God Save Our Kryptonian King
By: Karalena Cullen
|Downtown Smallville
Hot summer day, mid afternoon
Martha and mysterious stranger share a taxi cab|
"Argh!" Martha huffs, fanning herself with the back of her hand. "It's not a good idea to have a baby in the summer. It's so hot, and I get sweaty. But it makes me sick to eat anything cool. My make up keeps melting and running down my cheeks. I must look so awful and ugly."
"I think you look perfect." The dark haired stranger smiles affectionately at her. His blue eyes bright. "You're really quite beautiful. I would stop the car because you take my breath away." He reaches for her hand.
Martha gasps and blushes at this man who is not her husband. The way he can make her heart flutter with those eyes.
"Babie's born in July are blessed. Surviving the Summer makes them grow strong. I bet you didn't know that where I come from, the Month of July is called Kal.
Martha turns a blushing smile on him. "Ah… July is… Kal."
Part One: Flushed into an Alternate World
|School Baseball field|
Clark sits perched up on his bike, his eyes gazing off towards the field as he watches the baseball team practicing.
Pete spots Clark and calls out. "Hey Clark, what are you doing?"
Clark lets out a quiet sigh. "Nothing, Pete."
Pete rides up on his bike beside Clark. "Come on, don't hold out on me. I know that look. Are you thinking of joining the baseball team? I wouldn't recommend it. None of those jock straps have any kind of a personal life, they're entire world is nothing but training. Coach Teague drills those boys 24/7! We worked our butts off to pass the exams to get into high school dude. Now it's time to party hardy! Who needs more sweat and pain?"
Clark doesn't turn to Pete, his green eyes are still staring off towards the field. He mumbles so quietly it's barely audible. "But I liked it."
Pete squints in confusion, "Huh?"
"Nothing. I was just watching. That's all. I'll catch you later. I have to get to the library before it closes." Without waiting for Pete to say goodbye, Clark rides away on his bike.
Who am I kidding? Clark thinks to himself as he rides. What's the matter with me? I can't keep my mind off it. Pete's right. I should forget it and just try to have fun and just enjoy being a freshman.
Clark spots Chloe up ahead outside of the library. Whitney and a group of his dumb jocks have her surrounded and she looks rather desperate. Clark hones his ears so he can hear what Whitney's saying to make Chloe look so uncomfortable. "What do you mean you won't come party with us babe? Little miss Katie Couric is too good for us now, is that it?" Whitney leans menacingly in towards Chloe. "You got into that elite private school and now you think you're better than us. Like you're somethin' special.
Jutting out her jaw defiantly, Chloe only quips, "Last I checked, you never so much as said boo to me Whitney. So what's your problem?"
Off to the side watching on, Clark chews his lip, wondering what to do. Oh no. It looks like Whitney's giving Chloe Sullivan a hard time. Well it isn't really my business is it? I mean, I hardly even know Chloe. Sure we were in the same class last year, but we never really talked or anything. And I can't get into trouble again. Mom says I need be more careful. That I shouldn't draw too much attention to myself.
While Clark's musing indecisively to himself, Chloe catches sight of him. Clark stiffens and bites his lip as she shoots him a pleading, desperate look.
How can he just stand there and do nothing when she's obviously uncomfortable and silently pleading to be rescued.
Clark sighs and calls out to the group, his mind made up. "Guys what's up over there?"
Whitney and his goons turn around and see Clark.
"Not your business Kent. Fuck off." Whitney snaps at him.
Clark sets his bike down on the kick stand. "You're not planning on doing anything that might get you into trouble now are you?"
"Clark?" Chloe gasps out at him, her blue eyes widening. She's never seen anybody stand up to Whitney Fordman before.
"What do you care Kent? You got the hots for little miss reporter bitch here or something?" There's a cackling of laughter from Whitney's goons.
Clark blushes. But remains determined. He starts to advance towards the group when suddenly he catches the glitter of green stone on one of the goons hands. Oh no. That's
a meteor rock. Only in Smallville would the local high school kids be sporting meteor rock rings! Damnit! Chloe's eyes are pleading. Clark can't let her down now.
