Warning: Graphic violence and death

Death of a Prince

The door slid open. Batman opened his eyes and saw Aquaman entering his cell. He watched the blond-haired man approach him, coming to stand in front of him.

"I have reached the end of my patience," the Atlantean king declared. "It has come to my attention that my wife spoke to you. Now it is your turn to speak to me."

Batman just remained silent. He let his eyes wander the man, taking in the nonverbal cues of his body language. There was stress, which was giving way to irritation and ultimately anger. The king wasn't used to being disobeyed, and the novelty of it had ended.

"You will tell me who sent you," Aquaman continued. "And you will tell me your purpose for coming to Atlantis."

"And I'll say it again: no one sent me," the vigilante replied evenly.

The blond man took a threatening step towards him. "I don't believe you."

Batman leaned his head forward since he couldn't do so with his body. "Too bad."

"I have ways of making you talk, surface dweller. Do not think I will hold back because I have a preference not to use such methods."

So it was torture then. The dark-clad man took in a deep breath, held it, then let it out. "You're desperate," he finally said after a few moments. "Everything about you screams it."

That caused Aquaman to raise an eyebrow. "You think I am desperate."

"From the first moment you stepped into Gotham," Batman retorted. "Ever since you made your demand for Black Manta, you've been desperately trying to get your hands on him. Why is that? Clearly he's done something against your city, which has caused you to reveal your people after thousands of years. I highly doubt it's because you're trying to stop him from destroying Atlantis since you appeared before he announced his intentions."

The king fell silent. "There's a history between you," he pressed. "That's clear as day. You two are the only ones who know where it started because we're passed the point of tit-for-tat. You want Black Manta to kill per your own reasons, and he wants to destroy Atlantis for his own. You don't get to that point without having extremely bad blood."

Silence fell over them. Eventually, it was Aquaman that broke it. "I had heard…stories…of your perceptiveness. I see they are well earned."

"Tell me what happened between you two."

The king's face hardened. "You are in no position to make demands of me."

"To the contrary, I may be your only hope for getting something out of this mess we're in," he countered.

The blond man's face softened as it became questioning. "How do you mean?"

Batman tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling. "The situation in Gotham was that your people and my people's military were in a stalemate. Assuming that's still the case, then Black Manta isn't going anywhere. You can rattle your saber all you want, but the other side is stubborn and entrenched in its stance."

He then looked back at the king. "If I wanted to, I could get Black Manta out and in your hands, and there's nothing anyone could do to stop me."

"A bold claim," Aquaman replied. "Yet, you are here, trapped in my dungeon. I find your claim to be bluster, nothing more."

"The whole world has no idea where Atlantis is," the Dark Knight pointed out. "And yet, here I am, the first person from the surface to set foot in it for thousands of years. I even had time to explore your city before my capture, your guards unaware that I was even here. Does that sound like bluster to you?"

Aquaman stared at him before he slowly nodded his acknowledgement. "That is a good point," he admitted.

"Then quid pro quo. You share something with me and I'll share something with you."

That caused the man's mouth to twitch into a smirk. "And why should I play that game with you? Once more, I have methods of getting information out of you. Just because, as you mentioned, I would prefer not to use them does not mean that I won't employ them."

"Because it'll be easier for us two to talk rather than pull out an ancient torture device. Think about it: you're only in this stalemate because you refuse to give and take. What has that gotten you? Nothing by my count. So you really don't have anything to lose."

"How do I know you'll tell the truth?"

"How do I know you'll tell the truth?"

"I do not lie," Aquaman quickly retorted. "You surface dwellers may lie through your teeth, but down here in Atlantis, we don't."

"Then let's prove that," Batman replied. "Why does Black Manta want to destroy Atlantis?"

"I am the king and you are the prisoner. If anyone is asking a question first it'll be me."

"You already asked one, whether I'm working with someone or not," the vigilante reminded him. "And the answer is still no one. I'm here of my own volition."

"I don't believe you."

"Then you might as well leave," Batman said as he leaned back against the wall. "There's no point in talking to someone who won't take a leap of faith."

Aquaman was silent once again. "Assuming that you are correct, that you have come to Atlantis on your own, what is your purpose for being here?"

"To figure out why this whole thing is happening," Batman answered him. "Why Black Manta wants to destroy Atlantis. Why you want to take custody of Black Manta. And right now, the question I want you to answer is what your history with Black Manta is."

