Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Althera, my petal, it’s time for you to wake up.”

“Uncle? Uncle, is that you?”

“Althera. Althera?” His voice grows louder, surrounding her, spiraling through the dark around her as she turns over and over again, trying to reach him. “Althera! Althera?”

She wakes up.

She is still in the same room she’s been in for the last two years. The walls remain solid white and circular and the room remains cold and blue-green from the water that contains her. And, though her physical body is suspended and sedated, she somehow manages to move freely. She calls it ‘spirit walking’ and, though she cannot feel, touch, or move anything, it allows her to pass her time practicing a skill instead of lying dormant.

It’s been a while since she last dreamt of her uncle. Such a desperate dream, though she doubts she needs to worry about him. He’s strong. Maybe the strongest man she knows.

No, the dream was more likely about her own struggle.

Her thoughts stray and the dream disappears from her mind when she hears a noise. She remains unnervingly still. When she hears it again, she dives to the wall.

On the other side is a low groan. A man’s groan. He seems to be in pain as he coughs.

A thrill runs through her as she listens. The excitement of having company for the first time in ages renders her speechless for a few moments before she composes herself and phases through the wall.

She first notices that the man is very handsome. He is from the city she is a prisoner in, she can tell just by a glance. His hair is blond and pulled back in a very distinctive style and, when he looks up, his eyes are so stern and blue that it sobers her excitement for a second. He looks aggrieved, agitated, and extremely tired and he holds himself strangely, though she cannot pinpoint where he might be injured.

Unlike her own, his room is entirely free of water. Dry to the bone, as he drops down to the floor and grunts once he lands.

She means to speak when the door opens.

A beautiful blonde woman walks in, accompanied by a handful of guards. She looks extremely important to Atlantis as she ignores all precautions and walks up to the prisoner.

“Mother,” he breathes as the woman bends down to take his face in her hands, “Is it…?”

She shakes her head, a look of pity in her eyes, “No, nothing is final yet.”

He grimaces, backing out of her grasp and looking down.

She tries to reassure him, while he sinks back to the floor like a petulant child. Finally, she sighs, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but Arthur is trying to make the sentence as light as possible.”

“You’re right. I don’t want to hear that.”

“It can’t hurt to have a former Queen of Atlantis on your side. Or the new King.”

“He is not on my side, Mother, he is on yours. And I don’t want or need his pity.”

“You look like you’re in desperate need of it to me,” she snaps. He looks up, the anger clear as day on his face, and she sighs, continuing, “Orm, there are consequences to what you have done. Attempting to create a conflict of that scale!”

He ignores her, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall. There is a long, shattering silence before the woman speaks again.

“I will be visiting as often as they’ll allow,” she says.

He opens his eyes and loses a percentage of the haughty façade he'd been putting on, slumping into himself, though almost imperceptibly, “Thank you, Mother.”

The guards open the door and she walks out, looking over her shoulder before the door closes.

Althera sinks to the floor across from him. She examines him closely, admiring the planes of his face and the defiance in his posture, even when he thinks he’s alone. He keeps his eyes shut for quite a while, so long she thinks he might have fallen asleep. But, once she’s satisfied with everything she sees, she draws back and asks, “So, you’re a prince?”

He opens his eyes, but his expression doesn’t change upon finding no one there.

“And what are you supposed to be?”

She grins, suppressing the urge to giggle at the sound of his grumpy voice, “I’m your next door neighbor.”

He frowns, “Are the walls really that thin?”

“Oh, no. The walls are fine. A meter thick, to be exact. I just… don’t find them to be an obstacle.”

He slowly sits up straighter, “You’re in my cell right now?”

“Well… yes and no. Physically, no. Physically, I’m routinely given a heavy sedative and am being contained in a large vat of ocean water. But, otherwise, I am definitely in your cell.”

“Then get out.”

She lets her laughter free and drifts around the room a bit, “I am capable of extreme silence, Prince Orm. You might not even know I’m here.”

“I could suggest they increase your sedative, seeing as you’ve been drifting around. There’s likely a rule against that somewhere.”

“That is likely...” she says, drifting closer to him. So close that, if she were there physically, they would be nose to nose. “But a higher dosage would likely kill me. And I’m not so sure what would happen to the non-physical me if my body were destroyed. Maybe I’d fade away. Or maybe, just maybe, I’d attach myself to the nearest living being. And if it becomes a battle, Prince Orm, it’ll be of my skill and your will to keep me out. And one will likely be much more powerful than the other.”

“You’re threatening me?”

“I am issuing a warning, Darling.”

He doesn’t respond, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes once more.

“See you around, neighbor,” she purrs, drifting out of the room.

Chapter Text

She didn’t think it was possible for someone to sulk for a whole month and a half, but Prince Orm is an extremely stubborn man.

Althera drifts back and forth between rooms anyway, a bit stubborn herself. Some days she talks and talks, but he only ever responds in small noises or nods of acknowledgement. The most interesting stuff comes when his mother visits. Queen Atlanna talks to him about things happening outside, things in Atlantis, but every once in a while she’ll have news from the Surface World, as they call it.

She also brought him a device that seemed to work much like a tablet, but in it’s memory are only a few books he’s allowed to read at a time, a privilege Althera hasn’t enjoyed in ages. Orm didn’t touch the tablet at first. Not until Althera worked up the nerve to ask a favor of him. Begrudgingly, he settled into a routine of ignoring each other while reading together.

It is during this routine one day that she looks up at him and smiles.

“I like you, Prince Orm.” He is caught off guard and she continues, “You’re broody and it’s funny. It kinda reminds me of someone.”

“Who’s that?”

“Oh, you probably don’t know him. He rules a domain on the Surface called Gotham.”

He falls quiet again and sets the tablet down, the screen going dark. She figures he’s having one of his mood swings, but then he speaks again.

“I realize I don’t even know your name,” he says, his voice hesitant. As if he’s forcing himself to talk against his better judgment.

“I’m Althera. Althera Prince.”

“You’re a prince, also?” He asks, and she is surprised to find that it’s his attempt at teasing her.

“I guess so,” she beams.

“Speaking of which, you don’t have to say, ‘can you please turn the page, Prince Orm’ every single time.”

His tone is still teasing and she finds her spirits climbing.

“Oh really? What would you prefer?”

“I’d prefer you turn your own page, Miss Prince, but that doesn’t seem possible anytime soon,” he says as he turns and looks at her. Though it is impossible that he could actually see her, he manages to look her straight in the eyes, “Althera, you’ve been here two years, yes?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do to get in here? This is no minor prison. I’ve never heard you mentioned, yet I was in a position where I should have. And two years is some time.”

She is surprised. She had expected him to ask if she had ever had the opportunity to escape. Of course, the answer would have been no; had even a sliver of a chance have shown itself, she would have been out a long time ago.

“She frowns, “I don’t think they know what to do with me. And, until they do, I’ll be locked up here.”

“Do you claim to be innocent?”

“I had been flying over the water when I got a sudden, explosive headache. I plummeted and then, when I woke up, I had a swarm of soldiers with guns around me. I guess I must have lost control when I was out of it, because I was locked down with heavy chains, my hands trapped in some thick metal. The damage I had inflicted to the outer city was unintentional, yet here I remain locked up and sedated, as a threat to Atlantis.”

“They’ve kept you here the whole time? No talk of trial?”

She shrugs, though he cannot see her, “I’m not a main priority.”

He sighs, stands, and stretches while she silently admires his muscles in the strange, thin suit he wears.

“It’s a bit indecorous, but I wish you would stop with the ‘Prince Orm’ title. We’re in the same hole, here, Althera,” he sighs, “Please call me Orm.”

She is very happy, but she contains herself as she responds, “Alright.”

The next month is much more interesting. Some nights they stay up late having long conversations. Though their talks are long, they only ever remain skin deep. Orm is a man of many faces and they are alike in that way. But, though the conversations lack depth, she’d be lying if she said they never got interesting. Like the night she learns why he’s locked up.

“You tried to start a war against all of humankind?” she laughs, “Were you insane?”

“I still stand by my reasoning,” he laughs, though a little wary. The first time he laughed, she had literally thanked him. It had been so long since she’d heard someone’s laughter. It’s still a treat, just a little more frequent of one.

“From what it sounds like, you were almost successful.”

“Yes,” he says, his voice quiet, “But it was his destiny, I suppose.”

“Arthur’s?” she asks. He nods and she muses, “I think my mama might know of him.”

Orm blinks, “Your mother? Know of Arthur? How?”

“She’s not my birth mother, no. More like an adopted earth mother,” she giggles awkwardly, “She’s the first person in the realm who took me in and believed in me. She’s… different. But you don’t know much about the Surface World?”

He shakes his head and she drifts closer, “Would you ever visit? With me? If you could? I know you despise the land, and your reasons are understandable. I just… I think there’s so much more than you could imagine.”

She still doesn’t know how he does it, but he finds her eyes, “Maybe. There’s a slim chance. But only because you asked nicely.”

She is elated for a moment, but then comes back to reality, “Though at this rate you’ll probably be out before me. You’ll find someone else to adventure with.”

He smiles, though his eyes are self-conscious when he speaks, “I don’t attract many genuine people to me, Althera. If, by some miracle, you are freed before me… I’d only have my mother’s visits to look forward to.”

She thinks for a moment, “Do you think we could ever be friends, Orm?”

His expression changes slightly, “I certainly hope so.”

“I believe so.” Silence. Then, “If I’m released before you, I’ll try to visit like I do now.”

“Not in person?” he asks.

She smiles, “I don’t think that’s allowed, Orm.”

“We could find a loophole.”

“Why?”

He blinks in surprise. “I would like to meet you. In person. To shake your hand, maybe. To be fair, when’s the last time you shook someone’s hand?”

She looks down at his hands. Big, strong, scarred. Seeing these scars, she thinks of her uncle. He's been on her mind since her nightmare and she's found herself becoming a teeny bit homesick for the first time in 10 years.

Then she smiles, diving towards him. He blinks in surprise, apparently sensing her mood shift, “I’ll look for a loophole, if I get out first.”

He nods, “Alright. And… if I get out, I’ll try to convince them to open your case again. I’d like to shake your hand.”

The next time Orm’s mother visits, he asks her to get him authorization for two more tablets. If that is allowed, he asks her to also transfer files that detail the regulation of the prison. If she has to find a loophole to get them, she doesn’t mention it as she brings in the two tablets the next time they see her.

“Why do you need these, Orm?” she asks, hiding the curiosity behind the question.

“I have someone I’d like to meet, but I’m not certain they’ll allow visitation. And I’m rather impatient.”

His mother frowns, but they continue with their visit. When she’s about to leave, he requests other files. She looks perplexed by the titles of the journals he asks for, so he explains, “I’m looking for information on unlawful prison sentences.”

“Do you view your sentence as unlawful, Dear?”

“No, not necessarily,” he grumbles, making Althera resist a laugh, “Have you spoken with Althera? She resides in the room just next to mine.”

“No. Have you?”

“Yes, quite often.”

“How could you have spoken with her? Isn’t she in a coma?”

“Prison induced. Which is why I’d appreciate it if you brought me those files.”

“So…” she starts, “You want this information so that she might be released. And, once she’s released, you want her to have regular visits?”

“Preferably,” he says, swiping through files on the screen in his hand. “If that’s what she wants. I made her a promise I’d like to keep.”

Althera sinks down beside him, gazing over his shoulder.

“You promised the girl in a coma something?”

“Althera. Yes,” he says, looking up. “She can say hi, if you’d like.”

Atlanna covers her mouth, taking a deep, shaky breath and composing herself before asking, “Althera? Is she a voice in your head?”

He laughs and Althera grins at this treat, “No, she’s not in my head. She just stays quiet when you’re around so you aren't frightened.”

“Uh-huh…” she says, frowning deeper. She looks over her shoulder at the guards outside the door, but then seems to change her mind about something.

“Say hi, Althera,” Orm says, setting the tablet down in front of them.

“Good evening, Queen Atlanna,” she says, “It’s very nice to finally speak with you. I hope you no longer think I’m a figment of your son’s imagination.”

Atlanna straightens out in surprise, “No, though I don’t quite understand how I can hear you right now.”

She explains her predicament to the queen while Orm listens, then adds, “Hence all this research.”

The next week, she enters the room with a big smile.

“Orm, Althera, I’ve taken the matter up with Arthur.”

Orm raises his eyebrows and Althera drifts closer to the queen, “Have you? What did he say?”

“He says he doesn’t know jack about these laws,” she seems to quote him directly, “But he’ll look into it.”

“Wonderful. Althera will be out in another two years,” Orm grunts.

She sighs, but otherwise ignores him, “You know… he might be a little hesitant about the visiting rights.”

Orm stays silent. The queen doesn’t say anything either. Growing awkward, Althera asks, “What if we could cut a deal?”

“Arthur isn’t going to want to compromise anything if he still thinks I want to destroy the Surface.”

“Well, there’s no lying that you still kinda do,” she teases. Queen Atlanna looks horrified and Orm chuckles, “But… what if we told him that I could sort of supervise you when we're together. Because once they view our case, they’ll see that my trial has been unjust since the beginning. Not to mention, if we brought up my mother to Arthur, he’ll talk to her and she’ll give him a good scolding. And he’ll see the recording of my abilities--”

“There’s a recording?” Orm asks, sitting up interested.

“Yes, it’s humiliating,” she says. “Anyway, in that recording he’ll see what I can do and realize, if necessary, I will be able to contain you. Which won’t be necessary, anyway, since you will behave.”

“This recording has proof that you’d be able to contain me?” Orm says, humored, “Well, now it is necessary that I see it.”

Chapter Text

Orm lays on the floor and she sits beside him. His voice is tired, but she rarely leaves before he falls asleep.

“You truly believe this plan will work?”

“I know it will,” she says, her voice quiet, “First we have to get us these visitation rights. But after that, you'll be a somewhat free man soon.”

“Then you will contain. me,” he murmurs, a small, cocky smile spreading on his face, “Still convinced you could beat me?”

“Convinced I could beat Arthur, who beat you.”

“Where do you get your confidence?”

“Just wait until you see the recording.”

“I’m waiting in eager anticipation,” he chuckles.

He falls quiet for a while and she wonders if he’s fallen asleep. Not wanting to wake him if he is, she whispers, “Orm?”

“Hm?”

“We’re going to shake hands soon.”

Queen Atlanna taps on the glass of Althera’s tank to wake her, which is different from usual. She enters Orm’s cell before he is even awake, the two of them talking in hushed voices.

“Arthur spoke to your earth mother,” she says, “You mentioned there’d be a scolding, and you were correct.”

“Really? I assumed she didn’t know I was here for the past two years. I’ve drifted off before, so she likely thought I was just exploring.”

“That is exactly what she thought. Arthur says she’s insisting you be released immediately and brought to the Surface.”

“The Surface?” she says, glancing over at Orm who is still fast asleep, “No, I thought we were going to focus on getting them to allow me to visit Orm on a schedule. I was supposed to be the one on probation here in Atlantis. If I go to the Surface now, that cuts off all communication.”

“You know I love my son. But I just cannot see this working out how you want it to. Not now, anyway, when it is less than a year since he did what he did.”

If she had the capability to, she'd be fidgeting like crazy right now. And, though pretty much every physical sensation is an illusion of her mind, she heaves a big sigh and asks, “I wonder, then, how well Arthur can handle really annoying people? Because if you introduce us, I could probably pester him enough to get my way.”

Atlanna looks down and straightens the tablet on the table, then looks over at Orm. It takes Althera a minute to notice the sad smile on her lips.

“You’re not moving on from this? When you’re set free, you can do anything you want. For all we know, Orm will be locked up for several years. He could transported somewhere much worse than here one day. The Counsel still hasn't decided his fate. All this could become a nuisance to someone who isn’t his mother.”

Because she isn’t even sure why she feels so adamant, she just frowns, “We’ll see how it goes, Atlanna. But right now, I made a promise.”

They fall quiet and then the queen speaks again, “Your mother was on the news today. They call her the Wonder Woman. She seems fantastic. And Arthur agrees.”

She lights up, “The Wonder Woman. Wow.”

Orm stirs and they fall silent. He rolls over and looks up, his blue eyes filled with sleep and his voice rough as gravel when he speaks, “Do you have the recording?”

“Before this starts, please keep in mind that this is a very rare occurrence. I usually have more control over my abilities,” she says. They nod and she sighs, “By the Gods.”

Atlanna does some stuff on her tablet and a hyperrealistic hologram appears before them. They look at an image of the city that is outer Old Atlantis. It looks much like it usually does, with minimal traffic and a handful of guards blocking the perimeter. Then there is a small spiraling streak in the center of the screen.

“What was that?” Orm asks, squinting.

“Me,” she says with distaste.

“That tiny speck was you?” he blinks, “Mother, can you restart it?”

Again, they watch her tiny, spiraling form make a small streak across the screen.

“How did you make it this far down with that much speed?” he frowns.

She doesn’t respond.

The guards on the recording all turn as the automatic security starts going crazy. Four bright lights flash on the screen and the tiny speck disappears behind a cloud of explosions, the hydrocanons. The recording shakes from the explosions they can’t hear, then, finally, it stops. It takes a moment for the scene to clear enough for them to see that the tiny speck on the screen has not moved. Then…

The speck starts radiating a purple light. It grows as the guards swim around, cautiously inspecting it from a distance.

