Chapter 2

In the deepest part of the Atlantic ocean, seated amongst the deepest waters at the base of the Laurentian Abyss off the east coast of Canada, beyond where light can reach, Arthur sat. The pressure was so deep at this point that it was thought that nothing living could survive, and if it did, it would have to contend with the cold, and as such would not be suited to life on the surface, and yet, the red scale armour clad King sat.

Around him were the ruins of what once was the greatest on the face of the planet, and even below the surface: Poseidonis. It was once the capitol city of Atlantis. In the centre sat the throne, and on it was the King and Emperor, the water around him stained a deep red. Where the angler fish passed by, their light would shine around, reflecting off the debris, body parts that floated around him in a disgusting mess.

Corpses in various stages of decomposition floated like leaves. Some where reipped open, others cut, slashed and disemboweled, and others still battered and crushed by the tremendous force. The dead ran the gamut from humanoids, such as other Atlantians and Mermen, but others were more animalistic, drawn from races of ancient sea creatures, the once feared nightmares of the depths, demi Gods and divine life forms. Others still were too far gone to be described as anything other than "parts."

On the throne, the King was darkly clothed; long gone were the hopeful shades of orange, gold and green, traded for the blood red and black of war. A scar cut gruesomely across his face, the result of Diana's sword. His scale armour glimmered like freshly shed blood, spanning his thick chest. In his hand he gripped a weapon that was a stark difference from the rest of the scene, seemingly giving off a light of its own: bright, shining and golden, the divine weapon of the Greek God of the Sea himself.

He was Orin, the King of Atlantis, the one time would be King of Themyscira, the Emperor of the Seas, but now... What did he see around him? Decimated capitol city? A desperate and rebellion filled empire? All manner of creatures and sea life had sought to subvert and challenge his rule, their corpses littering the water around him, floating dead and helpless. It was disgusting, the scent assaulting him through the water, but it served as a violent and stark warning to those would challenge his rule. He was the King, for all the title meant...

As he sat, far away he felt the motions of the sea; there was something stirring. There was a time when he might have cared, but that time had passed. He had lost so much in the war with the Amazons, done such inhumane acts in the name of defiance, in the name of destroying the woman who, at one time, was to be his wife.

Not that it mattered now; nothing mattered now beyond the very moment. As far as he was concerned he was the Lord of nothing, and to think otherwise was to be foolish, a foolishness shared by only one other. He sighed, feeling bitter at letting himself come to think of her once again. His was a life dedicated to the fight, to blood, to nothing but the next battle. It was all he could live for. No, not live; this was not a life to be lived. It was merely an existence.

Let any who might wish to challenge him come, perhaps one worthy of the challenge would find him and put him out of the misery he was kept in. Doubtful, though, he thought to himself. For many had sought to challenge him; all had fallen to the power of his trident. Let them come, he thought. I will gladly grant their death. The dark misery in his heart sought joy only in the pain and suffering of others.

In the distance, a sweet, soft voice called to him. "Arthur, my Love." Mera... But she was dead. He knew she was dead. He had been sent his lover, his Queen's, body by her.

"My King." The second voice was decidedly less playful than the first, belonging to his first fiancé, the Princess then Warrior Queen of the Amazons, Diana. Her voice was stronger, but it sent a dark, visceral bile through the King. Oh how he hated her. Oh how he longed to bring an end to Diana, Queen of the Amazons. For all the devastation she had brought on to him, and yet... "My brave hero..." Her voice called to him again when he failed to respond the first time. Those words forced him back years before the war...

Prince and Princess, not King and Queen, young, both beautiful, both curious about the others' world; he had rescued her, then learned she was no damsel in distress, merely a curious, young warrior, not unlike himself. He remembered her, beautiful and radiant in her simplicity. She was the antithesis of the woman he had already, informally, promised his heart and hand to.

Their marriage was, mostly, a political union, or at least that was what they referred to it as. The emotions between the two were complicated. Did they love each other? Yes. Did Arthur also love Mera? Very much so. Diana knew that, and was gracious enough about the idea of permitting, allowing, a discreet affair for her King.