The Atlantean king stared at him for several seconds. Then he sighed. "I encountered the man once. He had just performed a theft of Atlantean artifacts and I boarded his vessel to recover them. There was an…incident."

The knife slashed through the air, attempting to slice into his flesh, but Arthur kept backing up, keeping the blade in his sight at all times. The nameless crewman was relentless, murder clouding his eyes.

This man clearly knew how to use his weapon. That last slash nearly cut some of his hair off. Damn, he should have come armed himself.

Taking step after step backwards, eyes trained on the deadly knife attempting to disembowel him, his awareness of his surroundings narrowed too much. His notice was drawn to this when a crate blocked his retreat, and he found himself stopped in his tracks. His eyes flickered back to the crate for an instant, and the crewman attacking him noticed.

Gripping the knife handle tightly, the crewman lunged forward, stabbing down at Arthur as he did so. Breath short, the blond-haired man reached up and caught the crewman's lower arms, the knife tip inches away from his face.

They struggled, pushing against one another. The crewman took advantage of his weight pressing against Arthur, and he arched his lower back to try and get some leverage. This didn't work out well, and soon enough his upper back was nearly pressed into the top of the crate. A groan escaped his throat as he continued to resist.

The blade tip was drawing closer and closer; it was always easier to push down than up. The awkward position that his back was in didn't help either. The crewman's lips were pulled back, teeth clenched together.

Bending his knee, Arthur brought it between the crewman's legs. Letting himself collapse back onto the crate, he kicked his leg up and rolled them both over it. The crewman's eyes widened at their sudden movement, a distraction clear as day for Arthur, and he took advantage of it to slip his hands closer to the crewman's wrists.

Thumbs pressed against the back of the crewman's thumb, and the angle of the knife swung away from Arthur's face.

Then both of them were falling, the crewman landing on his back while Arthur landed on top of him. The blond-haired man gave an "oomph!" as he felt an object stick into his chest. A groan came from the crewman who pushed at him, yet…yet…

There was confusion in the crewman's eyes. Arthur was feeling the same. With his arms, he pushed himself up and found what had been pressing into his chest. It was the handle of the knife the crewman had been wielding. As for the blade itself…

Red was staining the crewman's shirt. Green eyes widened at the sight, muscular body freezing up. A dark-skinned hand pressed against his shoulder and feebly pushed. The other dark-skinned hand wrapped around the knife handle.

Slowly, the crewman began to pull the knife out, more red—blood—spewing out from the blood pressure. Quickly, Arthur grabbed the man's arm, trying to stop him. This man needed medical attention, and pulling that knife out—it would—

A gurgling snarl spat at him and a last surge of strength had the knife torn out of the crewman's chest. Following it, more and more blood flooded out, staining everything it could touch. This included Arthur who could feel the liquid against his skin. The crewman's teeth were starting to be stained red, probably from biting the inside of his mouth. Rage and fury glared at the blond-haired man.

But no strength came from any of it. Another gurgle rattled from the crewman's throat as he began to weaken, body growing limp, and Arthur could do nothing but stare, his body shivering. Was it from the chill in the air? Was it…could it…?

It was over. He hovered over a corpse, and slowly, Arthur raised himself up until he balanced back onto his feet. His eyes never left the sight before him. He…he hadn't…he hadn't meant…this wasn't…

Eventually he would stand up, the stain on his torso, and from there would turn to face with terrible destiny.

So, at least he had an idea of Black Manta's motives.

The man clearly blamed Aquaman for the death of his father. It didn't matter if it were intentional or accidental, Hyde's father was dead and Aquaman had been there for it. Black Manta was thoroughly convinced his father's death was the result of the encounter with the Atlantean king. No doubt there were multiple attempts to get revenge, all of which clearly hadn't worked.

Yet, Batman felt there was something missing. Aquaman wanted to get his hands on Black Manta as much as the pirate wanted to get his hands on him. Why was that?

"I believe it is your turn," the blond man said, pulling the vigilante out of his thoughts. "I have told you about the Black Manta; now you must tell me how you found Atlantis."

Well, that was in accordance with their deal. Unfortunately, Batman had the feeling that Aquaman wouldn't believe him. "Are you sure you want to know that story? It's a long one."

"Atlantis has existed for as long as it has because it has not been interfered with by the surface world," the king stated. "If there is any clue that led you here, I need to know about it."

