The day had come.
They had spent their time in preparation. He had lent his help where his lover had allowed, and had given her space where she had not. At times he collected, at times he preened her, and at many times more he stood as a guardian to the den she had chosen, and the caves they had found.
It would be perfect.
He knew something was different that day, in the way she drove him off. She carried a different scent, a different urgency. And though he wished to stay more than ever, he obliged, and took up his place as her silent sentry - yet not without the quietest whine.
He did not know the full breadth of childbirth, except from what Clary had once described to him. He wished to shield his lover from her pain. But this, he knew along with her, was a trial she would face alone.
Merrit stood alert. He thought, once, he heard a voice from her chambers, yet he dismissed this for his stress. She was alone there, she would be okay.
Could one die in childbirth? Would she be okay? Despite his reassurances, his anxieties swirled. And as the scent of afterbirth touched his nose, his eyes flashed with memories of mother, and of Arlette. Of his sister’s face when she had confided the death of her own firstborn.
And he was afraid.
His mind plunged to darkness, and if not for the quiet song of his lover, he might’ve lost himself again. But at her call the world reawakened to starling brightness. He was here, and not at Stone Circle. He was here - and she was here - and they were here, all of them.
Merrit hurried to the den, and peered inside. He would not enter until he knew he would not be met with flashing teeth - but his eyes picked his lover out from the darkness first, and then his gaze shifted to their children at her side.
“My dove,” he whispered, “I love you.”
And he smiled with a happiness he wasn’t sure he’d ever known before, as his gaze went to her, and to the pups again.
All of you.
They had spent their time in preparation. He had lent his help where his lover had allowed, and had given her space where she had not. At times he collected, at times he preened her, and at many times more he stood as a guardian to the den she had chosen, and the caves they had found.
It would be perfect.
He knew something was different that day, in the way she drove him off. She carried a different scent, a different urgency. And though he wished to stay more than ever, he obliged, and took up his place as her silent sentry - yet not without the quietest whine.
He did not know the full breadth of childbirth, except from what Clary had once described to him. He wished to shield his lover from her pain. But this, he knew along with her, was a trial she would face alone.
Merrit stood alert. He thought, once, he heard a voice from her chambers, yet he dismissed this for his stress. She was alone there, she would be okay.
Could one die in childbirth? Would she be okay? Despite his reassurances, his anxieties swirled. And as the scent of afterbirth touched his nose, his eyes flashed with memories of mother, and of Arlette. Of his sister’s face when she had confided the death of her own firstborn.
And he was afraid.
His mind plunged to darkness, and if not for the quiet song of his lover, he might’ve lost himself again. But at her call the world reawakened to starling brightness. He was here, and not at Stone Circle. He was here - and she was here - and they were here, all of them.
Merrit hurried to the den, and peered inside. He would not enter until he knew he would not be met with flashing teeth - but his eyes picked his lover out from the darkness first, and then his gaze shifted to their children at her side.
“My dove,” he whispered, “I love you.”
And he smiled with a happiness he wasn’t sure he’d ever known before, as his gaze went to her, and to the pups again.
All of you.
with quiet words I'll lead you in
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Messages In This Thread
i found [m]y beat, it's in your sound - by Yakone - May 30, 2022, 03:16 PM
RE: i found [m]y beat, it's in your sound - by Merrit - June 03, 2022, 10:29 AM