As his mind begin to think of the fonder parts of his romance, Mera's voice called to him again. "Oh, my Love," she said wistfully. "Silly, man – she never loved you. You were her job..." Arthur turned to see where Mera's voice was coming from. Deep in the shadows to his right there was nothing to be seen, merely a faint glimmer of red... Shimmering, floating, flowing red, the hair of the slain Queen of Atlantis.

"I loved you desperately," the disembodied voice of the Amazon called back from his left. With dark hair, the Amazon did not illuminate that way, but the golden lasso the Queen always carried with her, cast a light similar to that which was cast by his own trident. The golden glimmer highlighted the curve of her body, the slimness of her waist versus the swell of her hip.

"And yet you would let him find comfort with me..."

"He loved you, who was I to deny him."

The two women bickered back and forth continuously. Each endlessly upping the ante, claiming a greater right to Orin's love, the throne of the lost Kingdom of Atlantis and the bulk of his attentions. Their volume rose until their words almost seemed to circle around him, drowning out his own thoughts.

"Enough!" he finally shouted, growling and slamming his trident down into the stone of his dais. He shot a bolt of lightning to what he felt was the source of the two voices. The pillars the "women" had been hiding behind exploded into rubble.

"Mera's dead!" he growled, sending a shot to the right, the lightning licking out and destroying the pillar. "And you!" He turned, bringing down the column on the other side. "You know better than to show your face around here!"

His chest heaved. His blood boiled, but then something clicked.

Diana had reached out to him; she had thrown her crown into the ocean, with her unbreakable lasso floating out into the tide to lead him to her. He had seen her; she hadn't aged. She was as painfully beautiful, physically, as she had been on the day that should have been their wedding. But the key was she had reached out to him passively. She knew where Atlantis was, and yet she called to him, allowing him to come to her should he wish to.

Something was not right; he was not sure who was playing games with him, but whoever it was they would answer his questions before he took their life with his trident.

What lingered in the darkness, near pitch blackness, was a shimmer of gold. The Queen's tiara had been thrown back in.

Arthur stood up slowly, walking to the pile of ruble that the golden diadem was resting on, picking it up carefully and inspecting it. It was twisted, damaged, as if the wearer had received a severe head injury.

"Interesting," he murmured to himself, his blue eyes looking up to the surface, miles above him. "Very interesting indeed..."

The echo of Diana's voice in the back of his head whispered, "I am sorry…" Thinking it still part of the illusion, the king shook his head, but hard as he tried, he was unable to shake the voice away, leaving him to think that perhaps it was the witch.

When he had been courting her, their bond had grown exceptionally strong, to the point where his telepathy allowed for him to not entirely read her thoughts, but sense her feelings, her happiness, her sorrow. During the war, when faced with the raging warrior, he found her anger affecting him, fueling his own lust for blood and destruction. Perhaps threads of that bond, years after, remained…

The words "I love you…" echoed unanswered as he felt the tremor settle in the water. Unsettling as it was, Arthur was inclined to believe those words were not of the earlier apparitions. It was Diana's voice, her soft whispers he remembered, driving his blood to a boil, as they laid together in the sun, along the rocky outcroppings surrounding her island. They were young, and perhaps in love, perhaps just drawn to each other by a sense of duty, but very much intoxicated with the possibilities that were laid out before them.

He remembered when she first told him she might love him; that what started out as a well-orchestrated arrangement to unite and bring two powerful ancient societies into Man's Modern World, was turning into something much more complicated. She had been so innocent, so coy and yet so honest with him about it, worried about how it would affect him, how it would reflect upon Mera.

He could still remember her softness in his arms as she hid her face, still so childish and innocent in many ways. He had laughed, not at her but to disrupt the tension seething from her, tipped her chin up to him and told her he felt the same. Looking back on the time, the post war Emperor couldn't remember if he had lied to her in order to make her feel better or told the truth.

If asked now, he would say he lied.

If he really thought about it, it made his blood boil.

He had been telling the truth. He had begun to love her.

Satisfied the disturbance was dealt with, the king returned to his throne, awaiting yet more challengers.