Hushed Willows Child of Neptune, I'm the daughter of the Sun

Once, as a child, she had told Rose that one day she would make a place of her own; a place for them all, far away from The Gilded Sea. Somewhere beyond the grasp of the flames that always followed them, somewhere they would laugh freely, love openly, sleep easily. They'd spoken of it for hours, well into the night, whispered plans and stifled giggles and the oddly hollow feeling of grasping to a hope that felt so far out of reach. But it had been soothing, in a way.
Then the fire had come for them.
And she knew that Rose would never see that she had done it after all. She thought too of Win and Tybault and Athens, how it had come far too late for all of them, and she wondered if it had always been meant to be this way. None of them had escaped The Gilded Sea unscathed; the flames were branded to their skin now, etched in permanent reminder of what it felt like to burn. The twins, she thought, had a chance — and for that she rejoiced.
But Reverie knew that it was too late for her, too. It was the future she looked to now; it was the stars, and the sun on the horizon, and the gentle breeze through the willows which brought with it scents of the sea. It was her daughter, whose light shone more brightly with each passing day.
One morning Reverie woke early, parting from @Boone's side with a soft kiss to his cheek. In the dim of early morning she caught breakfast for @Blossom, and brought it to her just as she began to wake. Good morning, sunshine, She murmured gently to her. You know I love you, right? And she gathered her close, kissing her forehead. Did you know that you were named after your aunt? My sister, Rose. She was the best person I've ever known. She would have loved you, too.
And she, too, would have done everything in her power to ensure that those undying embers of The Gilded Sea's legacy never touched Blossom. Reverie sighed softly and released her daughter, offering her the breakfast she'd caught. She would take her through the forest today, she decided, and let her choose what they did. Whatever she wanted; none of her desires would be denied, not ever. Blossom would have the life Reverie had always dreamed of for herself, one in which the world was a bright and limitless place, one where she knew that no matter where she went or what she chose that she would be loved.
Reverie cast a fleeting glance toward the rising sun.
She wondered what Rose would say, if she could see her now; how far she'd come, how much she'd struggled and bled and cried, how the sun always rose again even after the most grueling nights. She wondered if she would be proud.