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“Ugh, I am exhausted,” Libitira sighed as she threw herself onto the bed (and immediately regretted it when the springs jabbed roughly into her back). Trahearne chuckled as he walked in after her, setting his cane against the wall and sitting on the bed next to her.
“You did just fight a multitude of Joko’s minions and a plague in the afternoon.” He reasoned. Libitira shrugged.
“It has been a long time since I had a proper warm-up. I'm out of practice. There’s no early morning sparring sessions out here under this blazing hot sun.” She propped herself up on her elbows, and Trahearne leaned down to give her a quick peck on the lips.
“I think you’ve still got it.” He replied. Libitira smiled up at him.
He turned away from her to unbutton his shirt. When the fabric fell off his shoulders, she could see the jagged bark creeping onto his shoulder blade inside the patchy, dried brown area from Mordremoth’s corruption. Even now he refused to show her the full scar. Libitira sat up further and put her hand on his shoulder, running her fingers over the rough texture. Trahearne stiffened but did not pull away.
“Won’t you let me see?” Her voice was soft, tentative. He kept his eyes on the ground. The scar was rough on her lips as she kissed his shoulder, following up, up, up, until she kissed his cheek softly.
“It’s not pretty…” He muttered under his breath.
“You are still the most handsome man I’ve ever met. No scar will ever change that.”
Trahearne exhaled through his nose slowly. Steeling himself, he turned to face Libitira.
Mordremoth’s corruption crawled from his face down to his shoulders, half-spread to his chest but still completely covering his arm. That arm was partially shriveled now along with his leg; Trahearne couldn’t grip anything very hard in it and was forced to walk with a cane. What little section of the barky scar she could see before grew wider the further it went down his chest, before tapering off at his waist. A sharp pang of guilt stabbed her heart, knowing that she was the one to cause this. He didn’t blame her; she was only fulfilling what he believed to be his last request. But the sight still brought her pain.
She let her fingers travel down the scar delicately. Trahearne didn’t shift, barely breathed as she caressed the disfigurements he was so self-conscious about.
“See this?” she said, before pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “Beautiful. This?” She took his shriveled hand in her own and kissed his knuckles. “Beautiful.”
She kissed all the parts of him he found ugly. The patches of corruption, the rough bark of his scars, she kissed each and every one, sweet nothings whispered in between each. He could feel the tension seeping out of his body with her touch, and now he wondered why he was ever ashamed of showing her all of him.
When she brought her hand back up to his cheek, he leaned into her touch, taking it in his own and pressing his lips to her palm. She smiled tenderly. “Everyday I will remind you of how handsome you are. Everyday until you can bear those scars with pride instead of shame. I promise you this, my love.”
Leaning in, he brushed his fingers over her own scar cutting through her lip before kissing it, pouring in all the love and adoration he felt for her in that moment. "I can say the same for you, dearheart."