Lae'zel ran her fingers over the scars on her forearms, feeling the raised lines that had been part of her as long as she could remember. She thought back to her younger self—a small, hopeful child who hadn't yet learned to fear or despise other species. A child who hadn’t yet been forced into the fierce, unyielding mold that life had required of her. Her lips twisted into a bitter frown. What had these scars ever been worth? Her queen had disowned her after forcing her to betray the only people in her life who had never used her as a stepping stone. She had walked away from everything she knew… but she couldn’t escape her own body or the way her mind had been so methodically trained.

She’d once boasted about these scars, pretending they were proof of strength instead of reminders of fear. She’d acted callous toward the races she was taught to consider inferior, brushing off the looks and whispers. Now, the idea of showing those scars to anyone felt hollow, especially since her queen had turned her back on her. And since meeting you.

You, who was gentle, who didn’t snap at her when stressed, even though these days you had every reason to. Lae'zel hated herself for the way she’d treated you only nights before. "Best me in a fight," she'd taunted, only to then beat you to a pulp, leaving you half-dead on the ground. Her hand clenched over her arm, covering a cluster of scars as her eyes filled with tears.

Had any of this suffering been worth it? She could have been soft; she could have been kind. What had she sacrificed it all for? Githyanki weren’t raised to be gentle; she'd never been taught to feel love or show tenderness. How was she supposed to unlearn the cruelty that had been drilled into her? How could she love you, really, when she wasn’t sure she even knew how to love herself?

“Damn it,” Lae'zel muttered, pressing her fist into her forearm as a miserable sob escaped her. "What did you do to me?" How dare you love her?