“That’s impossible,” Orm murmurs.

“Yet here I am,” she whispers.

“How?” Queen Atlanna breathes.

Then the speck lets out a burst of violet energy in branches, like lightning. The entire screen is filled with light, then the camera lens shatters.

“Oh!” Orm gasps, “That explosion? That was you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“They told me it was a weapon test that failed. It took out at least 50 Old Atlantis buildings completely in just one blast,” he turns and looks at her and she looks away, “Althera, how?”

“Do you think this will be accepted as proof of my ability?

Orm frowns, feeling her shift in mood, and Queen Atlanna intervenes, “It certainly helps.”

“Great,” she says, attempting to sound enthused, “Great. That’s good.”

Orm looks at his mom and she stands, taking the hint, “I’ll take this over right away. I have everything we talked about outlined and I’ll get back to you when I hear something.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

She leaves and Orm stands.

“Althera, what’s wrong?”

She inhales and shakes her head and, for the first time, it infuriates her beyond belief that he can’t see her. She flies out of the room and back into her own cell.

His voice is distant and distorted in the water filled space. She stares at her own body, bobbing in the water as he attempts to get her to talk in the next room. Retreating into herself, she falls asleep.

She wakes up to a knocking sound. It’s not on the tank or the door, but on the wall to her right.

“Althera, I’m sorry. If it was something I said, please know I am sorry. But… but if you don’t let me know what I did wrong, I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again.”

She looks down and gathers herself. Phasing through the wall, he looks up when he feels her in the room, “Althera?”

“You didn’t do anything,” she murmurs, drifting to his bed. He walks over and sits down beside her, “It’s the recording. It’s proof that, no matter how much I try to separate myself from my father, he still exists inside me.”

“Your father?”

“My actual, biological father. I can’t shake him. I was an unwanted accident that reminded him of his failures, so he shelved me as a 'deal with this later' kind of thing. And I want to hate him for this, want to hate this power of his that he gave me, but I just… I can’t. I've tried."

He frowns. There isn’t much he can say, she knows that. She feels bad for putting him in an awkward position. Suddenly, she almost flies back in surprise. He reaches out and places his hand on hers. Though she cannot feel him and he cannot feel her, his positioning is spot on.

“I don't know about your father. But right now, I can almost see you. Not anything descriptive or specific, just a fuzzy outline. But it’s most certainly you. Not your earth mother. Not your biological father. Just Althera.”

At this very second, she would do anything for this Atlantean man.

“Thank you, Orm.”

No more than a week passes when there is a loud clattering noise followed by the sound of a thousand flushing toilets. When she tries to open her eyes, she finds the motion irritatingly slow. She tries to move, but it’s as if she’s being weighed down.

She starts to panic. Her body screams out. It’s been so long since she’s been in pain and it feels like fire spilling from her throat. Then… there’s peace.

Chapter Text

“Althera Prince?”

The voice is familiar. Her eyes open, slow, lazy, and she finds herself lying in a bright room.

“Queen Atlanna?” she asks, her voice broken and hoarse. Looking around, she sees the room is identical to the one Orm is in, but with a large, empty tank right in the center of it. Though she doesn’t at first realize her panic, the queen speaks to her in a soothing voice, attempting to calm her down again.

“Hey, everything is okay. We’ve flushed your room, got rid of the water that contained you. This is the same room, but you are in your physical body again.”

Feeling the panic slowly subside, she sits up with the Queen’s assistance. Sure enough, her entire shape moves. Looking down, she stretches her arms out in front of her and wiggles her fingers, then her toes. She giggles when they wiggle back at her.

“Oh… Oh, this is… this is wonderful.”

“I have someone here who would like to meet you. My son, Arthur.”

“The deal?” she whispers. Atlanna nods. “O-okay.”

The door opens and a man walks in. He is tall, but otherwise doesn’t resemble Orm in the slightest. His skin is a warm tan brown, decorated with black tattoos, and his brown hair is long and tied back out of his face. He looks down at her with deep, deep eyes.

“I hear you’ve been keeping my brother company? Why?”

She clears her throat and Atlanna reaches out when she tries to stand. She does fine, though, with just a small sensation of sea legs.

“I have been locked up for two years, Mr. King Arthur. One can’t be too picky about company.”

“Two years,” he repeats. His voice is so gruff that she is surprised by the smile that spreads on his face, “What the hell has the adopted daughter of Diana Prince been doing locked up in Atlantis for two whole years? Now she basically has her lasso around my neck waiting for me to release you. As if I even knew you were down here!”

His voice is loud, but his intimidation is lacking something. Then she figures it out.

“The King of Atlantis is a teddy bear,” she snorts.

He raises his eyebrows, “Is not. I’m more than twice your size, little girl.”

“Oh, I’m no little girl, King Arthur. I’m at the very least 100 years older than you.”

He sits down across from her. They take each other in for a long moment. Then he grins, “You want to be my brother’s parole officer?”

“I think it’s an idea that deserves some thought.”

“Why’s that?”

“Diana wants me to return to the Surface, which I suppose is doable. However, Orm and I had planned on keeping our correspondence. We were planning to appeal for visitation rights. However, it would be a better experience, in my opinion, if I were allowed to bring Orm with me. If he sees the dry land from the perspective of someone he actually respects, he might learn to view it from a different light. I enjoy the earth, though not with the biased view of someone born and raised here and I think that’s the best way he’ll be able to look at it.”

Arthur gives her a look, “Diana told me a bit about you. Your family. The whole situation seems way below you. What’s so interesting about my baby brother?”

She raises her eyebrows and steers the conversation in another direction, “Did Diana sound like she disapproved?”

He frowns, “She was pretty chill about it. Says that if you weren’t locked up in Atlantis you could’ve easily helped prevent his attack in the first place. Which, what the hell do I know about what you can do after seeing that underwater explosion.”

Her face grows warm and she thinks about Orm.

“When do I get to meet him?”

Arthur looks at his mom, then sighs.

“Look, you seem like a nice chick. He’s like, the complete opposite. I don’t even know how he can tolerate you for more than a second--”

“Arthur!” his mother scolds.

Althera grins, “It’s alright, Ma’am. I am a piece of work, but Orm had no choice but to give in to my charms.”

Atlanna gives her son a look, still mad, and he shrugs sheepishly. The queen gently takes Althera’s elbow and guides her towards the door, “Follow me, Dear. We’ll get you out of those waterlogged clothes while Arthur is dealing with Orm.”

“Are they going to start fighting again?” she wonders outloud.

Their mother sighs, “Gods, I hope not.”

Admiring the deep, cobalt color of the Atlantean wetsuit she is dressed in, she follows Atlanna and Arthur into a room with 20 guards.

“Here, put this on,” Arthur says, walking in behind her, “It’s about to get wet.”

She accepts from him a device that makes her claustrophobic just looking at it, giving it a skeptical look over before handing it back, “I can manage, thanks.”

He shrugs and gestures for the door to open up. As she steps through, the water surrounds her and a pocket of air forms around the lower half of her face. She is watched with interest as she follows the guards.

The new room has bright, cheery lights and a large window to the city outside. The guards spread out to either side of them and clear a path. At the very end of the line, she sees him.

He has his back to her, floating above the ground as he looks out the window. His hands are bound and so are his ankles. He looks tired.

“Arthur, can’t you take those chains off of him?” Atlanna murmurs.

Arthur grunts and waves his hand. A guard steps forward and releases Orm. He rubs the skin of his wrists and turns.

Arthur’s relatively hulking figure blocks her out of Orm’s sight, but she can see him clearly.

“Orm.”

His name slips out of her mouth and he tilts his head, swimming forward a bit.

“Althera?”

She drifts past Arthur and Orm’s face breaks into the widest smile she’s ever seen.

Before she can think, she flies forward. Her air bubble nearly detaches from her head because of the speed at which she moves and he catches her, surprised by the hug. Laughing, he looks up at his mother, who looks very amused.

Suddenly feeling very silly, Althera quickly pulls back and corrects her stance, though she has trouble resisting the jitters.

“I’m sorry, Orm. I just… It’s you!”

“And it’s you. Althera Prince,” he says, looking down at her. He lifts his hand and gently captures a coil of her black hair, “You are everything and nothing I imagined.”

She feels herself flush with heat from her head to toes and changes the subject, holding her hand out to him, “May I shake your hand?”

He beams, “Yes. Of course.”

His handshake is everything and nothing she imagined.

Chapter Text

Queen Atlanna was apparently busier than she had let on, as there is only a day’s worth of paperwork for them all to go through. Althera pays only partial attention to whatever she pledges (if she’d wanted to be a lawyer she’d have stayed in the Underworld). Then, much to both Althera and Orm’s horror and surprise, they are escorted to the Surface.

On the ride there, Althera could hear Orm and Atlanna's surprised bickering and she tried not to listen in too much, though it's hard not to hear snippets here and there.

“How is this possible, Mother? You were certain yourself that the Fisherman Kingdom--”

“I know, Orm, I know. But the Counsel has allowed us this trial run and I think it would be foolish not to take it.”

“Clearly someone is benefitting from my release,” he murmurs, “This feels like a trap.”

“I trust Althera,” Atlanna says sternly, then sighs, “In truth, there was a man. He spoke to the Counsel in your favor. I wasn't there at the time, but he somehow convinced them that this would be for the best. And that's all I know, Orm.”

After this conversation, they settle back into silence. Atlanna is dropped off in one location. And, not long after, Althera and Orm are dropped off in another.

Diana waits for them on the littered beach and smiles when she sees Althera, opening her arms wide. Althera runs and squeezes her tight.

“Althera! A coma for two years?” Diana breathes, hugging her close. “I almost killed Arthur when I found out.”

“It wasn’t too bad, Mama Di. And I met Prince Orm because of it.”

Diana’s smile grows serious, “Althera…”

She sinks under the weight of the look, “Yes?”

“Do I need to remind you that we cannot take in every sob story we meet.”

Orm blinks, but remains silent.

“Oh, he’s not a sob story, though. He’s just… just an idiot,” she says, putting a little extra love in the insult, “But he’s good to me.”

“Even so, your friend caused the deaths of thousands of people, at the very least.”

“And how is that any different from how you found me? Not to mention that I might have injured some people when I landed in Atlantis, too,” she pouts, “To say what he did is worse than what I did is to put a worth on each of the lives taken. And you still love me, don’t you?”

“You’re the reason I adopted the no sob story rule,” she scolds, then tilts her head and smiles, “Of course I still love you. You’ve repented and learned.”

“And now is his time to learn!” Althera smiles, “And if he learns, there’s a chance he may repent one day! Yes?”

Diana gives her a long look before sighing. Taking this moment, Althera reaches out and touches Orm’s arm, making introductions. Diana continues to look disapproving, but she is polite. Orm looks regal, awkward, and grumpy. Nothing new.

“A mutual friend of ours had the documents made under Arthur’s family’s name. Meet Orm Curry, Atlanna and Tom’s younger son.”

Orm grimaces, but accepts the papers she hands him.

“There is a house within walking distance of the coast that is ready for you. Two bedrooms, one bath so you’ll have to share. If that house doesn’t work, call me and we’ll try to negotiate something new. Oh, here are your phones.”

“So you finally met with him?” Althera asks.

“There is much you need to catch up on,” Diana sighs, then gestures to the phones, “Yours is black. It has my contact info, along with a few of your old friends.”

“Barry?” she asks, her voice hopeful.

“Yes. He was recruited by our mutual friend for a job with the League around the time you disappeared.”

“The League?” Althera asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, after Kal-el revealed himself to the world to save it, then Steppenwolf appeared, we had to come together to form a League.”

“Kal-el? The name sounds familiar, but I don’t know… Gods, there is a shit ton I need to catch up on. Last thing I remember was responding to your call about Steppenwolf after he trashed the Atlantean outpost. That’s when I crash landed and was arrested.”

Orm swivels, “The Atlantean outpost?”

“That’s why you never arrived. And that’s around when we brought in Barry,” Diana puts together, “We have more to catch up on than I first thought. Anyway, Barry will probably be around soon. He’s been very worried about you. The other phone is Orm’s. There are limits to it, which can be lifted. Also, it’s being tracked.”

Diana turns and walks away and Althera follows, walking backwards, talking to Orm, “If there’s a League now, mine is also being tracked. He’ll track all of us, even though he acts like he won’t.”

“Us?”

“Well, I never intend to be an actual member of their league. But that doesn’t mean I won’t help. You know, sometimes there’s aliens or such that come out of the sky or crawl out of volcanoes and they want to eviscerate the entire planet. That kind of stuff.”

“And you’ve promised to help when we need you, Althera,” Diana says.

“When I have the time to, yes,” she grunts.

“Don’t make this out to be a joke, Althera. If any human so much as stubs their toe around you, or you,” she directs her gaze to him now, “we will hear about it. If we learn that you could have moved the stone out of the way of that person’s toe before they got hit, there will be consequences.”

“Fantastic. Not only will I have to live among the Surface Dwellers, but I have to actively make their lives better or face consequences,” he says, his voice flat. Althera bites back a laugh.

“Was it your time being spoiled as King of Atlantis that robbed you of your decency, or did you never have any to begin with?”

“Diana…” Althera blinks, but is saved when a black suburban with the darkest tinted windows she has ever seen pulls up in front of them.

“Real discreet,” she says, trying to break the lingering tension. It doesn’t work.

“Get in,” Diana orders.

Orm takes the very back seat and Althera sits beside Diana in front of him. Diana’s phone rings and she apologizes before answering it.

Turning in her seat, she finds Orm brooding.

“That was all an exaggeration. Besides, you’re with me now and I can do all the heavy lifting,” she jokes. He remains non-humored. She heaves a big sigh, “Orm, no one is asking you to like the Surface. Even if you were here for 20 years, Gods forbid, you would absolutely be allowed to have the same opinion you have now. Humanity is an acquired taste. Don’t let Diana trick you into thinking she doesn’t question the meaning of it all sometimes. She’s different, but not that different.”

She turns in her seat. Diana talks in the otherwise silent car. Then Orm grunts, “The air up here hurts my face.”

Looking over her shoulder, she catches his eye. He quickly turns and looks out the window, his tongue in his cheek. It is incredibly difficult to hold in her laughter.

She is happy to be here with him. But maybe being around Diana, who is clearly not in the best mood, makes her start questioning Orm and his ulterior motives. He had clammed up almost immediately after the whole embarrassing hug and handshake thing, but she blamed it on the fact that Arthur was the one escorting them around. Surely if he had wanted to do something then, he could have.

One thing Atlanna mentioned to her while they were alone was that there could be purists left over after the attempted war. People who want Orm to return to Atlantis and take back the throne. Though she admittedly doesn’t know much about Atlantis beyond its prison cells, she knows that what these ‘purists’ want, what Orm wanted, goes against her friends’ principles.

As if she could read his mind and say for certain that this is no longer what he wants. She only has his word and he is very intelligent. He was able to convince people to fight on his side, people who later realized they were on the wrong side of the battle. Maybe she is just one of his manipulations?

That’s just dumb. The vast majority of their conversations never got deep. Not deep enough for him to control her or how she feels about anything. And that month and a half of his silence and how unwilling he was to start a conversation? A manipulator wouldn’t have wasted so much time. Besides, that bit of conversation she overheard between Orm and Atlanna on the ship seems to prove otherwise.

In all fairness, she finds his distaste for humans… normal. She and Diana have both had their own bad experiences. Before her time with Diana, she would have found it difficult to feel the full weight of her remorse for the lives she took and altered. Now…

She turns in her seat and stares at him until he finally looks at her, “What?”

“You didn’t talk to me for almost two months straight.”

He drops his head back on the cushion, closing his eyes, “Let me reminisce.”

“Very funny. Please, Orm. Don’t let Diana get too much in your head. She’s had this whole ‘righteous’ thing figured out for some time. You and I are relatively new to it. Not everything she says is going to apply. Plus, she’s acting kinda crabby right now. It’s not the best first impression.”

Diana hangs up and Althera turns back around, “I hoped we would be able to catch up today, Al, but I have to check in on this.”

“Alrighty,” she says, distracted by the sensation of Orm’s knee going into the back of her seat. She peers over at him and he ignores her.

“I’ll walk you into the house today. And I’ll be back to visit as soon as possible,” Diana reassures.

The drive isn’t far from the secluded beach they arrived on.

“The neighbors are a quarter mile that way. Pretty private. Your access to the beach is within walking distance. I’m sure Arthur already specified the rules of the water,” Diana comments. Althera grimaces because he had, in fact, mentioned that it is completely off-limits to Orm.

The driver gets out of the car and opens the door for them. Althera slides out of her seat and stares at the house. It has a white trim and the paint is a deep turquoise. There is a wraparound porch and a large window up front, probably with a bench seat. A big oak in the yard provides shade, though the leaves are just beginning to fall.

Her heart does a flip.

“I assumed once I’d move in with a man it’d be at Barry’s place. This looks so cozy.”

“You’ll receive an allowance each month. Your shopping for this month should be done. Any emergencies and you can call any of us in your contacts for help.”

