Work Text:
When Sven was little, living with his frail mother in the Shadeshore Ruins, his birthday was a small glow of light in a life fraught with constant worry and grief. There weren’t grand presents, expensive food or pretty decorations. He would go to the sea, collecting sea-weed and catching what fish he could the week before so his mother could make him meranth treats. They would share them together in bed, snuggled close to keep warm.
After she passed away and Sven joined the Virgil Knights as an apprentice, his birthday was simply a mark on the records. Not a day off from his duties, not a ‘Happy Birthday’ from his mentors and certainly no meranth treats. He always made sure to have fish at dinner; it was his own way of trying to keep the tradition and to remember her, to remember why he sat through their lectures and lessons with quiet, boiling anger in his veins.
The destruction of the Helm and the theft of the Blade wasn’t the start of his isolation but the continuation. The first birthday after he forgot the date entirely. He spent the year shunning all people with only the changing seasons as a clock.
The following year he began to reconnect with society, performing the duties of a knight for the lost and lonely. That year he found time for his birthday but he couldn’t find reason to mark the occasion. He had no family to celebrate with and there was nobody else to care. So instead Sven carried on as normal. The only task he completed with the date in mind was some foraging and fishing. He ate fish that night, with a side of seaweed.
The Battle of the Ancients came years later, after he had declared a Hero and the Virgil Helm and Blade now known to all as the Shattered Helm and the Outcast Blade. The first year of the war, he ate his fish and seaweed alone. The second year, Rylai had asked when his birthday was. Sven completely forgot about telling her the date, thinking it a throwaway question to try and get to know him better.
He walked into the fountain after the long, hard day of fighting, looking forward to his dinner. His muscles groaned with fatigue. Sven couldn’t wait to clean his armour and sword and spend the evening alone, as he had for many, many years. What greeted him instead, was a small gathering of allies. Juggernaut, Crystal Maiden, Windranger and Omniknight were waiting for him, all smiling warmly.
“What is the meaning of this?” Sven asked, eying them carefully. Omniknight counted.
“One, two, three-”
“Happy Birthday!”
There weren’t presents or decorations. But the five of them spent the evening together, talking and cooking, laughing and playing card games. Juggernaut had hunted a wild boar, claiming it was a traditional birthday meal on the Isle of Masks. Omniknight revealed that one birthday the priests of his Order braided flowers into his hair for a joke. Windrunner offered to do the honour for him and for Sven, who 'sadly’ rejected her offer as his hair was too short. Crystal Maiden sat beside him, arm linked in his as she laughed.
It was the first time Sven didn’t eat fish and seaweed on his birthday. It was still the greatest birthday he had ever had; the next year he would have to catch enough fish for all of them and see if he remembered how to make any meranth treats for them to share.