Post by Drake on Dec 23, 2013 12:02:48 GMT -5
#10: Rebellion Part 1 - Outsider
By Drake
The guards back out quickly and slam the door shut after I am thrown into an open room. My immediate response is to swim to the door and attempt to open it. No such luck. It’s locked. My next reaction is to charge it. I succeed in hurting myself more than actually damaging the door. The damn thing is made from some impossibly tough scaly pink metal. I sigh, defeated, and take in my surroundings.
It isn’t a prison cell like I expected. In fact, the room I am in is only one of many. Each one appears to be made of the same material as the door, and is adorned with a number of beautiful jewels and ornaments. It looks more like a windowless underwater suite than a holding cell for a to-be-determined threat to national security. Atlantis’ national security. I’m still struggling to wrap my mind around that.
Atlantis, the Atlantis, is real and thriving underwater. And I am the prince of it. My mother, the queen, declared it to the whole city of…what was its name? Poseidonis? That sounds right. Of course, after they learned I was some sort of prodigal son, the people of Poseidonis neither booed nor cheered. They did something much, much worse. They did not say a word. The silence had ripped up my insides as I floated there, waiting for something, anything. To be honest, I don’t know what I expected. I am an outsider. I am from the surface.
It took the king, my dick of a half brother Orm, a few seconds to figure out what to do with me, but needless to say, he had his guards take me away—forcefully I might add—and shove me into…well, a suite, I guess. It isn’t so bad, but I’m still mad about the lack of freedom. It’s restricting…debilitating, especially so far under the sea when I am so alone…But, it appears that freedom isn’t my right in Atlantis, even as Prince. Only Orm can give it to me, and…well, I don’t think he’ll be very obliging.
Of course as I soon as I get settled into my luxurious cell, Orm barges in through the door. He appears to be as frustrated as I am, with his face bright red, seething with anger.
<Arthur,> Orm begins, his black beard wavering with the small current, <I have come to…check on you. Let it be known that the king of Atlantis is fair and kind to all of his subjects…even the Orin.>
I didn’t have to read his mind to understand what that meant. I am not of Atlantis, at least not in Orm’s eyes. I am Orin—outsider.
<I get it. You don’t like me. I promise I won’t be here long. Only until I discover exactly who I am,> I explain.
<Have you not already, Arthur Curry?> Orm spits out my name like a snake does venom, <Have you not met Atlanna…our mother?>
Orm didn’t understand. Atlanna isn’t the only reason I am here. I want to know more. I want to know who my father is and just how I’d come to be conceived. Most of all, I need to know about my people. No matter what Orm says, I am Atlantean, and while Atlantis may not be my home, I am still connected to it.
<I need to know more about Atlantis and my past. Without that knowledge, I’m half a person. Only man, not…I don’t know. Merman?> I try and fail to sound poetic and endearing. Of course, my attempt has the opposite of its desired effect on Orm.
<We are not members of that subspecies. Those fools live in Tritonis, in the depths of the ocean. No, we conquerors of the sea, challengers of the land…we are Aquamen,> Orm turns up his nose upon realizing he’d deemed me the same species as him, <I am an Aquaman.>
What idiot would call themself that, I silently joke to myself, but I do not give life to those words. Orm’s reaction would be catastrophic to any hope I have of getting out of here and back to Jenna and my dad alive.
<I do not like you,> Orm sneers.
<Really,> I burst out, before immediately regretting that decision. I could hear Orm’s thoughts as easily as if he was shouting.
<Damn this child! If only there was a way to end him without Mother knowing…He is a threat to my throne and to Atlantis, and he will not be tolerated.>
<Don’t kill me,> I beg, dragging his attention back to me. He knows I read his mind, and he’s angrier for it.
<I only want to know about Atlantis and my past. Help me…and once I’m done I promise I’ll never come back here again,> I finish. It’s a tactical move, not a true plea for help. If Orm thinks he’s in power, he’ll just plan my death for the right place at the right time, while helping me to discover who I am. I know not to trust him. I will not die down here. Not anytime soon, at least. Orm considers his options. I don’t have to read his mind to know which one he’ll choose.
