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The king never celebrated his son’s birthday. But that was alright. Arthur wouldn’t have wanted a party.
He wouldn’t have wanted people making merry and laughing on a day that brought him and his father so much pain.
The anniversary of his birth was the anniversary of his mother’s death.
Everyone in Camelot knew this, and so they made the conscious effort not to mention it. They treated the day as any other, even if they could see the pain in their leader’s and future leader’s faces. They made no mention of festivities, nor of memorials. Most didn’t even see the king or prince all day as both preferred solitude on this day.
On Arthur’s first birthday since Merlin had arrived, Arthur gave him the day off. He had hoped that his manservant would not question it, and luckily, he did not. He stayed in his chambers the whole day and was not disturbed once by big ears and clumsy limbs.
On Arthur’s second birthday, he did the same; giving Merlin the day off without explanation. He was not sure if others in Camelot had told him about this day, but he figured that it was likely Gaius had.
Merlin had simply bowed out at the prince’s dismissal the night before and did not return the next day, allowing Arthur to brood. However, Arthur was pretty sure someone had come in after he had fallen asleep. Arthur had woken without the sticky salt of his tears on his face and an extra blanket over his curled form. He made no mention of this, and neither did Merlin.
On the third birthday Merlin was with him for, Arthur again gave him the day off. Merlin, whom he now trusted completely and cared for deeply, gave a little sigh and then nodded at the dismissal and said nothing as he left for the night.
But after three years, Arthur should have known that, even in this delicate matter, Merlin would not follow orders.
Arthur was leaning against the wall, looking down from the window on to the courtyard. He saw men and women milling about, but his eyes tracked the women. Specifically, the women with small children. The mothers. Arthur felt tears slide down his face as he watched them; as he stole glimpses of a relationship he would never know. The place in his heart that was meant to be filled by a mother’s love sat gaping, empty, and painful in his chest.
Then he felt the ghost of a touch. Arthur’s whole body went rigid, but he did not turn. He felt slim fingers run along his shoulders as they grew more daring. He stayed still. Hands finally found their way to his torso, and arms slid around him, holding him reverently. Arthur melted into the embrace and he felt the slight pressure of a mouth on his shoulder.
“You don’t have to be alone today,” soft lips said against skin.
A pause.
“I– I don’t want to be,” he croaked back, voice broken and strained from held back sobs.
“I’m here for you.” The arms held tighter as soft, loving kisses were pressed into his skin.
“Thank you, Merlin.” Arthur breathed, tears still mutely falling to the floor.
The king and the prince still didn’t celebrate that day, but unlike the king, the prince never had to go through another birthday alone.