Stitches and Scars

Sometimes it seems like you’re made up of stitches and scars; more scar tissue than skin, that’s for certain. That one from a dragon when it was terrorising a village, cut you open from head to toe, that one from the Red Knight who hacked apart virgin boys, and you were sent to join the list. The one across your cheekbone was from an assassin trying to kill your king, a curved dagger with poison that nearly killed you, and the one up your arm is from the succubus who was draining the life from a castle-full of mages. Across your chest, raking down one eye, slashing along a shoulder, over your nose, up your leg, all from protecting the kingdom. And now one through your heart, saving the prince and killing yourself.

Stitches and scars, dear knight. Did you ever live for yourself?