<Fair enough,> I can hear Orm forcing his murderous thoughts to the back of his mind, <I will help you, as long as you agree to leave when we are done.>
<I’m the one who came up with the deal, right?> I answer. Orm nods. It’s done, and I’m one step closer to my past and to Jenna.
<Goodbye, Arthur Curry, for now,> Orm bids farewell, leaving me alone in the room. Naturally, as he leaves, the guards shut the door before I can get out. I don’t even try.
I’m not left with my thoughts for long. Less than a minute after Orm has left my room, Atlanna, my mother, rushes in.
<Oh, dear Arthur!> she cries, immediately embracing me, <I am so sorry for having left you!>
<Whoa!> I recoil, but I can’t help but smile. She’s the real deal. My mother. I’d always wondered what she would be like, but to actually meet her…she was better than I could have imagined. Kind. Fair. A better ruler than Orm.
<Easy there,> I send out, but still I embrace her. We just sit—if it could be called that—there in the sea, holding each other, my face tucked into her neck. Atlanna’s blonde hair waves and merges with my own. After a short while, she extends her arms back and looks me over.
<You have my hair and eyes,> Atlanna notices.
<I do,> I agree, our two sky-blue eyes meeting.
Atlanna smiles a bright, white smile. For some reason my thoughts turn to her teeth. How in the world could she have such beautiful teeth so far under the ocean presumably without dental care? I shake the thought away, realizing with an internal chuckle that the reason I’m allowing myself to be distracted is because I’m nervous. I want to make a good impression with her. The most she’s seen of me so far has been when I defied Orm and defeated his chosen warrior in the arena. Now I have the opportunity for her to really get to know me.
<You’re incredibly handsome. Girls on the surface world must fall in love with you at first sight.> It seems mothers weren’t so different down here in Atlantis.
<I have good genes.> The word confuses her, but my intent is clear. Her smile grows, as mine fades. I couldn’t tell her about Jenna. Not yet.
<What is it, my son?> Atlanna asks, clearly realizing I’m troubled.
<Nothing. Really,> I lie, and before she can speak up, <Who is my father?>
I had intended it to distract her—it does—but as those words settle over the room, I realize there was more to my question than just a simple detour in topic. I want to know who my blood father is possibly more than I want to go home.
Atlanna turns away from me, her expression cloudy, <I have to go.>
In a split second I reach my mind out to hers only to find a void. Weird. That’s never happened before. I push harder, but still I can’t find anything. Somehow, someway, my mother is blocking me out. The door shuts quietly as she leaves.
I sit alone in silence, a dozen questions on my mind. Why wouldn’t my mother tell me who my father is? And how did she block me out? The list goes on and on. For once, I begin to feel the pressure of the sea. I am alone down here. I am Orin. I am an outsider.
I’m not left alone with my thoughts for long. In just a matter of ten or so minutes, my door is opened by the same two guards who brought me down here.
<The King has called you to his court,> one guard projects with a thick, guttural voice.
I don’t give them the pleasure of a response. Instead, I simply follow them out. They don’t hold my arms like I’m a criminal this time, but I am no less apprehensive. Just the looks they give me make my skin crawl. As we walk down a long, gorgeous diamond hallway, I lose my patience, unable to take their looks anymore.
<Take a picture, boys, it lasts longer,> I quip. This infuriates them, but I think it has more to do with the fact that I called them boys and less to do with that they have no idea what a picture is. I can sense their anger emanating throughout their minds. One floats a little closer to me. The other gives the aggressive one a warning glance.
<The King’ll kill you if you do ‘im in.> He forgets I can read his mind.
<What’s this? Big bad warrior’s scared of the King?> I tease. I don’t get the reaction I expect. Instead of throwing in a nasty comment or attacking me, the aggressive warrior floats away from me.
<If you knew what the King was capable of, you’d be scared o’ him too.> The other nods his head in agreement, while I’m left to wonder if Orm is more than just his blusterous words. I figure I’ll find out soon enough, whenever he decides to kill me.
