Bruise fic 👁️👁️
what if you’re a young nobleman who’s father dies and leaves your estates in some kind of trust that your uncle takes over and won’t let go, and your country is in the middle of a hideous civil war so you can’t petition the king to give you your lands and titles, so you exist in this permanent state of waiting and no one respects you and you have so much to prove but no way of doing it, you have NOTHING to do except to fight and fuck but the people you fight don’t hit back and the people you fuck don’t care about you and nothing leaves a mark. Nothing leaves a mark. and then one day some broken peasant boy beats the shit out of you. And you bruise. something on your skin you can touch and it echoes. Wouldn’t you seek out more of that more fighting where you can actually feel something back, more fucking where they touch you and the echo of pain from a new bruise actually hurts, you’re no longer just sitting there preserved in a jar you’re a person and here’s the proof. Look at your bruises. There is the proof