Whitney sneers over at Clark. "You're so pretty when you blush Kent. Maybe you'd like to join the party?" He arches a lecherous brow.
Clark only flushes more red, gritting down on his teeth. He continues his advance. Taking a wide arc from the boy with the meteor rock ring. Even so, he can feel the effects of the rock draining him. Making him feel sick to his stomach. Suddenly Chloe takes her chance to book it while Whitney and his goons aren't looking.
One of Whitney's goons calls out after Chloe. "Hey! Where's she goin?!'
Whitney growls. "Now look what you did Kent. You just cost us our fun." He steps closer towards Clark, licking his lips he smirks. "Guess we'll just have to play with you instead pretty boy."
Whitney's goons chuckle, one of them makes a cat call.
Clark's green eyes wide as he looks around for help. But they're all alone on this secluded part of the campus, and because of the effects of the green ring, his legs feel like jelly. Still, he tries to run. But his legs feel like lead, his head pounding painfully. He dashes towards the small, brick building that serves as a campus restroom, intending to lock himself inside.
Whitney's too quick though. He chases Clark inside the building and and grabs Clark by his collar. He slams him hard against the side of one of the stalls. Clark's body, weakened by the ring, he's defenseless to fight back. "Well pretty boy? You just gonna stand there with your mouth gaping open like a little bitch. Or is there something else you could be doing with that pretty little mouth of yours." Smirks and nuzzles at Clark's pale cheek.
Trembling, Clark let's out a gasp at Whitney's words. Frozen, he doesn't know what to do. He can't seem to move. Years worth of his mother's cautions about being careful. About never showing his strength. Keeping away from the other kids when playing. Staying off on the sidelines. If the world knew about him, that would be a very, very bad thing. Clark had been bullied before. He had never done anything to fight back. He'd had to endure the shame and take the blows and falls that never hurt. But this.. .this was different. The look in Whitney's eyes. The shivers of sick fear that ran down Clark's spine at his greasy words. His knees trembled and his heart hammered. He had to get away! He had to get away now!
Suddenly, Clark's knee comes up to slam hard between Whitney's legs. Whitney's hold on Clark immediately released as he let out a cry and fell to the ground clutching himself. But before Clark can run away, the goon with the ring lunges at him. Too weak to fight back, the goon falls on top of him. The back of Clark's head slams hard against the dirty, tile floor. Pain and lights blast behind Clark's eyes as a heavy fist cracks into his nose. The taste of his own blood, copper, rust on his tongue. And then Whitney's angry voice.
"Flush the little shit!"
Before Clark can register what's happening, he's being yanked up by his shirt. Tight fists clench onto his hair and he's being pulled across the hard floor and into one of the stalls. "No!" Clark gasps out as he chokes on the thick taste of his own blood, gagging him.
It's too late. The goon flips the toilet seat lid up and Clark is being shoved into the stinking, vile water face first.
Clark sputters and holds his breath. Closing his eyes tight. And suddenly he feels himself being pulled down… sucked in. And he's falling. His shoulders, his torso, his legs and feet. Completely sucked in! The sound of the goons laughing is drowned out by the roaring sound of rushing water. Then completely obliterated by the rush. Clark's body is spiraling out of control, he can feel a powerful pull as he's sucked through this watery vortex. Down… and down… What's happening?!
When Clark came too, he was flat on his back, the sky a bright blue over his hazy eyes. Big, fluffy clouds floated through the bright sky and he blinked trying to gain his bearings. The first thing he noticed, was that his head was pounding and his entire body felt… heavy. Even just laying here on the ground he could feel his limbs like lead. With a groan, he sat up. The world spun around him as his head pounded painfully. His stomach lurched and he clutched at his belly with another groan. Then just as suddenly, the world stilled, his stomach resettled, and his head cleared.
His green eyes widened. He had no idea where in the world he was. The air was warm and fresh. In the distance, giant, snow capped mountains reached up towards the bright sky. He got a little unsteadily to his feet. He rubbed at the back of his dark head, the vertigo had passed, but the back of his skull still ached where Whitney's goon had slammed it to the bathroom floor.
