”I won’t let you be hurt,” what he didn’t understand was, most things were going to hurt. It was hurting now, talking to him like this; but what else did he expect? Speaking words of war and battle was to have the desire to grow an extra few inches more than anyone wanted or expected. Sighing heavily I knew that this wasn’t going anywhere fast, he moved from me as if my head had become detached from body. At least the point had been made, yet his fear scent and wide eyes send waves of sorrow throughout my veins, and makes my resolve shatter.

”You can’t make me watch you leave while I do nothing!”

I stare him through the mask, wishing/praying for greater understanding, and knowing that it only came from heartbroken experience. There would be more moments like this, many times ahead where we just flat out disagreed. But these tests also gave us a chance to become stronger because of it. I knew that one day he would be grown; and would understand the world and its horrors.

Both of us loved the other completely, without strings or expectations attached. The only downside to such love was that you gave the other person power to cause harm in ways that were sometimes beyond that of physical pain. His wings are fully extended, ready to fly away and this wounds me more than anything; knowing that he would chose to run away from me. The one person that was trying so earnestly to appease and make a young mind understand the gravity of words and actions.

What I did, I did out of concern for him.

My armor slowly slips away, plates sliding to reveal flesh bit by bit. Smooth as liquid it glides until finally falling back into place as a lightened collar. The demonstration wouldn’t be needed for anything more in our conversation,”You can’t stop me, and you won’t!” He very nearly shouts, my auds and body flex, posed still as a statue. I listen and then offer softly, “I’m not going to stop you Cera, and I never will…you are free to make whatever choice must lead you.” Pain makes my voice tight, but somehow low. Like the rumbling of thunder during a storm. Despite the sturdiness it carries, I am stricken on the inside--weakened by this and many other things.

Who would hear my pleas and fears?

“It is my duty, and privilege to defend this family—to rob someone of their purpose and desire would be like me forcefully binding you away for speaking out.” What could I do? He seemed far too upset to see past anger and fear, “I have left for war before and returned didn’t I? Can you not trust me enough to come back again and again?” My tone turns nearly pleading, trying to reach him. Heavily these limbs once again fold, but skull and neck remain lifted.

My head falls a little, its weight plus invisible cords upon my shoulders seem too much to carry right now, “Please Cera, run if you want, cool off if you have the need. But know my feelings on this matter, as I have heard yours.” Lost. Lost without a father of my own to give direction for how this was supposed to work, I was still very young and not entirely sure of how to raise a growing stallion. “I love you son.” Swallowing hard my voice lowers to a whisper, “and it is for that love that I chose to send you away when the battle comes to our soils, so you don’t have to witness the bloodshed and desire of others. So that you may remain safe, for if anything was to happen….”

The memory of you. Norse. Comes screeching in my mind at full force, with each moment the fires of your light burn brighter and brighter, “Can’t you see Cera….I don’t know what else you want me to do—I am bound as you are.” Wanting to find a solution to both our problems I press another question, “What would you have me do?”