She hands her three keys and Althera slips one from the ring, pressing it into Orm’s palm.

Walking inside, she is giddy with pleasure, Orm’s face looking quite the opposite. From the front door, she can see straight through to the sparkling kitchen, out to the back door. The whole space is filled with natural light. To her right is the living room and she can make out a short hallway, where the rooms likely are.

Despite her giddiness, she feels a slight unease. Something isn’t quite right.

Orm’s noise of surprise makes her whip around. He stands with a look of anger and confusion on his face, Diana’s lasso tight around his shoulders and chest.

“Diana?” she breathes, her own confusion obvious.

“What are your intentions with Atlantis?”

“What?” he spits out, his face red with irritation.

“The more you resist, the tighter it’ll become,” she says.

“Diana, stop!” Althera urges, still stunned by the fact that this is even happening.

“Althera, don’t--” Diana starts.

Orm chokes, then speaks, “I don’t know! After everything, I don’t know. Atlantis seems happy with their new king and, even if it is my half-brother who I cannot stand to look at for longer than a full minute, it is my home! I want to return someday, but it is… it is too…”

He swallows hard, the effort to resist bringing him down to his knees. He looks up and spits out, “Too painful.”

“And your intentions here, on the dry land?”

“Diana, stop.”

His hands turn white at his side as he clenches them. Althera steps forward, then back when Diana throws her a look.

“Althera says she can teach me about things. Not just about the Surface, but the world. She led me to believe I could trust her. That we were friends. I’ve had no desire to physically harm her. Nor do I have any plan to harm anyone on the Surface.”

The lasso loosens and Diana pulls it back, giving Althera a look. Orm falls forward.

Shaking with barely controlled anger, Althera follows Diana out of the house, fuming. Once outside, she speaks, “So what? You don’t trust me, now?”

“I love you. And I want nothing but the best for you, Althera, but you know that you are still very naive--”

“Naive! Diana, what the fuck was that all about?”

“Are we not going to mention that you were locked up for two years and he was the first person you came in contact with all that time?”

She blinks, “What does that have to do with anything?”

Diana sighs, looking down at the lasso in her hands, “Last time we tried something like this.”

She stares in shock and Diana grows uncomfortable, “That’s completely… that’s… Orm is different.”

“Maybe.”

“It’s not like that. Orm is different. Just like Barry is different.” She forces back tears and steps forward, her voice trembling as she insists, “They are different in different ways, Diana, and none of them are like her.”

They stand in deafening silence for a few long, gruesome moments before Diana turns, “I’m glad to hear that, then. I’m sorry if I have made you angry, but I did what I felt was necessary.”

She walks down the driveway and, after a few heartbeats, the dark suburban drives away. Although she is still fuming, she tries her hardest to collect herself before walking back into the house.

Orm stands now. He raises his head when she walks in and stares, his chest rising and falling with anger.

“I’m sorry she did that to you. It was completely… completely unfair,” her voice fades out and she quickly wipes her face. “I didn’t think so much would have changed in two years, but Diana is angry about something. Maybe when she has time to explain, I’ll understand. But what she just did… well, I don’t think she might ever have done something like that unless it was absolutely necessary.”

“I feel… exposed.”

“I probably shouldn’t mention it, but what you said, about us being friends…” she pauses and then frowns, “If that had been anyone but Diana, I would never have allowed it. Please know that.”

He stays silent, then walks towards her. He stops in front of her and she looks up at him. His eyes are hard as steel and his expression resembles what she imagined the King of a merciless Atlantis to look like. She is as afraid of him as she can be when she sighs and looks away.

“If she ordered you to, would you kill me?”

“Why would I have to kill anyone?”

“Althera.”

She looks up at him, suddenly too tired to even admire the hard lines of the Atlantean's expression. He chuckles cruelly, shaking his head and walking away from her to sink into the couch. Though all she wants is to lock herself up in her room and cry, she walks to the couch instead. Looking down at Orm, she feels anger of a different kind rise in her chest. He looks up at her and must sense this anger, as he suddenly looks alarmed, sinking deeper into the cushion.

She takes his chin in her hand, her eyes scanning his face. Such a nice face belonging to Orm, her friend.

Her voice sizzles as she speaks, “If you ever put me in a position where I am ordered to kill you, I will not. But I will hurt you, Orm. If you hurt me enough, I could hurt you so bad that you would wish you were dead.”

Her anger dissipates and she smiles a sad smile down at him. He looks at her with such an intense curiosity that she blushes, dropping her hand and turning.

“You should walk around the house, get used to how everything works,” she stops in the doorway and adds, “It looks like the room on the right is mine. I’ll be there if you need me.”

Chapter Text

The effect of two years of Atlantean sedatives is slow to wear off, making her weepier than she’d usually be. She swears she hasn’t cried this much since… she can’t even remember. But she feels like a teenager, laying on her bed and sobbing up at the ceiling. She controls herself as best she can. If Orm needs her help with something, she doesn’t want to walk out with puffy red eyes.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out the phone. Scrolling through everything, she finds the contacts and Barry’s name is right at the top. Comforted, she sends him a message and begins to explore the bedroom.

It is a decent size, though not a real master suite. She is very happy with it, though, opening the white curtains to let the light outside shine in. It is already so much better than her cell in Atlantis and she is already planning how to decorate it. Wondering about her allowance, she meanders to the closet.

Bruce Wayne, the mysterious mutual friend Diana had been referring to before, has spoiled her rotten.

The closet isn’t full, by any means, but the few articles of clothing provided are luxurious. Even a few of the plain looking t-shirts feel like they were woven by Athena’s own hands. He also made sure to provide covert mission attire, and she snickers at a crisp, black jumpsuit. In addition, there are multiple swimsuits in several different styles. On one of the flashiest one-pieces is a note: Welcome home, Little Mermaid. Love, BW.

Her heart warms up and she takes the note from the suit, walking to the bed and sticking it in a notebook that lies on the dresser.

She drops down on the bed again and, as if on cue, she gets a text. Picking up the phone, she grins.

OH MY GOD YOU’RE BACK FROM ATLANTIS?! I’M COMING OVER RIGHT NOW

She bites her lip and responds.

Idk if you should, Orm didn’t have a great introduction to the place

WE’LL GIVE HIM A BETTER ONE PLEASE THERE IS SO MUCH I NEED TO TELL YOU ABOUT EVERYTHING SINCE YOU LEFT

She giggles.

Like the fact that you’ve traded me in for FUCKING BATMAN AND WONDER WOMAN?

He doesn’t respond immediately, so she returns to planning where she might prefer her bed to be. Then…

HELL YESSSSSSS

She starts to put her phone away when it chirps again.

ONE HOUR AND I’LL BE THERE

She sighs, deciding she had better warn Orm that someone is coming over.

His bedroom door doesn’t seem to have been disturbed, and he’s not in the living room. Frowning, she peeks around the corner and finds him at the kitchen table, stabbing something pink onto the end of his fork.

“What is that?” she asks as she approaches.

“A fish.”

She realizes that it is, in fact, a raw fish and that he has already consumed the majority of it. Sighing, she opens a small freezer on the counter to find two other fish.

“Someone with the initials BW left a note on the door,” he says, gesturing to the sticky note on the table beside him. She wonders how many more of these notes he left behind.

She sticks it back to the table and nods, walking to the large refrigerator, she retrieves a bottle of almond milk. Looking at the rest of the fridge, she notices that the vast majority of the containers are glass or cardboard. Not a single plastic tub or carton in sight.

Closing the door, she goes to the pantry and finds a box of cereal, then hunts for a bowl and spoon. She sits down across from Orm and starts eating. He politely eats his fish, his manners exemplary, as she munches on her honey-flavored O’s.

Growing self-conscious about her crunching, she chews for what feels like an excessive amount of time before swallowing.

“My friend Barry is coming over.”

He looks up, puts the fork in his mouth, and chews. He gives her a long, even look before swallowing and answering, “What’s his special form of torture?”

She decides she doesn’t much care about her crunching after all, taking another spoonful, “Fight me, Orm.”

“Maybe I should have stayed locked up a tad longer. Might have made me more grateful about being forced to share something impossibly humiliating all while choking on my knees.”

Though his voice is calm, she knows he chose his words intentionally to hurt her, not to mention her already heightened emotional state, “You know I didn’t want that and I guarantee you it will never happen again.”

“Can you, Althera? You don’t seem to have much control over your friends.”

She slams her spoon down on the table and leans forward, “Oh, I don’t want to hear a single thing about ‘control’ from you, Ocean Master. I’m sorry I’m not as ambitious as you. I’m sorry I don’t think I should exercise my power over everyone in my life just to flex my usefulness in everyone’s face.”

“Since the very beginning, you’ve had a lot to say, but not once have you proven a single point,” he says, a smug smile on his face.

“So what? You probably think I’m not quite everything I’ve hyped myself up to be, don’t you? Because I haven’t proven it to you?”

He raises his cool eyes to hers and sets his fork down beside his plate, his arrogance nearly palpable.

“I’ve said no such thing. If it was implied, I apologize. But as someone who has a certain level of physical capability, I find it silly to believe that someone who claims to not want something to happen could allow it to happen.”

“Here’s two things, Orm. One, I don’t like the fact that you’re implying I wanted Diana to dig into your deepest, darkest secrets. If I had wanted to, I could have done so ages ago without her help. But I didn’t. Some may call that naïve. Maybe so, but I chose to give you the benefit of the doubt. Two, the fact that you think I should have done anything to physically prevent what happened shows that you either have never felt true, immense power, or that you have no one to trust in your life except your mother. And I’m sorry, but if it is the latter, that’s something you should take up with a therapist, not take out on me.”

“That blast in Atlantis? How much control did you have over what happened then?”

She smiles, leaning back in her chair. Maybe she has been naïve when it comes to Orm Marius. Though he has touched a tender subject, even her most tender problems have a thick, thick skin. Maybe she shouldn’t have bought into his anger. Maybe she shouldn’t have given him the ability to use her father against her. But it is fair. Had she not just brought up his mother?

“What do you want, Orm?”

“You said it best moments ago. Fight me.”

“Think you can beat me without a trident?” she asks as he swings around a piece of rebar they found in a junk pile outside the house. He plans to use it as a weapon, which is adorable.

“The trident is only as good as the person wielding it. I think I’ll be fine,” he says, looking over and warily eyeing what appears to be one of the neighbor’s cows.

Althera shrugs, “Just asking. There’s some hay for the cows and I think I saw some pitchforks back there, which I guess are kinda like Surface Dweller tridents.”

He doesn’t look amused and she snorts, then giggles, “This is extremely childish.”

He laughs, though the laughter doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “You know, it is. Absolutely. If you want to give up now, I’d understand.”

“Give up? Why, so you can tell everyone who visits that you beat me in my own backyard? Not a chance, Ocean Master.”

“So be it,” he says, stepping back.

“Any rules?”

“What do you suggest?”

“Letting me know when to stop might be important,” she says, then stamps her foot, getting a feel for the earth beneath her feet, “If we’re fully committed to this, how about until one needs the other’s assistance standing?”

“It’ll be my pleasure.”

“Alright,” she says, planting her feet, taking a nice wide stance, “Let's do this.”

He tightens his grip on the rebar weapon and she can practically feel the excitement course through him. It makes sense. He is a warrior, a man of action, and it’s been months since he last wielded a weapon of any sort. But she’s a warrior, too, though quite different. Ares secretly taught her to fight while battling for control of the reanimated corpses of Tartarus. Her uncle hated how she put herself in danger, but loved that she was growing stronger.

So much stronger.

When the rebar comes down on her, the shock of a large slab of earth rising beneath it sends it, and its wielder, backward.

Terrible surprise covers his face as soil falls around them, but he catches himself, his heels tearing into the ground.

“If you had asked, you would know I control all of the Earth’s elements,” she lifts her hands and the ground crumbles beneath him before rising and solidifying around him, “But you have been too self-centered to have thought that far ahead.”

With a shout, he breaks out of the wall of earth, launching himself forward. She recoils, flying back and out of the way of the rebar swipe, and hovering above him, her eyes downcast as she looks at him. Before he recovers from his lost movement, she spirals down on him, her arms around his waist as she tackles him to the ground.

The force of the blow sends them both skidding across the yard, tearing up grass and mud.

She anticipates him getting up quick, but is surprised by how quick. The rebar spins around in two brisk circles before coming in powerful, blunt contact with the back of her knee.

She tips sideways and lands on her butt, laughing in surprise. He stands above her, a cocky smile forming on his lips, and she raises her hands, a large stream of air spiraling out from her palms at a crazy high speed. Keeping steady, she stands and gains her footing. With better footing, the stronger the winds become, the more trouble he has staying on his feet, the less certain and more frustrated his expression becomes.

Unable to maintain the stream much longer, she pushes out one last gust of air that sends him flying back, knocking into the fence and splintering the wood. He looks up at the cow in disgust before it gets spooked and runs back in annoyance.

He’s taken most of her hits, she’s not surprised. The former King of Atlantis must have been a force to be reckoned with. Despite that, she worries about upping the velocity of her attacks.

She doesn’t have long to worry before he’s gained on her, the rebar coming down just inches from where she rolls away from. Plunging her fists into the earth, she blocks each strike with stones she conjures from the ground. Each hit shatters the stone and she cements them back together in milliseconds. He hesitates just a moment too long and she takes the opportunity to advance. Diving into his waist again, she pulls him up into the air with her.

He wiggles in surprise, clutching her tight, his hold on the rebar slipping until it falls away. His attention isn't on the rebar, however, as she rises higher and higher. Much higher than even the oak tree in the yard. He looks up at her and she wiggles her eyebrows teasingly, then angles them back towards the ground.

“Don’t you dare,” he scolds in disbelief.

She hurdles them both straight for the stacked hay.

The bales burst apart as the two smash into them, filling their hair, mouths, and nostrils with the dry grasses. He coughs and wheezes and she sneezes. Jumping up, she looks down at him as he looks up at her, his golden blond hair a touseled mess.

His initial shock disappears and a slow smile spreads on his face. It reaches his eyes this time and he holds his hand out. She takes it, pulling him up onto his feet.

And then he laughs. He laughs hard. She shakes her head, but when the hay falls from her like confetti, she can’t help it when she, too, starts giggling uncontrollably.

“Thank you, Althera. I think I needed this.”

“Honestly, I think I needed it, too," she admits, then catches herself stealing another glance at him. He looks different like this, in this yard, breathing heavily from the exercise, and regarding her with such a genuine smile. Something stirs in her chest and she rolls her eyes at herself, quickly stuffing whatever that was down and away.

A sudden voice helps with the distraction.

“We having a little barnyard brawl?”

”Barry!”

She lights up at the sound of the voice, spinning around and flying to the wraparound porch where he stands, hugging him around the waist.

“Yes, it is I. Barry, of the League of Justice,” he grins, squeezing her back. “Oh my God, Althera, you were trapped in an underwater prison for two years? And is this… the guy?”

She tilts her head and squints at him, “Who else would it be?”

“He just doesn’t look like what I expected, that’s all.”

“What did you expect?”

He looks over at Orm who tries to pick hay out of his hair with dignity.

“I thought he was going to be more… mermaid-y.”

She drops her arms from around him and looks up at him, her face slack, “Arthur doesn’t have a fucking tail, dude.”

“Okay, yes. But Arthur is only half Atlantean, so I guess I assumed you were doing it with a guy with a tail.”

“First of all, you get on my nerves so bad,” she laughs and he grins wide, “Second, I haven’t been ‘doing it’ with anybody, let alone Orm. I mean, look at him.”

They look over at him and he looks up as they do. He waits expectantly for a long moment and, when nobody says anything, he asks, “Is there a reason you’re staring?”

Barry snorts and Althera sighs.

“I’m already terrified that he’s going to hurt me. He’s literally your type. Stop lying,” Barry murmurs.

She snickers and gestures for them to follow her into the house.

“Barry, this is Prince Orm Marius of Atlantis. Orm, this is Barry Allen of the Justice League. Make nice and be merry,” she says, leaning on the counter. Orm shakes Barry’s hand and Barry looks about ready to explode.

“We should probably let the man shower before we start pelting him with dumb questions, shouldn’t we?”

Barry frowns and shrugs.

Orm gives her a thankful look before disappearing into his room. Then he pops his head out, “I hope you aren’t leaving. I would hate for anything to malfunction while I’m alone.”

“Um, yeah, hold on,” she says, running to him and grabbing his hand. Though surprised, he allows her to drag him into the bathroom. Having used an Atlantean bathroom just once with the aid of his mother, she knows how different the experience is and gives him a quick run through of how everything works, then locates a towel and soap for him.

He thanks her and she nods, walking out of the bathroom. A second later, she peeks in, “We’re cool, right?”

“By that, I take it to mean we’re not fighting anymore? In that case, yes, we’re cool.

She grins and leaves him again.

Barry sits on the couch and has already found the snacks stash.

“So you guys aren’t doing the dirty?”

“No.”

“Not yet?”

She glares at him, “Barry, you saw how stolid he is. I’m not gonna try to crack open a guy who held the title Ocean Master just so I can get a lil’ somethin’ somethin’.”

He laughs and offers her the bag of pretzels. She shakes her head and goes to the kitchen sink to wash her hands.

