Rendezvous

In his haste, he had forgotten to bring a lantern. Only when Orm arrived at the surface did he realize this mistake. If it were any other night, and relations between the surface and the sea were less tense, he might have considered shouting her name, but being above the waves now made him feel as anxious and vulnerable as it had the first few times.

There were small, smooth pebbles by the cliff face; not very many, but enough for a few shots at hitting her windows. He gathered a handful and worked through them one by one. They were so light, and moving his arm through the thin air felt unnatural. He was worried about throwing them too hard and damaging the house, or straining his shoulder with unchecked momentum, so he held back. The first two attempts fell short. His armor bit into his arm whenever he raised it over his head, not suited for this range of motion. Removing the shoulderplate and dropping it on the sand, he tried with another pebble. The increased mobility helped a little—this pebble hit the rim of the cliff and landed somewhere in the scraggly grass above. If he could just throw it a little further, and a little higher…

Two pebbles later, he was rewarded with the sharp click of rock on glass. The sound had echoed through the cove, but he didn't know if she could hear it. As he was winding up to toss another pebble, the light in her room clicked on. Moments later, she was waving to him behind the glass, and then she disappeared and he was waiting again.

"You caught me at a good time," she said once she'd brought the boat around. "I was just about to go to sleep, and you wouldn't have been able to wake me up for anything at that point." He was unsure how to match her lighthearted tone this time. The sound of her voice felt so loud, the sound of her sloshing steps in the water felt too conspicuous, even though they were no different than usual. "Where's your lantern?" she asked, again too loud.

"I forgot it," he replied.

"Forgot it? You're usually so prepared," her eyebrows furrowed. "Orm, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, it's just…" he wasn't sure how to talk about it without sounding accusatory, without admitting he had come to bother her for intel. "There's a situation going on elsewhere. There was something involving the surface." It occurred to him that he had no idea where Xebel might be in relation to landmarks she would be familiar with. He knew he was being too vague. "There was an oil spill," he finished weakly.

"That's terrible," she hesitated, fumbled over half-baked consolations to offer him. She hadn't heard anything about an oil spill, but the café hadn't had any news channels on, and she left her phone on the counter when she got home to take care of other things. "How long ago did it happen?"

"We heard about it this morning. Do you know anything about this?"

"No, I haven't been paying attention to current events lately," she felt her excuse was too weak, but it was the truth.

"So you don't know if it…was intentional?"

"Orm, why would we do something like that on purpose?"

"You've never much cared for the ocean before. You'll dump whatever you like directly into the waters, with no regard for my people—"

"Now hold on one minute, Orm. Just be logical for a moment. The surface relies on the ocean too. We wouldn't do something that harmful on purpose, or we'd suffer for it too."

"Not as much as we would."

"Orm, nobody up here even knows that you exist. I have no defense for how other humans are treating the ocean right now—many of us 'surfacers' agree that it's wrong. And we want things to change. To insinuate that we'd do something like this on purpose, let alone to aggravate a society we haven't even discovered yet, is preposterous. You know it." She hadn't spoken with him like this in a long time. They hadn't argued in months, since the first few times they'd bumped into each other.

"You're awfully defensive. I didn't accuse you, (Y/N). I simply asked if you knew whether or not it was premeditated." She noted that he was purposefully trying not to raise his voice, although it seemed more out of fear that they would be discovered here than consideration for her. He had been jumpy and anxious since she arrived. Even now, he glanced around the cove walls from time to time, as if expecting to see something new emerge. More than anything, she suddenly felt bad for him. He'd probably risked his neck just to come out here.

"I'm sorry. I guess I was just worried you'd find a way to turn this on me," she sighed. "And I feel bad about it. I believe it was an accident, but I haven't even heard about it from other people up here yet. So I don't know, and neither do you, and we can't come to a conclusion on it either way."

"You didn't need to worry about that. I wouldn't have trusted you for information if I was going to blame you. It didn't even happen remotely near here, so…I guess you're right. Nobody knows anything yet. We'll have to wait and see." Throughout the conversation, he had been running his hands through his hair repeatedly as he spoke, pausing occasionally to press the heel of his palm against his forehead. Finally, she reached up and pulled his arm away from his head.

"You're gonna go bald if you keep doing that, honey." She teased. "I know you're stressed, but there's nothing we can do right now." Seeing that these words didn't seem to calm him, she added, "but I know that you'll be able to do the right thing as soon as you see the opportunity for it."

"Orvax hates your world. My people have been taught to hate yours. I'm not exactly fond of the surface either, but I know at least you're different. It wouldn't take much to be the catalyst for an all-out war…" he trailed off, moving both of his hands to cradle her face.

"We can't worry about that," her voice was hushed. "We'll sort it out if we have to, but for now you've got to keep a cool head. And so do I."

"Didn't you say that your family lives inland?" he said, after a moment's thought.

"Yes."

"I need you to go there if Orvax decides to launch an offensive."

"Honey, we don't need to talk about this right now—"

"Please just listen to me. I won't worry about it if I know you have an escape plan."

"I won't leave unless I have to," she sighed, "but I'll go back to my family if I know there's no chance for peace."

"I'll find a way to warn you. You might not have much notice—maybe not even a day to prepare. So just…be ready, until we know how this will pan out." The pressure of his thumbs running along her cheekbones softened. "I won't let him attack before you know what's coming."

"I hope to God it never even comes to that, Orm." She was surprised to find less comfort in his promise than he had probably intended. Couldn't he be tried for treason if he warned a member of the enemy about an upcoming attack? Would he even listen if she told him to keep away if things turned more hostile?

"What's wrong now?"

"I just…I don't know what they'd do to you if they found out about all this. What would I do if you came to warn me about an attack, and they caught you on the way back home?"

"They wont," he replied. But beneath the confidence was a tone of grave resignation. She knew that he had already considered what would happen if they did catch him. Perhaps he had even accepted it.

"Just promise that you won't trade your own safety for mine," she said. "I can manage."

You're only saying that because you don't know what it would be like, he wanted to say. It was not his safety that he was concerned about—he knew how that war would end. He had always known. He wanted to scold her for underestimating how devastating an initial blow could be. It was a war he and his father had been strategizing for years. Even if they were to begin the fight on such short notice, they could make quick work of most coastal towns before the surface even had any idea of where the carnage was coming from.

But she had just finished telling him not to worry about anything right now, and he felt that he could trust her to listen to him and escape in the event the war was hastened. At least then, she would have a chance. So he let it be.

"I won't make you worry" was the only thing he could say.
-

The next day, Orm was still awake. Having returned very late, to a hauntingly quiet palace, something imperceptible had still kept him on-edge until daybreak. Although he knew very well that the night patrols were keeping watch outside, he had managed to slip past them. One more watchful eye over Atlantis couldn't hurt.

Orvax returned in the mid-morning, and immediately detecting his son's exhaustion, relieved Orm of his duty as temporary ruler. The tyrant seemed unwilling to disclose any information until Orm had slept for long enough to process it, which meant that war was probably not imminent. With his fears somewhat eased, Orm found a way to sleep.

When he awoke again, no sooner had he left his bedroom when an attendant arrived with instructions for him. By now it was late afternoon, and the servant stressed that he should make hasty preparations for a journey to Xebel with his father, as they were leaving Atlantis once Orm was ready. This development left him feeling more exhausted than the sleepless night, but he complied.