The Sentinels [m]y love is a lifetaker

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Like clockwork each year, her season took hold just before the cusp of spring. When the heavens opened up to weep their icy tears for days unending, Marina knew it was almost time. She knew, and she feared it more than anything. Irrationally she grew terrified that the yellow-eyed man would find her again, that he would force himself on her and leave as he had the year before.

She hid herself away in her den as the fire descended upon her. It didn't occur to her to call out for @Dutch, not yet; their reunion was too new, her sense of safety too fragile to do anything but shatter in the face of this new development. So she hid. She listened to the rain coming down.

His venture outside of the territory had been brief, and upon his return, he'd found Marina's scent subtly changed. He gave her space, spending much of his time marking tight borders around her den. He did not see much utility in trying to hold a larger territory, but he wanted anyone who drew near to understand that someone was guarding the area carefully, and with bloody intention.

Despite his best efforts, he was sure the siren song of her scent would overpower the war cry of his own.

Today, he'd spent some hours splashing in the river, chasing after a sea otter that had made its way inland. Though it was a smaller specimen, there was still enough for him to bring back to her after eating his fill. He brought the remains — including all the best organs — to the little hovel she kept for herself, lowering himself to his belly and uttering a soft woof in hope of summoning her.

He would feel more settled, he thought, when he could lay eyes on her. Thus far, he'd refrained from approaching the den at all — but he was growing anxious.

The sound of a familiar voice drew her from the haze of near-panic in which she had existed for hours. Marina sucked in a sharp breath, blinking rapidly as every ounce of awareness and emotion flooded back to the forefront of her thoughts. Her throat tightened with a sickly, gnawing feeling; he deserves better than this.

How long had she spent hiding herself away? Marina crept from her den with ears slicked back guiltily, dark eyes finding Dutch's paws first. There was something grounding about the sight of them, slightly flecked with sand and dirt from his patrols. His scent was all around them. Warmth bloomed faintly in her chest, then flared into something hot and desperate. Not lust; a softer creature than that, grasping, altogether more intimate.

She crawled forward to nuzzle against his paws, to clean the dirt from them with tender swipes of her tongue. She rubbed her cheeks against them, marveling at the velvety softness of the fur there. The warm scent of him. Safe. Dutch, she breathed against his wrists, closing her eyes. I'm safe here.

Marina emerged willingly, startling Dutch with the swiftness of her approach. He felt that they groveled to each other there in the dirt, his nose finding her crown as she washed his paws. Her scent enveloped him, heavy and homey in his lungs.

"Marina," he breathed in return, dipping his head to try and wedge his muzzle under hers. He nosed at her cheek in desperate affection, pleased with this development but —

"You must eat something," he told her, attempting to direct her attention toward the remains of the otter. By physically turning her head, if he had to. "When have you last filled your belly?"

She would've been happy to lose herself in his scent, in the warmth of the moment. But he wanted her to eat, and her stomach churned the moment the word left his lips. Marina grimaced slightly as Dutch turned her head toward the food, but whatever protest she'd been preparing died on her lips at his question. She wasn't sure she could answer that; feeding herself was no longer her main priority, now that she had no children to nurse...

Children. Her stomach clenched harder this time, drawing a stifled gasp and a small flinch from her. She turned to bury her face in Dutch's ruff with a plaintive whine. My stomach is all in knots, she admitted, swallowing hard. She took a deep breath and drew away to meet his sunset eyes. She couldn't see them without thinking of her daughter, and it was a sweet ache.

My first season... I knew nothing about it. I didn't get to choose, because I didn't know I was making a choice at all, Marina began softly, tremulously, but her voice grew steadier as she went on. She wanted to tell him this. Sialuk found me, but it was too late then. So she brought me to Moontide. I whelped my first litter there... Carlisle and Brockleigh. I raised them alone until I met Chakliux.

Last year, I tried to hide. But I didn't get to choose. Her voice wavered a little then, and she buried her face back into Dutch's fur. She felt her breath hitching, her thoughts fragmenting, but the words kept spilling out; Your father asked me if I loved you. Back in Moontide. And I did. I do. You were my choice. You are my choice. Not for children — not just for that, but for everything. Forever. And now he was here, and she was drowning in the terror that something else might come to steal the choice from her again, again, again.

How could she even think about eating?

He did not understand. How could he? He was a man, and the choices that women had to make were so far removed from his own experiences. The way that those choices could be taken away was, too, though he naively assumed that it was similar to how he'd felt when he'd discovered Chakliux gone.