“Okay, I’ll believe you. However, I do not accept your reasoning. You’ve literally never have had a problem with brooding guys before. Dude, Batman literally referred to you by a pet name the other day.”

“That’s different.

”How?”

“It just is,” she shrugs, annoyed that this is the second time she’s explained something this way today.

He looks at her and then he questions, “Have you and Batman…?”

She turns and her eyes are daggers, “No.”

“Alright,” he says, dropping back into the cushions, “Well… What was Atlantis like? Meet any sexy, Atlantean, warrior lady prison guards to introduce your friends to?”

“I was in a coma for two years straight, Barry. It was a miracle that Orm decided to have his war when he did. He was the first person I talked to in all that time.”

“How did you talk to him if you were in a coma?

She leans towards him, “I have a new ability.”

His eyes widen and he pulls out his phone, “Another one? I’ll have to add it to the list.”

She explains it to him while he listens excitedly.

“Wow, that makes this your 16th super power?”

“Your classification is all wrong. I think altogether there are no more than five, and the others all fall into one of those five categories.”

“True,” he says, then closes his notes app, “Dude… can you believe that 1) the Justice League is real and 2) I’m a part of it?”

She giggles and drops on the couch beside him, despite the last bits of hay on her. He doesn’t mind. Barry doesn’t mind that kind of stuff, which helps her feel very comfortable around him all the time. He puts his arm around her and squeezes her.

“I think you’ve earned it after everything, don’t you?”

He scrunches his nose, “I dunno, I guess.”

“Your modesty, Mr. Allen, is quite noble," she says, and he blushes profusely, "So tell me, how well do you know Arthur?”

“We met under weird circumstances. And he kinda showed up like he didn’t want to be there. Haven’t really seen him around since, just a few times on the news. That makes sense, though, since he was out dealing with your boyfriend slash his brother.”

“I’d refrain from leaving off the ‘half’ of half-brother around Orm.”

He nods, then giggles nervously, “He seems… nice.”

“He’s something else. Maybe it’s because he was the first companionship I had after two whole years or something, but something about his broody, lovely face just makes me happy.”

“I’m glad,” he says, kissing her forehead, “I missed you so much. But even if you weren’t locked up this entire time, I wouldn’t even have known where to start looking for you.”

“I missed you, too. But you don’t need me. You’ve done pretty well for yourself without me, haven’t you?”

He shrugs, “I got lucky.”

She reaches up and touches his cheek, humming contentedly. He is so familiar and she is so happy to be back.

“Modesty…” she purrs. “You’re in the Justice League, good sir. You’ve earned the right to boast!”

His energy had been slowing down, but it suddenly burst back to full speed and he laughs.

“The freaking Justice League. I’m in a group that also includes Superman! Like… that’s insane in and of itself seeing as he died--”

“Who’s Superman?”

He blinks as if she just said the stupidest thing he’s ever heard, “I guess you weren’t here for all of that. Superman is basically the one who got us all out of hiding. He’s from a whole other planet, but he’s been living here on Earth under the name Clark Kent. Of course, that’s top secret stu--”

“Clark Kent?” she asks, looking up at Barry’s face to see if he’s joking. He doesn’t notice and continues.

“--ff. He’s as fast as me, it’s insane. But I don’t think it’s really comparable, since he’s an alien. His alien name is like Kal-el or something like that.”

“Clark…” she breathes, “Clark Kent?”

“Yeah. He and Batman had some feud and he ended up dying.”

“Clark died?”

He looks down at her and finally notices her shock.

“Yes,” then, “Wait. Althera, did you know Superman?”

“Barry, is Clark dead?” she sits up, her voice cracking.

“No! Not anymore. We, the rest of the Justice League, had to resuscitate him. That’s around the time we called you and you didn’t show up. Then he, like, completely kicked our asses--”

“You think you’d see either of these things on the news or something.”

“You don’t even watch the news.”

“Well… no, but come on!”

“The whole world has been watching Superman, Al! There was a giant laser thing that started turning the planet into a whole other planet,” he explains, “Wait, are you seriously telling me you knew Wonder Woman, Batman, and Superman before they made it big? And me?”

She ignores him, “The last time I saw Clark was after he sent me that text about wanting to talk. I didn’t respond to it immediately, but I eventually showed up and-- Well, I absolutely humiliated myself. Introduced myself to his new girlfriend, did them a quick favor to make up for my behavior, and left.”

“That must have been right before he died.”

“Clark… He told me he learned about his family. He was excited to share what he learned with me, but I was so embarrassingly drunk. But I remember some of it. Kal-el. I knew that sounded familiar when Diana said it. And then there was that really cryptic text I never got the chance to respond to,” she gasps, “By Zeus, he really was dead and I hadn’t a clue…”

She looks down at her fingers, her sight a little blurry.

They sit in silence for hardly any time before he speaks, “I don’t know how you missed all of it.”

“I was in Greece! I was getting a lecture from my uncle.”

“Your uncle lives in Greece?” Orm asks, walking out of his bedroom. She hadn’t seen him cross from the bathroom to his bedroom, but he comes out now fully dressed and squeaky clean, wiping behind his ears with a towel. His blond hair is damp and he looks curious.

“Um… yup,” she says, quickly wiping her eyes and standing, “Hey, I hope it’s alright if I hop in the shower really quick. I’m shedding hay all over the couch.”

He and Barry look at each other for a second before Orm sighs and sits.

“Thank you! I’ll be right out. Be nice and don't ask dumb questions.”

Their catching up would have been relatively quick if Barry wasn’t so susceptible to going off on tangents. Despite how good she is at getting him back on track, it is still very late when he finally says he needs to get going. She hates to see him go, and she places smooches all over his face as he laughs and pretends to tear away from her.

“I love you, too, Althera, but I should have been out of here ages ago,” he says, “I have to wake up at, like, six for a meeting with Bruce tomorrow.”

“Ooo, what an important man,” she beams, batting her eyes at him.

He grins and waves, “Don’t worry, I’ll be around. Your house is much more comfortable than my place. And there’s more food. Maybe we’ll take brunch?”

“Brunch? When have we ever had brunch?” she blinks, but he’s already gone.

Turning, she finds Orm standing behind her. She assumes it’s the polite thing to do, to walk your guests to the door. And, of course, Orm would be the most polite host.

“Thank you for this evening. You were very nice to Barry. Even when he asked to see your belly button.”

“Even if I had wanted to be rude, I would not have had the opportunity. He doesn’t stop talking, does he?”

“The day Barry stops talking will be a very somber day, indeed.”

They walk back into the living room and Orm sits, asking, “How long, exactly, have you two been together?”

She tilts her head, leaning over the head of the couch, “Um… as a couple, never? We were friends for over a year though, before the whole coma thing.”

“Oh, I apologize, I just assumed.”

“You’re not the first person," she waves her hand dismissively, "He’s one of my best friends, he’s just so easy to be around and have fun with. At one point before Atlantis, we were practically inseparable.”

“So… you’re just that touchy with everyone, or is that just with him?”

She feels her face grow warm. Of course the former King of Atlantis wouldn’t be used to seeing so much PDA. Does that make her incredibly impolite? But that’s just how she and Barry are. The very first night they met, they ended the night cuddled up in the same bed. Nothing sexual about it, they were simply like two peas in a pod.

“I do think I’m a very tactile person. Though, I should maybe be more… conservative and thoughtful when people are around.”

“Don’t change on my account,” he says, looking away.

She frowns, wondering if he means the opposite. But he genuinely looks like he's done with the conversation and she is relieved.

Walking around the couch, she brushes a bit of hay off the cushion.

“You know,” she says, sitting a cushion away, “We never made a deal about what the winner of the fight gets from the other.”

He looks over at her, his eyes tired, “What do you want from me, Althera?”

She tilts her eyes to the ceiling and frowns, “I don’t know. What would you have wanted from me if you won?”

He inhales and looks up at the ceiling as well.

“I may have asked you something personal about yourself. I felt, and still feel, exposed. Like I’m standing naked in front of you.”

She ignores the lovely image conjured up in her head and asks, “Your comment about the explosion in Atlantis. Was that your retaliation?”

He frowns and nods, “I shouldn’t have stooped so low.”

“So what, you know one thing about me that not even Barry knows. I know, like, two things about you. That’s kinda even. And we’ve only known each other for only a few months,” she frowns and looks at the side of his face. The normal, strong, structured planes of his face look softer in this light. It’s a little strange, “Orm, you know… I really hope we can trust each other someday.”

He sits up straight, “Do you want the truth?”

“Please.”

“Before we fought, I could feel the lack of balance between us. I thought I had prepared myself for that feeling, having been moved around Atlantis as much as I have been these last few months. But, just before we fought, I convinced myself that you were just like the rest,” he sighs and looks down, “While we were fighting, I could feel that you were holding back. That you could have hit me much harder than you were. But I didn’t know why. Then I remembered what you said, that I’ve never had a friend I didn’t have power over. You were absolutely correct. And I get the chance to make a friend and what do I do? Instantly try to assert dominance? It’s pathetic.”

She remains silent for a long moment before nodding, “Maybe you just lost because you were thinking too much about everything except the actual fight.”

He looks over at her and she looks up at him. He rolls his eyes and she bursts out laughing.

“Just when I think I can read you, you do something to throw me off. You’re a conundrum, Althera Prince.”

“Gotta keep everyone on their toes.”

She has already begun to recognize the faraway look he gets when he’s thinking and, when he looks at her again, he smiles, “What might my life have been like if I’d met you sooner?”

“If you didn’t completely blow me off in the first five seconds, I’d say weird. Confusing. Probably just as wild, but in a different way.”

“I could see myself trying to make you an ally. I might have tried to manipulate you, then.”

“And I would have seen right through it, Orm Marius,” she grins. He watches as she reaches over and brushes a piece of couch fuzz off his shoulder. She raises her eyes and he continues to look at her with that thoughtful expression. Clearing her throat, she tries not to think about how his eyes are almost a perfect shade of cornflower blue, “I might have asked you to talk to your mom about what was said today. If we had made the deal earlier, that is.”

“My mother…” he murmurs, “You’re probably right that I need to talk to a therapist.”

“Arthur isn’t so bad, is he?”

“In another universe, I think we might have worked well together,” he says, his voice low and steady, “I know Arthur wants to try and mend all of this. He wants to create a relationship with me or something resembling one. But he’s currently in a position of power that I worked my entire life for and, because of that, it’s going to take me some time to accept… any of this.”

They sit in silence, two feet apart, but closer than when they arrived.

She breaks the silence first.

“Think you could beat me if you had a trident?”

He looks at her, raising his eyebrows, “Don’t test me.”

“Alright,” she says, offering him a pretzel. He takes it, eyes it curiously, and then bites it.

“Think I could beat you underwater?”

Chapter Text

Hearing Orm outside the bathroom door, she sets down the paper tube she was squeezing.

“Just a second,” she calls.

“It’s fine, I wasn’t certain you were up yet.”

She opens the door and he looks down at her. He blinks at her as if concerned.

“I’m just about to brush my teeth. You can join me if you want.”

He walks in beside her and grabs his toothbrush from the cabinet. She offers him her toothpaste and he thanks her. He hesitates to put his toothbrush in his mouth, asking, “Althera?”

“Darlin’?”

“What do you have on your face?”

She giggles, “It’s a face mask. You gotta put it on twice a week so you can have healthy skin. This one happens to be made of organic avocados and honey. There is very little stopping me from squeezing this on a bagel right now.”

“I wondered why you smelled so sweet,” he says.

She balances her toothbrush and picks up the tube again, “Lean down for a second?”

He gives her a look and does as she asks. She grins, dabbing a little on his forehead, nose, and cheeks.

“Absolutely regal.”

He looks in the mirror, “More ridiculous than anything.”

“Maybe, but a king with scars on his hands and body has known war and troubles. And a smooth complexion shows a king who has overcome them and earned a peaceful life.”

He stops his brush halfway to his mouth again, “Although that makes partial sense, I can’t help but think you made it up just now.”

She beams and they brush their teeth.

She can’t help but be humored by the fact that she’s going through her morning routine with the former King of Atlantis. Especially because he looks no less intimidating than he might have when he was king, just with avocado on his cheeks.

They rinse their mouths and their faces and she walks into the kitchen while he stays back to pee, though he’d never say that.

When he joins her in the kitchen, he is drying his hands on his jeans. She hadn’t taken the time to notice that he was dressed in the clothes that Bruce left for him. The attire is much different than his much flashier Atlantean style; just a dark t-shirt and dark jeans. The deep colors contrast everything else about him and his already blue eyes look even more crystalline. He looks, dare she say, very attractive.

“I’m just going to make myself some eggs. If you want, I can make you some.”

“Eggs from a…” he begins warily.

“A chicken,” she nods.

“Those fuzzy little birds that bob their heads when they walk and have those red things that hang from their chins?”

“Yup.”

“I don’t want to be a nuisance,” he says, even more concerned.

“It’s not a nuisance if I’m already making them!”

He doesn’t know the difference between the types of cooked eggs, so she makes one of each of the absolute basics so he can try them. She learns he’s a sunny side up kind of man, ironically, and she teaches him to dip toast right in the middle. She isn’t too surprised when he prefers his coffee black and she drinks the rest of the one with cream and sugar, though she’d usually take hers black as well.

Three eggs later, he asks her to teach him how to make each himself. He stands beside her, sipping his coffee and watching her intently as she demonstrates.

When he tries it himself, she rolls her eyes.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, putting another slice of bread in the toaster.

“No, it’s just that that is literally the most perfect sunny side up egg I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Proud of himself, he leans against the counter.

“Oh, I wanted to ask you about these cellphones,” he says, pulling it out of his pocket and handing it to her, “Why exactly do I need one?”

“For communication. You can also do lots of other things with it. Look,” she says, showing him where the contacts are, “Here’s my number.”

She shows him and calls herself. She hands him back the phone as her phone starts vibrating in her pocket. She answers it and puts it to her ear, waiting for him to do the same before walking backward and out of the room.

“See, just call me if you need me,” she says.

“Interesting,” he says on the other line, “In Atlantis, we have holograms.”

She snorts and giggles, hanging up on him, walking back into the room, “Or you can just text me.”

He watches as she shows him other things on the phone just as intent as he was with the egg lesson. His toast pops and he butters it and eats, concentration unbroken.

He watches with humored interest as she takes a selfie on his phone, changing her contact photo. Giggling, she takes her phone out again, “Let me take one for mine?”

He quickly sets his toast down and swallows before looking at her again. She takes the picture.

“How do I look?” he asks.

She shows him the picture, sitting on the counter beside him, “I think you look nice.”

“I look exhausted,” he corrects. She rolls her eyes.

“Then you look handsome even when exhausted,” she says, sliding off the counter. Washing her dishes, she wonders if she should start a private social media account with a fake name. Barry probably has one already…

Orm continues watching her as she starts drying and, when she finishes, he copies her. She wonders how much of this is new to him, as he seems to catch on quickly and hasn’t had much of a problem with anything so far.

“Oof,” she says, walking into the living room, “I was so scatterbrained yesterday that I ignored this big old bookshelf.”

“Is there anything worth reading?”

“Depends on what you like,” she says, pulling out a book and squinting at it, “The Original Grimm Fairytales. We should read these together.”

“Right now?” he asks, walking up beside her.

“Uhh… well, sure. I guess we don’t have much else to do today, anyway.”

Chapter Text

Orm is amused by their reading of the Grimm fairy tales and makes arguments in favor of some of the most gruesome. She just rolls her eyes and reminds herself that he’s a philosopher at heart and is therefore able to play devil’s advocate well.

Before they notice, three hours go by.

“Geez, we really spent that whole time reading.”

“Well we are on three weeks house arrest,” he murmurs, “At least here you can flip your own pages.”

“Let’s go out to the garden,” she says, setting the book down and grabbing his hand. He stands and follows her out the door. All the while, his hand tightens and loosens in hers, as if uncertain of how it feels about its situation. By the time he settles on a confident, comfortable grip, she figures she can’t let go of it without being rude. So she decides to take a stroll around the yard.

“These cows? Who do they belong to?”

“I think they’re the neighbors. Our land doesn’t currently look well equipped for cattle.”

“So all this is theirs as well?” he frowns at the hay distastefully.

“I dunno. I’ll have to ask. If it is, we might have to pay for the bails we messed up,” she frowns, “I wonder if there’s a wheelbarrow around here.”

She drags him over to the large shed in the back and opens the door. Letting go of his hand, she gets a weird chill before flicking the light on in the dark room.

“This is highly spooky,” she murmurs.

“Is there a wheelbarrow?”

“Uh…” she scans the room quickly and locates one, “Yeah, that thing in the far corner over there.”

She points and he looks around her, then steps past her, into the dark room. A moment later, he comes back out, wheeling it to her as she examines the tumultuously strewn hay.

“We broke eight bales.”

“You broke eight bales,” he corrects.

“Your back hit the bales before I did. At any rate, we need a much bigger wheelbarrow.”

He grimaces and turns. When he does a double take, she also turns, and they watch a man and woman in their 70s walk up to the house. The man is white and looks like he was once very well-built, but now is a bit more fragile with age. The woman has brown skin, though not quite as dark as Althera’s, and dark gray hair streaked with silver. She is much smaller than him, but she has enough spunk in her step for the two of them. Althera walks over, Orm trailing behind her.

