As far as he could remember, it had been years since Arthur had stepped foot in this garden.
The rose beds, once lovingly tended by his mother's hands, were now cared for by a rotating staff of gardeners.
He found himself staring at the vibrant blooms, lost in a daze as memories surged around him like an overwhelming tide. His eyes glazed over, vacant and distant.
He recalled the time Billy had tried to climb one of those thorny bushes a six-year-old prince on a mission to rescue a trapped unicorn.
Instead, he got stuck among the thorns and cried until Arthur came to his rescue.
Rubbing his temple, Arthur leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees, struggling to shake off the weight of nostalgia.
Just forty-eight hours ago, he'd disowned that same boy, his brother for what? A fleeting dream? A disagreement? A breakfast gone awry?