Surprisingly, our walk doesn’t last more than another minute or so. My quarters are in the palace, just a floor above the throne room. We enter from a side door. Both guards immediately drop to their knees upon seeing Orm. I do not.
<It seems you still don’t know your place,> Orm sneers.
<I think I’ve got it down just fine. I am a prince after all,> I retort. Orm is visibly frustrated by my comment. He knows it’s true. I am the prince, even if no one down here likes me. I glance at Atlanna. She’s smiling. Without reading her mind I can tell she’s impressed with me. Before long, my expression mimics hers.
<I’m sure you wonder why I summoned you down here, Prince,> Orm tries to make a joke. It goes over well with the guards and nobles around the room, who all make sure to project their laughter at me.
<That’s certainly the number one thing on my mind,> I joke back sarcastically. Someone actually gasps. I think my casual attitude scares them. Orm certainly doesn’t seem to like it.
<On your knees now!> He commands, standing from his throne. I’m not really paying attention to him, however. I’m distracted by a buzzing…almost like a voice…
<Orm!> Atlanna’s voice drags me back to reality.
<KNEEL BEFORE YOUR KING!> Orm roars, threatening me with his golden trident. And then the palace doors are thrown open. I hear it before anyone else.
<Rebels,> I project.
<What?> Orm glares down at me, but he can hear it now too. The throne room is opened. All eyes turn to the panting messenger as he bursts into the room.
<REBELS! Rebels, your majesty. The Ocean Master and his rebels are sieging the palace!>
A look of understanding forms on Orm’s face. What the hell are they talking about? Rebels? Is there a war going on?
<Take the boy to his quarters,> Orm commands his guards, motioning to me with his trident.
<Wait, Orm!> I cry out as the guards approach me, <I can help you! You saw me fight Glorid’en!> This may be my best chance to get Orm to like me. Without that…well, I may never see Jenna or my father again.
<Silence, whelp!> Orm demands, <You will do as you are told!> He approaches the front of the throne room, flanked by a dozen or so guards. As I am dragged out of the throne room, I can faintly see Orm put on a helmet shaped like a fish, preparing for battle.
By Drake
The guards back out quickly and slam the door shut after I am thrown into an open room. My immediate response is to swim to the door and attempt to open it. No such luck. It’s locked. My next reaction is to charge it. I succeed in hurting myself more than actually damaging the door. The damn thing is made from some impossibly tough scaly pink metal. I sigh, defeated, and take in my surroundings.
It isn’t a prison cell like I expected. In fact, the room I am in is only one of many. Each one appears to be made of the same material as the door, and is adorned with a number of beautiful jewels and ornaments. It looks more like a windowless underwater suite than a holding cell for a to-be-determined threat to national security. Atlantis’ national security. I’m still struggling to wrap my mind around that.
Atlantis, the Atlantis, is real and thriving underwater. And I am the prince of it. My mother, the queen, declared it to the whole city of…what was its name? Poseidonis? That sounds right. Of course, after they learned I was some sort of prodigal son, the people of Poseidonis neither booed nor cheered. They did something much, much worse. They did not say a word. The silence had ripped up my insides as I floated there, waiting for something, anything. To be honest, I don’t know what I expected. I am an outsider. I am from the surface.
It took the king, my dick of a half brother Orm, a few seconds to figure out what to do with me, but needless to say, he had his guards take me away—forcefully I might add—and shove me into…well, a suite, I guess. It isn’t so bad, but I’m still mad about the lack of freedom. It’s restricting…debilitating, especially so far under the sea when I am so alone…But, it appears that freedom isn’t my right in Atlantis, even as Prince. Only Orm can give it to me, and…well, I don’t think he’ll be very obliging.
Of course as I soon as I get settled into my luxurious cell, Orm barges in through the door. He appears to be as frustrated as I am, with his face bright red, seething with anger.
<Arthur,> Orm begins, his black beard wavering with the small current, <I have come to…check on you. Let it be known that the king of Atlantis is fair and kind to all of his subjects…even the Orin.>
I didn’t have to read his mind to understand what that meant. I am not of Atlantis, at least not in Orm’s eyes. I am Orin—outsider.
