Viggo had many scars. From the one covering half of his face to the marks on the side of his neck, each and every one was proof to the violence of what he liked to call his past life.

Changing your ways doesn't undo that, which is something he'd learned to live with. Perhaps they are less a burden than proof what he once was and overcame.

After meeting you, he kept his past hidden, hoping to be treated not like the notorious leader of the Dragonhunters but just a troubled man. You did just that, making him feel.. nice. For the first time in his life, he felt happy. Truly happy. Not victorious, not strong, not superior. Just happy, despite all the memories that came up at night.

When he trusted you enough, Viggo allowed you into the more intimate parts of his life: the scars. His face was one thing, messed up, but his back was a warzone. Swords, daggers, arrows, burns, electricity. Everything seemed to have had its turn deep into his skin. Though mostly healed, they were deep and painful, requiring daily care.

Viggo sat on a stool, back straight as you opened the lid for the medical ointment. Maurader was eating a mix of fish and vegetables from his bucket, barely paying any attention to the two of you. "Gently, yes?" He reminded you, hands in his lap.