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Soren was six years and one day old when he first noticed.
The day before, on his sixth birthday, his dad had given him a wooden rocking horse. It was painted white, with golden reins and a red saddle. Claudia hugged it immediately upon seeing it, and then tried to gnaw on its ear. Soren loved it.
The next day, the whole kingdom was having a big party. There always was one, the day after his birthday, because that was Crown Prince Harrow's birthday. But Soren liked to pretend the party was (at least a little bit) Soren's, which was made easier by the fact that the prince always made sure to thank everyone for helping make the past year a successful one and to say that the celebration was for everyone, not just Harrow alone, in his big speech.
But that year, the day after Soren's sixth birthday, after the speech was done and the celebration was well underway and the inhabitants of the castle were heading back inside to the well-insulated warmth of the main dining hall for the feast, Soren's dad announced to Prince Harrow that his gift would be arriving momentarily. They stood together, elbow to elbow, as it was led around the corner—a big, white, wild-looking charger, whinnying and tossing its head rebelliously. Harrow laughed loud and joyfully, and clapped Soren's dad on the back, before jogging over to swing himself onto the horse's back. It reared up, and a bunch of the Crownguard nearby made frantic noises, but Harrow just kept grinning as he got the animal under control and had it canter in a tight circle around the open plaza. Soren's dad looked smug. He didn't look at Soren—or Claudia, whose hand Soren was holding because he was a Responsible Older Brother—he just watched Prince Harrow riding around.
That evening, when they got back to their living quarters in the castle, Soren sat down on the rocking horse, and he rocked back and forth a few times.
---
On his seventh birthday, Soren's dad gave him a big stuffed dragon that was as tall as his waist. It had a floppy stream of felted fire hanging out of its mouth. Claudia hugged it immediately upon seeing it, but Soren managed to pull it out of her arms before she could start gnawing on it. Soren loved it.
He dragged it along to the prince's birthday celebration the next day, one arm wrapped around the dragon's neck, and his other hand holding onto Claudia so she wouldn't get lost.
When it was time to give Prince Harrow gifts, Soren's dad brought out a cage. Soren could tell it was a cage because the velvet cloth draped over it didn't quite reach the bottom all the way, and he could see the delicate golden bars through the gap. When he got to Harrow, he whipped off the cloth to reveal a bird with mostly black feathers, with some splashes of bright green. It was beautiful, and it chirped melodiously as it was unveiled. Soren's dad launched into an explanation of how it was a breed of Xadian bird, practically impossible to find on the human side of the continent, and then started to explain in depth its magical properties. Prince Harrow didn't seem to be listening, and Soren was also having a hard time paying attention—it was always kind of boring when his dad started talking about work and wouldn't stop. Harrow reached out his fingers to touch the bars, and the bird nipped at them. He grinned, thanked Soren's dad, and immediately popped open the cage. Soren's dad squawked in dismay as the bird flew free, but it didn't fly away—instead, it landed on Harrow's finger and chirped brightly again. It stretched its wings.
Something brushed Soren's elbow, and he looked down. It was the wing of the stuffed dragon. He looked back up at the bird, which had now hopped up onto Harrow's shoulder. Soren's dad was smiling ruefully at the sight, and he was still holding the empty cage and he had the velvet cloth draped over his arm, but he looked pretty pleased with himself, if a little off-balance.
A dragon wasn't that much like a bird, but in comparison to his new stuffed toy, the bird just seemed so vibrant and alive. He hugged his dragon closer, and pulled Claudia in, too.
---
On Soren's eighth birthday, his dad gave him a wooden sword that looked just like the ones the Crownguard trainees practiced with, but built small enough for Soren to use. It was much nicer than the one he'd been using before to play heroic dragonslayer with. Claudia lost interest in watching him wave it around pretty much immediately, but Soren loved the swishing sound its streamlined shape made as it cut through the air.