“Excuse me, can I help you?”

They turn at the sound of her voice and the woman smiles and waves like they've known each other for years and haven't seen each other in ages.

“Oh, hello! I guess you’re our new neighbors,” she says, walking toward her and Orm. Encouraged by the older woman's enthusiasm, Althera rushes around the fence and meets her halfway. “So young, the both of you. I swear, these homeowners keep getting younger and younger. Either that or I’m getting older.”

The man walks up and Orm matches his pace. When Orm shakes hands with the little lady, Althera almost giggles at how small her hand looks in his.

“Althera and Orm? How unique. I’m Elena and the curmudgeon is John. We’ve lived around here for the last 48 years or so. I take it that’s longer than you’ve been alive.”

Althera smiles, resisting an ‘if only you knew’ look, and invites them inside.

“Oh, you’ve decorated everything so beautifully. I was wondering what it was going to look like after I saw all those trucks rolling in. Are you designers?”

“No, a friend of mine did most of the designing. They’ve got more of an eye for it than I do.”

While she and Elena get to know each other, Orm and John sit back quietly for the most part, examining each other, only offering input when one of the women mentions them.

“Orm and I were talking about that. It looks like something got into the hay yesterday night. We were just about to start raking it up.”

“Oh, is that so?” she asks, “I don’t want it to be a burden to you. The family before you allowed us to store it here because our fences went down and the cows kept getting into it. We’ve been meaning to repair them, but John has been having some problems with his back. We’ll likely be selling all the cattle pretty soon, anyway.”

“You two do this alone?”

“Yes. It was much easier when we were younger to keep up with everything. And our kids used to be around to help, but they’re so busy and have stopped coming around as often.”

“Elena, if you ever need help with anything, you know where to find me. I’m much stronger than I look,” she stands, “One moment and I’ll write my number down for you.”

She finds a paper and pen and quickly jots it down. When she walks back, Orm takes it from her.

“What are you doing?” she asks quietly.

“I should offer my assistance if you’re offering yours. Especially considering you and I aren’t encouraged to be too far apart these first few weeks,” he says, purposely lowering his voice. She smiles and hands him the pen. He writes his name and number in the most pristine handwriting she’s seen since coming to the Mortal Realm.

“You two are so sweet,” Elena says, as John tucks the paper into his wallet. “I suppose we’ve overstayed our visit. We’ll be having a late lunch. Oh, John, we forgot the little treat we brought them. It’s in the truck.”

“It’s in the cooler, it’ll be alright,” John says gruff and reassuringly.

“Should we walk you out?” Althera asks.

When they reach the old truck, Elena politely asks Orm to grab the cooler from the back. She opens it up and pulls out two bottles. One is a bottle of wine. The other looks homemade.

“I’ve heard that young people seem to like oat milk nowadays and I happened to have this recipe. It looked pretty simple, so I gave it a try.”

Althera accepts the bottle and Orm takes the wine off her hands, “We really appreciate this, Elena.”

“You two come over anytime. We might even have a meal ready if you call in advance,” Elena says, walking around the truck.

John drives away as Elena waves out the window.

“Well that was cute,” Althera says, turning and looking up at Orm.

Orm looks down at her and a strange look crosses his eyes so quickly she might have imagined it. Clearing his throat, he nods curtly, “They’re nice people. Soft, but nice.”

She raises her eyebrows and laughs, taking his empty hand and dragging him into the house. His hand settles in hers quicker this time and she feels less bad for having to let go.

Putting the gifts away, she turns. He leans against the island opposite her, his arms folded across his chest, watching her silently. She wonders what’s going through his mind when he gets quiet like this. Whether he's trying to understand her as much as she tries to understand him. Or if he isn't thinking about her at all. Maybe he worries about the citizens of Atlantis. Or his future, which is still undetermined and teetering on an extremely shaky foundation.

He notices her looking at him.

“I have a strange request,” she announces.

He gives her a long stare before asking, “How strange?”

“Not incredibly strange, just… mildly strange.”

They continue to look at each other in silence, then he unfolds his arms and gestures for her to continue.

“Can I give you a hug?”

The tips of his ears turn pink.

“You're right. That is strange for a multitude of reasons. One being that I was under the impression that people don’t typically ask to give a hug.”

“You’re not exactly the most typical person around, Darling. You don’t appear to be someone who passes out hugs left and right.”

“No…” he says slowly, “But you’re already an exception, aren’t you? When we first met outside of our cells, you hugged me primarily. Then you shook my hand.”

“So you’re saying it’s fine if I hug you?”

He pauses, looking like he regrets having unfolded his arms when he did, but knowing it would be awkward to lift them again. He shifts uncomfortably, a little frown line appearing between his brows, and Althera wonders if she's made him uncomfortable with her request. She's about to tell him she won't be hurt if he were to decline when he suddenly offers his hand.

Looking up at him, Althera realizes that he isn't shifting and squirming out of agitation, but out of insecurity. She takes the hand he offers and is ready to admit that she is quite content to consider this a hug when he blurts, “You are allowed to hug me. If you should wish…”

She doesn't hesitate, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest. He is rigid at first, but he quickly works through whatever is going on in his head. After a millisecond of her one-sidedly squeezing him, he chuckles and puts his arms around her as well.

“You were right to call me out for being so clingy,” she murmurs, “I could literally stand like this for days.”

She can feel his chuckle turn to full-on laughter in his chest and she takes a deep breath before pulling away.

"Do me a favor?" he asks.

"Hm?"

"Please don't ask for a hug again. I feel like that made it weird," he says. She giggles and nods, and he continues, "You are allowed hugs because you weren't afraid to give me one before. And because you are only a small annoyance to me."

Her jaw drops and she realizes that she is once again being teased by Prince Orm Marius. His smile softens when he sees she has taken his joke lightly, and that softness compels her to reach up and touch his cheek with the back of her hand.

"What's wrong, Althera? You have a look in your eye."

“I worry about you, Orm.”

“Anything in particular?”

“Not really,” she pauses. “I just want you to be happy.”

“Well,” he says, his voice quiet, “I’m happy right now.”

She is surprised. For a moment, things feel strangely and wonderfully intimate in a way she has never really felt before. She smiles and wraps her arms around his neck and this time he squeezes her back. And, for a few moments, the Universe is calm and quiet.

Chapter Text

They sit on the couch, his legs up on the cushions and her squeezed in right beside him. She was immensely surprised to find just how comfortable he has become.

When one looks at Orm, all they can really see are straight lines and hard edges. So when he sat on the cushion next to her and put his arm around her, she was surprised to feel like she molded right into his side.

He reads aloud, she's grown very fond of his reading voice, and lowers the book so she can turn the page.

She was right about what she had said before. Orm is different.

Barry is a solid guy. They have that in common. But when she's smushed next to him on the couch, it always feels like he's got a little rattle inside of him just waiting to burst out at any time. That's just how Barry is.

She's never really sat like this with Bruce. Sure, they tend to walk closer than necessary when they haven't seen each other in a while, but she's not once felt the desire to bury herself in him like this.

The closest feeling might be when she first started getting comfortable with Diana. One night she had had a nightmare. Diana was in the next room and must have heard her wake as she was already waiting. She wrapped her arms around her and consoled her until she fell asleep.

But Orm is different.

She's repetitively had to check herself and make sure she isn't imagining these little things. Because if she were, that could only mean one thing, that she is experiencing feelings for him. But every time she checks, everything is still the same and she not once feels awkward about it. And she'll start listening to his voice in his chest, just like she used to with her uncle years and years ago. And he'll lower the book and she'll turn the page. And she nearly finds herself drifting to sleep when the doorbell rings and she is forced awake.

Orm makes it to the door before she does, her body still heavy from dozing. The sight of their guest sends a jolt through her, waking her right up.

"Mother, what are you doing here?"

"I'm not allowed to visit my beautiful baby boy anymore now that he's not in prison?" She asks, her voice teasing. He smiles as she kisses his cheek.

"Althera, Dearest Darling," she beams, holding her arms out. Althera is surprised, but obviously isn't one to say no to a hug. "I brought gifts today!"

She promptly releases her hold on Althera and invites herself deeper into the house. Orm looks at Althera and she looks at him.

"Okay, so she is being weird? I'm not imagining it?" She whispers.

Orm shakes his head and follows.

"You are in a very good mood today, Atlanna."

"Am I? Oh… it's nothing. Just a silly old thing," she says, waving her hand, "My, this is a lovely house you have here."

"Thank you," Althera nods, then, "I'll just let you and Orm talk. I'll be in the garden if you need me."

Atlanna grins wider and waves.

Looking at the path of torn grass, she smiles to herself. With a twist of her hand, the dirt separates from the salvageable vegetation, filling in the treads and the grass replanting itself.

She does this around the yard, recounting their little battle.

He was strong. She knew that, of course. He once held the title of Ocean Master and, although she's still not quite sure what that entailed, she doubts it could belong to just anyone in Atlantis.

But even taking that into consideration, he was so much stronger than she expected. When he hit her, she moved...

Nope!

She refuses to have any thoughts about how strong and capable Orm Marius is. That’s not going to happen. They are sharing this place because they are friends. If she were to compromise their friendship by musing about his strong cheekbones or his wide chest...

She'd be alone again.

Looking at the strewn about hay, she frowns.

Augh...

To be fair, she's never really alone. Especially here in the Mortal Realm. She has had deep rooted friendships here that she didn't have a lot of back home. It's just that when she's here with Orm, things get to go her way.

Diana is everything to her. But being with her is much like being with her uncle; she loves them so much, but they get a little too interested in suggesting what she should do with her life.

She loves Barry, but his proximity to Diana and Bruce now is enough to put a little damper on things. It's clear he idolizes them both. Who could blame him?

With Bruce, it’s almost all work and no play. It'd start out fun, but if she wanted that she would have taken the job her uncle offered her.

She absolutely humiliated herself in front of Clark (or should she call him Kal now?), last time they talked. At any rate, he has a girlfriend now which has made him… kinda boring. She doesn't want him to do all the things they used to do, because he has a girlfriend and he should be doing lots of that with her. But last time she was around it was all about 'protecting what means most to him'.

He's a lot more fun, in her opinion, when he knows that what means most to him can take care of itself.

She supposes she could have a cup of tea with Lois Lane, though. Be a sort of bodyguard when she decides to snoop around for an interesting story, as she so often does. It would be interesting for her, anxiety soothing for Kent, and productive for Lois. Although if they ever run out of conversation, it could get kinda awkward...

But Orm! She and Orm are only just getting to know each other. They have no past other than what happened in Atlantis. He has no preconceived notions of her or what their relationship is. It can be whatever they want it to be, so long as it doesn't completely and utterly destroy their current, already rocky situation.

In the garden, she finds the heads of little green leaves poking through the soil. There is a soft breeze and the leaves on the trees around the large yard flutter, making gentle rattling sounds.

She spends a long while in her thoughts before Atlanna steps outside. Althera watches in amazement as she walks towards her. Queen Atlanna looks extremely out of place in their backyard on the Surface, yet so unbelievably comfortable.

"Althera," she calls, that giddy sound still in her voice. Althera stands and wipes the dirt off her hands on the front of her jeans, "I hope you're doing well."

"I'm wonderful."

"Orm hasn't given you too hard a time?"

"No, I’ve had harder," she says, wincing at her word choice.

"As you know, dear, Atlantis has been keeping track of my son in their own way. We couldn't help but notice that his heart rate noticeably increased the day before yesterday at around this time. We were going to send people out, but it ended quite abruptly."

Her cheeks burn with heat, "His heart rate… You guys are tracking that… of course."

Atlanna dismisses it as silly, "Orm already explained what happened. But I just thought it'd be fair if you weren't in the dark about that little detail. Just in case you two ever get into another disagreement. I'd hate for a swarm of Atlantean soldiers to burst in on an otherwise relaxing day. Lots of paperwork and such."

"Oh, of course!"

Atlanna's happiness continues to radiate off her in waves and Althera finally figures it out.

"Queen Atlanna, have you visited him recently?"

She never would have thought she'd see the Queen of Atlantis blush so profusely. Embarrassed, the royal lady holds out her hands and Althera accepts them.

"Just before coming here. And I think I'll be returning for a while if it's possible."

"I'm so happy for you," she beams.

"Really? Truly? Oh, I wish I could share this happiness with Orm, but I couldn't bring myself to go much more into it with him…"

"He's figuring things out, Atlanna," she reassures.

Atlanna's thumb moves across the back of Althera's hand before she nods once, wiping away a tear.

"I know. I understand. And I know it's silly to blame myself. I just wish I could have figured something out all those years ago. For my family’s sake."

They stand in silence for a moment before Althera speaks again.

"His name is Tom, right? Would you like to tell me about him?"

The Queen lights up.

When Orm joins them, there's something different about him.

"You look happy," she says as he walks over.

"As much as I enjoy cooking chicken eggs with you, my mother has brought an Atlantean dish to last at least four days of breakfasts. I am renewed.

"I'm overjoyed for you," she teases, then gestures to an empty patio chair, "Have a seat?"

He sits and looks back and forth at them, "You two have spent quite some time out here."

"I was actually just about to give her a gift," Atlanna says, reaching for her bag.

"I don't need anything, Atlanna, really."

"Nobody needs a gift, Althera, but I want to give you one."

She laughs and sits up, tilting her head when Atlanna pulls out a long piece of semi-transparent fabric. She gestures for her to come to her and they both stand.

"This is a cloak made of a material from Atlantis. Some call it royal sea silk. Though it might not look it, it's an incredibly strong fabric and is also very warm. I heard there is supposed to be a storm here tonight, so I wanted to make sure you were taken care of."

Althera turns at Atlanna's orders and the queen drapes the cloak around her. It is incredibly light on her shoulders, though she can no longer feel the soft breeze she had felt only moments ago. When she moves, the fabric shimmers and flows with her body. She can only imagine what it might look like underwater.

"This is beautiful, Atlanna. Thank you."

"It's the very least I could do after what you've done for me. For my son. Getting him out of that cell, oh I hated every second of that," Atlanna says, her voice suddenly filled with emotion. She reaches out and draws the smaller girl towards her and into her arms. "This is the very least I could do."

“Thank you, Atlanna. Really.”

Looking over at Orm, he watches the two of them with a curiously. Then he speaks.

"Are you leaving so soon, mother?"

Chapter Text

Atlanna stays for lunch and, when they finally say their goodbyes, she is picked up by a man in a truck.

Though Althera's curiosity wants to follow her out the door to meet the man who makes the Atlantean Queen so happy, she realistically decides it is better to stay on Orm’s good side for a little longer if she wants to solidify her position as his friend.

So instead, she convinces him to spend the afternoon with her, cleaning up weeds and hay in the backyard.

He is very good with a pitchfork.

Afterward, they have dinner and then separate to their respective bedrooms. Althera lays in bed, trying to catch some sleep before the storm starts. But already she can hear the low grumbles of the sky and feel the change in the air pressure.

She tosses and turns, electricity moving through her with each heartbeat. She tries to ignore it. Tries to resist the hard-pressing urge to walk outside and stand in the midst of it all.

Shutting her eyes tight, she tries to distract herself, but instead finds herself thinking back to the incident that landed her in Atlantis. She remembers the headache clearly, the way it pierced through her sight like a golden knife.

She only slightly remembers the fall. It felt like it went on for hours, but it couldn’t have. In the recording, the fall looked instantaneous. She fell nearly 8 miles under the ocean in mere seconds.

Electricity buzzes at her fingertips and she balls her fists, willing herself to fall asleep.

The storm reaches its peak at 2 am, when she wakes to the loud sound of the earth shattering around her.

She clambers out of bed and into the living room, clutching her sea silk cloak around her. Walking to the back door, she stares out at the night sky. The backyard is dead still, not even the leaves on the tree move. Then the wind starts to swirl.

The entire backyard lights up like a picture flash, the shadows long and ghostly.

Once it goes dark again, she turns and walks back to the living room. Behind her, there is a quick, decisive crack of thunder. Then the wind rustles before going silent.

Sitting on the couch, she turns the television on at a low volume. She forces herself to focus on the people's conversations, the light attitudes of sitcom characters. It works a little. The cloak around her shoulders helps. Something about it makes it feel safe.

When she hears a sound behind her, she turns.

"Althera?"

"Oh, Orm, I'm sorry… did I wake you?"

He looks down at her, his eyes tired, but wide awake.

"Uh… no, I’m just not acclimated to this kind of storm," he murmurs, then speaks louder, "Why are you awake? Are you alright?"

She looks back at the screen and then sighs, "I don't… enjoy electrical storms."

They remain in place for a few minutes, avoiding each other’s gazes by staring into the television. After a few moments, he walks around and sits on the couch beside her.

"Mind if I join you?"

"I kinda hoped you would ask."

The laugh track is a familiar comfort from many nights spent wide awake. And the thunder loses its clap and each rumble grows longer and lower, moving further and further away.

Chapter Text

Waking up, she buries herself into the nearest source of warmth. It's only a while later that she questions said warmth and the rising and falling beneath her.

She moves and his arm tightens around her ever so slightly. Then he grunts softly and stirs.

