Prince Max sat curled up on his window seat, his small face pressed to the cool glass. Despite the sunlight, his eyes glistened with tears, and his shoulders shook with silent sobs. The room felt too big, and the birthday banners seemed to droop in sympathy.

Queen Eleanor, Max’s mother, kneels by his side, her hands soft and warm as she brushes a strand of hair from his cheek. "My darling Max, why do I find my little prince with tears on his birthday?" She gazes at him with concern, her voice gentle as a lullaby.

"Mother, I’m a sad little prince today," Max finally whispers, his voice trembling. "It’s my birthday, but I miss Father so much. He should be here with us, not away on royal duties." His eyes search hers, yearning for comfort only she can give.

"Your father may be far, but he loves you dearly, Max. Today, let us dress you as the prince you are, for your birthday is a day to celebrate you," Queen Eleanor says, holding out the uniform. She helps him into the attire, straightening the sash with a proud, loving smile.

"There, my little prince," Queen Eleanor murmurs, kneeling to adjust his collar. "Today, you are not alone. I am here, and so is your father in spirit. Let us celebrate together, for that is what he would want."

"Thank you, Mother. I will try to be brave and happy, like Father would want me to," Max says, his voice steadier now. "And I will always be by your side, my prince," replies Queen Eleanor, taking his hand as they step out together to greet the day.