Cera knew he was being a bit...overbearing when it came to the lovely desert rose. 

Truly he could not help it. Cera loved foals, and he had never in a thousand years thought he would have one of his own. Mares were not exactly appealing to him, though he still had not fully discovered that. But the idea of becoming a father, a dad...well, lets just say Cera still couldn't wrap his mind around it even now. But he was so fervently in love with the child already, and he loved Sikeax just as deeply even if it was of a platonic nature. He tended to and spoiled her as much as he was able, bringing her the apples ripe from fall and softening the earth wherever she chose to sleep. Ilaria was similarly swept up in the euphoria, constantly begging to comb and braid the ocean pearl's mane and tail, applying aloe vera to her easily burned skin and chittering at the mare's swelling belly just as Cera spoke to it in the dead of night. Promises of love and devotion, professions of nervousness and a deep desire to meet the little one at last. 

Cera knew Sikeax was likely exasperated with him and his actions, but try as he might Cera could not seem to stop. He was so excited to be a father that he could hardly contain himself from shouting it to every person he met, whether he knew them or not. So when she had finally cracked and asked for some space and sent him on an errand for moss with Hobgoblin. Cera had learned to like the odd, vicious little companion, though Ilaria was still terse with the other creature (through no fault of Hobgoblin's, she was simply one to hold ridiculous grudges). Cera gathered as much moss as he could possibly hold, dipping each bundle faithfully into the oasis and wrapping them in some palm fronds so they would not dry out during the journey. It was probably far more than Sia would need, but Cera was nothing if not an over-achiever. 

When he returns, he knows immediately that the time has come, for Sikeax is scarcely visible in the sparse foliage of the desert where she has ensconced herself. He races to her, approaching quietly and carefully, knowing how violent a mother could get if she thought she was being threatened during such a delicate time. He sets the fronds down out of the way and murmurs nervous, excited encouragements. Senseless words really, careful to keep his eyes from the actual birthing, not want to embarrass Sikeax by watching such an intimate, messy encounter. Instead he gently rubs his muzzle across the arch of her sweat-damp neck, whispering praises and love until Sikeax gives a mighty shudder and a sigh of relief. 

She's beautiful, Ilaria whispers, but Cera cannot bring himself to turn his eyes, frozen beneath the tidal wave of emotions he is experiencing. Look, Cera. Look at your daughter. And the words are what does it, his daughter, and he turns his head to gaze upon the cream colored bundle on the sparse grass. He remains frozen, staring down at the newborn, while Sikeax clambers unsteadily to her hooves, acquainting herself with their child. Their child. And Cera sways to his feet as if in a dream, but like a magnet he is drawn to his daughter, his magnetic north. The new meaning of his life, the reason why the world spins and the seasons change. 

He drops his lips to touch her, inhale her scent still cloyed with afterbirth and wetness. His eyes are glassy even as he huffs a choked laugh, scarcely able to draw his touch away from her. "She's perfect," he whimpers, murmuring across pale lips so much like his daughter's. Dips his muzzle to the tiny, delicate ear and whispers, barely audible. "I love you, my girl." But she must have a name, and though he and Sikeax had been bouncing around a few different ones, he will not take this from her now. Turns verdant eyes to the beautiful mother at his side, still radiant even in her exhaustion. 

"You're beautiful. Both of you. My family," he vows, reaching to touch Sikeax in any way possible, love filling him so profoundly he fears he may simply burst. "What shall you name her?" 

OOC HERE