The air in the carriage was light as Father and I made our way home from the royal castle. As we rolled through the city streets, the capital plaza came into view, and the pace of the carriage slowed just enough for me to take in the scene. Though the sacred flame ceremony had long since concluded, the plaza still teemed with people. The vast space echoed with jubilant voices praising the Saint, and radiant smiles danced upon every face. The joy in the air was palpable, and it filled me with an unexpected surge of elation and awe.
The sight of genuine joy was one I might have overlooked only a few months ago—something I would have taken for granted without a second thought. But now, it struck me as the most precious, the most fleeting thing in the world. These were ordinary people, living ordinary lives. It took so little to bring happiness into their hearts, and yet, I had come to understand just how much labor and care were required to nurture even that modest pleasure.
Father had toiled tirelessly to uphold the peace of this kingdom, his life devoted to the preservation of this fragile happiness; Carolina had (unwittingly) dedicated herself to the well-being of the people as well. But what had I done? What part had I played in bringing forth this joy?
Nothing. The thought slipped into my mind with the softness of a whisper, but its weight settled heavily upon me. My ambitions had been petty, my goals nothing more than narrow-minded attempts at securing my own position, or at best, the position of our family’s duchy. Never once had I paused to consider what I might do to help the kingdom and her people—those very souls whose gladness now radiated so brightly before me.
What a foolish waste of a life I had lived. All my talent, all the connections I had amassed, and for what? To tear down a single person who had never deserved my wrath. I could have used those gifts for something far greater. Compared to my accomplished father and my literal Saint of a sister, I was...nothing. The thought filled me with shame, and I dropped my gaze onto my lap.
I clenched my fists tightly, feeling the uncomfortable mix of mortification and inferiority churning within me. This is what you get for never moving on from Mother’s death, I chided myself, a bitter, self-deprecating smile curling at the corners of my lips.
I forced my gaze upwards once more, watching the plaza slowly pass by. My eyes lingered on the sight of those jubilant faces, their laughter and lighthearted movements filling the square. I burned the image into my mind, committing every smile, every moment of happiness to memory. This, I swore to myself, this is the joy you shall endeavor to bring about, Flora Sanchez. In that moment, I made a vow: this same joy that these people felt on this sacred day, I would strive to provide for them every other day going forward. No longer would I squander my life in selfish pursuits. I would dedicate myself to the well-being of the people.
With renewed resolve, I turned my gaze towards my father. “I have a request, if I may, Father.”
He tilted his head slightly, a trace of confusion flickering in his eyes at the shift in my tone. “What is it, my daughter?”
I met his calm gaze, my own eyes hardened in determination. “To aid me in atoning for my wrongs against Carolina, and to help me achieve my own goals—I wish to be named successor to you as duchess and prime minister.”
His eyes widened, his entire body going still as he absorbed the weight of my words. I had anticipated his surprise. After all, my request was bold—perhaps even reckless—especially coming from me in such sudden fashion. In the male-dominated hierarchy of Celestian society, women rarely occupied positions of power. I knew that I would be better able to inherit the title of duchess then the office of prime minister. That lofty goal wouldn’t be as easily achieved—Celestia had never seen a female prime minister in all its long history. I would be the first, but were I to climb to this height, I would not do so alone. It would only be with Father by my side that I even stood a chance of accomplishing my aims.
“I understand fully the difficulties to which I’m committing myself,” I replied, my voice steady and unwavering. “But I want to protect them—the people of Celestia. Their smiles, their way of life—just as you and Carolina have done. I want to serve our kingdom. And,” I added, “I wish to atone for my sins!”
I held his gaze with unwavering resolve, determined to show him that this was not some impulsive whim, but a carefully considered decision. Despite the many talents I possessed, I knew this path would not be easy. But I had chosen it with a clear mind and a willing heart.
The silence stretched between us, our eyes locked in a wordless contest. The seconds ticked by—one heartbeat, then another. My gaze never faltered, my conviction never wavered. Finally, Father looked away, furrowing his brow as he mulled over my words. At last he let out a resigned sigh.
“Very well,” he muttered.
He straightened, his expression softening but still etched with concern. “You have made your resolve abundantly clear,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of weariness. “But understand, my daughter, what I ask next, I ask not as a question of your capabilities. Nor do I ask it to discourage you before you have even begun. It is simply my duty as your father to do so.” He paused, his hands finding my shoulders, gripping them firmly as he peered into my eyes. “Are you certain of this, Flora? I fear the path you seek may be far more perilous than you have anticipated. You could marry well, as the daughter of a duke, and still find a way to fulfill your promise to Carolina. Given that option, do you still wish to follow in my footsteps?”
His words were sharp and his gaze was sharper, intended to dissuade me as any parent would try to steer their child away from a path so treacherous. But beneath the firmness, I could sense his true emotions—his worry, his fear. As a father, he longed for me to live a life as unburdened as could be. But some hardship was an inevitable part of life. We all had our battles and our certain convictions that we could not simply cast aside. Even me.
Sorry Father. And thank you...for your concern. For everything really.
“I do, Father,” I replied firmly, without so much as a blink. “And I regret to inform you that you will not dissuade me. My mind is made up. So I ask that you pass on your knowledge and your experience. I will master it—every bit of it.”
I smiled then. It was a smile imbued with confidence, the confidence of a woman who, at the age of twenty, had finally discovered the proper outlet for her talents. I would become the woman I was meant to be—the wisest, most respected among them all.
Father nodded with an air of resignation. “Very well,” he agreed softly. “You shall have my help.” But then, something playful sparked in his eyes, a glint of mischief I had not expected. “But I can be a tough teacher, you know? Don’t think for a moment I’ll go easy on you just because you’re my daughter.” An almost wicked smile, alien in its impishness, tugged at his lips. “This should prove fun,” he added ominously.
As I imagined the days of intense lectures and rigorous instruction that were likely to come, I felt an errant twitch in my cheek. Despite my apprehension, the desire to protect the people (and to atone for my past sins) still burned fiercely in my chest.
“Thank you, Father,” I said, dipping my head in a gracious bow.
This Noel, I was certain, would be one that neither I nor the people of Celestia would soon forget.