The dark-clad man nodded. "It's clear that you have people keeping an eye on the surface, so you can verify…portions of what I'm about to tell you." Batman mentally prepared himself. "At the time of the second Kalanorian invasion, there was infighting within the Justice League. At its peak was the revelation of a video, one that had been broadcasted over the world that predicted the Justice League would take over the world."

"I believe I recall something of that nature," Aquaman said. "Go on."

"That video, while edited, was footage obtained in an alternate timeline, the future to be exact," Batman said. "I obtained it myself."

He purposefully kept pausing, allowing the Atlantean to digest what he was saying. He was just waiting for the man to refute his story. The narrowing of the king's eyes showed he had his doubts. "I find that hard to believe," he said lowly.

"Which is why I brought that footage back with me as proof of what I experienced," Batman replied. "I had to defeat the Justice League and then returned to make certain that future never happened. Unfortunately, the footage was stolen and edited to make the Justice League look in the worst light possible."

"And what does this have to do with your knowledge of Atlantis?"

"Your future counterpart was on the side of the tyrants in the Justice League," Batman answered him. "We encountered each other briefly, but then the fighting began. It was during the fighting that brought down the Justice League's regime that I was alerted to Atlantis' location. I kept that in a file in the event that I needed it, which is what brought me here."

"I find all of that hard to believe."

The dark-clad man shrugged his shoulders. "That's the truth. Take it or leave it. At the very least, you can confer with your spies and they can at least confirm the edited footage. I could give you the original if you wish, assuming I make it out of here alive."

Aquaman was silent. Then, "Do you know why I would join forces with a ruthless Justice League?"

Batman raised an eyebrow. "Does it matter?"

"I would certainly expect it would. There is only one thing I want and I would willingly grovel for it to be in my possession. If this future Justice League gave it to me, I can see myself serving them."

The Dark Knight stared at him. "I believe it's your turn now. I get the feeling this thing you speak of is Black Manta. Why do you want him so badly? Why would you go to such lengths to apprehend him?"

Aquaman stared at him before he turned and stepped away. He didn't go too far away though; it was as if he didn't wish to be seen at that moment. "I do not care for that question," he said after a few moments.

"I know why Black Manta would want your head; what I don't know is why you want his. It's clear this animosity between the two of you isn't new. It's been going on for awhile now. You've gotten the upper hand on him at times, and he's gotten the upper hand on you at other times." Batman paused. If he wanted someone so badly he would be willing to expose something so precious to him to the world to get it, what would it be?

"Diana, I'm gonna kill you."

The one time he had truly wanted to kill was the moment he saw Regime Diana kill Future Cassandra. He had been ready to do it. Aquaman was at that point, wasn't he? He wanted Black Manta dead, didn't he? Even if it came after a sham trial, no doubt it would end in Black Manta's execution.

"What did he do to you?" Batman eventually asked. Though he only saw the blond man's back, he could see his muscles stiffen from the question. "It had to be something unforgivable. Something that haunts you even now, after all of this time."

"Do not ask that of me." Aquaman turned his head, his face pale. There was a quiver to his lips, indicating he was repressing powerful emotions. His eyes were sparkling with tears and pain.

Batman knew that pain all too well.

"Who was it?" he asked gently. "Who did he hurt to get at you?"

The Atlantean king clenched his fists tightly, to the point his knuckles had gone white. He squeezed his eyes shut as if he were trying to shut the whole world away. And then he spoke.

"My son."

The vigilante felt his stomach drop. He bowed his head. "I'm sorry," he responded. "If you don't mind my asking, how old was he?"

"An infant, still in his crib." Aquaman opened his eyes, a haunted look in them.

"What happened?"

"Evil, pure and simple."

It had been a picnic. An underwater outing in which king and queen were determined to spend time with one another and those they considered close and loved. It was the first time Arthur Curry Jr. would see the world outside of the city he had been born to.

His Atlantean name was still being decided. The king still held an interest at that time that his son would know both worlds, the one above the surface and the one below it.

It was suppose to have been a good day. A calm day.

Black Manta had had other plans.

It had been an ambush, there in the seabed. They had fought, but in the end, that maniac had captured and made off with their little Aquababy. One of Manta's men, a man in a deep-sea suit, had been captured in turn, and from that man's lips did they learn of where Manta was hiding.

