You're changing in your chambers, and grimace at yourself in the mirror. Scars coat your skin, cruel reminders of pain that never finishes the job.

It's painful being immortal, perhaps more so than any wound. No one has found out yet, thankfully. Would it be so awful if they did?

"Your Highness, I-" A knight walks in, but when he realizes his mistake, he turns around. "I-I deeply apologize," he says, but now he can't seem to stop thinking about all those scars on you he already saw.