Cera
_{A hero's worth is measured by his heart}

Cera was not unaware of the title that seemed to trail across the lands in regard to his efforts, though he still did not always understand how or why. He seemed as forgettable and replaceable as any other, at times, no matter his inherent belief that all souls held purpose. How any large body of people came to know him, much less find him princely...it was humbling, and he always felt a mixed flush of pleasure and embarrassment spread through him whenever someone idly mentioned it. Truthfully Cera forgot about the title more often than not, though in his heart of hearts he dreamed, hoped, and aspired to be a true Prince. An orphan with a family cursed to disappear or die, all he wanted was to grow from Gaucho's shadow and find his place in the Throat. To make Gaucho - who he still could not discern between brother and father - proud of him. 

That this proud, beautiful creature that he envied and respected would deem to know him by and call him as Prince...it was an honor, and it swept through him like the wind across the desert. Maybe he was worthy of it, if she spoke it so simply, as if it were fact. Maybe there was more to himself than he first believed. Ilaria preened from his withers, ridiculously pleased. You always deserved the title, she noted smugly. "Thank you," he said sincerely instead, incapable of ignoring such a momentous compliment. She could depart from him immediately in that moment, and he would walk away from the encounter a changed and grateful soul. Yet she seemed to find something further inside him to question him upon, pick apart and analyze. He stood complacently before her, still riding the high of her compliment, merely soaking in her elegant company. 

She seemed far less like Fina now, and Cera wasn't sure whether he was happy about that or not. 

Her final question seemed almost as easy - in Cera's mind, of course - to answer as the previous one had been. But he still gave her the same respect of considering it, rolling it around in his head before putting it into finalized words. But it never lacked the core values that Cera inserted into every question he answered for her. "You water it," he said softly, feeling a bit melancholic, aware of the words he intended to use to explain himself. If she didn't grow tired of him constantly talking.

"You will be inevitably trampled in life. Grief and pain will find you, even if you train hard. Even if you hide away, or others try to defend you from it. And grain is meant to be eaten, to sustain others, to maintain balance." It was difficult not to see himself in the metaphor, but it was what he intended to base it upon. But he could not forget that he was also speaking about grain. "Nurture it, instead. Give it nutrients in the soil and water from the skies so that it may grow strong on its own. You cannot delay the inevitable, and it will never grow stronger if you leave it untouched. And it cannot help the mouse or the hawk by being hidden away or made too tough to eat." Ilaria patted his shoulder comfortingly, quiet descending upon the golden boy. It reminded him too deeply of Midas, especially staring into a face that was quickly reminding him of Fina once more with the revived memories. Though he had many qualms with the man's methods and manner of relationships, he'd nurtured Cera. He'd never hidden the Prince away from war, always explained the brutal truths of the world, so that Cera might be prepared but not thrust directly into the path of agony. He had been, eventually, but it was the thought that counted. 

"Everything has a function," the Prince finished softly. "I would not change the nature of grain to try and spare it, when it would harm so many others. I would give it the tools it needed to be strong on its own, to live a healthy life growing, and die a meaningful death sustaining the creature that fed upon it." And a small smile pulled at pale lips, because for a moment he could almost see Midas behind the phoenix's shoulder, nodding his agreement. Maybe he was a bit more like his father than he thought, in some ways.