It was an undersea research station. A mass of metal orbs and rectangular structures weighed down on the ocean floor. Large but confining all at the same time. It was here that the short-haired king would bring Manta's madness to an end. He did not threaten the life of his son and expect to get off with a slap on the wrist.

This madness needed to end.

Arthur had gone at it alone. Mera, Orm, they were ordered to remain behind while he handled this. He knew better; they would give him maybe a fifteen minute head start, then follow after him. Let him think that this climatic battle with his archnemesis would be between the two of them.

Except…someone else had followed after him. Arthur knew when he was being followed and had caught Garth early on. The teenager, barely in his fourteenth year, who was determined to follow him no matter where he went, and wanted nothing more than to help retrieve Arthur Jr. refused to be denied.

It had been easier to accept the help on the condition that Manta was his, and that Garth would retrieve Arthur Jr. No negotiation. Their roles agreed to, they infiltrated Manta's lair.

Hindsight was a terrible thing with how accurate it could be as well as the fact it only occurred after it was too late. There had been an entrance under the research facility, one that allowed deep sea vehicles in and out of the station for docking purposes. It was wide open with a manta ray-shaped submersible docked, a clear sign that Manta was here.

Emerging from the water, Arthur and Garth poked their heads out from the salty liquid, doing little to disturb it while doing their best to survey the immediate area. Water lapped at manmade sides of the docking pool. A quiet that was oppressing hung over everything. It wasn't until the two Atlanteans fully emerged that there was any kind of constant sound.

Still nothing. No hired muscle, no trap sprung, nothing. Arthur took the lead, stepping carefully to a hatch door. The wheel-shaped handle turned easily, and with all the care he could, he opened it and slipped into another room.

Like the dock, it too was empty. He didn't like this. If this was where Manta had set up base, there should be more here. This room they were in had equipment lining the walls, storage containers alongside them, but nothing to indicate a human presence.

Behind him, Garth poked around, innately curious. The young teen always had questions about the surface world, what it was like, and so when he came across any, ahem, artifacts of that mysterious place above them, he had to investigate. A shake to the dark-haired male's shoulder was enough to refocus him on the task at hand.

Further into this place they went, a hallway their next destination. Hatch doors lined the walls, but only one was open and that was dead ahead. Narrowing his green eyes, he could feel that that was an obvious trap.

Any reluctance he had vanished when he could hear the sounds of an infant cooing.

The urgency he felt overwhelmed him, gave him tunnel vision. He ran forward, heedless of Garth calling his name. He found himself in a large, circular room, one with a domed ceiling. Placed in the middle of it was a small object, one that Arthur skidded to a stop in front of, his face paling.

Hindsight reminded him that a newborn Atlantean child needed to remain submerged in water for the first few years of their life. In order to survive not only in the dark depths of the ocean, but the new aquatic environment that it now found itself in, Atlantis had to force a change in its people. To be able to breathe underwater was crucial to the people's survival. The price for such a change was that any new life in essence forgot how to survive in the air. It was a skill now, one that needed to be relearned and reacquired.

Arthur Jr. was too young to know how to breathe air. There was no way he could coo in an empty room like this.

The handheld radio that laid in the middle of that room taunted him.

The hatch door slammed shut, and whipping his head about, Arthur found that Garth had followed in after him. The youth was pounding at the door, trying to force it open. Berating himself, the blond-hair king began to do the same.

He found a two-way mirror, one that now allowed light to seep through it and reveal the sight of Black Manta watching them. Eyes widening with rage, Arthur charged at the window, wielding his trident and stabbing the pointed tips into the transparent surface. To his frustration, only a sharp screech resulted from the effort, the mirror holding on strong. It must have been reinforced somehow, but with what, he did not know.

"Where is he?!" he roared and rammed his trident into the mirror again and again. "What did you do with him?! Where is my son!"

Manta watched him calmly, not saying anything. The red lens of his helmet bored into the king, expressing absolutely nothing. Casually, the bastard raised a hand and placed it on top of what looked like a hexagonally-shaped stand, one that had thick hoses attached to its side, and a transparent dome on its top. Arthur hadn't noticed, single-mindedly focused on his archenemy. With his attention now redirected, he found what Manta had stolen from him.

Within the semi-spherical dome, he could see the body of his son, still swaddled in cloth and giving small movements that indicated that he was fine. A massive amount of relief flooded his body; Arthur Jr. was still alive.

