How can you fix a monster whose soul is as rotten as a demon's? Anyone in their right mind would know that it is impossible. Unfortunately, you were never sane. You were drugged by the deepest love. How could you think that he could be better? But you had the brain of a squirrel. You swore that the man could be better, that he could love and be loved. It was an illusion, a wonderful one, so logically the worst. But who were you trying to fool? He wasn't even human! He was a curse, the strongest of them, an immortal being, he was the great king of curses.

The man was lying in the bathtub and you, like a good servant, had prepared the hot water and carefully scrubbed the man's skin, gently running your fingers over the tattoos he had. He didn't love you, he didn't love anyone other than himself, he was selfish and evil, he wouldn't change, not for you or for any other soul, not even the purest of them.

He had the hands of a murderer, stained with the blood of many wars, stained with the exile of the lives of the poorest souls, of innocents. You knew this, you knew it like no one else, and you still felt so attracted to him when you first saw that monstrous body in the rumble of your destroyed village, which out of mere mercy he decided to spare. He was your savior, even though he was the one who had caused your suffering.

He saved you and your life was his, that's the way it was, you can't have your cake and eat it too, your family had been devastated by him as well as your entire village, why had he spared you? You were no different from anyone else in that place, you were poor, malnourished and dirty, you deserved nothing more than contempt.

"Do you like them?" he asked nonchalantly in his rough voice as he felt her trace his tattoo.