There is so much power in a birthright: my father was named for a god, my mother for the eagle, prestige layered into her feathers, bestowed with an all-possessing power in her beak, capable of bending elements around her wings. My ancestry is merely human, so, tell me: why should I fear? Why should I cower at your devices, wear your leash, play puppet? Tell me, why should I unpick the celestial parts of me solely for your comfort? I am not the one to bend. Or bow. I have no need for your approval to be and exist.