Up ahead there seemed to be a quaint little village. But it was like nothing Clark had ever seen before. Stone huts and straw slated rooftops crowded the wide, dirt square. An old pebble well with a quant little wooden bucket seemed to be the center of attention. It looked like something straight out of a fairy tale picture book. "I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore Auntie Em." He muttered to himself as his eyes took in his surroundings. Where am I?
Hearing the soft swoosh of footsteps behind him, Clark spun around. A young girl with long, flowing blonde hair and dressed in what, to Clark, looked like an old milking maid's dress and apron, complete even with frilly little white cap, was strolling by. Clutched in her hands was a basket of strange looking fruit. It could have been a bushel of pears, only they weren't like any kind of pears that Clark had ever seen before. These were a soft, vibrant shade of almost fuchsia. "Excuse me! Miss?!" He called out to her.
She turned to see him, letting out a small squeak. The basket of weird looking pears slipped from her hands, spilling the strange fruit out into the soft grass. "I..I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He blushed slightly and bent down to collect the fruit and place it back into the basket. "I just uh.. I have no idea where I am. I was sort of like, flushed down a toilet or something and ended up here…"
The girl only stared at him with big, frightened blue eyes. She clutched at her chest and started breathlessly stuttering out in a strange language. Clark couldn't quite make it out. He knew it wasn't anything he'd ever heard before.
"Uh… I don't suppose you speak english?" He finished filling the basket with the fallen fruit and lifted it in his arms as he got to his feet. "Is this some kind of a theme park or movie set or something? Everything looks so… strange?" He handed the basket to her but she only stiffened, her eyes widening even more in fear, and then she was running away, leaving the basket of strange fruit behind. "Wait! I promise I'm harmless! Please come back! Miss?! You forgot your fruit!"
He started to go after her, when a group of men came running to protect the blonde girl. They were dressed just as strangely and old fashioned as she was, in long tunics and scratchy looking pants. Whoa! Maybe they're Amish? Clark thought to himself.
Their faces were menacing as she moved to take a protective stance in between Clark and the young girl. Hiding her from his sight. They were each brandishing some sort of gardening tool, pitchforks and hoes and the big man in the back clutched onto a long, thick whip.
Clark froze where he stood. Making no further advance towards the girl. "I didn't mean anything. I swear. I'm not from around here. I was hoping you could tell me where in the world I am? Please! I'm lost!"
The men only continued to glare at him. One of them actually growled and Clark took a step back. "Please, does anybody speak English?!"
The men growled and suddenly Clark was being assaulted by a mass of rocks being hurled at him. "Ouch! Hey!" He cried out as they struck him hard, battering into his body painfully. He raised his arm to protect his face, but one of the rocks still managed to hit him square in the jaw. And it hurt! Clark was impervious to pain, with the exception of meteor rocks. So why did these ordinary rocks hurt?
There was a loud thundering beneath his feet as he backed away. The rocks just kept coming. Each hit spreading more pain shooting through his body. Clark heard the horse before he saw it. The big, black stallion reared up neighing, dancing his hooves in the air towards the villagers. Sitting astride the stallion, a man with a mean looking face and long, flowing dark hair barked at the villagers in that same, foreign language that Clark couldn't understand. The villagers looked on the man in terror, before dropping their rocks and dispersing. They ran away in every direction.
The man looked down at Clark with striking, dark eyes. Freezing him in place. This man did indeed look fierce. Hoofbeats thundered and came to a calm as more riders pooled up behind the man with the fierce eyes. He addressed Clark in a deep, growling sort of voice, only Clark had no idea what he was saying.
"I'm sorry, I …" He shook his head feeling completely lost. "I don't.. I can't understand what you're saying."
The man with the fierce eyes seemed beyond baffled. He just stared at Clark, his jaw open as though in utter disbelief. Then quickly, he was dismounting. He came at Clark and before Clark could do anything, the man's hands clapped like a vice over Clark's head and squeezed.
"Hey!"
