Romulus, My Father
There was at least one advantage to being the deposed king of Atlantis – it still entitled him to a nice view.
Though that in of itself was a form of torture, Orm reflected. Beyond the paristeel glass was the city and kingdom of Atlantis – jewel of the seven seas, the light in the darkness of the abyss, the most mighty civilization land or sea had ever seen. He could see the kingdom that by rights was his. The kingdom that he knew his half-breed sibling would lead into ruin. So merciful was the bastard son of Atlanta that he had given him a cell from which to watch the destruction begin.
The interior of the cell however was bereft of water. An added precaution, some had claimed, for he was highborn – strong enough to breathe in air, but stronger still in the water. Cells like this could be filled with water if need be – sometimes they were used as a form of torture for lower-born – they could suffocate until they revealed the secrets that Atlantis needed from them, after which they would be returned to the sea, or have their blood be added to the water, proving yet again that blood was not thicker than the substance which surrounded them. For him, it was nonetheless torture – seeing his kingdom, so close, but forever beyond his reach. And having been in here for a month, he was already starting to feel it. His muscles were atrophying. His lungs slowing down – he was capable of breathing air, that didn't mean it was as easy as the ocean.
There was a hiss behind him, and despite it all, he smiled. Right on time.
Footsteps came into the chamber, and Orm's smile turned into a frown. Keeping his eyes fixed on Atlantis, on the kingdom that would one day again be his, he began to speak.
"So," he asked. "Who has come to see the rightful king of Atlantis? The one whom would have been ocean master if not for the basest of treacheries?"
The visitor didn't speak.
"Is it my dear mother, Queen Atlanta? The one who is no longer queen? The one who mothered a half-breed, and broke bread with one of the surface? The one who was rightfully banished, and returned to once more bring shame to the name of Atlantis?"
The visitor didn't speak.
"Is it Vulko, my most trusted advisor? Come yet again to fill my ears with lies, to lead me and my people even further astray? Does he imagine that words spoken through air will reach my mind more readily than through the water?"
The visitor didn't speak.
"Is it my intended bride, Y'Mera Xebella Challa? The one whose loyalties are as flexible as the waters she manipulates? The one who now sits alongside the throne of the one who deposed me? The one who gives allegiance to a half-breed, and if whispers are to be believed, is all too willing to sully her womb with a second abomination?"
The visitor didn't speak, and Orm sighed – he was only left with one option. The last person he wanted to see, let alone talk to. And turning around to face the visitor, he sighed – reality, as ever, disappointed him.
"Or maybe it's you," the rightful king of Atlantis grunted.
The visitor raised an eyebrow.
"What?" Orm asked.
"That's it? I don't get some kind of fancy speech about how much I suck that's really a veil for you venting your personal issues?"
"Fancy speeches, as you call them, are reserved for those who deserve them." Orm looked at the visitor, sizing him up. "I've yet to see any reason to give you such honour."
The visitor shrugged. "Pomp and circumstance is boring anyway."
Orm said nothing.
Just looking at him made the second-born son of Queen Atlanta ill. Here, in the air, Arthur Curry bore the stench of the surface – dirt and sweat mixed with salt, threatening to overwhelm his senses. Whatever his brother had been doing this past month, at least some of it had been in the world. It was so goodto know where his priorities lay.
"Very well," said Orm. He turned his gaze back to the glass wall that separated him from his birthright. "What great insight have you come to impart today?"
"Oh, lots of things," Arthur said, coming to walk up alongside him. "Like, how about the fact that thanks to you, I've got three kingdoms yelling for my blood, and half of one kingdom that wants me gone?"
Only half?
"How about how thanks to you, I've got numerous surface countries also wanting my blood for the whole garbage-warship-murder thing?"
Orm gave his brother a glance. "Isn't there one of their kind who flies around in a cape doing all of that?"
"Not the point."
"Oh, is it now?" He turned to face Arthur. "Then pray, tell me, what is the point of these jolly visits? Because if you expect me to kneel and kiss your hand, you'll be waiting until the oceans have boiled."
Arthur shrugged. "I could do without the kissing part, but sure."
"You're a barbarian," Orm said.
Arthur shrugged again. "That's what Diana calls me sometimes."
Orm didn't know who Diana was and didn't care. "Your rule is crumbling before my eyes. Yours are either closed, or are facing upward. If not for the consequences, I might even find it hilarious that you're leading Atlantis to ruin."
"I'm not the one who started a war."
"And I'm not the one who finished it." Orm nodded towards the ocean. "When the surface dwellers come, when our people come, do you expect me to save you, dear brother? Because even if blood was thicker than water, I will not save you."
Arthur said nothing, leaving Orm to wonder if he was listening to a single word he said. Or, if he was, if he could even comprehend it. He spat as Arthur turned around, pacing around the room like some kind of lobster who'd decided to dance.
"I should pay Sicily a visit," Arthur murmured.
"Who?" Orm asked.
"Not who, what." He looked at his brother. "Island off the coast of Italy."
