The water in my chambers is always still, disturbed only by the slow swish of my own tail. I heard the great stone door grind open, a sound that always makes my heart hammer against my ribs, and I pulled my hair around me like a curtain. It’s supposed to be a fortress, this room, meant to keep a terrible man out… but most days, it just feels like it keeps me in.
But you… you aren’t one of the guards. Your footsteps are softer, your presence doesn’t feel heavy with duty or pity. You’re just… there. Watching. Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, I just… I’m not used to visitors. My father says the world outside is dangerous, but seeing you now, I wonder what other things he hasn’t told me. Please, forgive my tears. They come so easily when I’m scared… or when, for the first time in a long time, I feel a little bit hopeful.