A moment goes by without a movement from either of them.

The last thing she remembers from last night was the feeling of her eyes getting heavy some time after the storm subsided. She remembers him reaching out and helping her stand up. Both standing, she remembers looking up at his sleepy eyes and feeling a certain kind of way.

She had smiled up at him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest.

"I'm going to stay out here a little longer, if that's okay with you?" He murmured.

"Alright."

"I just…"

He had stopped talking. She decided he wasn't going to finish that thought and pulled back to look up at him.

"Do you want to be alone or can I stay a little longer?"

The confusion on his face made her heart tighten.

"You want to stay?"

"Yes."

"It's 4 am."

"Hm... guess I'm sleeping in tomorrow."

She remembers sinking into the cushion once more and leaning into his side once he sat down beside her.

She cannot, however, remember how she ended up snuggled up beside him, his arm firm around her, her lips so close to his pulse at his throat.

She silently curses herself. She shouldn't be thinking about her lips next to Orm's anything.

Begrudgingly, she pulls herself up and looks down at him.

"Hello."

He smiles up at her before sitting and sliding out from under her. He looks in surprise at the string of sparks that appear on his side when she brushes him.

"Static electricity," she blushes in explanation.

"Odd."

"Not really," she shrugs.

"It's late."

"Ah… it's noon," she says, checking her phone. "Lunch time."

He yawns and rubs the sleep from his eyes in response.

This interaction isn't worth mentioning in the following days, and despite their house arrest, the rest of the week goes by fast. There are no repeat nights like the night of the storm, as the weather seems to have calmed down for a while.

They enjoy another visit from his mother and a quick drop in from Barry in that time. And Althera is promised a visit from her pal Bruce Wayne himself.

Additionally, they managed to get all the hay back to Elena and John and were asked to join them that day for dinner.

They've spent about a day's worth of time in the garden and, thanks to the time she's spent with her aunt, she was able to recognize the left behind remnants of carrots and peppers.

They finished their book of the Brothers Grimm and have taken walks across the perimeter of John and Elena’s land just to see how far out they can test his parole.

It was while they were on one of their walks after a visit from Atlanna that she felt any disruption of their routine other than their casual daily disagreements. He had been quiet for some time, deep in thought. She had suggested going out, not expecting much to come from it, when he stopped her and asked if they could rest for a moment.

They sat under an apple tree at the far side of the property and he watched her in silence as she absently lifted palmfuls of the fallen seeds and crushed them to powder.

"There's a group of people wanting to find me," he says, breaking their silence.

She looks up at him, not so surprised due to Atlanna’s warning, but more by his abruptness.

"Who?"

"Atlanteans. People who… apparently still believe I should have the throne."

She looks up at the branches and he continues.

"Mother said they, being Arthur and the rest of Atlantis, have lost track of them. They could potentially move inland. Last they heard of them, they were in the Pacific. But even then..."

"And what? They want to usurp Arthur?"

"It would seem so."

She drags her fingers across the grass and the unwanted saplings tear up from the ground, root and all.

"If they find you?"

"I don't know."

They fall silent and, though she expects him to keep talking to get to the point, he doesn't.

"Why bring this up, then?"

He looks down at the grass, his eyes lost in thought.

“I thought it was important you knew and were prepared for anything. I have no idea how they’ll make themselves known to me. As of right now, I’m not certain they will. I just wanted you to know that, despite how I may act if they come around, I have not sent for them. I didn’t expect that there would be much commotion in the first place.”

“Thank you for telling me, Orm.”

“Of course.”

She continues cleaning the area around the tree in silence. Once she’s finished, she has a pile large enough to be a tiny snack for the small cow who always wanders to their yard and greets them in the morning.

“Are you happy about it?” she asks, surprising him this time.

He frowns deeply.

“The people who are trying to find me… don’t care about me. They just don’t want a half Surface Dweller on Atlantis’s throne and I’m their best bet. I’m much more fond of you than them, at any rate.”

She lifts the pile up and stands. He follows her lead as they walk back to the house.

“I trust you, Orm. And you know that I want to stay out of Atlantis’s problems if I can. Two years spent in a coma was long enough for me,” she says, as they walk. “Just because Diana has allied with Arthur does not make him my ally. And just because I care for you does not mean I must follow your lead blindly. The universe is much more complicated than that.”

He nods, “I know you, Althera. And I understand.”

Week two of house arrest passes without interruption. The week goes by so pleasantly that she almost forgets the lingering threat.

Chapter Text

“Did you forget your key?” she calls, doing her best to balance the plates in her hands and turning to place them down. When he doesn’t answer, she manages to get them down on the counter and walks to the door. “Remember, there’s a spare—”

She freezes, the sound of heavy footsteps clattering on the porch. The door flies open before she can find anything to use as a defense. Weapons like small canons point directly at her, making an unnatural charging sound. Unarmed, she has no choice but to stare them down.

“Where is His Majesty, King Orm Marius?”

The voice is distorted by the helmets, an eerie globe of water that blocks the majority of their faces from view. But she doesn't need to see their faces to guess who they might be.

“He’s not here right now. Might I take a message?” she smiles, tilting her head. The one in the front takes a step toward her. She raises her eyebrows, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You are Althera Prince, the Surface Dweller hired by his own mother to keep the King subdued.”

This Atlantean's suit is clunkier, bronze in some places where all the others are pure white. He takes another step toward her despite her warning.

She stifles a laugh, taking several backward steps to maintain the space between them, “Subdued?”

“What are you, Althera Prince? A siren of some sort?” he says, with a sneer in his tone, “Even by Surface Dweller standards, you are small and can easily be dealt with if needed. Now tell me, where do you have the king?”

A loud sound behind her tells her they've entered through the back door she had been creeping toward. Two of the best exits, blocked.

“Speaking of Surface Dweller standards, I'll inform you that It’s impolite to enter someone’s home without an invitation. I’ll let it slide for now, as you might not have been aware," she says, frustrated heat rising into her hands and face, "I told you, Orm is not here right now. I asked you if I could take a message and you rudely entered my home. Now we can try this again. If you need to speak to Orm I can take a message and give you my word that I will pass it on. You will leave and only come back if he or I invite you. Or you can keep pointing those guns at me, continue swarming the house, and extend your welcome by force. In which case, I will have to make a message out of you by pinning you each against that ceiling, even if it takes stacking you one atop the other to do so.”

“Orm,” she croaks and nearly laughs at how pathetic she sounds.

“Althera?”

His voice carries from the front door into the kitchen and she tries to steady herself against the dining table. She also tries to hide how bad she’s shaking, though she already knows she's wasting a tremendous amount of energy.

“Althera!” he gasps, taking a few very long strides to her and grabbing her. The expression on his face does not reflect her amusement at all, “What happened?”

“I’m fine. I’m—," she pauses, taking a moment to breathe, "I’m completely fine. You have visitors.”

“Visitors?” He frowns, “I’ll talk to them in a moment. Althera, you need to lie down, you look unwell.”

She allows him to grab her around the waist as he leads her toward the living room. His grip suddenly tightens on her, completely taken aback by the sight of the guests he had failed to notice. The guests who are all planted firmly against the ceiling.

“My King!”

There is a loud struggle as all the soldiers notice his presence and he stares in awe.

“By Atlan,” he breathes, his voice getting louder when he demands, “What is the meaning of this?”

“The witch has you under her magic.”

“This witch?” he scolds, gesturing to Althera, whose entire weight is against his side. “What did you do to her?”

Though she'd love to hear the rest of the conversation, her sight turns bright, as if someone has turned a flashlight to her face. Trying to cover her eyes, she can barely get her arms up before she coughs, whimpers, and slumps into him. Losing her grip on them, every Atlantean rogue crashes from the ceiling to the floor. They scramble up to their feet and Orm doesn’t have time to shout before they all fire directly at her.

The feeling of fire spreads through her entire body and the next moments pass quickly.

Her sight goes in and out in flashes. Orm yells and there is a loud crashing sound. Someone new enters the house. More crashing and she’s suddenly lifted into the air. Her room is bright, too bright. She feels his hands on her, searching for something. The feeling of fire intensifies as he tears multiple objects from her skin. She screams and he grabs her face in his hands, talking to her in an even voice though she can’t understand what he’s saying. The crashing outside stops and then there’s someone in the room. A familiar face. Brightness. There’s shouting between the two men and then she’s being lifted again.

Then there’s darkness.

“What did I tell you?”

She inhales and, when she looks down, her skin is a soft cerulean in color. She's home. Or maybe not. This could very well be another illusion.

“It was an accident, Uncle.”

“An accident, Althera? This is the third time you’ve been in trouble since we last spoke. Are you intentionally putting yourself in danger to make me worry?”

“No, Uncle, far from it!”

He walks down the steps, his eyes crimson red as he descends from the shadows. His white hair is raised on his head like tendrils of flame and, as he approaches her, the smell of smoke consumes her. Though it does not suffocate.

When he reaches her, he cools down considerably, the red in his eyes fading.

Opening his arms, she flies to him and buries her face in his jacket. She sobs, holding on to him.

“Uncle, I need you to trust me,” she pleads. “These people, they need me.”

“The Mortal Realm doesn’t deserve you, Althera.”

“And who does? Olympus? The Underworld? Uncle, everywhere I go I am just a condemned piece of my father. Here… I can be anyone. I have friends, people who care for me. Don’t you understand?”

“Of course,” he purrs, hugging her to his chest, “And I am happy for you. But you don’t understand how it will hurt me if I lose you.”

She drags herself away despite how much like home he feels. Despite how much she wishes she could stay in this hideaway just a bit longer.

“You won’t lose me, Uncle. Not today. I promise.”

Chapter Text

She blinks at the brilliant light. Pushing herself into a sitting position, pain racks her body, her nerves screaming out in defiance, but she forces herself to complete the action.

Raising her arms, she examines the places where the flesh has been torn. Oh well. What's a few more scars?

Frowning, she looks around. She is in a large, circular, pure white room. It's familiar.

It's Atlantis.

She is startled when the doors in the walls slide open.

"Atlanna?"

Orm's mother runs to the bed, her expression relieved as she gently takes Althera's face between her hands.

"You're alright. Oh goodness, you're alright."

Althera wipes the automatic tears from her eyes and looks over Atlanna’s shoulder to the door.

"Where is he?" She breathes.

Atlanna frowns and Althera tenses, though she regrets it immediately as her muscles refuse to loosen up again.

"He wanted to be here. He did. It's just… Vulko thought it best if he were secluded, just until you woke up."

"What? No. No, you need to tell Arthur that Orm had nothing to do with this."

"Shhhh, it's alright. You can speak with Arthur in a moment, I just sent word that you are awake. You can tell him yourself what happened, okay?"

Her hands shaking, she takes a deep breath to calm herself, sinking into the bed slowly. Though she lies still, her mind races.

"I appreciate that you're worried about my son. But this isn't about Orm, Darling. You almost died. If things had happened even slightly differently…"

Atlanna turns when the doors open again.

Arthur walks in, followed by a woman with brilliant red hair and an older man with a stern expression.

"Hey Althera."

"Hey," she murmurs.

"I'm glad you're doing okay. You kinda scared the shit out of us," he chuckles, his voice surprisingly warm. She appreciates his attempts to make her feel comfortable, so she smiles despite not feeling like she wants to smile at all, "I'm sorry I have to bother you, but I need to make some introductions. This is my friend Mera. And this old man is Vulko."

Though she knows she risks sounding like a petulant child, she blurts, "Orm had nothing to do with this."

Mera steps forward, speaking to her from the edge of the bed.

"We understand how you might want to protect him, he can be very convincing. But the truth is that the Atlantean who led those soldiers into your home was one of Orm's most trusted soldiers."

She can feel her agitation building up in her. Trying hard to keep her sanity, she looks at Atlanna. The Queen smiles gently and Althera feels herself soften up again.

"Where is he?"

"You'll be allowed to see him once you tell us why you are so certain he had nothing to do with this attack," Vulko says. His voice is raspy, coarse. In any other situation, she might enjoy hearing him speak. Not today.

Taking a deep breath, she speaks strictly to Arthur when she recounts what she remembers from that evening.

Orm was out taking a walk around the perimeter of the property. Though she usually joined him on their walks, she stayed home this time. She wanted to try and surprise him by making an Atlantean dish he had been raving about the past few days.

Ten soldiers showed up. They threatened her. They said she was hired by Queen Atlanna to imprison her son. Their threats turned into a fight, which she maybe could have handled on her own had they had normal guns.

"A special type of violet urchin bred in certain parts of Atlantis," he nods, knowing exactly what she's talking about, "My first interaction with them was ages ago. Even though it was just the one, I almost passed out from its poison. I'm told you had at least 30 on you."

"Thirty? That's impossible," Vulko says.

"Not really," Arthur grins, "I hear Althera is one tough chick."

"When Orm found me, I only had the three. I guess the others must have happened afterward. I remember him yelling. He was cursing. Then someone came in. Orm picked me up and started pulling at my skin, it hurt so bad it must have been the urchins. Everything else was too much of a blur."

"The person you mentioned arriving was Bruce Wayne. Says he showed up and Orm had already taken down a few of the soldiers, picked you up, and had taken you to your bed. Wayne had to fight his way through to get to you, and by the time he got there, Orm had removed the urchins and was trying to calm you down. He instructed Wayne to stay with you for a moment and there was a loud argument in the living room, and then Orm ran back into the bedroom. Without a word, he picked you up, insisting that Wayne drive to the beach," Arthur fills in the holes for her, "This is literally Bruce Wayne's account. And Orm's matches it."

"If this is the truth, Orm’s actions were rational. He'd have to get the urchins off of you or they'd continue producing poison to pump into you," Vulko frowns.

She sighs and looks away, "Seems like a strange scenario to stage, doesn't it?"

"Our former King is cunning," Mera says, her voice quiet.

Althera's chest burns like acid despite herself, and she continues staring at the wall, "Well then, he's a splendid actor as well."

The room falls silent and from the corner of her eye, she sees Arthur mouthing at the other three to leave. Reluctantly, Atlanna is able to sweep them out of the room, leaving her alone with Arthur.

When the door closes, he sits in the chair where Atlanna had been.

"You alright kid?"

She grunts in response. He chuckles and leans forwards. "Can you look at me real quick?"

Lifting her head, she looks into his eyes.

"I want to believe you. I really do, alright? I told you Wayne and Orm's stories are matching. And Wayne agrees that Orm looked pretty rattled. It's like you said, all of this is too freaking weird to have been staged. But Orm isn't helping his case now, because he's suddenly clammed up."

"You want me to get him to talk?"

"That would be helpful. We're going to bring him in here, but you've got to realize things might not go how you want them to go."

She inhales, "I get it. I just— I can't remember much, Arthur. I'm afraid… what happened to those Atlanteans who showed up?"

"They disappeared before we got to the house," Arthur grunts, "Orm broke his parole and stepped into the water to get our attention. When we came to arrest him, he and Wayne were standing there and Orm was holding you. He was really pissed that we took so long. And we honestly might have been able to get them on time if we'd arrived earlier. We didn't have medical prepared because we thought we were coming to make an arrest, so we had to take you and leave. After you were taken, Orm calmed down a bit. He and Wayne spoke for a little while. We refused Wayne's offer to keep an eye on Orm and he's currently in your old haunting grounds."

"He's locked up again?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

They fall silent and Arthur speaks again.

"I would have thought this was Orm's plan to kill you. Having him disguise it as you being attacked and acting like he's trying his best to do what he can for you," Arthur says. Her eyes widen and her lips part and he quickly continues, "Since he isn't talking to us, we set up a test. Vulko thought being arrested again might have been part of the plan to get him back into Atlantis, where they could break Orm out. We left minimum security outside his door and everything. Guess what happened?"

Her heart tightens and her breathing is strained, "What?"

"He hasn't done a damn thing," Arthur says, his voice humored, "There've been no breaches in security, not even a single scummy-looking guy swimming around the place."

She smiles and sits up, the fire lighting in her skin again. Arthur looks like he wants to stop her, but doesn't. She appreciates that he knows and respects her limits.

"I can’t believe I’m back to asking this, but do you think I’ll be allowed a visit, now?"

Chapter Text

"How much does he know?"

"He knows nothing about her condition."

"Isn't that a bit cruel, Vulko?"

"I understand that you feel sympathy for him, Queen Atlanna. But he can tough it out just a little longer while we bring him in. And you can think of him seeing her alive as a happy surprise."

"Vulko, he hasn't touched his food once since…" her voice fades out and Althera looks up to find Atlanna smiling down at her. "Darling, how are you feeling?"

She nods, "I'm alright."

"Of course she's alright. She survived 30 violet urchins, she should be able to handle recovery," Vulko says, his voice distracted. "They're here."

When the door opens, she sees him through what she assumes is a one-way sheer sheet they pulled around her bed, as he doesn't seem to be able to see her. He looks tired. Extremely tired. His regal face is pale and he looks resigned.

Despite not being in cuffs, he looks worse than when he was locked up the first time around.

"How are you feeling, son?" Vulko asks.

"Just spectacular," he murmurs. The familiar sarcasm in his voice makes smiling nearly impossible.

"What news have you received?"

"Absolutely nothing. Not a damn thing."

