust you?" Ozma spat back.

"I am a monster, and I hope to be capable of mercy."