Hell was where she burned, where she cried, begged and pleaded.
Azriel was her only way.
Nimou, Princess of the Kingdom of Seas is trapped in a storm of nightmares and pain that threatens to come alight with each step forward.
Azriel, her saviour...
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"When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us." -Alexander Graham Bell
CHAPTER TWO FALLEN WINGS
HER SLENDER FINGERS squeezed the knob, the metal biting the warmth of her hand. Days, for days she had begged herself to just open the damn door. And days of defeat because she couldn't. She couldn't, she just simply couldn't.
Every morning a warm bath awaited her. Every morning, a warm cup of tea and clumpy oatmeal set out. And every morning she told herself she needed to leave this room, needed to crawl out of the pits of hell dragging her with its teeth, she needed to pull herself up for some air because she was drowning.
Every morning she made herself presentable brushing her carnation-colored hair, twisting the waves that lost themselves in the thick sea-kissed mane. She braided the front pieces as many back home did, she missed the jewels and cuffs that intertwined the braids. Her hair was the epitome of home, home. She no longer had a home, she would never return home. She could never embrace her sisters, she could never laugh with them in their shared room of water and reefs.
Where was her home?
The Night Court clothing was much different from her homeland. Sweaters, pants, and dresses were all unfamiliar, they covered much more than under the waves. The Water Fae loved to piece together fabrics and shells, woven into a masterpiece. But here, the clothes were simple. Even the colors were a different shade from beneath the waves. It was all foreign to her, up here and along the shoreline.
She had lost who she truly was deep in her core years into the torture and now she wasn't sure who she would be. She wasn't considered to be a part of the water, she was powerless to the waves and the ripple along the tides. She couldn't do any of it. Tarquin was her home, but Tarquin could never love her again. He wouldn't love her again. He wouldn't be able to look at her and her broken body. He would hate her, he would throw her away. She had nowhere to go. And any waves that would remind her of home, were gone. Forgotten.
Open the door.
Just open the door.
Her hand locked to the knob, twisting it with a tight grasp, the door swinging open with a thud. Before she could talk herself into one more day of peace. One more— Shadows vined along the wall, begging her to follow. They were so dark, so hazy, cold fingertips reached for them. They basked in her touch, her hand disappearing between the haze, they felt so good. So powerful—-They recoiled away, sinking between the floorboards and disappearing completely. Probably scared them, trembling from her vile touch. They would go off to tell their master just how much of a monster she truly was.
Her knees buckled and pushed through the hall, she only stopped when her feet touched the first wooden step, a red carpet at the bottom, she could do this. She had to do this. If she didn't, she wasn't sure she would ever leave. Through gritted teeth she sank down the stairs, her shoeless feet only faint against the silence. The house entirely too quiet for her liking, it made her heart race, stomach drop. Relief swirled her mind when a sharp clattering of glass and mumbled words came from ahead.