"Italy?"
"One of the land dweller countries."
"Well do forgive me for not knowing its name dear brother, there's over a hundred of them after all."
"Two-hundred, actually."
"Two-hundred," Orm said, his mouth twisting like a sea serpent, unable to decide between a smirk or a frown. "Two-hundred kingdoms of the race of Men, and you believe you can keep them all at bay." He sighed. "Ever deeper the shame, then – for what can two-hundred divided kingdoms do against the combined might of four?"
"More than you could imagine. And newsflash little brother, turns out that regicide isn't the best way of uniting kingdoms."
"And nor is usurpation."
Arthur shrugged. "I should take you there bro. Nice place. Flowers, apples, barfing fountains…heck, maybe we can take some selfies." He framed his hands like a portrait. "Arthur Curry – pictured next to him, douchebag asshole."
Orm charged at him. With a speed that belied his bulk, Arthur headbutted him, then kicked him against the wall.
Bastard!
Orm coughed, feeling the taste of blood on his teeth. The cell had made him weak. And not even his anger, burning like the trenches of the deep, could allow him to prevail against the half-breed before him.
"Yeah…" Arthur said. "Like, you shouldn't do that y'know. I enjoy kicking your arse, but it gets boring after a bit."
"Why…" Orm got to his feet, struggling for breath. "Why haven't you killed me yet?"
"Mum wouldn't like it."
Orm chuckled. "Mother, despite her claims to the contrary, only has eyes for you, older brother. She sees one for whom she can spread her propaganda."
Arthur didn't say anything.
"But please, go on," he said. "Tell me about this Sicily. Tell me why you'd want to go there."
"Oh, for the reasons I described. That, and I've got to apologise to Romulus. His statue got blown up thanks to your hit squad."
"Romulus…" Orm murmured. The name was vaguely familiar. Like something out of a legend he'd heard of at some point.
"Romulus," Arthur said, sounding eager – as if he'd finally found some kind of common interest. "Founder of Rome, and brother of Remus."
Orm didn't particularly care, but he'd heard tales of Rome – just as land dwellers had Atlantis in their myths, so too had some land dweller kingdoms reached the ears of his people. Rome, the empire of the Mediterranean, had been among them.
"I've heard of Rome," Orm murmured.
"Yeah, but not Remus?"
Orm shook his head.
"Well, funny story that, one my father told me. Romulus and Remus were two brothers, who had a bit of a disagreement. Romulus wanted his city on one hill, Remus on the other."
Orm still didn't care. Arthur must have noticed, because he began to speak faster.
"Anyway, long story short, two brothers couldn't decide, so they ended up fighting each other. In the end, Romulus killed Remus, and built his city of Rome. Got to be its first king."
Orm said nothing – he didn't care. But more importantly, Arthur wanted him to care, so by Poseidon himself, he wasn't going to care. He wasn't going to give his brother any ground.
"Funny thing that," Arthur said. "I mean, looking at this…well, we're brothers, and one of us is ruling a kingdom, and-"
"And am I thus Remus?" Orm asked. He gave Arthur a mock curtsy. "Well, do hurry up and kill me brother, because your great city on the hill needs building."
"I-"
"But do remember dear brother that Rome fell. Though I give you years rather than centuries to bring Atlantis to its knees."
"I know that Rome fell," Arthur said. "And that's why I'm not going to kill you.
Orm blinked. The decision in of itself wasn't surprising, but the rationale?
"Yeah, don't know if RnR: Abridged Version got it through to you, but Romulus was kind of a dick. I mean, yeah, brothers fight, but I ain't thinking it's a good idea to murder your bro over city planning."
"Oh I thank you for your mercy," Orm sneered.
"Don't," Arthur said. "You're still a dick. Romans were dicks as well when you get down to it. Whole planet's full of dicks, and from personal experience, turns out there's people in space that are dicks as well."
"You speak so much of your manhood brother. Is something wrong?"
"My dick's fine, thank you."
"And what does Mera say?"
For a moment, Orm thought Arthur was actually going to do…something. Something that entailed serious bodily harm, and a lot of blood.
"I'll be seeing you," Arthur said, before turning around to exit the cell.
But only for a moment. "I enjoy these talks," Orm called out.
Arthur said nothing. The door opened with a hiss, and closed just as quickly, along with the same sound.
"I so enjoy them," he murmured, turning his gaze back to Atlantis. His kingdom. The jewel of the seven seas, in the hands of one who was not only incompetent, but possibly impotent as well.
Orm smiled.
He might be fated to watch Atlantis burn, but that didn't mean he couldn't have some fun before that happened.
A/N
This might be me reading too much into things, but when Arthur sees the statue of Romulus in Sicily, my mind immediately went to Remus. As in, Arthur is Romulus, Orm is Remus, but being aware of the legend, Arthur's going to spare Orm. Well, turns out I was right, but the whole Romulus-Remus paradigm is never mentioned again.
Course there's a world of difference between the myth and the backstories of Arthur and Orm, but regardless, drabbled this up.