A Robin with Falcon Wings
Crisp sea air greeted Novellia every morning and kept her company during the nights she couldn't find peace in her sleep. She was used to it, letting it be a source of comfort for lonely times in the waking hour of the night.
She rested her arms on the railing of the balcony. The winds swept at her hair. Her shoulders relaxed as she closed her eyes to savor the moment. It would be interrupted.
Ode, a kestrel of brown, black, and gray feathers came about. He perched himself on the railing, caressing his lady's hand as she went to give him a pat. She smiled at the bird. "Thank you, Ode. It's been a while since father sent a letter back. Oh, I hope it's more stories."
Her hand would unlatch the protective metal cylinder, opening it up to pull out the letter. She straightened it out. Humming, she read it. Then, she stopped. That smile which once prevailed upon her face faded.
To my Beloved Robin,
I pray to the Spirit Ode finds you someplace safe and quiet. A place where you may collect your thoughts and have clarity for what I am to write. I am no good father for failing to find you and your mother, but also in the actions I've taken in my own selfishness.
Novellia, I will not lie or sugarcoat what you have. You hold a physical and blood-born birthright to become the Matriarch of House Fristadvlom. No matter what I was told as Patriarch, I chose to take matters into my hands and forcibly asserted my powers to protect your position. I've fought off other families, assassins, and have even debated on end with my brothers and sisters for your right to rule.
You must understand. To be the Matriarch is no gift, but a burden and a promise. I did not understand this until more recently, that in my actions, I saw it as a gift rather than as it truly was. I am more than remorseful for bringing this void upon you. My only child, I should have considered your hopes and your dreams rather than attempting to already make you a legacy you never wanted or asked for. I force you to be strong, when your chest is red as your heart bleeds so easily for others. It is as if I dared to attach the wings of a falcon upon you, my little robin.
With this letter, I ask of you to think of what path you will take. I am not going to judge you for either. I ask of you not to hold yourself responsible and to decide what you want. Please choose what you want, not what others wish for you, or what the world believes you should choose.
I love you with all my heart. I know you cannot believe words easily after all these years of hardship, but understand that I do not lie. You are my only daughter. I will not make the mistake of causing you suffering. Again, I ask of you to look within yourself and choose for your own views. Our lives are not blessed to be long, which is why I tell you to choose for yourself and no other. This life of yours is yours alone and I will not be a bastard, who comes along to ruin it for my own selfish reasons.
Your father,
Elofarn
Novellia's knees gave way beneath her, placing her hands on the ground, along with the note. Tears collected in her eyes and fell upon the parchment. She put her hand on her mouth, stifling her cries. Her body trembled in the night that had grown colder.
Joy, happiness, relief. Isn't that what people would feel in this moment? In the moment they are told they have a birthright? That they were born with a meaning?
She let out a strained breath, closing her eyes tightly. 'Spirit… why- why must it be me? Why when everything seemed so clear to me?' Her mind stirred with the idea.
Absent, but present at the same time, she was caught by the haze of her thoughts. She rested herself against the door back into the warmth of her room. The persistence of the cold penetrated her ivory nightdress and the shawl that held the shade of distant spring blossoms.
When all felt wrong, she curled up. Her face was buried against her legs, which she hugged close. Responsibility, duty, maturity.
Loneliness.
Everything felt like nights from a long forgotten day and age. From a time, where a small girl awaited for the embraces, the presence, and the songs of her mother. In a distant time and place, where they lived happily, but dreamt of freedom.
Here, all seemed to come into place. Freedom, music, friends, love- a home- all that she'd wished in her future, all that she would ever need in one.
Her reddened eyes stared over the paper, before she breathed in sharply. She raised her head, braving the biting chills.
Gradual, her form rose up, quivering. Her hands gripped her shawl, crushing the paper as she did so. Her cheeks were red, her face was red. She stepped to the railing, staring up to a clouded, starless night.
But with such inner disquiet, there laid a light. Clouds obscured all of what could lead the way, still, it could not silence the light of a moon that hung above the city. Blurred and disfigured, but certainly ever present it was.
A world of simplicity had long ended for her and she could see, she was too blind to see it at first. The moment she decided to step into the Holy City and to choose to open her heart to it and the people who lived there.
Run. Run away, eyes closed, just as the crimson-haired rebel had told her long ago. As fires erupted and threatened the docile night sky, they ran away.
But that could never work here. Not now. Not with what she felt and those she couldn't leave.
Brisk and purposeful, she sat at her desk, pen gripped in calloused hands. Ink flowed and dripped and blotted.
To the Falcon of the Fortress, my Father,
This role you've given me is an undertaking I understand will never be easy. I appreciate the love and understanding you've shown, but I must give you an answer. One that both you and mother may not desire of me. You've said before that I was a child of free will, that I am to build my own path— That I can decide.
And I've decided to take up your promise.
I am far from ready, but I will dedicate myself to growing into a suitable leader for House Fristadvlom. If possible, allow me to simply be 'Acting Matriarch', until the day comes I can stand on my own two feet with the family's support upon my birthright.
You may have given me the wings of a falcon, but you are my father. I was born with these larger wings as they are yours. What I am to do now is to grow into those wings, to learn how to use them, no matter how difficult or 'unwieldy' some may say it will be.
I know both you and mother have told me to live a life of freedom- of where I use my own wings, but they are the same as yours, as my eyes are. This is partially why I want to claim my birthright, because while I am my mother's child, I am yours as well.
I will be honest about my other reason. I'm not sure if you would approve, but please understand that this is my wish and my will. This opportunity you've given me is one, not many get. And with this, I want to use it for the betterment of others rather than myself. I'm not sure how much weight my words will have, but Regalia has taught and shown me many things.
I've been met with the greatest of joys and the warmest of people- but I've also seen the cruelty and violence. I'm not sure how much I can do and if I'll even make a change, but if my step to becoming a leader allows me that chance. Then, it will be worth more than my freedom.
Your daughter,
Novellia Raedotter av Fristadvlom
Her hand retired the utensil to a drawer. She rolled the letter, once she was sure it dried as her tears had.
Blue ocean eyes stared at the warm melding brown and black feathers. Her finger stroke under his beak, before she slipped the cylinder, now filled with her reply.
"For papa," she said in Nyspråk, which felt natural and graced on her lips now.
The kestrel left. Swift, no chirp or noise. Feathers fluttering and speeds being met.
Now, it was quiet.
Now, it was lonely.
