I had to Write this. Sorry about the non-update to BWWW but I am currently battling flu.
Disclaimer: The ten otter rule.
My name is Daphne of Domino.
Of course, if you are reading this story, you know who I am. Or at least who I am now.
Blonde, when the rest of my family is not. Eyes you cannot see. Floaty golden dress, red sash, and, possibly my most distinguishing feature, my golden mask.
A nymph. A dead nymph, lives underwater, and of course (I knew this point was about to come up, a crucial detail in the definition of Daphne of Domino), older sister to Princess Bloom of Domino, she who hath saved the world! Magix! Gotten engaged! Had lots of friends! Beautiful, long, red hair like our mother!
Oh, excuse me if I seem bitter. It's just... I can still remember the day I died. An odd thing to say, correct?
Unfortunately, a true thing to say.
I was not so close to Bloom. I was a stupid, silly sixteen-year-old, with stupid, silly, sixteen-year-old problems. She was a one year old.
I had to protect her, and I had to protect the Dragon Flame. So I hid her on Earth, gave her my share of the Flame. Leaving me, I knew, powerless.
Do you know why you cannot see my eyes? The Ancestrals demanded I tell them where Bloom was. I refused. They gouged out my eyes. Then they froze me, melted my organs, and broke my bones until I died.
What if it had been different?
What if I had taken Bloom's share of the Flame instead? Hid on Earth myself until the war stopped? Left her there to die?
I wouldn't be blamed. She was the second princess in a household where a girl and a boy were wanted by the parents, and I was the crown princess. She was just a baby when I was a sixteen year old with my life ahead of me.
Looking back, she did too.
But...
Maybe I would have gone to Alfea. Maybe I would have fallen in love with a Red Fountain Specialist, and maybe I would have made my own Winx Club. Maybe.
Bloom doesn't mourn the death of me. She celebrates. It's her birthday, though she also knows its the day I died.
Just because I can speak doesn't mean that my death doesn't matter. I never got a chance to live.
I would love to hug my mother again, or taste my favorite dessert, or even, maybe, use my powers. It's great being a nymph, but it's like being a light witch—sometimes I feel like that.
My sister doesn't know that my favorite color is green, and she'll never ask and she'll never care. My sister doesn't know that my birthday is February 21, and she doesn't care. My sister doesn't know that I had a crush on a gardener when I was fourteen, and she doesn't care.
Not that I mind or anything.
But I gave up everything for her. Life, feeling, love, ruling...what if I had left her there to die?
And when I often see her talk about quitting Alfea, her walking through those gates I would give an arm and a leg to go into myself, as a student, and saying she'll never come back...
Well, sometimes I wish I had.
Please excuse me for being bitter, though.