The pressure was immense and Clark felt like his head might pop like a water balloon. His vision blurred, he felt a strange buzzing in his brain that left him almost swooning. For a moment Clark was afraid he might pass out. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he heard somebody screaming. Only to realize that it was him.
The man released his head and Clark dropped to his knees, clutching his head. The pain began to subside, leaving his chest heaving. "What the hell did you do to me? What did I ever do to you?!"
The man made no response, he only stood looking queerly down at Clark still clutching to his throbbing head.
"Why did he suddenly appear here of all places?"
"I don't care. It's a bad omen. A very bad omen. I say we should just get rid of him."
Clark dropped his hands and looked up towards the men on their horses. "What?"
"That should do it." The man with the fierce eyes diverted his attention from the men. "You should be able to understand us now."
Clark blinked. "Huh?" His face lit up with relief and his words spilled from his lips in an excited rush. "Nothing is worse than not being able to understand each other. I'm so glad you can speak English! I don't know what's happened to me. The last thing I remember was being flushed down a toilet and then I ended up here. I tried to ask a girl to help me figure out where I was but she totally freaked out and went running for those guys. But you saw that part. I don't know what I did, but I must have done something to upset everybody. They all started throwing rocks and then you came and …" He beamed up at the man with the fierce. "Hey! You saved me! Thank you. Those rocks were the worst! So anyway… can you tell me where I am, because I have no freaking idea?!"
The man arched an eyebrow as Clark went on, only to bust out laughing as Clark finally finished babbling. "What a clueless boy! I thought you looked intelligent at first, but now I can see that the next Kryptonian King is just another idiot!"
"Idiot?!" Clark felt his cheeks flush and he jumped to his feet. His eyes flashing emerald fire at the stranger. "What do you mean Mister? How can you say that to somebody you've just met? I'll have you know that I am a very sensitive person!"
The man only chuckled some more. Raising his hands. "Calm down boy! You're making the villager's nervous with that booming, deep voice of yours."
Clark only glared at him, wondering just what this guys deal was. First he saved him from the villagers throwing rocks at him, and now he was blatantly insulting him, calling him an idiot and laughing at him.
"Kal!" Clark's face scrunched up when he heard the familiar name being called. He turned to see a new group of men astride horses galloping quickly towards them.
His eyes widened, wondering who had called that name.
"Kal!" The call came again. From the tall, dark haired man at the head of the galloping herd. Even from this distance, Clark could see the pale, crystal blue eyes shining with urgency.
Is this really happening? Can it be that a prince on a white horse is coming to rescue me?
"Don't aim your swords at the villagers men, they're not soldiers. Our fight is not with them!" The prince on the white horse commanded his men beside him as they came towards them.
"But your highness!" One of the men began to argue.
"Just drive them away!" The prince barked out.
Clark blinked, his eyes widening. Holy shit! Is he seriously a Prince?
"Well here comes trouble." The man with the fierce eyes mumbled and mounted his horse. Clark looked on in dumbfounded amazement as the man with the fierce eyes smirked and drew a long, sharp bladed sword from its sheath. "Ready yourselves men!" He called out, excitement clear in his booming voice.
"Get away from Kal!" The Prince demanded of the fierce eyed man, drawing his own sword. The blade shimmering in the sunlight, and the Prince's eyes narrowing dangerously as he galloped full force towards them. "And I mean now Lionel!"
The man with the fierce eyes, whom the Prince had just called Lionel, chuckled and kicked his spurs into his horse. With a shout he charged straight on towards the prince.
Swords clashed. Villagers cried out and ran away to hide. And Lionel and the Prince were sword locked atop their horses. "Lord Bruce Gallio. Does Mr. Brave still choose his company among cowards?!" Lionel sneered and the Prince, Bruce, growled and shoved his blade away.
Clark watched on in disbelief. Wondering if perhaps he'd somehow stepped into the middle of some sort of civil war reenactment play or something. Really, this couldn't be real. Could it?
Then something latched onto Clark's shoulders and he felt the ground fall out from beneath him as he was being raised up into the air. Looking up at what had grabbed him, Clark thought for sure he must be dreaming. A giant, winged skeleton grinned blankly down him, his jaw clattering in a strange sort of mock laughter. Clark screamed like a little girl.
