Drowning

She didn’t have a name when Doug first met her. He asked her. It was one of many questions at the start of their romance. She didn’t give him any answers though. Not for many weeks and months, at which point her answers related to the life they were building rather than the life she had when he wasn’t with her. He called her Cora. 

They always met at the beach. The rolling waves helped Doug’s mind clear and the ridiculous myths his people believed about monsters sneaking through the surf kept the coastline quiet. He could be alone. It was a rare thing for the heir of the Lochmare chief. His father’s temper had always been like a storm ripping through a peaceful forest and the rising tensions with the nearby clans only made things worse. Doug snuck out from council meetings whenever he could. That was how he found her. 

“Who are you?” he demanded. 

Standing alone in the surf, she had seemed entirely unfazed by the icy water swirling around her feet. She looked up at him and smiled, her lips just turning at the very corners and eyes sparkling with interest. She never answered him. Never spoke. And so he gave her the name of his late grandmother, sitting with her on the sand and talking out his troubles. 

Doug didn’t see her for a couple of weeks after that first visit, coming to the beach each afternoon to find it empty and miserable. He told himself that he shouldn’t care — she could be the daughter of one of his father’s enemies, after all — but he found himself daydreaming about her constantly. At least it made council meetings more interesting. Then he arrived at the beach to find her standing in the surf once more, a vision with her dark hair waving freely in the wind and white dress clinging to damp skin. She smiled at him once more and came to sit with Doug in the sand. While no words left her lips, he got to know her through her laughs and facial expressions. 

Each visit came closer and closer together until finally he had seen her every day for a month. 

“Who are you? Where did you come from?” he murmured, leaning close and breathing her in. She smelled of the ocean and it intoxicated him. He groaned. “I think I’m in love with you and I know nothing about you.”

She pressed her lips to his. 

“You know me.”

Doug stormed from his father’s council chamber, servants scattering as he walked blindly away from the discussion. Daffid of clan McIyre was dead, leaving a power vacuum to the west of their land. Three McIyre sons were each raising armies to try and take control, but so too was clan Connel to the east. War was coming. 

His feet found sand and he breathed the sea air deep into his lungs. He couldn’t see Cora yet. He had arrived at the shore before her only twice before, each time waiting for her in their spot near the water’s edge until she appeared. Where she came from, he still didn’t know, but he no longer cared. All that mattered was that she would come. 

He clambered out onto the rocks, peering out, hoping to find her. His Cora. The sea was an iron grey and the clouded sky reflected his mood. But she wasn’t anywhere. No dark hair. No secret smile. He rubbed his face in his hands and sat on the rocks with a groan. 

“You’re early.” 

He looked up, face clearing at the sight of her. 

“You’re here!”

“Of course,” Cora laughed. “Shall we eat?”

That was something that had happened after a few months of their meetings, even before Cora spoke. She brought the most delicious food he had ever tasted; sweet fish that he couldn’t name, berries as dark as night, and crisp vegetables he didn’t recognise. His father complained that Doug never ate properly at dinner but everything tasted paler without her. He kissed her between bites as they stretched out on the blanket she brought and told her about the council meeting. 

“I don’t even know what to do,” he said, sighing. “Father is probably gathering our army as we speak. We’re going to war.” 

She leaned back on her hands, brows knitting together. 

“What is war for?” she asked. 

“Exactly!” he laughed. “It’s pointless.”

“But your father will want you to go?”

“I’m one of the best sword fighters in the clan. I’ve been training for this since I was a lad. It’s just a question of when he’ll send me.” He stroked her face, gazing into those fathomless eyes that always drowned him. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Then don’t,” said Cora, pouting. 

“I’ll have to. I’m my father’s heir. If I don’t go—”

“You might die.”

“That’s always a risk in war.”

“You don’t have an heir. Who replaces you if you die?” she demanded, leaping to her feet, hair swirling as if whipped up by a previously unnoticed gale. 

“I won’t die, I prom—”

“You can’t promise! Either way, you’re going to leave me.”

“Love—”

She turned away from him, glaring at the hill that his keep lay behind. Doug sighed, looking down at his hands. She was right, of course. His mother had died in the last war. He had only been a little boy and had spent years feeling abandoned by her and his mourning father. 

Doug stretched out over the blanket, stroking his fingers over the soft material. It smelled of her. He breathed it in, waiting for Cora’s anger to recede. In this she was like his father; her temper was quick to storm but would eventually calm. 

Finally, her footsteps returned and she sat next to him. She picked at the blanket, still not looking at him. Instead, she gazed out at the restless sea, face clouded with a frown. 

“I love you,” she muttered, eyes still fixed on the waves. She took a breath. “I am yours.”

“I’m yours, too,” he said simply, but she shook her head. 

“No—”

“I am!”

She covered his mouth with her hand. 

“No, I am yours. That means I don’t leave you and you don’t get to leave me.” She stared into his eyes. “No dying.”

Time passed, the sky grew dark, and Doug struggled to control his shivering in the cool evening air. Cora, as ever, smirked at him, untouched by the cold. She stood and pulled him upright. 

“I don’t want to go,” he murmured, resting his forehead on hers. 

“It is time,” she said simply, reaching down for the blanket. She thrust it into his hands and then began to walk along the beach. “Poor Dougie, so chilly!”

He hurried to catch up with her. He normally watched her walk down the beach until he couldn’t see her anymore. He had never seen her walk inland. 

“Where are you going?” he asked. 

“Home,” she said, grinning. “You might have to show me the way though.”

He grabbed her hand. 

“You mean—”

“I said I’m yours.” She wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. “And your mine. You can go to war if you must but otherwise we must be together.”

