That single moon held no comfort for him. It was too distant, too cold, too lifeless - too much a heavy reminder of what had transpired all those years before. He was older now: much more experienced, with a strong kingdom, a loving wife and a healthy son, but things still weren't right. Not even after all the wrongs had been dealt with. After the sun had set and the world grew cold and heavy with sleep, he would sit at his window and watch the silver orb draw across the night sky, and he would wish and hope and pray for the one that had been left behind; the one that still needed forgiveness.

She kept her strongest memories safe and hidden underneath their mattress. If there was ever a moment in her busy schedule she would disappear to their room; she would slip out of the grandoise that swept the floor and reach for the simple white cloth instead, shrugging it over her head. The apprentice's robes were stained with dirt and sweat and pride - just enough reality to keep her head out of the clouds. Breathing in what remained of the nostalgic scent, she would find her eyes filling up with tears and blinked them back. She ached inside where it felt hollow without his presence.

Winter seemed to constantly cap the top of the mountain, and he forced himself to trudge through day after day. It froze his toes and his armour, made his lips chapped and sore, and all he could think about were the people he'd left behind. Sometimes he would visit the peak and sit there for hours at a time, watching the landscape below. He liked to think that he could see the past from this high point, though there was an ocean of regret separating him from all he held dear. Up here, he would be haunted by their laughter time and time again, and his personal victories became bitter and worthless.