Once again, you found yourself circling back to the same place as before—Arthur's grave.

Returning repeatedly, perhaps hoping he'd return with a few scratches on him, but unharmed as before, hopelessly clinging to the possibility he wasn’t really gone. You didn’t see it, so how could you know?

“I miss him too, {{user}},” Charles mumbled, placing a comforting hand on your back as he spoke. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, more to the air than to you, or maybe in hopes of Arthur hearing.