"Nice touch recruiting the fly bone tribe to come to your assistance. Clever Brucie, very clever." Lionel glared at Bruce.
Bruce only glared back. "The fly bone tribe is loyal to us, Luthor. They haven't allowed personal grudges to cloud their sight unlike some people I know."
Lionel scoffed, "You're personal judgement against me is a bit harsh. But what about you Lord Gallio. Don't you see what a waste it is using your special skills to help beings like them?"
"Unfortunately, that's your point of view Luthor. I'm not as devoted to love as you are."
Lionel reared back with his sword as though to strike, only to pause when more men dressed in similar fashion to Bruce and his men, more soldiers, came galloping on their horses.
"I'll withdraw for now. But just you wait Gallio. It won't be much longer." Lionel re-sheathed his sword, then looked up to Clark who was still at the mercy of the flying skeleton there in the air above their heads. "Hold tough kid! I'll be back to rescue soon!" He called up to Clark and then galloped away, his men galloping behind him. Leaving Clark confused. Just who were the good guys and who were the bad guys?
Some of Bruce's soldiers gave chase, "Don't chase him too far. Just ensure that he's over the border."
Clark sat astride the white stallion behind Lord Gallio. His hands holding firmly onto Bruce's shoulders as the horse galloped through a gate. A few of his men rode silently behind them as they slowed to a stop outside of a small stone hut with a straw thatched roof.
A tall, whispy man with long, long hair came rushing from the hut. His raven hair flowed down over his pale robes, past his waist. His golden eyes were wide and alight as he came fluttering over towards Bruce and Clark. "Oh your majesty!" He cried out in a breathless, effeminate voice.
The flying skeleton floated over to hover over the door and Clark shuddered. Still remembering the feel of it's abnormally strong, bone fingers on his shoulders.
"Your majesty." This time it was Bruce who spoke, and there was no denying that the man was referring to him. To Clark. For a moment, Clark was lost in those smiling, crystal, blue eyes.
"Please dismount carefully."
Clark blinked. "What?"
Bruce smiled and took his hand, helping Clark ease down off of the horse. "There you go."
Clark's cheeks caught on fire as both his feet were steadily on the ground. "Thank you."
The moment Clark was off the horse, the tall man in the flowing, white robes fell to his knees to bow before him. "Oh, your majesty, you're here! I am Lana von Lang, and it is an honor to finally meet you. Words alone cannot express how much I have looked forward to this day."
Mr. Von Lang's words left Clark blushing and breathless with embarrassment. He chuckled nervously and went to take a step forward to lift the man to his feet. Only as he went to step, a sharp pain shot through his inner hamstring and the back of his butt cheek. He gasped out and grabbed his throbbing cheek.
"Your majesty! Are you alright?!" Lana was instantly on his feet, his face full of concern.
Bruce stepped forward, humor dancing behind his eyes, "I think I know what's wrong. Let me guess. That's the first time you've ever ridden?"
Lana turned a shocked expression on Bruce, "He's never ridden a horse before?! How can that be? You mean to say that elementary education no longer provides horse training? How can the great one's have sent him into such an odd world?"
"Worse than that, Lana, von Luthor almost took him away before I found him."
Something dark passed over Lana's eyes. "You mean, Lionel." He growled out. Then turned flashing eyes onto Clark. "Your majesty, did he hurt you?!"
Clark rubbed absently at his sore rear end. "I was about to be stoned to death by the villagers before he showed up. He saved me. But then he squeezed my head real hard."
"How horrible for you." Lana breathed out, the sincerest of sympathies written all over his face. He was silent a beat, and then his face opened up as his dark eyes widened. "How is it that you're speaking our language and understanding it?" He turned towards Bruce. "I thought he would know nothing of his own world? How is it he knows the language?"
Clark furrowed his brows, "Huh? What do you mean? Of course I can speak English. I was born in America wasn't I?"
