The ocean was endless, but her world was small. Warm. Safe.

And it smelled like him.

She curled into the arms that held her, pressing her tiny face into the salt-kissed fabric of his robes. His scent was the sea—deep, strong, something eternal. She knew it better than the currents, better than the lullaby of the tides. It was home.

A low, soothing hum vibrated through his chest. She squeaked in response, her little fingers grasping weakly at the strands of his long hair as if she could anchor herself closer.

A deep chuckle. Then, the strong arms that held her tightened, drawing her even more snug against his warmth.

“You never let me go, do you, little pearl?” His voice was rough, but soft in the way only she knew.

She gurgled in reply, clinging harder, her tiny tail flicking lazily in the water.

A sigh, heavy with something deep and fond. “You have me wrapped around your little fingers.”

A softer voice—Mother’s—laughed from somewhere nearby. “She won’t even let me hold her for more than a moment.”

That wasn’t true. She liked Mama. Mama smelled nice. But Papa…

Papa was everything.

A kiss brushed against her forehead, then another, longer this time. A steady hand ran over her small back, soothing. Protecting. She sighed happily, her whole world filled with the sound of his heartbeat.

Mine.

She didn’t have words yet, but she knew.

Papa was hers. And she would never let him go.