<I get it. You don’t like me. I promise I won’t be here long. Only until I discover exactly who I am,> I explain.
<Have you not already, Arthur Curry?> Orm spits out my name like a snake does venom, <Have you not met Atlanna…our mother?>
Orm didn’t understand. Atlanna isn’t the only reason I am here. I want to know more. I want to know who my father is and just how I’d come to be conceived. Most of all, I need to know about my people. No matter what Orm says, I am Atlantean, and while Atlantis may not be my home, I am still connected to it.
<I need to know more about Atlantis and my past. Without that knowledge, I’m half a person. Only man, not…I don’t know. Merman?> I try and fail to sound poetic and endearing. Of course, my attempt has the opposite of its desired effect on Orm.
<We are not members of that subspecies. Those fools live in Tritonis, in the depths of the ocean. No, we conquerors of the sea, challengers of the land…we are Aquamen,> Orm turns up his nose upon realizing he’d deemed me the same species as him, <I am an Aquaman.>
What idiot would call themself that, I silently joke to myself, but I do not give life to those words. Orm’s reaction would be catastrophic to any hope I have of getting out of here and back to Jenna and my dad alive.
<I do not like you,> Orm sneers.
<Really,> I burst out, before immediately regretting that decision. I could hear Orm’s thoughts as easily as if he was shouting.
<Damn this child! If only there was a way to end him without Mother knowing…He is a threat to my throne and to Atlantis, and he will not be tolerated.>
<Don’t kill me,> I beg, dragging his attention back to me. He knows I read his mind, and he’s angrier for it.
<I only want to know about Atlantis and my past. Help me…and once I’m done I promise I’ll never come back here again,> I finish. It’s a tactical move, not a true plea for help. If Orm thinks he’s in power, he’ll just plan my death for the right place at the right time, while helping me to discover who I am. I know not to trust him. I will not die down here. Not anytime soon, at least. Orm considers his options. I don’t have to read his mind to know which one he’ll choose.
<Fair enough,> I can hear Orm forcing his murderous thoughts to the back of his mind, <I will help you, as long as you agree to leave when we are done.>
<I’m the one who came up with the deal, right?> I answer. Orm nods. It’s done, and I’m one step closer to my past and to Jenna.
<Goodbye, Arthur Curry, for now,> Orm bids farewell, leaving me alone in the room. Naturally, as he leaves, the guards shut the door before I can get out. I don’t even try.
I’m not left with my thoughts for long. Less than a minute after Orm has left my room, Atlanna, my mother, rushes in.
<Oh, dear Arthur!> she cries, immediately embracing me, <I am so sorry for having left you!>
<Whoa!> I recoil, but I can’t help but smile. She’s the real deal. My mother. I’d always wondered what she would be like, but to actually meet her…she was better than I could have imagined. Kind. Fair. A better ruler than Orm.
<Easy there,> I send out, but still I embrace her. We just sit—if it could be called that—there in the sea, holding each other, my face tucked into her neck. Atlanna’s blonde hair waves and merges with my own. After a short while, she extends her arms back and looks me over.
<You have my hair and eyes,> Atlanna notices.
<I do,> I agree, our two sky-blue eyes meeting.
Atlanna smiles a bright, white smile. For some reason my thoughts turn to her teeth. How in the world could she have such beautiful teeth so far under the ocean presumably without dental care? I shake the thought away, realizing with an internal chuckle that the reason I’m allowing myself to be distracted is because I’m nervous. I want to make a good impression with her. The most she’s seen of me so far has been when I defied Orm and defeated his chosen warrior in the arena. Now I have the opportunity for her to really get to know me.
<You’re incredibly handsome. Girls on the surface world must fall in love with you at first sight.> It seems mothers weren’t so different down here in Atlantis.
<I have good genes.> The word confuses her, but my intent is clear. Her smile grows, as mine fades. I couldn’t tell her about Jenna. Not yet.
<What is it, my son?> Atlanna asks, clearly realizing I’m troubled.
