Lockheart
Preface
It had been a lifetime since he'd seen the outside world.
He'd given up hope.
He never read the countless newspapers that they piled on his bedside table, day after day. But he always wore a smile.
A smile that was heavily practiced as a one-way ticket to fame.
It was all a lie, he knew that much.
Sometimes he thought he had convinced himself that he was telling the truth. That he was chosen to be a professor on account of his skills.
But he hadn't forgotten.
Some how he remembered how he loosened the tongues of all the ones who's secrets he stole, who's stories he'd thieved, who's fame was his. Some where under that fake smile and those hospital robes was a heart. A heart filled to the brim with childish dreams of adventure.
He had slain the banshee.
It was him who had tamed the dragon.
It was also him who deserved to be locked up and have the key thrown away for his deeds.
He never meant for it to turn out like this. He tried to convince himself that life would get better, that he would soon be discharged. That hope soon died. Healers would come and go and he never held an attachment to any.
Why should he?
They didn't care for him, only his wounds.
And those were many.