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... e burden. He lay there, head in Rose’s lap, staring up at the soft glow of the venue’s chandeliers filtering through the trees. He had just been yanked through a full-scale royal skirmish, his existence fought over like some kind of mythical artifact, and now… now Rose was casually patting his head as if he were a particularly exhausted cat.

"Arthur," she said, voice gentle, "you feel bad about this, right?"

He exhaled slowly. "Yeah."

She hummed thoughtfully, her fingers ...

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