His life was ironic from the get-go. A life of shadows, of darkness for one so golden, so pure, gentle and chivalrous. When he opened his eyes, he saw... nothing... and no matter how many times they opened and shut, he still couldn't see what he knew was there in front of him. Those misty sapphire blue eyes, so hauntingly vivid and bright, yet so utterly dead and useless.

 

So he remained, a prisoner of his own world. As he grew into adulthood, a secret part of him began to decay, to grow bitter. He drew into himself and as he grew to despise his weakness, so he found a way to hide it- a golden mask that reflected his feelings on the world, his true personality, but in reality was there not only to hide his affliction, but the darker part of his being. The mask became his crutch.

 

Many had commented on his natural beauty, but how could one be beautiful when they lived in such a manner? Or so he thought... thus he ornamented himself, gilded jewelry to catch the eyes that he himself did not possess.

 

Talia found him, striving for independence, wishing for a life that he could call his own. His mask had slipped... his only protection from the world outside. He felt hands gently stroke his nose, placing the golden cloth back where it belonged, tightening it until it fit snugly. She didn't coddle him... she guided him when he asked, and didn't offer assistance when it wasn't needed. She knew him better than he knew himself. And she had seen him without his protection, with all his barriers down. And she saw him for what he was.

 

He became the hub of the Serians. Just, gentle, and wise beyond his years, yet with a bit of childish temper and a quick wit when the mood struck him. A stallion in his prime, yet he felt so utterly wizened by his cares and those of the world.

 

His vision was tainted... so pure in it's own respects, yet foiled by the darkness of the world that he could only pretend to decipher.