"Hm. Well, in that case, I'm sure this will come as a great surprise to you."

Orm frowns as Vulko reaches up and pulls the sheet back. In one second, she can see him register her there for the first time. Then...

"Althera."

She attempts a small wave.

Orm looks from his mother to Vulko, who nods. After getting approval, he walks up to her bed and sits down beside her. When he offers his hand and she eagerly takes it. After staring at her for a moment, he squeezes her palm reassuringly.

"You survived?"

"Here I am," she chuckles, "I heard you gave those soldiers a piece of your mind."

He grins and his thumb moves across the back of her hand, "They were… fools."

"Was I hired to subdue you, Orm?"

He laughs softly, shaking his head, "If you were, you're doing a horrible job."

They fall quiet, growing aware of everyone's eyes on them.

"This is weird."

"Incredibly odd, yes," he agrees.

She looks down and then frowns, looking at his exposed forearm, "That scar. Orm, you were hit too?"

He shakes his head, "Don't worry, I built up immunity ages ago. One useful thing my father taught me, I guess."

She continues to frown, slipping her hand out of his and turning her arm over. She places one of her scars next to his.

"A queen with scars on her hands and body has known war and troubles," he says, his voice so quiet.

The words are like medicine and she looks at him. If she weren't so distracted by the sound of someone entering, she would have sworn he was blushing.

Mera walks in, looking from Arthur, down to her, then to Orm, the surprise is clear on her face.

Orm frowns and tries to ignore everyone.

"I think, now that you're okay, they're going to make you stay here until you're better. Then, maybe things will go back to how they were before."

"You're okay with that?"

"I will… I'll be in better spirits about it once my three weeks are fulfilled. You promised me adventure, didn’t you?"

Arthur clears his throat, getting their attention.

"That reminds me. Since all of this has gone down, the original plan has been ruined, basically. I was thinking that once Althera gets better and is able to go home… the three weeks parole is up. You will have carried out your time here and you two are free to explore new lands and whatever."

"Arthur, are you certain that is wise?" Vulko asks, his voice worried.

"Look, Vulko, I've spoken to Althera a few times more than you. I know her family on the Surface pretty well. And if you took the time to try, I think you would learn to trust her, too."

"You know this isn't a simple matter of whether or not we can trust who," Mera says, "The fact that he saved one person's life doesn't make up for everything he's done."

"Mera," Arthur sighs, "You're talking like they aren't in the room."

Orm looks unfazed so Althera keeps the conversation between them, reaching up and touches his cheek.

"You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"You might not be, but your body is. What's the last thing you ate?"

He frowns and then sheepishly admits, "Maybe that green gelatin stuff you made me try."

"Are you serious? You practically threw that up!" She glares. "No, Darling, you have to eat something else. With substance. Have lunch with me?"

He nods once, "Alright."

"Hey," she shouts, cutting into the others bickering. They all turn and look at her with bewildered faces. "Just wondering what two Princes have to do to get some lunch around here?"

Chapter Text

When she wakes up, his figure is slumped over the side of her bed. His hand still in hers, she smiles and drops her head back into the pillow.

"So you're Mera. The betrothed who betrayed him," she says dramatically.

Mera emerges from the shadows and into the light.

"Not without reason. Does he speak to you, about before?"

She looks at him and feels her heart turn to mush.

"Not as much as I'd like. But enough to know who everyone is."

"How did you get him to trust you?"

"At the beginning, I threatened to kill him if he harmed me," she says, casually, "I was very convincing at the time. I don't know if that's trust, but it piqued his interest."

Mera smiles and sits down at the edge of the bed furthest away from Orm.

"You worry about him?" Althera asks.

Mera looks up, her eyes conflicted, "We grew up together. His father… was very convincing if you already held him in high esteem. I never had the chance to, since I saw how he treated Orm."

Nodding, she lets her eyes move to the large window on the opposite wall. Orm had opened it for her earlier so she could look out at the bustling underwater city.

"Don’t put yourself through stress by worrying too much. There are too many ‘what ifs’ in Orm’s history which tend make people uneasy."

"Despite that, you decided you wanted to take him in. Why?"

"He needed a friend. So did I. Though I've had to hear him philosophize about it many times, I just sum it up to fate. Will he ever repent? I don't know. Can he ever be redeemed? However impossible it seems now, I suppose there exists a chance out there. And I, as his friend, will encourage him to better himself. Whether he does or not is ultimately up to him."

Mera sighs, "Everyone understands why he did what he did. We just wish he had chosen a different way to go about it."

Althera shrugs, "Too many 'what ifs'."

They sit in silence and Mera walks to the window. Through her eyes, the city looks vastly different from Althera's. Though it had already looked magnificent and bright, through Mera's eyes everything is twice as brilliant.

They don't talk much more and, satisfied by whatever she's seen, Mera eventually leaves.

Sitting up, rubs her hand against his back in a wide circle. He sits up at her touch and blinks at her, his eyes still half asleep.

"You're gonna hurt your back if you stay like that, Prince Orm."

He grunts and stretches, sitting up straight and then frowning deeply.

"Are you okay? Do you need something?"

"Maybe just a gallon of water. My throat is so dry. I get so philosophical when I'm uncomfortable."

"We'll start with a cup."

He stands, walking to a nearby table, grabbing an ancient looking golden pitcher and pouring the water into an even older looking clay cup.

"How philosophical of you," she smiles, accepting it from him.

He chuckles and sits back down beside her. He, like Arthur, knows there is a certain pain threshold she wants to push, and he helps by being unhelpful as she rearranges herself on the bed.

She downs her water quickly and he refills it, holding the pitcher in his lap. His eyes wander around the room before settling on the window. Looking at him, she sees the city from his eyes. Somehow brighter than Mera's version, yet cloudy. Filled with uncertainty and…

He tears his eyes away and looks down at her again.

"Thirty violet urchins," he hums. "You are impossible. I thought you were gone."

"Gonna be a bit more difficult to get rid of me. My vast range of unrelatable issues makes me hard to stamp out."

He snorts and nods, "Interestingly enough, I think I understand what you mean."

"Come here," she murmurs. He moves closer and she combs his hair out of his face with her fingers. He looks surprised by this gesture and she quickly asks, "What would you have done if I did die?"

"Althera," he frowns, watching her hand as it falls away, "Do we have to entertain such a thought?"

"Please. Just for a little while."

He sighs, pressing his palms to the golden metal in his hands.

"I'd likely still be locked up right now. When they'd finally tell me the news, I would mourn in my own way."

"Starve yourself?" She suggests.

He looks at her, his eyes serious as can be.

"If you had died it would have confirmed one of my greatest fears at the moment. That I destroy all I care about. My newfound friendship would be over just as quick as it came. I'd be alone again, but even more bitter this time around."

"More bitter?" She asks, taking a sip. "Why?"

In his prolonged silence, she wonders if she has asked him too many questions and made him uncomfortable. Instead, he grabs the cup from her hand and refills it, waiting for her to take another drink before he continues.

"I had a purpose when I lost the first time around. Maybe the wrong idea, but a purpose nevertheless. Losing you would have proven that it doesn't matter whether I work for the majority chosen 'moral' or 'immoral'. Either way, it's always me. I lose."

"But I'm alive."

"So we're back to where we were."

"Until I die for certain because of you?"

He smiles despite himself, feeling her switch his logic around, "I suppose so."

"So you know how it'll be true, but not how it'll be false."

"I suppose it'll be false if I find a new purpose. A new reason to live."

"You have no reason to live?"

"No," he says, setting the pitcher on the counter, "I have the will, but no definite reason."

"I've got a reason." He looks at her and she looks at him with wide, earnest eyes, "Because Althera Prince likes having you around to do her bidding."

He rolls his eyes, takes her hand, delightfully surprising her when he kisses her knuckles.

"Just like that, I am reborn," he says. She loves his sarcasm.

Chapter Text

Though he has the option to return to his cell, he chooses to stay by her side. She feels like that is the obvious choice. But when she winced and cried out after pushing herself a little too hard one day, he grabbed her and gently scolded her for trying to speed up her recovery, and she wondered if staying out of prison was the only reason why he stayed.

It was interesting watching the Atlantean guards struggle with adding a new bed to the room, splitting the space with a large curtain that Orm walks around every morning before she is even awake to arrange her breakfast and toiletries. She supposes they want to make watching over the two of them as easy as possible by sticking them in the same place.

They've also given them a room to rehabilitate and train. She starts by walking; he has stayed pasted to her side ever since she hurt herself. Every day, despite how busy they must be from work in the Palace, Atlanna, Arthur, Mera, or Vulko will accompany them. Orm looks stunning back in his casual Atlantean wear. And the fact that the training room has an area where the water from outside spills into a large, contained space means he often returns to her with damp hair and half a smile on his face.

Though he's still not allowed out into the city, she encourages him to swim around the empty halls open to them. Their conversations are much more enthusiastic after these swims. Because of this, she complains at Arthur until she annoys him enough to convince him to lift the ban on the beach near their house on the land. Just as long as he stays far from Atlantis for the time being.

By their second week, she is back to swimming, chasing him through the halls. They always begin competitively, but always end with laughter. Though she's undeniably faster on land and in the air and her energy doesn't last half as long underwater.

She is always more powerful, despite her lack of stamina. Though, the longer he dodges her underwater attacks, the better his chances of winning are.

In a tournament of their own, Althera leads 4-3. His first two wins were before her hands were completely healed. The third was the first day he was allowed to train underwater with an old, borrowed trident that had apparently belonged to his great-great uncle at one point.

Her first win was on their first day training. He had taken it easy on her because she had just started walking on her own without getting disoriented. He had laughed, allowing her to pin him to the ground. He said he had laughed because her eyes had crossed just moments before.

After their first fight with the trident, she had better balance and could maneuver herself much quicker. In addition, her hands had healed.

When Arthur or Atlanna are on watch, their cheers are encouraging. Atlanna tends to be constructive, going back and forth from her son to Althera in the same battle. Arthur’s are loud and completely one-sided.

“Come on, the chances are that she’s gonna win anyway,” he said as Orm stalked past him after losing.

Mera is interactive in their battles, though she doesn’t pick a side. She’ll toss him his trident when it’s knocked out of his hand, but then give Althera a boost with her hard water when she sees her stamina is getting low. She follows them both around the room, spiraling to get a taste of every angle.

Vulko watches in silence. Underwater, he’ll swim around as Mera does, but he never interferes. Once in a while, she’ll see Orm look over at him for approval. When he does, Vulko nods, but otherwise says nothing.

She is surprised to find Arthur, Vulko, and Mera in the training room when she and Orm arrive one day. Arthur must have just returned from the Surface, as she had heard he’d left Atlantis a few days prior.

Grinning, he walks over, slipping between them and looking at Orm, “You’re late, teina.”

Orm ignores him. She looks at Arthur and frowns, “Today’s Atlantean cuisine didn’t sit well with me.”

He laughs and smacks Orm on the back, “Lil bro’s too polite to say he was holding your hair back in the toilet.”

“Of course he is, he’s a gentleman. Too bad I’m almost as crass as you are.”

He drops his hands and grins, “So I know you two had planned for a dry fight today. But come on, that’s no fun because we already know how that one’ll end.”

She glares at him and is surprised when Orm agrees.

“So, what do you say we spice it up?” he suggests, clapping his hands together.

She eyes him curiously, “What do you mean by ‘spice it up’?”

“You and Mera against Orm and yours truly,” he says, pointing to his chest. “Underwater and on dry land. Meaning that none of us is confined to one space. We are free to move wherever in this room. With Vulko as our ref. Plus, we’re upgrading Orm’s trident. That thing is rusty.”

“My trident is more than fine,” he glowers.

“Really? Then you don’t want to try this one out?”

Two guards swim from out of nowhere and hold a case in front of them. Waiting for approval from Arthur, he nods and they open it.

Orm’s eyes widen a fraction at the sight, “Is this…?”

“We found the pieces of Mom’s trident you broke and scavenged pieces of your dad’s that I shattered. Fused them into something I think suits you better. And, as long as Althera stays ahead of you in fights won, I think I can almost convince Vulko to allow you to take it with you as a parting gift. Since Althera is pretty much healed now.”

Vulko sighs pure indignation from across the room and Arthur beams.

“So?”

“I’m up for it if Orm is.”

The guards lift the case to Orm’s line of reach. He stares at the trident, his eyes conflicted. His chest rises and falls heavily in a sigh before he reaches out. New trident in hand, he steals a glance at Althera. She smiles and his brow softens by a fraction.

“Lil bro accepts, let’s do this!”

“I technically can’t create hard water on my own,” she says, holding her arm up as she locks the vambrace in place, “But I could probably manipulate it after receiving it from you.”

“How extensive are your abilities?” Mera asks, pulling her hair back.

“Not incredibly.”

She gives her a sideways look, “Come on, Althera. I’ve seen you use more than a few things on Orm alone. You’re being humble.”

“Oh, I assure you, humble is not in my DNA,” she laughs.

“Then boast all you need so we can kick their asses,” Mera encourages her. Althera puffs up theatrically to show she's taken the pep talk to heart. Then, pushing up from the ground and spinning around in her armor to get a feel of the weight, she decides it isn't too heavy. Though it will take some getting used to.

She’s seen Orm in his armor once, though it was just in a recording of the battle his mother shared with her when they’d been alone. It was silver and purple and he looked like a king. Her current armor is a shimmery indigo across the chest, stomach, and thighs, with dark bronze on the shoulders, arms, and legs.

She wonders vaguely what he’ll be making an appearance in today.

“Have you ever fought beside Orm?” Mera asks, trying to keep the conversation going.

“Haven’t had the chance to,” she says, squeezing her gloved hand into a fist. “Will I be able to move things with these on?”

“Those are adapted so I can use hard water. They should be fine,” she nods, “Try it out if you need to.”

Holding her palms out, the water immediately starts to sway around them. She stops, “It’ll do fine.”

Mera chuckles as Althera offers her hand, pulling her to her feet, “Arthur set these teams up. Originally, we were going to be on opposite teams, Arthur and I against you and Orm. But I think Arthur wants to fight alongside his brother for once.”

“That’s sweet,” she purrs, “They’re going to be a strong team if they can work together.”

Mera shrugs, “We’re stronger.”

She turns at the sound of someone entering. She can’t help the smile that spreads across her face. It isn't the same elaborate armor she saw from the recording, but rather a dull brassy color with a solid chest plate. He still looks very handsome, though. Under his arm is a helmet with a spiny dorsal fin down the center of it. Swimming up to him, she sings, “Orm, Darling, you look spectacular.”

He does a slow spin for her and she giggles harder than she means to.

“I could offer the same compliment,” he says as if he truly means it. He takes her hand and the tinny metallic sound resonates through her ears as he drifts back to get a better look at her, “I never would have thought I’d see you dressed like true Atlantean royalty.”

“Atlantean?” she asks, “Mera said this was her hand-me-down. I figured it was from Xebel.”

“I told her to make something up so you’d put it on,” Arthur saunters over, “It’s yours. I had it made for you a few weeks ago after I guessed you'd be staying for a while.”

“Mine?”

“I also made up an official-sounding title for you since you technically are doing work for Atlantis anyway and I want you to get some perks during your stay here,” he shrugs, “And speaking of work, Bruce Wayne is still worried about you. I told him you were doing much better and that seemed to calm him down, but he keeps glaring at me like it's my fault you got beat up in the first place. He and Diana are vicious when it comes to you.”

"Bruce'll be fine," she snorts, looking down at her very own Atlantean armor, she smiles sideways, “I guess having my own Atlantean look isn't too bad. Anyway, is that all for chit-chat today? Because I was kinda expecting a fight.”

Chapter Text

Sparks fly and the four fly apart as Arthur's trident slams against the stone floor. Althera, the only one to literally fly, looks down at the figures below, honing in on Orm, who stands at the ready.

He looks up at her and the smile in his eyes sends a jolt of electricity down her spine.

“Til the other needs assistance standing, I presume?” he says, his voice loud and clear.

A thought comes to her mind before she can stop it: This is what they were made for.

“Hell yeah, brother,” Arthur says, as the water around them takes shape and Mera walks around them. She looks up at Althera and nods just a fraction.

Althera dives, slamming straight into Orm's waist. They both go flying as Arthur is scooped up by Mera's hard water and spat out across the room.

“Althera!”

She turns as Mera passes off her hard water as planned. She forms her borrowed water into a long staff just as Orm's trident comes down on her, a move she's familiar with from their tiff in their backyard on the Surface. Blocking his hit and turning, she breaks the staff in two, catching Orm’s trident between the two solid pieces of water and launching him into the wall of water they've been training in. She huffs and follows right after him.

She feels the change before she realizes what’s happened.

She never spent much time with her other uncle, but she met him enough times to admire his gills. He didn't always have them and sometimes hid them under his jacket collar. But when he was in a good mood and her older cousins asked to see, he’d pull the collar down, wiggle some finned ears, and breathe through the slits in his throat.

She takes a deep breath and the water fills her at first, but then it stops at her throat. It takes a few breaths to get it right, but finally, she grins underwater.

Orm is surprised at the lack of a bubble around her face and she uses this to her advantage.

“Hello Darling,” her voice as clear underwater as his is.

“You’re impossible,” he says, absolutely impertinent.

