The Serpent and the Maiden
There's a list. Everyone has one, even if they don't know it.
It says: "What are you willing to die for?"
If you're lucky, you'll never find out what's on it.
But you’ve never been lucky, and far, far too young, you discover that family is on the top of your father's list, that he'll do anything to protect his family, and you're not considered a part of it.
At the scene of your crime (the charred remains of what was so recently the sitting room), your father raises his voice as your mother pleads with him not to cast you out. Looming over you, he seems impossibly strong. Angry, violent, terrified. Your siblings are cowering, and suddenly you understand that he is not a sword about to strike you down, he's a shield, enveloping them in his protection, protecting his family from harm. But you're not someone to be protected, to him you are the threat, something unpredictable and terrifying. He's shouting at your mother, and something in his voice makes you realize you need to run. That night, the streets are cold and wet, but the dark rain feels oddly comforting and safe.
Stay alive. Alive. Alive.
Nothing is worth dying for.
Your own fear keeps you alive, again and again, even as other people's fear of you places you in danger. People sense your wrongness, somehow, and half the time, you long to cut out the piece of you that doesn't fit, whatever violent truth your father glimpsed in you. But when a piece of cardboard can't keep the chill away on a cold night, you have only your own burning chaos to give you warmth. Your jagged pieces keep you alive, every sharp edge of you propping you up even as you bleed from within.
Safety becomes everything.
And then you meet them. A foolishly fearless, mad group, who brazenly approach the shadiest of criminals, dive headfirst into sewers, throw themselves haphazardly into a den of thieves as though their precious life is a plaything.
But you are clever, you know to listen to fear. You know to hang back, to stay alone, to keep safe. So when they run headfirst into danger, you stay behind. Just a little. Just enough.
And then the sky above you explodes into glass shards, and death descends with daggers drawn. Your fear and your safety seep from your veins, hot and crimson, and then everything goes dark.
And with nothing to gain, they patch you up. Just like that. You awake to a slightly concerned bird inches away from your face, and no one really mentions it again. Not that you stayed behind, not how close you came to dying, and not that they brought you back.
You don't understand them. On a mad, chaotic opening night of your new tavern, a patron faints after drinking a poison you created. And you think this it it, this is where they'll see through you, realize the truth and cast you out. But the halfling in the sparkly dress announces: "Gentlefolk and miscreants, are YOU ready to face the Death Challenge?!" and the crowd cheers. More people line up to drink your concoction, knowing full well its effects.
They know you are dangerous. And yet, you are celebrated.
And you're starting to think that maybe families can be chosen.
A woman catches a glimpse of your scales and spits after you in the street. Leona nonchalantly nudges you and offers to have her arrested. "It's Waterdeep, I'm sure she's done something illegal." You're not sure if she's joking. While Leona's back is turned, Seraphine kicks the woman hard in the shins and steals her purse.
Grimscale ignores the woman completely, but he keeps eyeing your scales. And before you know it, you're all at the edge of town and on the verge of finding actual answers. Even if the road ahead leads you to trouble and old gods and many, many snakes.
And your search for answers brings you right back to the start. But by now, your ancestral home is long abandoned, blood soaked and full of horrors, and it takes Candy approximately three minutes before she's planning "some MAJOR changes to the whole horrid building - look, this area would be PERFECT for a stage". You only half register her saying the words "You know, a large window right here would let in much more light" before Morc has punched a hole in the wall. In the basement, Clara cheerfully assures you that "It's actually much easier to get rid of blood stains than most people think". The next time you return, any ghosts have been scrubbed away. And to be fair, the room is a lot brighter. Robrick carefully slides you a copy of the original floor plan. Just in case.
It's one way of coming home.
But being home is not the same thing as being at peace. And you sense that your wrongness hasn't gone away, no matter how blasé your friends are about the constant chaos that erupts around you. Something has to be done.
And when your path leads you straight to yet another nest of snakes (giant snakes, tiny snakes, a whole sea of them), your sisters try to bribe you with power and riches and that ever-elusive thing they have denied you ever since you were cast out. "Come, sister", they beckon. "Join us!"
And you look at your ridiculous companions, some of whom are still dripping with snake venom, soaked to the bone. And to your beautiful sisters, pulsing with an old magic that's been calling you for years.
"I already have a family", you say. You clutch your staff.
There's a list.