The Serpent's Slave, Part One

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Fan Fiction (Forgotten Realms)
Rating: PG

Summary: A young man leaves his home and his broken heart behind, determined to forge his own path. This story is set in the Forgotten Realms, a Dungeons and Dragons world. I wrote it as the background story for a character that I never really got the chance to play...
~

Aviram stalked through the crowded streets of Hlondeth, heedless of his surroundings. The serpentine statues, the green marble that glinted everywhere and the constant smell of salt air were so familiar that he scarcely noticed them.

He did not pause until he reached his destination--an aging marble mansion in a quiet section of the city. It was not as showy as the noveau-riche monstrosities that dominated the more fashionable districts. No, this house had the restrained dignity that only old money could muster.
The house also lacked the endless snake carvings of the newer mansions. The family who lived here had no need to prove their yuan-ti heritage. They were too secure in their bloodlines to bother carving serpents everywhere.

The guards at the gate recognized Aviram and admitted him without question. Then the kobold slave who served as a butler greeted him at the door.

“Shall I announce you to her Ladyship?” the small, lizard-like creature asked in Draconic.

Aviram shook his head. “No, thank you. I’ve come to see Tirtza. I’ll announce myself.”

The kobold nodded and stepped out of his way. Aviram headed toward the sound of a harp that was wafting from a withdrawing room. He flung the doors open and stepped inside.

Tirtza was standing at her instrument, her fingers caressing the strings. Her dark hair was tied back in a severe braid, but that only complimented her slanted, serpentine features. Avi stopped abruptly, captivated. He couldn’t help himself—in his eyes the yuan-ti were endlessly alluring.

Tirtza was a pureblood. She could pass for human if she chose. But in Hlondeth there was no need for such a masquerade. The yuan-ti were rulers here—not a despised and distrusted enemy.

Aviram had a slight serpentine cast to his own features. His grandmother's blood had given him the yuan-ti-like slant to his amber eyes and the dark hair that matched Tirtza's. But his grandmother's blood wasn't enough. Too much human blood ran through his veins.

He sighed and shook himself. Then he pulled a package of letters out of his haversack. “This must stop, Tirtza,” he said. His voice was gentler than he had intended—somehow it was impossible to remain angry with her.

She glanced at the letters and then turned her attention back to the harp. “If you had any courage, Avi, you would ask my mother for my hand,” she said as she began another melody.

Aviram rolled his eyes. “You know better than that. Your mother will never let you marry a mere human.”

Her eyes flashed at him. “You’re not a mere human—you have our blood in you.”

“Too little to satisfy your mother,” he said, shaking his head.

She opened her mouth to object, but her mother’s voice stopped her. “Aviram is quite correct,” the grand dame said, her voice carrying easily from the doors that Avi had left open.

Tirtza paled and let her hands drop from the harp. Avi sighed and turned to face her ladyship.

She was small of stature for a pureblooded yuan-ti, but that in no way lessoned her air of authority. She held out her hand to Avi. He accepted it dutifully and raised it to his lips.

“Your ladyship,” he muttered, bowing slightly.

“Leave us, Tirtza,” her ladyship ordered.

Her daughter spared one last look of longing for Avi and then left without a word. Avi watched her go, her muslin skirts trailing behind her.

Her ladyship, meanwhile, seated herself and motioned for Avi to do likewise. He sat himself opposite her on an uncomfortable marble bench. Her ladyship had quite austere tastes and didn't approve of plump cushions cluttering her home.

She didn't approve of rugs either, Avi thought as he stared at the floor. Not that he blamed her--both the walls and the floors of the house sported intricate, tiled mosaics. No point in covering them.

“Are those letters from my daughter?” her ladyship inquired.

He looked up at her and nodded. “Do you wish to see them?”

She shook her head. “Certainly not—I’m sure one is more pathetically lovesick than the next. Throw them into the fireplace before you leave.”

