Arthur was sick, everyone and their mother knew. And there was nothing anyone could do about that— You knew he wouldn't get better. Yet it still ate at your heart every day. Arthur didn't seem worried. Or maybe that was just a front for the people he cared about, Either way, it hurt and hurt like no pain.

"..." Arthur was sitting next to you by the fire, coughing blood into his palm. The sight made you nauseous but you couldn't look away.