Chapter 18

"Oh yes," she said with a smirk, one hand slipping up around his shoulders, pulling him close to help disguise her other movements

"Oh... yes," he cooed. "I knew you'd see my point, my Queen," he said, trying to kiss her lips again, finding instead he was presented with her cheek. Never the less, he was bolstered by her actions.

Her fingers slipped under the handle of the trident, slowly curling her fingers around the cool metal staff, twisting her wrist. She only had one chance to get this right; it seemed something was competing with her ability to fight back, and with that in mind she had to work fast.

Her hand gripped the trident, twisting her arm with a well practiced move she sat up, plunging the weapon deep into her attacker's chest. She gripped it tightly and twisted her wrist, gouging a deep wound, pushing straight through, deep through his lungs and heart, ripping flesh and breaking bone. Standing up, the weapon was forced deeper into his body, until the tines caught on his ribcage.

"Diana!" he groaned, reaching out for her, blood dripping down the handle, over her fingers, and onto her stomach, soaking into her once pristine white gown. "But... I loved you..." his voice cracked as he tried to reach for her again, sinking to his knees, clinging to her torn skirt like a child. "Please, give me your heart? I only wanted to be your King, to reign at your side. I loved you," he finished with the words he opened with.

"No you didn't," she muttered, her eyes filled with disdain and disgust as she twisted the trident backwards, pulling it out, bracing the weight of the dying god against her knees before kicking him away. "There are only two men who have ever loved me; you are not one of them."

She looked at the body in front of her, the lights dying in his eyes. There was a pang of guilt in her heart; she had a desperate love for all life, even Triton. In this instance, he was a pawn in the games of a wicked witch who saw to hurt Diana, and used the poor man's lust for her, and desire for revenge on Arthur, as fuel for her fire. He was merely a pawn in this game, with no more agency than she had.

"Father Poseidon," she whispered, kneeling down at the fallen God's side, feeling the heaviness that came with the presence of a God. "Your son's death..."

"Silence Child of Hippolyta!" he started, and Diana was instantly glad that he refrained from calling her Daughter of Ares. "I saw what happened. You defended yourself against my Son with the weapon of my Champion." She simply nodded as he spoke.

Diana knelt, muted by the presence of Poseidon, assuming he came to claim the body of his Son to be returned to Lord Hades' realm as well as the weapon of his abdicated champion, Arthur, who seemed to have run off with the witch.

"He was being used. No one makes fools of the Gods, not even Circe. You are the child of Ares, the heir of the Amazons, no friend of mine as you are the Champions of Aphrodite..." Diana did not like where this was going, lowering her head, raising the trident braced across both hands. "Oh get over yourself," he said with a flick of his hand. "Arthur is the rightful barer of that weapon; you must return it to him. Circe has taken your weapons, those gifted to you by your own patrons, leaving you carelessly without a weapon. How do you plan to storm the gates of Circe's temple without proper armaments?"

Diana was stunned; she had no reply to his comments.

"Exactly what I thought," he said with a nod. "Rise up, child, you need my help and I need yours. You may not be a worshiper, but you are not an enemy, and we have a common enemy we should focus our attentions on."

"Circe," she said, rising, standing with the trident at her side, the end resting on the blood stained ground of her bed chamber.

Poseidon nodded, reaching out and touching Diana on her forehead. "You are not a Champion of Poseidon, but you are a Champion of Olympus. For the time, you can wield the weapon of my champion as if you were."

"Thank you, Lord Poseidon," she whispered, inclining her head but keeping her blue eyes on him.

"Bring back Orin," he said with a cold tone. "That man has much to atone for; the war may have stopped on the surface, but he has been ineffectual in stopping it from destroying my realm." There was anger in the God's voice, anger that worried Diana, who felt compelled to stand up for the absent Arthur.

"But, my Lord," she started, taking a half step forward.

"But nothing!" he said, the force in his voice enough to make her eyes go wide. "He has all of the power of a Champion of Poseidon; he could stop the war if only he would get over his grief and broken heart. He has allowed his own heart and hurt make him ineffectual as a leader, and for that he is no longer worthy of being my Champion, nor is he worthy of being the King of Atlantis. Without my gifts, he will be unable to defend his territory. He will die, and I will be rid of him and my useless son."

And with that, the God was gone. Diana blinked, taking a deep breath, twisting the trident in her hand. She knew it couldn't have been just Triton, that he had to have a partner, but she had never guessed that he had no more agency than she or Arthur had. Regardless, her mission was now clear. She had to avenge the sea god, reclaim Arthur, then return the trident to the God, leaving Arthur defenceless against all that would be coming to challenge him, no doubt spurned on by a public declaration of his new found weakness.

Blood was still dripping down from the head of the trident, coating her hand in slick, red, staining it to match the front of her torn chiton. The scene around her still bothered the Queen, but she was becoming more and more certain that it was a set up, especially since Triton felt compelled to tell her about it, to explain the whole thing to her, ensuring she got it, just in case she missed it.

"Arthur, I'm coming," she whispered, her free hand tearing off the remnants of her gown, leaving it to fall to the floor. There was no reason to keep the relic anyways; it was supposed to be her wedding gown for her marriage to Arthur, it would never need to be used again. She would not be wearing it for Arthur, or for anyone else, ever again.