Oh! I read "more than watchmen wait for the morning" during the concrit period! The thing I most remember is this image of the queen sitting in her prison/tower, all the other birds flying away at once, and the one remaining transforming into her daughter, probably still kind of hunched over, the two of them looking at each other. In my head it looked kind of like a classical painting!

From the first line, I found the writing in this really beautiful, both poetic and evocative. If I could offer one suggestion, I found the moment of transformation powerful but also a bit abrupt, like I haven't really caught up with the tragedy of their separation before it's already been resolved for me. Part of it is that the Queen is actively repressing the memories ("knows nothing, hopes for nothing"), but I wonder if it might be possible to foreshadow it somehow, e.g. give a sense of some absence, or have her narration about the seagulls be jarringly longing or affectionate in a way that would make us wonder. 

She wakes up to find her head pillowed on her daughter's knees. The wind still howls, but the sun is higher in the sky, and the ever-present salt in the air feels sharper. Being held is overwhelming.
I love how it feels like she's been distant from the world until now, blurred out somehow.

"I thought I killed you with my greed for you."
Ugh, this line really pained me, in a good way. The two of them discuss the spikes in the realistic understated dialogue of shared knowledge (and not wanting to put words to it), but paint a very vivid image of what happened nonetheless. 

I thought the ending was also lovely, open and implying change but content for now, perfect for a story of this length.