Unnoticed, Manta held up another handheld radio. "I have what's most important to you now, Aquaman."

The voice came from its sibling, the one placed in the middle of this large chamber. Arthur did not look to it, instead turning back to Manta with a glare. "Give him back," he growled.

"I will," Manta replied, "but only in return for a life."

There was only one thing that could mean, and his green eyes narrowed.

Without waiting for a reply, Manta continued, "Kill him. Kill the boy nipping at your heels, and I return your precious son back to you. Simple, no?"

Kill the…? Narrowed eyes widened. Slowly, he looked over his shoulder to where Garth stood. His young Atlantean friend had been striding over to his side when Manta had given the command, and now he too had frozen up, eyes wide.

However, the sick bastard wasn't done. "You. Boy. I want you to resist. Do not make it easy. No noble sacrifice. Fight as if your life depends on it. Kill that man, kill your king, and I will spare the child."

This was the trap. A death match at the bottom of the sea and the life of his son in the balance. Never before had Arthur ever wanted to kill someone as much as he did Black Manta. An impossible choice this was; he had to rescue his son but he couldn't kill Garth to do that.

But if this was the worst, then Manta still had one last card to play.

"You hesitate, the both of you. Then let me make this easy for you." A black-gloved hand placed itself next to the transparent dome, a finger resting on a button. As soon as it was pressed, the water that surrounded his son shuddered. Then to Arthur's horror, he saw the water level begin to drop. One hose drained the water out and another pumped oxygen to replace it.

Once more he rammed his trident against the mirror but failed, and only wasted time. With haunted eyes, he turned to Garth, the young teen lost but slowly recognizing what was about to happen.

His throat was dry, his lips starting to crack. In a hoarse voice, he said, "I'm sorry."

Another regret. Another sin. Gripping his trident, he turned to Garth and lunged.

What other choice was there?

He had fought before, whether it was with Black Manta, or the assortment of enemies he had collected over the years. Enemies of the Others, enemies of Atlantis, and even those from the surface who would try to exploit the lost city.

None of it could prepare him for the ferocity that both he and his young friend engaged in. Desperation sped his movements, panic kept him too close to the here and now. Garth…Garth fought back with all he had. The trident was forced out of his hands, and it went to hand-to-hand.

He did not want to do this. Even as he fought, tears fell from his eyes…

But Garth, bless the lad, Garth had not given up. With the kind of determination only the young retained, he not only fought for his life, but fought to find a way out of this.

It had only been minutes, but the youth's blue-colored clothes were torn, bruising marred his face, and one eye was nearly swollen shut. It was clear that he was not a physical match for the older king, but Garth had an ability of his own that could give him an edge.

Like Mera, he has a way with water.

He was also smart about it. By his will alone, he stopped the water being pumped out of the chamber Arthur Jr. was kept in. He accomplished this by forcing the water to pool in the hose, keeping it there as pressure grew and grew until it erupted out. Manta was caught off guard, but Garth, the self-styled Aqualad, was not yet done.

While forcing a portion of the collected water to stay with the endangered prince, the rest was sped up, building speed by the second until it was focused into a narrow stream. In such a manner and done at the right speed, a stream of water could slice through metal. Garth chose the wall around the two-way mirror, slicing until a segment of it collapsed.

Witnessing this, Arthur broke off the fight and dashed for his son. Manta took the chance to run. Unlike the mirror, the dome was easily smashed open, and he nearly sobbed in relief that the water level had not sunk too far. The tip of his son's nose was peeking out of the liquid and his hands—so much larger, so big—hovered just over him.

He needed to hold him, to make sure he was…

Distantly, he heard the sound of a hatch opening, and his eyes sharply turned in the direction of the noise. Manta. The bastard was trying to escape. Not this time. Not ever again. He did not threaten his child and expect to leave.

He sensed Garth's approach more than heard or saw, but all the same, he said, "Keep him submerged until I get back. This ends today."

Hindsight was always perfect…

Arthur gave chase, heading deeper into the station, finding out that Manta was circling around and that there could only be one place he was heading. That docking bay, the one with the on the nose submersible. If Manta was able to reach it, then the king of Atlantis would be hard pressed to keep up and follow.

Manta wasn't going to be leaving here, not on his own volition.