Bruce stepped forward. "You're not speaking English your majesty. Lana is referring to the fact that you are speaking your real native tongue, despite the fact that you've never been here before."
Clark was only more confused. "What do you mean? My real native tongue? And where is here, Bruce?" Something in Bruce's eyes caught Clark's attention and he eyed the older man intently. "Have we met before?"
Something passed behind those crystal eyes, but it was too quick for Clark to catch onto it. "No." He said rather lifelessly.
Bruce and Lana exchanged looks. Then Lana said softly, "Come inside your majesty, and I will explain it all to you as clearly as I can."
Clark sat by the fire, a soft, wool blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders. He hadn't realized just how cold he was until Bruce had helped him out of his toilet water drenched clothes. Lana poured them each a cup of herbal tea, Bruce waved it off and remained leaning stoically against the doorframe. Clark accepted his cup gratefully, but when he brought it to his lips, the strange aroma wafted up his nose. It was unlike any tea he had ever smelled before, but the aroma was sweet and hinted at spices so he took a tentative sip. Expecting the hot liquid to be slightly bitter like the chamomile tea his mother sometimes brewed for him, before she added about half a bottle of honey to it, Clark was pleasantly surprised. It was sweet like nectar sucked from fresh honeysuckle, and it was also warm and spicy like hot cinnamon. He sighed and took another sip. Letting it roll over his tongue.
"Does the tea please his majesty?" Lana's soft voice.
Clark looked up and smiled. "Yes, it's very unusual. But I like it very much. Thank you." Cradling the tea cup in his palms, Clark frowned. "Why do you keep calling me 'your majesty'? My name is Clark, Clark Kent."
Lana only smiled back. "Yes, I know. But it is improper for one to address his King by his given name."
Clark gaped at him. "Your King?! I'm not your King! I'm just a farmboy from Smallville. What is this? Some kind of like hidden camera show or something?" He frowned. "Are you like, setting up my character for some kind of theme park attraction of something?"
Bruce stepped forward from the doorway. "This is not an attraction. What Lana says is true. You are our King, Kal."
Clark reared up, suddenly frustrated and angry, "You expect me to believe that? It seems to me this is, one, a theme park attraction, two, a hidden camera show, or three, a dream. It's gotta be! It's too ridiculous to be real. And quite personally, I prefer option number three!"
"Please calm down your majesty," Lana's soft voice as he implored Clark with those big, dark eyes. "I can explain everything if you'll allow me."
Clark deflated and plopped back down in his seat. "Fine. I'm listening."
Lana came to kneel beside Clark at the fire. "Eighteen years ago, your noble spirit was supposed to be born here, in this country."
"What?"
Lana went on. "However, because there was a war going on and a plot was uncovered where a suspected assassin planned to take your life, the Great One decided to send your spirit to a different world. And so it was whisked away, to the world called Earth. Two years later, your body was created there and born to your mother. And you grew up safe. Living a normal human life."
Clark glanced over to Bruce who was scowling darkly. Did he know? Clark had had a normal life, that was true enough. Only it was Clark who wasn't so normal. As Lana told the story, part of him didn't want to believe it, while another part of him wondered if this explained why he was so different from everybody else. Why he had the abilities that he did, the super strength, the super speed, the heat vision and x ray thing, all of it wasn't what he'd exactly call normal. And in his fifteen years on Earth, he'd never met anybody else who was like him. Who had the same kinds of abilities that he seemed to have.
Lana's quavering voice drew his attention back to her and out of his own thoughts. "..A situation came up which made it necessary to bring you back!"
"H..how can you be so sure, that I'm the one you're looking for?" Clark stuttered out. "I'm nothing special. Like I said. I'm just a regular kid from Kansas." His cheeks flushed with the lie, but he needed to know, did they know.
Lana's face was almost tormented, his eyes shining brightly. "There's no mistake your majesty! I recognized you immediately by your bright green eyes and your noble black hair. And on top of it all, I can feel the power emanating so clearly from within you. You are the one, there's no doubt in my heart. It is only more obvious the fact that you are speaking so fluently in our language. I admit that what Lionel did to you is most regrettable, but at least it worked. He reached through your mind and activated the sealed language from deep inside your most noble spirit."
