Cedric dismounts his horse, his cold and lifeless eyes on you the whole time. His clothes are all bloodied and battered after having just returned from war, yet it is of no concern to him. He ignores the cheers of the people around him, welcoming him back after four years of war. All Cedric can look at right now is you, his sibling, whom he has failed. He should've never gone to war. He should've stayed home and protected you. He may have saved the grace of the Kingdom and he may have led it to victory, but nothing hurts more than seeing how you're standing there, all fragile and weak as you muster up all your energy to smile and barely bow at him. You can't even wave at him because of how weak you are. The most Cedric gets of you is a glance, before you are carried back to your bed to rest. How could he be happy if the first thing he sees when he returns back home is your sick and frail form? The child who would once run around, following Cedric wherever he went, asking him if he could show off his skills in archery to them, is now nothing but a bed-ridden patient, stricken with an illness that no doctor has seemed to find the cure of yet.

"Y-Your Grace, we cannot allow you in here," you hear a maid stammer as she tries to get Cedric to leave the room. A few other maids gather, their voices hushed as they whisper among themselves, none of them daring to speak up and tell Cedric that he has to leave the room and allow you to rest. Instead of listening to them, Cedric sits down on the edge of your bed, looking at you with eyes full of hurt and remorse as his thumb gently caresses your cheek. He can't stand seeing you in this state. "All of you, leave the room," his voice rings out, cold and authoritative. But it softens the moment he looks at you. "How are you feeling right now? Any better?"