He had caught up, Manta just reaching his escape, and…hindsight was too damn perfect because he should have thrown his trident into the bastard's back. Instead, he had screamed his rage out, and Manta spun around and extended two sharp blades from a wrist attachment.

The blades and the trident clashed with one another, Arthur swinging his weapon again and again while Manta blocked what he could. The fury, the hatred, he could feel it all, and it was all for this one man—no, this monster. His anger gave him strength, it made him not feel the weariness in his body, and he liked the feeling, liked how he was able to direct it at a deserving target.

But Black Manta always kept his cool in a fight. He knocked aside a thrust from the trident and raised a leg up, landing a kick to Arthur's torso and forcing him back. The long, curved blades slashed at him, forcing the king to go on the defensive, but it would not be for long. He was done with Manta's petty vendetta.

After one block, he spun the trident about and forced the tips of Manta's blades into the floor. Rearing a leg up, he brought his booted foot down against the flat side of one of the blades, hitting it with enough force to break it off.

Gripping the shaft of the trident, he thrusted the pointed end upwards, the prongs stabbing into the underside of Manta's helmet. Yelling, Arthur continued to force it, his mystical weapon tearing through the helmet and breaking a piece of it off. A cloudy spurt of blood misted into the air, and from what Arthur could see, three red slash marks marred the face beneath the helmet.

A black-gloved hand suddenly latched onto the trident's shaft. A second hand repeated the action, and then worked in tandem with the first to force the trident's shaft into Arthur's face. There may have once been a joke of how hardheaded he could be, but his skull was no match for the Atlantean weapon's hardness. Nor was it a match with the second hit, leaving him stunned.

Black Manta released his grip and pulled away, a hand wiping away at the blood staining his face and smudging it with the cleanup. With a jump, the bastard leapt onto his submersible, but before he climbed into it, he paused long enough to slip out a small, cylindrical device, a thumb pressing on one of its ends.

Hindsight was always perfect, and he should have recognized it as a detonator. He should have remembered that Manta always had a back up plan.

He should have known that the very device that had held his son captive had had a bomb inside of it.

Garth would later say he only heard a loud, shrill ring, the only warning he had to try and scoop Arthur Jr. out. Life was counted in seconds, and the young teen—a boy—could only try to shield himself with whatever water he could, but there was not enough to shield both himself and…

The explosion didn't tear apart the underwater station. It didn't need to. It just needed to cause enough damage to the hull. Disrupt the pressurized interior, and let the great pressure on the outside do the rest.

Life could be counted in seconds, and Manta used his to shield himself in his own submersible, sealing it shut. Arthur used his to try and jump onto it, tear Manta out of it. Garth tried to save two lives.

Hindsight could not predict anything, much less how the underwater structure imploded on itself. Countless tons of ocean water rushed in, pressure inside was destabilized, and walls came crushing in.

When consciousness returned, it was with Arthur trapped under wreckage. Mera and Orm had to pull him from it. Black Manta had made good his escape. Garth…Garth was terribly hurt, his arms mangled, though in time and with the care of the chirugeons, he would eventually recover. Physically at least.

But…Arthur Jr…

Injured as he was, bleeding and broken, he still…had the strength to…to…

His sobbing was inhuman. That was what he had been told later. All he could remember was holding on to the swaddling blanket and the still form it held. He would not let go, never again.

Hindsight…was always perfect, and that was the day his heart broke.

Irreparably.

It felt like there was a weight in Batman's stomach. It was sickening, dreadful, and unbearable. He knew the feeling all too well.

Finding a deceased child was a horror no one should know. When it was your child, it increased the terribleness a thousand fold. To witness that death…

He didn't need the flashback to remind him what that was like.

Aquaman had slowly lost steam as he finished his story, the forced death match with his fellow Atlantean, and the discovery of his child's passing. Black Manta had wanted to hurt the Atlantean king by any means necessary, and he had found the most cruel one imaginable.

There was a silence between the two men. Batman stared at the blond man, though Aquaman didn't meet his gaze. He was lost in a terrible memory.

Perhaps…perhaps he needed to be reached out to.

"I know that feeling," the vigilante said softly. "That helplessness, that devastation."

"How can you say that?" Aquaman spoke, a hint of anger in his tone. "You have no idea how this feels."

