"Are you gonna finish that?"

"Don't even try."

"I'm serious. I'm still hungry."

"So am I."

"Give me that."

"Go fuck yourself, Alberto."

He laughed heartily. I smiled, divided my jelly bread I two, gave him half.

We were out riding, a rare day off where we could do as we wished. Alberto was the man I'd befriended when the builders had come and installed the lightbulbs so long ago. We had remained in touch, writing each other letters. Then, a spot was open at court as one of the main chefs retired, and I asked the king if he'd like to try Alberto. He came from the east, and was very good at cooking, although he had never worked as a chef. Alberto had come to the castle and cooked a meal, and to my great joy, the king had hired him immediately. That had been two years ago, and he'd become my closest friend, or rather, the only true friend I really had here. He was the only one I had trusted with the story about me and the crown prince, and he had listened intently when I told him, two years ago.

"Tobirama, you dumb fuck."

I had already figured out I did wrong, acting like a typical man instead of the caring, considerate and sensitive one the crown prince so desperately required to calm his heart. Immediately when he wasn't mine and I wasn't his I had stopped considering his emotions, and I knew he had been right in every word he'd said before he left; I hadn't been wrong in moving on, but I had been wrong in how I had decided to go on about it. It pained my heart to know I had hurt him so much.

Now, five years had passed since he left, and there still wasn't a day that passed during which I didn't think about him. I wondered if he thought about me, too, or if he'd moved on. The first week had been agony because I'd well and truly realised what "forever" meant, that I would never see him again, and in light of what I had done, he wouldn't even be interested in writing to me. I had tried to slowly pick the bits of my life up. The news of the crown prince's move had ignited something within the countries to our east and west, and they'd tried to invade us several times. I had made a name for myself as the greatest warrior in the country. They called me the Snowmonster, and I took pride in that, embarrassingly enough. I had become a right hand to the king in planning wars, educated myself in war strategies and the art of battlements. I had taught Alberto to ride and carry a sword, and he would always be by my side in battle, despite him being hired as a chef.

"I'd rather Tobirama lose his life than you. Tobirama can't even boil an egg", the king once joked, but it was amicable.

The king...

We had become very close since his last son moved, even closer than before, seeing I was the closest thing to a son he had left. Every time I saw him, I could see the remorse behind his aging, watery eyes, the regret of turning away mine, and his son's, chance at love. We never spoke about his son, the kind and I. Not once. The only sign I had ever gotten was when I received a letter at the door as I was guarding it, and I immediately recognised the handwriting as belonging to Izuna. It had been three years after he'd left. I had dropped to my knees then, weak of longing, and every belief I'd had that I had moved on was wiped out once and for all. The letter was addressed to the king, and my fingers burned to open it.

Of course, I didn't. I just delivered it to the king.

"Thank you", the king had said, and never mentioned it again.

I'd been responsible to take the letter he wrote back to the messenger rider, and couldn't help to put a drop of my own cologne, the heavy-scented oil I had used for years, on the envelope in hope it would last to the other side of the world, in hope he would sense it and that it would spark something within him.

That he would remember me.

"You have that look on your face." I looked at Alberto, who was looking at me with his mild eyes underneath his bushy eyebrows. I came back to our picnic spot, our day together. "Are you coping?"

I looked out at the splendid view in front of us; the mountains and their snowy tops, the valley, the river.

"I doubt it", I said.

The king and queen had fallen ill to a serious lung disease, both at the same time, and lay ill in bed. They were both old and frail, and there was little hope that they would make it through. My heart ached. I didn't know what court would be without the king because just as I had been his son, he had been my father. 

We chased the setting sun back to the castle, legs sore after hours of riding. It would be good to come home. I longed for a long bath with soap, to sit by the fireplace in my room, which was my old guard's room now the crown prince had moved, and drink some wine while reading. Finally back, I jumped off my horse, thanked the stable boy who took her from me, and went in to ask the kitchen staff for something to eat when one of the castle's messengers came to me, running, out of breath.

"It's the king", he said. I frowned. "He says it's urgent."

My heart froze to ice.

Sickness couldn't wipe away the atmosphere of glee in a room containing the king. His room was dark, and he was alone, preferring to have his final days in peace from the nagging queen. He looked ill, but at the same time happy and content. I admired him for that.

He looked over at me when I came in, and his eyes lit up.

"My boy! he exclaimed.

I swallowed. I hated seeing him like this. But for his sake, I needed to try.

"Come", he reached his hand out, and I went to him and took it. "Did you enjoy your ride with Alberto?" he asked.

I smiled. "It was wonderful."

"Are you two..." He made a circular motion with his free hand.

I smiled.

"Just friends", I finished for him. We slept next to one another sometimes when we had drunk, embracing one another, but nothing else had ever happened between us. "Your son is the only man I've ever loved."

"I see", he said. 

I knew he knew there was something wrong between us, that he wondered why we never wrote each other, why I never asked for him, and I would be very surprised if Izuna asked for me in his letters to his father because his personality was such that he could move on from things. I felt terrible for what I had done to his son, yet grateful that the king never asked. I suspected he knew I was in the wrong, and simply didn't want to know. 

"Tobirama..."

"Yes?"

"You have probably wondered who will get the throne when I die."

"The thought has crossed my mind", I said.

The king laughed. His laugh was warm, but weak. I knew he could choose between kin and someone out of family he trusted, and I was terrified he would give the throne to me because I would decline, and I would feel terrible turning down his dying wish.

"Always so humble. So gentle." He patted my hand. "You know I would ask you." I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up his hand. "But I know you well, son. I know you would decline. I do, however, have several options. I have discussed them all with the smartest person I know, which is this man right here." He pointed to his head. I smiled. "And..."

He looked away, unable to finish his sentence. I waited patiently.

Then, he turned back to me.

He turned back to me and said something I had never even considered.

"I need you to travel. Bring my son back. Bring my son back home."