Clark was just simply stunned. Flushing brightly under Lana's gushing, he smiled crookedly. "Well if you're sure, you're sure. I guess I could stick around for a little while. What is it that you need me to do? What's the mission? Rescue a princess? Slay a dragon with my bare hands?"
Lana sat back, her eyes wide, "What? A dragon? Of course not! Because of overhunting by humans, dragons are nearly extinct. They have been placed under our careful protection."
"Oh? I don't get it. If dragons are protected animals, then what am I supposed to slay?"
Bruce spoke up, his voice deep and his face somber. "Humans."
Clark gaped at him. "What?!"
Bruce closed his eyes and nodded. "Humans, your majesty. You're hunting humans."
Clark was in shock. He didn't know what to respond to that. Then Lana spoke up. "We have to destroy all humans who are enemies of our country! Your majesty, we need your power to do that. That's why we've called home our Kryptonian King."
"What?! Is this some kind of a joke? You expect me to kill humans?! Just what do you take me for?!"
"You are not human your majesty, your spirit was created here, on Krypton. You are of the purest Kryptonian spirit and are the honorable 27th King of the Kryptonian people. You are going to become the star of hope for our people. Congratulations sire! Today marks the beginning of your reign as Kryptonian King!"
Clark stood out on the dark lawn, his face turned upward as he gazed somberly up into the twinkling stars. It was a lot to take in. He had always known he was different of course. But he'd never thought that he was so… well so alien. He wasn't even of the same species for crying out loud! Come to find out after all this time that he wasn't even a human being, left him feeling strangely empty and lost inside. Did this mean that his mother wasn't really his mother? Lana had told him that his spirit had been 'whisked away' from Krypton and taken to Earth where he was born to his mother. He had been born to her. She hadn't… lied about that… had she?
"Your Majesty?"
Bruce's quiet voice startled Clark out of his dark reveries. "Stop sneaking up on me like that Bruce! And stop with the 'Your Majesty' crap!"
Bruce didn't seem phased at all by Clark's outburst. He only said gently, "Why don't we go inside? Lana would never forgive me if I let our King catch cold."
Clark didn't budge, though some of his anger deflated under Bruce's caring demeanor. "What the hell kind of a trap have I gotten myself into here, Bruce?"
There was that dark shift behind Bruce's eyes and he quickly looked away. With a sigh, he stepped closer and lay a gentle hand to Clark's shoulder. Despite himself, Clark warmed to the touch. "This isn't a trap Your Majesty. This is your world. Welcome home… my King."
"Forgive me but I just can't wrap my mind around this. My home, to me, is back on Earth. With my mother, and my friends. Network television, pizza nights, and high school." Clark let his eyes search back up into the stars as he too sighed. "Krypton. Worlds away from Kansas, Bruce. Worlds away from everything I've ever known."
"It's only natural for you to feel that way. After all, Earth is the only home you've ever known. Until now. But this is your home, Kal. It always has been. Surely, you must feel something? Something different maybe? Different from how you felt back on Earth?"
Clark looked over at Bruce, his eyes searching. The man's face was half hidden to him in the darkness, though not entirely unreadable. Clark could sense that the man was holding some mystery. Some secret. They way that he had said that, 'different'. What exactly did it mean? It was as though he was hinting that he knew exactly how different Clark felt here on Krypton. And not just in some sort of nostalgically ingrained sense of belonging kind of a way. "Why do you keep calling me, Kal?"
Bruce only shrugged. "Because that is your Kryptonian name. Kal El."
"Kal El?"
"Yes. Kal, spirit borne from the most noble Kryptonian lineage of El."
Clark still felt like there was something that Bruce wasn't saying. Carefully, he said, "My mother sometimes calls me Kal. It's sort of a nickname. She's called me that ever since I was kid. She says that in my father's language, it means the month of July. The month I was born."
Bruce didn't say anything.
Do you know who my father is Bruce? Clark wanted to scream it at him. But instead, Clark didn't say anything more either.