Avi nodded again. “Tirtza means the world to me,” he said. “But I assure you that I haven’t encouraged her or compromised her—”

Her ladyship held up a hand to stop him. “I’ve always trusted you with her, Aviram. I know you have more sense than to take advantage of the little fool.” She paused, giving him a measuring look. “She wouldn’t do for you, you know, even if you were a yuan-ti. You two wouldn’t suit in the long run.”

Aviram sighed. “You may be right,” he owned. “But I think—I think it will be best if I leave the city for a time. Tirtza will forget me soon enough and I—well, I’ve no mind to watch her marry whatever pureblood or half-blood you’ve picked out for her.”

He didn’t bother disguising the bitterness in his voice. It would have been pointless—her ladyship knew him too well.

She took his proposal with surprisingly good grace, however. “When do you intend to return?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Should I bother? In the end, I’m only a capable slave as far as you’re concerned.”

“Let us say a capable servant instead,” she corrected. “It’s a pity you were born a human—I’ll not deny that. And to think that your grandmother was a pureblood! But that’s the danger of the yuan-ti living so closely and comfortably with your kind.”

Aviram grinned. “Better to keep us in our place?”

“Just so,” her ladyship retorted, grinning back. But then her eye caught the gleam of silver around his neck. “What is that?” she demanded.

He fingered the medallion. “It’s Azuth—the human god of arcane spell casters.”

Her ladyship let out a string of uncouth swears. “Why are you bothering with some false human god? You know better than that—Sseth is the only true deity.”

He shrugged again. “I’m a human myself,” he reminded her. “I thought it appropriate.”

She sighed. “Come, Avi; you’ve always accepted your place here. Why is it so insupportable now? Why the sudden urge to embrace your human heritage?”

He took his time responding. “I don’t know,” he said at length. “Perhaps it’s because of Tirtza—or perhaps I’m just chafing under the bridle.”

Her ladyship leaned back in her chair, considering that. Avi stared at her for a moment--she was still a beautiful woman, despite her age. Tirtza was not as petite as her mother, but otherwise she would look just like her when she was older.

"Well, I’ve no mind to see you take the bit between your teeth,” her ladyship said at last. “You’re too valuable a servant for that. Go with my blessing.”

He managed a wry smile. “Thank you,” he said.

“Don’t bother thanking me,” she told him. “I’m only letting you go because that fool daughter of mine is so heartsick for you—and because I know you’ll return in due course.”

“Probably,” he said, grinning again despite himself. “I love Hlondeth too much to stay away for long. And, Sseth help me, I love your damned race—even knowing that you're determined to make slaves of the rest of us.”

“Servants, Avi,” she corrected again. “The term ‘slaves’ is too harsh. And for the love of Sseth, don’t marry the first girl you run into on your travels. I can’t let you have Tirtza, but I still intend to make a good match for you. I’ll find some human girl here with our blood as well—someone with a tidy fortune.”

Avi raised his eyebrows at that. “And what have I to offer a girl with a tidy fortune?”

“Your close connection to my house, of course,” her ladyship answered.

He laughed. “There is that, I suppose. Very well—I’ll leave the matter in your capable hands. But give me time. I don’t intend to return before a year, at least.”

Her ladyship nodded and stood up. Aviram correctly interpreted that to mean that his audience was over.

He stood up as well and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “I’ll not take my leave of Tirtza,” he said. “I couldn’t stand that. You’ll say everything that’s appropriate, won’t you?”

“Of course,” she said, fiddling with a pouch attached to her belt. “Here, take this platinum—”

But he shook his head. “No,” he said, raising her hand to his lips again. “For the next year, at least, I’ll rely on myself.”

“And when you return?” she asked.

He smiled grimly. “When I return I’ll be your devoted slave—er, servant—once more. And then you may shower me with all the platinum you please.”

She laughed. “Well, I’ll shower you with a wealthy bride, at least.” She paused, and there was an uncharacteristic affection in her voice when she spoke again. “Do try to stay safe, Aviram,” she said, placing a hand on his arm. “You know how tedious it is to replace a good servant.”