Cera remembers. In that moment, taking that courageous step forward towards Midas, he recalled something that had slipped past him in every nightmare. It had taken so much strength, that tiny step. But it reminded him that he’d held on even tighter, when he should have been killed. He knew, intimately, that with his build and age he should not have survived. Cera was simply too thin, too frail. Entirely too breakable for the poison not to have killed him that day in the forest. But, that’s not what he remembers. Though he does clearly remember struggling to hang on to that thread of life, seemingly impossible to keep up strength before Onni had taken the fight for him. No, he remembers two words. One of them spoken by the devil himself. Die. And it’s then that Cera remembers the deep, furious echo that had resounded in his very chest. No. He would not die, because he had too much to live for. At his age, he didn’t understand that. When he had grown he would look back, and know that he had fought every inch in order to return to his beloved family. That order would not be obeyed, he would not hand his life over so easily. Something far stronger was blooming inside him, encouraged by Midas’ attentive grooming. It was entirely foreign to him, but that simple ‘no’ struck him as he was pressed into the darkness of Midas’ neck. Shuddering breaths were exhaled onto the painted body and he didn’t feel strong, but maybe if he could hear that proud voice inside him once more he could continue on. It felt as though the future him had reached back to Cera as a colt and told him that he could make it. If that strength existed somewhere inside him, anywhere, Cera would draw on it and let Midas lead him out from the darkness of his own mind.

Snowy feathers enveloped him, the soft shush, shush of feathers moving a gentle whisper that things would be alright. Legs lowered to the ground and Cera followed without complaint, drained. Body leaning sideways into his father, reminiscent of the nights they spent together sharing warmth and love. Stern, caring words quieted Cera and he at last turned his head so that face was no longer pressed into the side of his neck. Opening his eyes to see past the self-inflicted darkness. Body curled closer, and Cera allowed himself to believe that nothing had happened and he was back to standing on that desert floor, childish words greeting his father for the very first time. Touch meant so much to him, and Midas seemed to understand that well. It soothed frazzled nerves, if only slightly. Eventually relaxation overtook him, and he lay limply against his father nearly drifting off. Warm air over his ears brought him back, and he shifted closer as crown lifted to hear what painted father would say. Relieved, tentative smile broke through where normally sunny grin would live when Midas nearly swore that he would not have to watch his steps so carefully. That there was nothing to fear. Turning a bit more alert as training was mentioned. The topic had been approached and they had dabbled in it quite a few times, but Cera had always enjoyed such days. It gave him closeness to Midas that he thoroughly enjoyed.

Words flowed, sadly, from his father’s mouth. Pouring straight into his ears, attentive as ever. Learning the definition and fine rules of the lesson he had learned in the worst way. Cera forced himself not to cringe or whimper, and Ilaria snuffled gently against his shoulder comfortingly. Kri had spoken the same thing at the meeting, but with it reiterated now he was going to follow it to the letter. Green orbs turned to look at Fina and smile shakily, thankfully. He didn’t know if she liked him, but he hoped so. Attention was brought back not only by the sound of speech but by the stirring of magic around his father. Watching as golden chain lifted and moved, slipping over his own slim neck and settling so that the jewel rested just below his scar. Awed, he was hardly able to listen to the words Midas bestowed upon him explaining what it was. He’d been there the day his father had received it, after all. Thankful eyes turned, gratitude and love shining out through them. ”Thank you daddy…” soft whisper only loud enough to touch the ears of his beloved father, though nobody else was around to listen anyways. Tiny muzzle reaching up vainly to eventually touch his father’s cheek, knowing that every command given would be obeyed and every word held close to heart. Cera wouldn’t disobey his father for all the power and fame in the world.