<Nothing. Really,> I lie, and before she can speak up, <Who is my father?>
I had intended it to distract her—it does—but as those words settle over the room, I realize there was more to my question than just a simple detour in topic. I want to know who my blood father is possibly more than I want to go home.
Atlanna turns away from me, her expression cloudy, <I have to go.>
In a split second I reach my mind out to hers only to find a void. Weird. That’s never happened before. I push harder, but still I can’t find anything. Somehow, someway, my mother is blocking me out. The door shuts quietly as she leaves.
I sit alone in silence, a dozen questions on my mind. Why wouldn’t my mother tell me who my father is? And how did she block me out? The list goes on and on. For once, I begin to feel the pressure of the sea. I am alone down here. I am Orin. I am an outsider.
I’m not left alone with my thoughts for long. In just a matter of ten or so minutes, my door is opened by the same two guards who brought me down here.
<The King has called you to his court,> one guard projects with a thick, guttural voice.
I don’t give them the pleasure of a response. Instead, I simply follow them out. They don’t hold my arms like I’m a criminal this time, but I am no less apprehensive. Just the looks they give me make my skin crawl. As we walk down a long, gorgeous diamond hallway, I lose my patience, unable to take their looks anymore.
<Take a picture, boys, it lasts longer,> I quip. This infuriates them, but I think it has more to do with the fact that I called them boys and less to do with that they have no idea what a picture is. I can sense their anger emanating throughout their minds. One floats a little closer to me. The other gives the aggressive one a warning glance.
<The King’ll kill you if you do ‘im in.> He forgets I can read his mind.
<What’s this? Big bad warrior’s scared of the King?> I tease. I don’t get the reaction I expect. Instead of throwing in a nasty comment or attacking me, the aggressive warrior floats away from me.
<If you knew what the King was capable of, you’d be scared o’ him too.> The other nods his head in agreement, while I’m left to wonder if Orm is more than just his blusterous words. I figure I’ll find out soon enough, whenever he decides to kill me.
Surprisingly, our walk doesn’t last more than another minute or so. My quarters are in the palace, just a floor above the throne room. We enter from a side door. Both guards immediately drop to their knees upon seeing Orm. I do not.
<It seems you still don’t know your place,> Orm sneers.
<I think I’ve got it down just fine. I am a prince after all,> I retort. Orm is visibly frustrated by my comment. He knows it’s true. I am the prince, even if no one down here likes me. I glance at Atlanna. She’s smiling. Without reading her mind I can tell she’s impressed with me. Before long, my expression mimics hers.
<I’m sure you wonder why I summoned you down here, Prince,> Orm tries to make a joke. It goes over well with the guards and nobles around the room, who all make sure to project their laughter at me.
<That’s certainly the number one thing on my mind,> I joke back sarcastically. Someone actually gasps. I think my casual attitude scares them. Orm certainly doesn’t seem to like it.
<On your knees now!> He commands, standing from his throne. I’m not really paying attention to him, however. I’m distracted by a buzzing…almost like a voice…
<Orm!> Atlanna’s voice drags me back to reality.
<KNEEL BEFORE YOUR KING!> Orm roars, threatening me with his golden trident. And then the palace doors are thrown open. I hear it before anyone else.
<Rebels,> I project.
<What?> Orm glares down at me, but he can hear it now too. The throne room is opened. All eyes turn to the panting messenger as he bursts into the room.
<REBELS! Rebels, your majesty. The Ocean Master and his rebels are sieging the palace!>
A look of understanding forms on Orm’s face. What the hell are they talking about? Rebels? Is there a war going on?
<Take the boy to his quarters,> Orm commands his guards, motioning to me with his trident.
<Wait, Orm!> I cry out as the guards approach me, <I can help you! You saw me fight Glorid’en!> This may be my best chance to get Orm to like me. Without that…well, I may never see Jenna or my father again.
<Silence, whelp!> Orm demands, <You will do as you are told!> He approaches the front of the throne room, flanked by a dozen or so guards. As I am dragged out of the throne room, I can faintly see Orm put on a helmet shaped like a fish, preparing for battle.