He nodded. 

“Forever.”

The time with Cora on the beach early in their relationship had always felt dreamlike. No one else ever saw her, no one else even knew she existed. It was like stepping into another world but, as with all dreams, there was no way to plan for a future. Marriage in the keep brought the future to them. 

“Raise your glasses,” demanded Father. “To my son, Douglas: hero of the Battle of Ynch!”

The room cheered and Doug felt his face burn. Cora squeezed his hand and her smile glowed at him. 

The party swelled, with drinks flowing like waterfalls in flood and soldiers joyfully recounting their exploits to their adoring audience. Doug felt the alcohol buzzing in his ears, only just following the drunken story his father regaled. He let the noise grow distant as he looked around the room, searching for his wife. Cora had drifted away some time before, most likely searching for a quite spot to relax in. She loved to be in the middle of whatever was happening much of the time but, if it lasted several hours, she would often disappear. Father joked that his daughter-in-law was some kind of will-o’-wisp and one day she would lead Doug into a bog to drown. Doug wasn’t joking when he said he would let her. 

He lurched upwards, almost knocking over his cup. 

“G’night,” he slurred, waving away the cheers of his soldiers. 

He stumbled out of the great hall and up one of the tower stairs, feet finding the way even if his head was muddled. 

The sight of her staring out into the darkness brought a different intoxication. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck. She laughed but her eyes were still distant, looking out at the great hill that blocked her view of the sea. 

“My hero returns,” she said, leaning back against him. “It’s almost over?” 

“Soon, my love,” he promised. “Then I’ll be yours completely.”

She turned to kiss him. Smiling, she took his hand and rested it on her belly. 

“Ours.”

Doug ran through the keep, weaving between evacuating servants and soldiers marching past. 

“Cora!” he gasped, spilling into their bedroom. “Why aren’t you packed?”

She stood slowly, one hand resting on her growing stomach but her face strangely calm. 

“I do not wish to pack.”

“Cora, they’re coming to us by the east and by sea. If you don’t leave soon then you’ll get caught in the middle.”

“I will not pack.”

“Fine, I’ll pack for you,” Doug yelled, grabbing the trunk from the foot of the bed and haphazardly throwing items in. 

“Stop!” she shouted. She inserted herself between him and the trunk. “Doug, stop this—”

“You won’t be safe if you stay!”

“I won’t leave you. I told you.”

“This is different. It’s—”

“It’s not to me,” she whispered, curling into him. 

He wrapped his arms around her.

“I need you safe.” 

“I’ll be safe,” she said, gently tugging the blanket from their days on the beach out of his grip. He hadn’t even realised that he was holding it. “Trust me. Just… stay away from the beach. Please.”

The battle on the eastern front was bloody and wild. The grassy field soon turned from green to a sea of red and Doug could barely tell the difference between friend and foe, but at least it was over. He yelled as a body stumbled towards him and raised his sword. 

“Hold, son! Connel’s not here,” said Father, panting. The old man had a new scar across his face and was limping badly, but Doug hugged him, glad to see him alive. “No, Douglas! Connel’s not here. This isn’t the main army.”

Doug’s heart pounded. 

“Cora!”

He ran as fast as he could, leaping over bodies and stumbling into the forest. He had to get home. He had to make sure she was all right. 

“My Lord, how goes?” a servant asked as he raced through the keep, but Doug barely heard him.

He couldn’t find her. It felt like there was no air left in the world. He pressed a fist to his forehead, thinking. A skeleton staff of servants still remained in the keep. They hadn’t left yet. Connel hadn’t invaded. Their ships must still be at the beach! 

The wind whipped him as he ran to the coast, rain lashing his skin like arrows in battle. The sound of the wind roaring and soldiers screaming rattled around his skull until his feet touched the sand and instead it was all replaced by an ethereal song. 

Doug panted, frantically scanning the scene before him. Ships raised high by an impossibly high wave before crashing straight down onto rocks. Survivors drowning in sand that sucked them out of sight. And Cora in the middle of it, white dress billowing around her, the grey blanket draped like a shawl on her shoulders. Her hand twitched and another ship crashed onto the rocks. 

“Cora!”

She whirled around and all sound fell away. She mouthed his name, her eyes changing from a bright blue glow to their usual deep green. Her arms fell to her sides and she walked towards him. The sea grew still behind her. 

“I said you shouldn’t come to the beach.” Her voice rasped as she spoke. 

“I wanted to make sure you were safe,” he said, reaching a hand out to pull her towards him. The mystery of Cora suddenly felt like it was falling into place. “My men?”

“Asleep in their camp.”

He leaned his forehead against hers. “You’re doing this all on your own?”

“I want us to stay together.” She kissed him. “Forever.”

They smiled together. Then a scream ripped from Cora’s throat, a high and unnatural sound that set every nerve-ending on fire. She collapsed in his arms, blood blooming on the back of her white dress. The enemy soldier behind her was swallowed by sand. 

“Cora! Cora, come on, you’re fine,” he said, kneeling with her. He stroked the hair from her face.

She giggled weakly. “I’m cold.”

He tugged her blanket around her, rubbing it against the goosebumps on her arms. 

“You’ll be all right. I promise,” he said. “Forever, remember?”

She hummed, eyes drifting closed. He held her close, looking out over the beach as the storm faded. The battle was one. His clan had won. But Cora was cold. 

Doug tightened the blanket around her, feeling its fur-like softness, and stood. Cora’s skin was cold and pale. He didn’t look back as he walked towards the water. The waves lapped his ankles, then his knees, his thighs, his chest. He took a breath and then he was underwater. Cora’s eyes sprang open. Forever.