But he understood, he thought, when she confessed her love for him. It made a few of her silences in the distant past more understandable. It made his heart clench as he thought again about losing her, and how it had been the thing to finally break him beyond repair. The endless chipping away at his loved ones was an ever-gnawing wound, even or especially when they'd all run out — but the fear he felt now was undoubtedly worse.

"I have loved you since before I laid eyes on you," he told her, remembering. He looked into her marine gaze and found himself lost again in memories of that starry night. "I carried your name with me for months. At first because you were loved by Chakliux — but when I met you, and when you shared yourself with me..."

That had been the most joyful time in his life. Those few short months. Perhaps even those few short hours, shared amongst the seal hunters. The boys, his Chakliux, Marina —

"I should have stayed there with you," he said, forsaking his wife with those words. "I thought that I needed my own life, my own family to bring to yours. I did not know that I could choose you. You belonged to another. But he was mine, and I think..."

He could see it now.

"I should have stayed," he told her. "I do not regret my children, and I do not regret the love that I had — but I know that my heart belonged in that lodge. And that it belongs here, with you."

He pressed forward, resting his forehead against hers.

"I am here with you, Marina," he told her. "I'm not going anywhere, and I will protect you 'til my dying breath — and perhaps even longer."

You always belonged with us. Her words were quiet and fierce, a truth she had carried in silence for years; a fantasy she had held to whenever her heart ached just a little too much at his absence. Marina pulled him closer, and for a moment — just for a moment, she felt almost like the woman she had been. Steadier, softer, not yet jaded by so many small tragedies.

She let out a slow breath and found she was no longer trembling. I want to try again, she whispered, forehead still pressed to his, confession and plea all at once. A family. A - life. With you, when you're ready. And if we lose it all again, then... we'll still have each other.

Marina drew away to meet his eyes, her own filled with tears. He finally understood. Too late, far too late — but it didn't matter now. He had made his choice. He'd chosen her.

He nodded jerkily at her assertion. He had belonged with them. He'd hoped that having a wife of his own would allow him leeway to be closer with them. To join their family as a man, as an equal. But he understood now that his love for Chakliux had been at war with his pride, and he had allowed the wrong side to win.

He should have stayed. In love and humility, he should have stayed.

"I'm ready," he said at once, his words sure and strong. He was more than ready — he felt an aching need to claim her, both in his spirit and in his physical body. When she was fat with his children, maybe he would be able to breathe again. Maybe then his own stomach would stop churning with hate for all the time that they'd spent apart, and all the intervening bodies that still marked them in silent, invisible ways.

"As soon as you are," he amended, shutting his eyes so that she would not see his desperation, the way he wanted to plead again for her to let him cover her. "I want our family."

We can fade here & have a new one or skip ahead! <3

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: bad dogs

I'm ready, she echoed, and kissed his cheek. After a moment she lifted herself to her paws, a little unsteady on her feet but quickly regaining her grace. She turned only to drag the remnants of the otter closer to the den mouth, safe from any bold hungry critters lurking nearby.

Then she went to Dutch, guiding him with a soft touch to her den. You are my choice, Marina whispered into his fur, as much for herself as for him. Now and always. You are mine. This is mine. My love, my story, my life.

It was a long time before Dutch felt any need — never mind ability — to speak anything other than sweet nothings again. He lay close beside her, curled around her as much as possible without crushing her beneath him. Perhaps he'd slept. Perhaps not.

"You should eat," he said again, sleepily. Contentedly.

For the moment, all appetites had been slaked. All hurts had been salved. Now all that was left was what must be — and he knew that he must see Marina cared for in each and every way.

He turned more fully on his side to watch her, half-lidded and warm. He, too, was beginning to feel a little more like his old self.

The weight of what they'd done settled over her like one of the thick pelts she'd worn as a third wife in Moontide. Things were different now; she was no longer the third, but the only. It hardly mattered in this moment what had come before.

Okay, she murmured easily, shifting to catch the fur of the otter carcass with her teeth and drag it further into the den. Marina ate slowly, thoughtfully. After a time, she said, I don't think we should stay here. She let the words hang in the air, half unspoken question; should we find others? Should we find a place that's only our own? Logistics came more easily to her than the raw emotion of the past days, but even so, Marina was uncertain. She didn't know how to do — this, the intentional building of a life with her sights set on forever. She'd only ever stumbled into her own life before now.

A warm glow of pride and satisfaction suffused him when she seemed more able to eat. He could do this. He could take care of her. He could be what she needed — which was what he needed most of all.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked her, hoping only that it was not the plateau. But even if it was, he knew that he could stand it. He could grow comfortable there again.

