Stretching his limbs, a young man woke up bright and early to get the jump on his day. He combed his hair back, using a comb he made from dragon teeth. He washed his mouth out with a bottle of liquor, before swallowing it. He sighed, putting on his robe.
The young man looked in a broken mirror in the corner, reflecting his scarred and obstructed facial features. Was he even human anymore? His left eye had gone blind, a massive scar going through it. The rest of his face was covered in a puzzle of scars, like his skin is a quilt in which all of the pieces are bizarre shapes and all different sizes. He couldn't even count the number of scars anymore. The scars ran all over his body, trophies from countless sinister encounters.
He sat peacefully in his rocking chair. Out there in his cottage, far out into the countryside of this kingdom. Where no one could bother him or shame him for the scars he collected to protect this damned kingdom.
On that thought, he glared at the envelope sitting on his coffee table. An invitation from the young king who had finally come of age. The haughty, narcissistic bastard himself.
Of course, the young man turned the king down. He had no reason any longer for his faded allegiance to this kingdom. He had no respect for the king. No respect for the people. Not anymore.
He had no respect for those who turn their backs and forsake their heroes. Their saviors.
There were fairytales and children's books of this young man and his many triumphs in honor of the kingdom. The people praised him, his story, his legend. Until they saw the face of the man they praise.
For that reason, the picture books portrayed his younger self. Before all of the scars and mutilations. Before the young man looked like a monster. Like something that crawled from the grave to haunt you.
He looked this way because he fought for the people and the kingdom that he loved. But he did not anymore. He no longer fought. And he no longer loved.
He stayed in his cottage, far from civilization. Where he cared for his small farm, and he scared away any predators or thieves that dare to trespass. He supposed that was one good thing that had come of his injuries. Not even the most rabid wolves would dare approach him.
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You're No Monster || GonKillu
FanfictionA young retired warrior, or monster as most would call him, was forced into retirement at a young age because of the many injuries inflicted upon him in the past. One day, he is tasked by the king of the nation to bring him a bride. Only the bride...
