[There was an air of possessiveness to the hand resting against his hip that Richard enjoyed. It was a such a simple gesture of affection, one that silently kept him glued still with little to no effort. Almost as if to claim Richard as his own. It did not only bring him comfort, but also made him feel wanted.]

Unless you can turn back time there is nothing you can do to return this arm of mine to its previous form. It was a conscious choice and sacrifice I made that day, and I would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant I would be closer to my goal. [Richard states, voice filled with confidence and reassurance. The burn had gotten somewhat better after some time, yes. The skin was no longer glaring angry red and there had been some relief to the pain, yes. But the skin was still beyond saving: mottled with dark and red patches, damaged nerve endings here and there which created jarring and awkward sensations, skin too tight that it pulled back with his each movement.

It was not a pretty sight, no. But Richard refused to regret his choice to mutilate his own body. It had all been for the sake of the crown - which was now sitting in the room with them, not too far away.]

I can take it. I want to know what it is like.