Wrong again. He didn't say that, but he did need to show this hurting man that he did indeed know that feeling all too well. "When I was in the future, I met an adult version of my own child," he spoke, again with a gentle tone. "I watched as her neck was broken in front of me. I heard the snap in my dreams every night after I returned."

The king stared at him. "How long?" he eventually asked.

"Over a year. I still hear it every so often, and it'll never go away. It's the same with you, isn't it? And it's not the cries of your child you hear—it's the silence. It's not hearing his cries that destroys you."

The two men stared at each other. Batman kept his expression cool, stoic even. He did not want to give away that he was staring at the man intently, trying to read his body language for any nonverbal cue that confirmed that he had reached the man in a way that no else had. No one knew what he had felt all of this time because he kept it locked inside, presenting a strong front even as he crumbled from the inside out.

It was slight, but he could see the sagging in the king's posture. "Then you know why it is I have to have that man," Aquaman spoke lowly. "I will not know peace until I have brought justice upon him."

"Is it justice?" Batman countered. "Or is it vengeance?"

"It is the same, is it not?"

"They're never the same."

Aquaman scowled at him. "How can you say that? If you know my pain so well, how can you say what I am doing is wrong? You clearly did the same as I am doing now!"

"I did bring justice to the one that hurt my child," the dark-clad man admitted. "But I didn't kill them. I wanted to; I know that urge intimately; but I didn't beat them into a bloody paste."

"Why not? They would have deserved as much."

Batman closed his eyes. He heard the same question, albeit in a different way.

"What are you waiting for? What stays your hand?"

And what had he answered then?

He opened his eyes and looked at the king. "Because she wouldn't want me to. And deep down, you know your son wouldn't want you to either."

Aquaman continued to stare at him, though now his hands were clenching into fists. "Then you are weaker than I had suspected," he said in a deadpanned tone. "I am aware of the so-called justice system you surface dwellers use, but Atlantis is an ancient city full of ancient people with an old fashioned sense of justice."

"An eye for eye?" Batman responded, his voice full of sarcasm. "A life for a life? It's a wonder you aren't the king of the blind and dead."

"That's enough!" the blond man roared. "I will not be judged by someone like you!"

"Why not? That's what you intend on doing to Black Manta if you get your hands on him. Claim what you will, but you and I both know you intend on having a kangaroo court that ultimately finds him guilty, and with that you'll execute him."

"Is that what is bothering you? A fair trial?" Aquaman's anger was coming back in full force. "What must I do to appease your soft sensibilities? A trial by his peers? Must I kidnap twelve surface dwellers to have a jury? Is that what you want?" He took a threatening step closer to the Dark Knight. "You claim you didn't kill your child's murderer; imagine that it was you that was killed. What do you think your father would do, hmm? Do you think he would let his infant son's killer get away?!"

It gave him pause, a question that he had…never asked himself. Instead of his father, what if it had been him who was shot in that alley? What would Thomas Wayne done if the roles were reversed? He found it difficult to believe that his father would have taken up the training to become Batman himself. That was not the man he knew. The man he remembered.

His father had been a doctor, one who saved lives, giving it his all even for lost causes. The injuries he made were to heal. What would his father have done? What would he have become?

Would he have—

Before Batman could answer, movement caught his eye. Glancing over Aquaman's shoulder, he saw another man, one in Atlantean garb and a cape. There was a severe look on his face, and he only had eyes for the king.

Aquaman noticed this and turned his head. "Orm?" he questioned.

"We have just received a communication from our forces on the surface," Orm informed the blond man as he came to stand before him. "The Americans have launched an attack on our blockade. A battle is underway."

Batman felt his stomach drop, though for a reason other than learning about the death of Aquaman's son. War had broken out on the surface, meaning his mission here had ultimately failed. It would be starting in Gotham Bay, but war had a tendency to spill out in ways that no one could predict.

And Gotham would be the first to fall victim to it.

Author's Note: Before Throne of Atlantis became the poster boy story for anything involving Aquaman, Death of a Prince was that story. Much of the flashback takes from that story, including the deathmatch between Aquaman, Aqualad, and the life of Arthur Curry Jr. in the balance, and Black Manta being responsible. Like in the comic, it did result in the death of Aquaman's son. Kudos to Mervelesque1Der for figuring it out early. I hope the official revelation was worth the wait. Yet, there is still quite a bit of story left, have a war happening on the surface, and the League fighting to stop. Stay tuned.