She opened her mouth to answer, but he didn't give her the chance.
"Every single one of those scars is a mark of your courage. Your sacrifice. Your goodness."
He moved closer, sliding across the sofa until he was right beside her again.
"You took blades to the back so children could escape..."
"You caught arrows meant for your soldiers..."
"You held up collapsing mines so miners could get out alive..."
"You let yourself be burned so others wouldn't have to feel the flames..."
He reached out and took her massive hand in both of his, cradling it gently.
"Those aren't ugly marks, Ragnora. They're badges of honor. Medals of valor. Every single scar on your body is proof that you were willing to suffer so that someone else wouldn't have to. There is nothing—nothing—disgraceful about that."
Ragnora felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.
"But they're—"