He watched her, calmer and calmer with every bite she took.

"I saw Alaric earlier," he said to her. "From Moonspear. Katmai is with him."

He did not feel a particular need to go and be with his son. Katmai was grown, now, and though he would surely need to visit, the boy did not need his father hanging around.

"Valiant is still at Moonglow," he added. "Perhaps it is good to be close by. Just in case."

But close meant Ocean's Breath was close, too. Dutch decided he would be glad to stay, and equally glad to get away.

I... I'm not sure, Marina let out a breath, a frown knitting her features as she thought about it. She plucked a thin strip of meat from the otter as she thought. Somewhere by the sea. That means two real options - up the coast, or down the coast. She paused to chew the strip of meat.

At length she went on; The Sound is far up the coast. There are cliffs farther out, but beyond that - a lot of ice. I've never been far down the coastline here, Marina lifted her gaze from her meal to look at Dutch again, her dark blue eyes sparkling faintly with the beginnings of a new light. Whether we should stay close or not... I don't know. If we stay close, it means more support. If we leave - it would be like starting fresh.

I suppose it depends on what matters more, she finished quietly, offering no answers for now. Truth be told, she didn't have any. She had already lived through the worst her life could become, she thought; anything after that was a respite by comparison, but with Dutch by her side it felt more like a miracle she'd never asked for and didn't quite deserve. It was difficult, then, to find any true preference within that framework — at least for now, before the newness had worn off.

Dutch was quiet after this, contemplating all that she'd said. He supposed he had a duty to be available for his son. At the same time — he felt that Katmai had left Round Valley almost explicitly to get away from him, and the stifling grief he carried with him.

Perhaps it would be best to put that distance back between them.

"There is an island just off the coast," he said to her, eventually. "Not too far northeast of here. I have seen it from a distance only — but it is where the Cortens once lived. Cousins of mine. I have always wanted to go."

He laid his head down on his paws, watching her still. One day soon, he would look at her and see the swell of her pregnant belly, and all the world would be as it should be.

"We should go," he told her. "We should have our family there."

Corten. The name echoed through her thoughts, and Marina frowned slightly at the familiarity of it. She'd heard that name once before, hadn't she?

The island sounds nice. I stayed on an island with my brother, for a little while... She agreed a bit distractedly, gaze falling to the otter. Where had she heard that name? Hadn't it been from River himself? I know that name. Corten.

It was... my father's name, I think, Marina glanced up at Dutch only briefly as she said it. Yes, she remembered now; the name of a man known to her only as a concept, only as a label and a must have been. Winterbourne Corten. I never knew him.

Perhaps absurdly, Dutch felt jealous of this brother and all the time Marina had spent with him — when she should have been with Dutch. But there was no undoing the past, and he supposed he was glad that she hadn't been alone.

And then — Winterbourne Corten.

Dutch, fortunately or unfortunately, knew that name, too.

"Ah," he said, feeling awkward. He'd been pushed by various relatives to get to know a few of his female cousins with the intent to marry, but never one so close in relation to himself. "Winterbourne Corten is my uncle," he said after a beat of hesitation. "My mother's half-brother."

She sensed his awkwardness, but couldn't bring herself to share it. At Octopus Island, marriages between cousins and even half-siblings had been encouraged. Marina, who had never contemplated such things, had accepted it without question.

She hadn't considered that it might ever become a subject of importance in her own life.

She went still, drawing in a slow breath as she studied Dutch's features with a dawning apprehension. Your uncle, she repeated softly. So we're cousins. Does that... change things? The anxiety crept into her voice of its own accord. She swallowed.

Dutch huffed.

"No," he assured her. Even if it had, they were past the point of doing anything about it. They'd had children together already, and they were about to have more.

Dutch picked himself up off the ground, finally mustering the energy in the face of her worry. He padded close enough to attack her with an enthusiastic nuzzle, the warm glow in his chest untouched by recent revelations — not matter how much of a faux pas they'd unwittingly committed.

"I suppose we have always been family," he said with wry humor. "My mother, I think, would be well pleased."

No. All the tension left her body with that single word, and Marina leaned into his affections with a soft sigh. She smiled faintly at his words. My family would be pleased too, I suppose, she murmured. Not as pleased as if I'd married a Sea-Snake; my mother's lineage. They tried til the end to convince me. But they say it's good to keep the blood pure.

We should talk about names soon, Marina said idly, pulling Dutch closer to trail her nose along his cheek and down into his ruff. But first - She didn't think she needed to tell him what was on her mind. Instead she pressed her mouth to his neck in soft invitation, and let the air settle into silence between them.