Chapter Text
All good tales begin with some sort of tragedy, don’t they? Well, here’s hoping mine is a good one, then.
I hardly remember a thing about my parents, whenever I try, the memories are hazy and just out of reach, but I remember small details. My father studied at the royal academy, trying to make something of himself; and my mother was always gone in the evenings, after he returned. They tried to live peacefully in a city full of bigots.
That they had to hide what they really were from the rest of the world, should have clued them in to how successful that venture would be. They should have known what would happen when they were discovered, should have known the people in this world were without compassion.
After all, no one trusts a changeling.
No one trusts a rogue either, but what can you do when life deals you a shit hand? I’m not really the type to just sit down and take it, so a life of crime sounded a hell of a lot better than starving in an alley with no one to remember me.
It started small, as things usually do, with picking pockets, nicking things from distracted vendors and shop keeps. Then I started to realize my skills were under utilized, I could be a truly great thief, rather than just a street urchin. I was letting the only valuable thing my parents ever gave me, be wasted with disuse: my blood.
I could be anyone I damn well pleased, get away with anything, as long as I was quick or charismatic enough. But hell, what’s all that to a changeling? I could be small and unassuming, I could appear as not more than a pitiable child, or a halfling. I could have these morons eating out of the palm of my hand!
So I practiced, I spent every moment alone turning into anyone I came across during the day, practiced blending the features together to come up with entirely new people. Watching the way people talked, acted, whispered, lived; learning the nuances of social interaction. What I thought was my greatest weakness, could be the greatest asset I could dream of.
If this world would never see me as more than some shifty monster to be hunted and slaughtered, why do it any favors? Why not take them for everything they had? The selfish, greedy, bigoted pieces of shit didn’t show my parents any mercy, so they sure as hell don’t deserve mine.
I looked out at the Royal City, at all the bustling little creatures going about their business, none the wiser to the viper appraising their nests.
‘It’s my turn.’