He wore it strapped to his hip the next day when they went to the prince's birthday party. Soren had been put in charge of keeping track of both Claudia and the prince's new toddler step-son during the ceremonies. Between the new sword and the prince's solemn pronouncement that Soren should take very good care of Callum, Soren felt almost like a real Crownguard. He puffed up his chest and stood up to his full height, mimicking the guards that were standing nearby.
In the throne room after one of the indoor events had begun to disperse, Soren's dad presented the prince with a box. He lifted the lid, and Prince Harrow curiously reached in and touched whatever was inside, and then he laughed and tilted the box down so the princess, seven months pregnant and seated behind him, could see. She also laughed, and thanked Soren's dad, which prompted the prince to do the same, somewhat belatedly.
"Callum, come here!" Prince Harrow called out, then.
The little princeling hesitated for a moment, until his mom beckoned him over. He stopped next to her and looked up at Harrow questioningly. Harrow reached into the box, still in Soren's dad's arms, and pulled out a little sword. It wasn't made of wood, but it wasn't shiny either, and it looked pretty bulky for a sword, not particularly flat. He kneeled down in front of Callum, presenting it to the kid held atop both palms. Callum reached out, grasped hold of the hilt, picked up the sword… and immediately bent it in half, with his other hand. Soren straightened up, startled, but half a breath later the kid released the blade and it sprang back to its original shape, none the worse for the wear.
The prince reached back into the box and pulled out two more of the same sort of soft, pliable sword, and tossed one to Princess Sarai, who caught it expertly out of the air. She challenged Callum to a sword fight from her seat, mimed losing, and then let Prince Harrow cut in and come to her rescue. The prince and his young step-son ended up crossing blades up and down the throne room as Sarai watched, smiling, a hand resting on her stomach.
Soren's dad walked over and set the empty box down next to her.
"We'll have to get another one when Callum's little sibling gets old enough, have some paired bouts," she said to him.
"I suspect that young Callum will outgrow them by the time the little one gets old enough to swing around even that toy sword, your highness."
The princess punched Soren's dad gently on the arm. "What are you implying about Harrow and I, Viren?"
"Nothing, nothing. You're both… young at heart!" he replied, smirking.
Soren didn't know then that Callum and his yet-unborn sibling really would play together with those swords one day, or that, when that happened, their family would still only need three. He just knew that his dad had given the prince and the princess and their son swords they could all have fun with together as a family, while Soren had a wooden sword hanging at his hip and no one with a matching weapon to play with. Claudia was more interested in bugs than swords, anyway, so she wouldn't even if there were two.
Soren watched Harrow and Callum play together, and wished his dad was the sort of dad who would do the same.
---
Soren's ninth birthday didn't really feel like a birthday. He didn't get any presents. There was no birthday celebration planned for the next day for the prince—well, the king, now. The whole castle was silent, and everyone looked sad. And it was hot outside, like it was summer. It was always chilly out on his birthday.
---
For Soren's tenth birthday, his dad brought him a big, white, fluffy blanket, to replace one that had started to develop a threadbare patch. Soren was pretty sure it was the softest, warmest thing he'd ever touched. He and Claudia ended up draping it off the end of Soren's bed and making a cave out of it.
The next day, his dad presented King Harrow with a huge roll of red fabric. When two attendants unrolled it, Soren saw Queen Sarai at the center of a carefully embroidered scene, flanked by two people he didn't really recognize, and he could see his dad and the king and General Amaya and a bunch of other people, too. The king looked surprised for a moment at the sight, and then sad.
"Viren, it's… excellent work, but… it's a little difficult to look at. You… commissioned a tapestry?" he asked.
"No, no," Soren's dad denied, "I was in the textiles section of the lower marketplace and saw this on display. I… thought you might appreciate that the people of Katolis aren't going to forget the heroes of the realm anytime soon. They're making art, celebrating the difference they made!" He gestured emphatically at the tapestry, then looked back at King Harrow, then ducked his head and sighed, shoulders slumping. "But I'm sorry if I overstepped."
"It's fine, Viren. Thank you," Harrow said, smiling faintly. But, even with the smile, he still looked really sad.
When they got back to their quarters, Soren buried himself under his new blanket.
He didn't even want a stupid tapestry. Especially not one that made people unhappy when they looked at it.
But it had been really pretty, and it told a story, and it was a gift meant specifically for King Harrow, and Soren had gotten a plain white blanket.
---
On Soren's eleventh birthday, he got a sled. It had snowed the previous day, so he dragged Claudia out to a hill just outside the city walls to try it out. They came back wet and shivering, with snow in their hair. When their dad saw them, he rolled his eyes, handed Claudia a little jar with a rock inside, and pronounced a spell carefully to her. She'd been learning magic for the past few months, and their father had been taking every opportunity to have her perform small spells as practice.
Claudia tipped the rock out onto her hand, shuffled closer to Soren, then repeated whatever their dad had said. The rock fell to dust in her palm. Soren felt a burst of hot air surround him, and the dampness started to steam off of them both, leaving them warm and dry.
The next day, Soren watched as his dad brought out his gift for the king: an identical sled to the one he had given Soren, meant to be used by the king and the two princes.
He'd gotten pretty convinced over the years that the pattern was that whatever Soren got on his birthday, the king would get something similar, but better. At least this time what King Harrow got wasn't better, he tried to convince himself. But… somehow it still felt bad. It didn't make him feel special.
---
The pattern returned on his twelfth birthday. His dad mixed together some ingredients and then lifted his hand and set off a dazzling display of lights in their living quarters. Soren and Claudia chased the sparks around. They weren't hot at all when they caught them, just bright, until they fizzled into nothing.
It was amazing, and he loved it. He did! But he also wasn't very surprised when his dad started a massive fireworks display high in the sky over the kingdom the next night, for King Harrow.
---
For his thirteenth birthday, his dad gave him a set of camping equipment, consisting of a tent, a bedroll, a lantern, a spare pot, and a knapsack to put it all in. The tent had a waterproofing enchantment on it. Soren was looking forward to getting to use it, when the weather got warmer.
The next day, his dad gave King Harrow a huge canopy tent made of a thin, light material that could be folded easily down to a manageable size. It had the same waterproofing enchantment on it as Soren's.
They set it up outside to host some of the party's outdoor events, like the annual Crownguard selection ceremony and the jelly tart contest. A few hours later, it started to rain.
King Harrow asked, jokingly, if Soren's dad had arranged that. Soren had been wondering the same thing.
His dad just smirked and replied, "I'll never tell."
---
Soren's fourteenth birthday was more embarrassing than anything else. After breakfast, his dad set a small box in front of him on the table and gestured for him to open it. Nestled inside were a razor—the kind that folded up—a little brush, and some bottles.
Soren didn't really even have facial hair yet, just the slightest bits of peach fuzz that you couldn't really see, with how light his hair was. "Dad," he whined, scandalized.
"It's important to keep yourself well-groomed, Soren," his dad said, in full lecture mode. "People will show you more respect if you're clean-shaven."
"You have a beard!"
"It took me a very long time to grow this. And I shave and trim it regularly, to keep the edges neat. Come here, let me show you how."
It was embarrassing. But it was nice, too—his dad taking the time to show him how to do something. Usually Claudia was the only one who got this kind of attention, for her magic lessons.
It just figured, he thought the next day, that he didn't get to keep that to himself for his birthday either. His dad and the king were bent over a gadget that his dad was excitedly explaining. It wasn't magic, he was telling King Harrow, but it was so ingenious! At his urging, Harrow bemusedly unfolded a blade from the carved wooden handle, then a corkscrew, then a delicate pair of scissors.
"One tool instead of many," Soren's dad went on. "It can do anything!"
It seemed way more useful than a shaving kit.
---
For his fifteenth birthday, Soren's dad gave him a sword that had been enchanted to never rust and to keep itself sharp. The other Crownguard trainees were gonna be so jealous.
It stung a little when King Harrow got a much more elaborate sword, all gilt and filigree and engravings, with the same exact enchantment. But that sword was going up on a wall for display, and his sword was going to get used. His friends would laugh at him if he showed up with a sword that fancy. So he found it pretty easy to just shrug it off, that year.
---
On the morning of Soren's sixteenth birthday, his dad rushed out before they'd even finished breakfast, telling him to have a good day at practice. Drills weren't even scheduled until the afternoon that day, but Soren shrugged and went to pick up his sword and strap on his training armor. He might as well get in some solo practice with his stances this morning; he didn't have anything better to do.
He'd been out there for about twenty minutes, and had just started to work up a sweat despite the brisk morning air, when King Harrow approached him from the sidelines of the training grounds.
Startled, Soren sheathed his sword and stood to attention.
"At ease, Soren," the king said, smiling.
Soren relaxed. "Happy almost-birthday, your majesty. Was there something you wanted?"
"Yes. I wanted to congratulate you," King Harrow replied, taking on a more solemn tone, "on your great success in your training. And let you know that you've been selected to officially join the ranks of the Crownguard this year."
Soren's mouth fell open in shock. He was sixteen years old as of today. That would make him the youngest Crownguard in history… by two months, but still. He knew he'd been doing well, but he'd been expecting to have to wait another year.
"Now, I know we traditionally only announce the selections at the annual ceremony, but…" King Harrow winked at him roguishly, and clapped him on the shoulder. "…it seemed harmless to bend the rules just a little in this case, and let you know a day early. Happy birthday, Soren."
Soren stumbled over his thanks, still somewhat dazed.
As the king turned to go, Soren finally noticed his dad at the end of the yard, leaning against his staff and watching with a knowing smile.
Soren jogged over and threw his arms around him. "Thanks, Dad," he said, a little choked up.
His dad patted him once on the back. "You earned it, Soren. I just… hinted that it might be nice if you found out on your birthday." He pulled back and huffed out a laugh, looking over at King Harrow's retreating back. "Several times," he added, ruefully. "With increasing desperation."
Soren snorted, imagining it. He knew how his dad got when he was hung up on something, and it was embarrassing. But then he thought of something, his pattern theory, and he couldn't help but blurt out, "Wait, what are you getting King Harrow for his birthday?"
His dad's brow furrowed a bit. "Ah. I… haven't quite figured that out yet," he admitted, frowning. "Nothing's really sprung to mind. Usually working on finding your gift gives me some ideas… You're both very hard to shop for."
There was a warmth rising in Soren's chest. "Pfft, what? No! I'm easy!"
His dad side-eyed him. "I'm sure you think so." Soren didn't know what to say to that, but his dad didn't seem to expect a response. He just straightened up and smoothed out the front of his coat and said, "Come, let's get back inside, it's cold out here and your sister's baked you a cake." He started off, staff tapping against the ground, and Soren followed. "The king will just have to content himself with all of his other presents tomorrow, I suppose. Anyways, I think he was enjoying seeing me squirm… That will have to suffice as my gift this year. The man's been feigning obliviousness all week!"
Soren let the words wash over him as they walked back inside. His dad had given him a gift, something special and meant for him, and he didn't have anything prepared for the king. And if looking for a gift for Soren usually helped his dad think of something for King Harrow… that had to mean all Soren's birthday presents were intended for him, not just chosen as an afterthought, right? So… could it be that finding Soren's present each year was his dad's first priority? The perspective shift was dizzying.
That settled it, he decided, discarding all his remaining doubts with the zeal of a convert. (And if there was still the tiniest thread of simmering discontent, well, he pushed it down deep.) He was going to become a Crownguard. And he was going to be the best Crownguard a king could ask for. That would be King Harrow's birthday present tomorrow.