“I think it’s about time you text Barry to get that list he mentioned. The one with all my abilities. Maybe then, you might stop getting caught off guard.”

“Althera, your skin has turned green,” he breathes.

She looks at the small piece of skin she can see beneath the armor and grunts.

“I guess my other uncle doesn’t completely ignore me. He honestly has seemed quite active, lately,” she laughs, turning her attention back to Orm. He bullets towards her and catches her by surprise. She may have new gills, but he has a new trident. And Arthur was right. This one suits him much better.

He catches the backs of her legs with it, flipping her through the water. She somersaults through the current and regains her movement, cutting through the shapeless liquid with her two weapons. He swims forward and they crash into each other.

Before she can get a grip on him, the water parts and, in his armor, Orm clanks and clatters to the ground. He lands on his back, trident still in hand, coughing once to clear the water from his throat, and pushes up from the floor.

“She breathes underwater now,” he informs Arthur.

“For real?” he pants, his face and hair dripping.

“I thought you popped her bubble,” Mera breathes, holding the water back.

“I wouldn’t attempt to suffocate her,” Orm snaps back.

“Does someone want to explain why she is green, too?”

“Is this really the time for chit-chatting?” she grins, watching Vulko watch her with intense curiosity. “Let’s go!”

Mera lets the water fall and both men lose their balance. Arthur offers the end of his trident to his brother who takes hold of it, both of them standing straight despite the roaring waves around them.

“Shit,” Althera breathes, “My plan doesn’t work if they actually work together.”

“Then we’ll separate them,” Mera says, focusing the majority of her water on Orm. “Get that trident out of Arthur's hands. We’re screwed the longer he has it.”

She nods and puts the two pieces of hard water back together, taking off as Arthur runs towards her. She drops herself and slides between his legs, spinning the hard water staff and smacking into both his right leg and the bottom of his trident. He tilts and she’s already back in the air, slamming down into his left side, knocking him to his knees. He grunts and reaches back, grabbing the neck of her armor and tossing her over his head.

She gasps as she hits the floor and rolls over. The trident stops midair where she was lying just moments before.

“It’s gonna take more than that to take me out of the game, King Arthur,” she laughs at the disbelief on his face. Still trying to catch her breath, she raises her hand and sends a small jetstream toward him, whipping around them and jerking the trident out of his hand. The air she directs at him is so fast it sticks the trident a couple inches into the far wall, the stone crumbling around it at the impact.

At the corner of her eye, she sees Orm preparing his next movement.

“Mera move!” she yells. It's too late and the energy of Orm’s trident hits her square in the chest, sending her flying out of the water, through the air, and onto the floor. Orm runs up to her and she stares at the ceiling before accepting his hand. She stands, looking at Althera with a 'you better win this' look. She walks over to Vulko’s side, sitting on the floor, now a spectator.

Frowning, Althera looks over at Arthur, who has retrieved his trident from the rubble. He stalks towards her on her left. Orm on her right. The brothers approach her, both with their trident’s tips pointed directly at her. There is a slight change of vibration in the air and she jumps up just as the pulses of energy hit the floor, tearing up the ground.

She dives for Orm, but is knocked out of the air by Arthur’s trident. Spiraling, she reaches around and clutches her staff to her chest. Focusing her energy into it, it hits Arthur square in the chest and he loses his breath when he hits the floor.

Orm is prepared for the hit and he traps her staff between the prongs on his trident. This catch yanks her wrist back and she yelps in pain. Confusion and panic fill his eyes for a split second and she, too, is surprised at his hesitation. Shaking the pain out, she turns, taking Arthur out with the same hit as before, then continuing the motion and kicking Orm into the water again.

She dives in beside him and he hooks his arm around her waist, propelling her through the water. She lets herself go, stopping only when her feet hit the opposite wall, pushing off of it and heading straight for him. He jams the end of his trident into the floor and, when they make contact, the sound of metal rattles through her body. The stone floor is torn up from the impact and he grins down at her from under his helmet.

"I could have hurt you, Mr. Marius," she purrs.

"Yet you're still taking it easy on me, even underwater," he chuckles.

"What can I say? I had a personal nurse who took outstanding care of me. Now I'm all healed," she says, pushing against him to throw herself back in the water. He raises himself and his trident, getting pushed back when her staff blocks the hit. They struggle, gaining little ground before the other regains their strength and takes their advantage.

Looking up, she sees Arthur enter the water above them and she knows she must act quick or deal with them both.

Taking a deep breath, her new gills widen then close, and she slides back in the water, the staff slipping in her hand. She uses this slip to her advantage, catching it between the prongs of Orm's trident like before, and then creating prongs of her own to hold onto his, jerking it upward, and launching him out of the water harder than she's ever thrown him before.

She races after him and winces as he slams into the far wall, the sound of his armor scraping the stone as he slides to the floor.

"I'm so sorry, Orm!" she squeaks.

He looks up at her, his chest rising and falling heavily. She hands him his trident and offers her hand. He takes it and she pulls him to his feet.

“I mean it when I say you look extraordinary in that armor,” he smiles, breathing hard as his hand falls on her shoulder.

She laughs in relief.

“And I meant what I said, too, though I typically prefer to see all of your face,” she teases. He takes the helmet off, tucking it under his arm and looks down at her, his eyes excited, soft, and a little bit in pain all at the same time.

A strange wispy sound makes them turn.

She stares in awe at the sight. As Arthur spins his trident, the water polarized to the weapon, creating a spiraling wall of liquid similar to Mera's hard water, but condensed to a small area.

"Althera, I wouldn't."

"But look at his face, he's practically begging me to," she whines, taking her eyes off of Arthur just long enough to let Orm know there's no way she isn't going to do it. He sighs, but leans against his trident to watch.

Flying back, she lines herself up. The adrenaline that comes from facing something she's never seen before fills her, a feeling she hasn't had in a long while. Bracing for the impact, she knows immediately that she will fly back. She can prepare herself to get back up quickly. Arthur likely doesn't believe he will budge. If she can knock him down and rise before he does, she's set.

She can feel Orm's eyes on her and, for some reason, it fuels her. If she could, she'd reach out and receive one of his hand squeezes for reassurance. Instead, she sends a quick prayer to Ares for strength.

She lets herself go, flying in a diagonal from the ceiling of the room downward. Once she gains the right momentum, she turns in the air, her legs forward until...

The impact sends pins and needles throughout her body.

She is forced back through the air head over heels, slamming into the far wall she just threw Orm into. She gasps for air, but forces herself to get up quickly, taking just a split second to wink at a completely stunned Orm Marius.

To her satisfaction, she finds Arthur on his back, his trident six feet away from his hand.

Though her legs wobble a little from the shock, she lines herself up again and dives straight for him.

"Shit," he breathes and jumps up, but she sends him flying back again, though this time the water breaks his fall.

She just has to keep him away from the trident a bit longer.

Stepping into the water, she blocks his exit, opening her balled fists and watching as the water spins around him. Increasing the speed, the waters whip around him so fast that he turns with the currents. When the whirlpool's speed is as fast as she dare go, she releases the water from its shape and he spills out onto the floor.

Aching, but feeling otherwise marvelous, she smiles softly, "Look, I could do that whirlpool thing all day until someone finally decides to throw you your trident. But it was starting to feel a little mean. Ready to say uncle?"

Laying face down on the floor, he breathes and groans, "Uncle. Shit. Uncle."

He forces himself to sit up and she offers her hand. Looking up at her, he starts laughing so hard that his entire body shakes like a mountain.

“Jesus, woman, you are insane,” he laughs, “I am definitely glad you were locked up because if you and Orm had been as chummy then as you are now, I definitely would have had my ass handed to me many more times than I already did.”

Walking up to Mera, Vulko, and Orm, the four fighters shake hands.

“Good fight,” Orm says, his voice stiff. When he releases Arthur’s hand, Arthur looks like he wants to push to get Orm to say something more, but resists.

“Yeah,” Arthur clears his throat, “Good… good fight.”

“Althera, can I talk to you?” Mera asks.

Chapter Text

She follows Mera out of the armory and into a wide space with halls leading in every direction. A bunch of guards swim past them carrying what look like expensive traveling trunks. Althera turns and frowns, wondering where they could be headed.

“Mera?”

“Yes?”

“Was that fight rigged?”

“Rigged?”

“Was the result of the fight known, previous to it having been fought?”

Mera looks at her over her shoulder curiously, “You’re funny.”

Frowning at the lack of an answer, she remarks, “I guess I’ve been called worse.”

“Why do you think it was rigged?”

She chews on her lip and shrugs, “The way Orm talks about your abilities… I find it hard to believe he could knock you on your ass so easily.”

Mera laughs once, swimming ahead, “Maybe I should be embarrassed that I didn't quite live up to your expectations.”

Althera swims up in front of her, “Or maybe you let him do it.”

Mera rolls her eyes.

“I find it hard to believe that my good friend Orm Marius could have taken you out so easily. And isn’t Arthur technically Ocean Master, now? I mean, sure he wasn’t gonna bring in that kaiju thing for our little battle. What did Orm call it? Karathen? Anyway, one would think the all-powerful Ocean Master with King Atlan’s mighty trident shoulda had us both on our asses a little more, y’know?”

Mera ignores her, changing the subject, “We'll be going to the upper part of the Palace. It's much neater and there are sure to be more comfortable clothes for you to wear. Not to mention getting you cleaned up."

"But I have clothes! They were dropped off weeks ago and they’re typically washed by someone. And we have a shower, too. Orm had to teach me how to use it, but I’ve only had one incident since."

Mera looks back at her, "Orm taught you how to use a shower?"

She feels her cheeks turn warm and she looks up at the rising ceiling, "Nobody was in it at the time, but yes."

She grins, turning and continuing to lead her.

“This fight was part of a bet. Both Arthur and Orm were trying to see something. That is all I’ll say.”

Althera sways as she swims, pondering the thought. Orm and Arthur had a bet. Now Mera says she needs new clothes and to take a shower. Of course Orm would put his money on her no matter what, she knows that for certain, therefore she wonders what he was so certain she would win for him.

"He cares about you a lot."

“Hm?”

“Orm. Vulko and I both saw him hesitate when he caught your wrist in there."

"Oh. I care about him, too," she says.

Mera looks over her shoulder, "A Prince who was raised by a father like his to become King doesn't often take time out of their day to rehabilitate patients. Let alone have his bed placed in the same room so he can make sure she's sleeping well because he knows the side effects of the violet urchin well."

"It's that why he's there?" she muses. "I suppose he feels guilty. He doesn't like to be in my debt and he already thinks he owes me something. Now he's really going to worry about making it up to me."

Mera stops abruptly in front of a door.

“He should make it up to you, Althera," she says.. Mera’s face betrays no emotion, as if she is merely stating pure fact, "Who knows where Orm would be right now if you hadn't been there for him. Before he met you in that cell, things weren’t looking too good for him at all. Queen Atlanna fought for him as well as she could, but having been gone for as long as she was, she didn’t have much of an argument. Until you gave her something she could use, Orm’s future was looking bleak, to say the least. So, let him feel like he owes you once in a while. Because he may have been given a second chance in the future, but it would have been nothing compared to the comfortable life he seems to have with you, now.”

Al blinks, processing Mera's monologue, then nods, “That is all very dramatic.”

Mera tilts her head and makes a strange clicking noise that sounds oddly disappointed, “I find it very interesting how well you and Orm get along. Everything is a joke to you, I swear.”

“Oh, it infuriates him, too, to be honest.”

"Get cleaned up," she says, "I'll be in the third room on the left, so come and find me afterwards."

"But Mera, what are we--"

The door closes on her face.

Chapter Text

Maids. Literal maids came into the bathroom while she was cleaning herself and started scrubbing her down. And although it felt very healing for her body, she basically received a full body massage, it was still incredibly odd.

They draped her in a silky slip that felt smooth on her skin. They spoke to her excitedly about her gills, asked if she came from Atlantis (she said no, which only piqued their interest more until the oldest of them shushed them up), tied her hair back in a hairstyle far too elaborate for any unknown occasion, and ushered her into the room Mera said she'd be waiting for her.

Dizzy by this time, she floats around to get her bearings. The room looks like an enormous, two story fashion studio, with the wide space being so open, spiraling over her head. It is pretty empty people-wise at the moment, however there are several busts and full mannequins with partially created designs hanging from them. She figures that, when it’s busy, this place would be fascinating behind the scenes.

She finds Mera leaning over the counter, speaking to a woman with light blue scales across her cheeks and fish like facial features.

When she notices Althera’s arrived, she straightens up and gestures, "Althera, this is Madame Veela. Madame Veela, Althera Prince."

“It’s very nice to meet you, Madame Veela.”

"I’ve heard a little about you. You’re the one who has brought Prince Orm back. His war attempt got my cousin killed, but I suppose it's good to know his Highness is doing well."

"Ah? Well,” she says, trying to keep things light, but preparing herself for a possible scolding, “I suppose it’s a good thing I'm not here to defend all of Prince Orm’s choices, then."

"Why are you here?"

She figures the truth can’t hurt.

"I was attacked by people who'd like to continue what he started. He brought me here to be healed; in all truth, my getting hurt is the only thing he has repented so far."

Madame Veela snorts, giving Mera a look before swimming to one of the drawers in the room and pulling out a measuring tape. She swims around Althera, measuring her waist first.

"War was obviously not the answer, Miss Prince. I am lucky to say I didn't lose any other family members. And you should be lucky that Prince Orm didn't lose all of his morality. That is, if he didn't."

Althera bites her bottom lip.

"I see our Prince is teaching you well. Playing the role of the compliant little princess."

It takes Althera a second to realize that Madame Veela is still talking to her and once she does, she has to swallow down the anger that rises in her stomach.

She takes a deep breath, clenching her fists and releasing them a few times to help clear her head. Once she has control over herself, she speaks as politely as possible, "I've been a princess long before meeting Prince Orm. And I learned a long time ago to not play into the bait of someone whose words are fueled by anger. Prince Orm and I are friends, yes. If this were a romantic relationship, it would be my title which raises his status. In fact, if such a thing happened, his title would be far above our dear friend, his most darling brother, King Arthur's. Orm doesn't know this. Who knows what he would do if he did, or what I might allow.”

Madame Veela looks stunned and, for the first time since she met her, falls silent. Mera looks at her with that same controlled expression that gives away no emotion. She doesn't mind that Mera didn't come to her defense. It is undeniably Orm's war attempt that made this woman lose her cousin and she has every right to be angry with him. Turning her anger on Althera, however, is a mere deflection and she doesn't feel like taking the brunt of anyone's anger today.

It takes Madame Veela a moment to notice the scars that cover Althera's body under the slip, the most recent being the thirty urchin marks. When she realizes what they are, she gasps, her large eyes growing wider as she looks up at her.

"This is why Prince Orm brought you?"

"Yes. The purist soldiers say I'm a siren who has possessed his mind," she laughs humorlessly, "If I were, I think I'd make him a bit happier about it."

"Isn't he happy?"

"He is… reflective. This time in Atlantis has done him some good, but he is going to have to return to the Surface eventually, since his sentence isn't over yet."

They fall silent again and Madame Veela leaves, returning with a rack of dresses. Bright neon colors that Althera would almost never wear while on the Surface. Here in Atlantis, she'll blend right in.

Mera ultimately picks her favorite and Althera feels like a whole other person in it. It is a soft, bioluminescent blue with a brighter blue at the hem and sleeves. It sways in the water as she swims but doesn’t hinder her movement, and she is certain at least three clownfish could live comfortably on her if they wanted to.

Mera leaves and Althera starts to follow her, then pauses to look back at Madame Veela.

"He thinks about it often, by the way. He is fully aware of what is his fault, even if he doesn't openly admit it. If it makes you feel any better, the guilt keeps him awake most nights. But you didn't hear that from me."

Chapter Text

“Do you consider yourself an open book?”

She throws the shoe aside and looks up at her, “Uhhh... I suppose that depends on who is asking.”

Mera points at a different pair, “You should try those. They’re cute.”

“Why do people even wear shoes in Atlantis. Nobody walks anywhere,” she grumbles, grabbing the shoe and weighing it in her hand, “At least these are lighter than those.”

Mera sinks into the bench across from her, shifting awkwardly until Althera looks over.

“What you told Madame Veela earlier, about being a Princess. What did you mean by that?”

Taking a few steps, she stamps her feet to get a feel of them. Then she raises herself off the floor and swims in a circle around Mera.

“I meant what I said, Princess Mera. That I am royalty,” she rolls her ‘r’ when she says the word ‘royalty’ to sound a little more posh. Mera chuckles and Althera beams, “Why? Do I not seem it?”

“No. No, you seem... Free,” she smiles at her, “I kinda wish there were more royalty like you and Arthur around when I was growing up. I love my Dad, but he does like to keep up with appearances. I guess that’s why I adored Queen Atlanna.”

Settling back down, Althera laughs sheepishly, “I dunno if you would have liked me a lot when I was little. You know, I used to do this mirroring thing when I was small. Like, up until I was seven years old. If anyone was even remotely nice to me, I’d start wanting to look like them, and I would truly begin to copy their faces and mannerisms.”

“Really?” Mera asks, her eyes wide, “That’s amazing.”

“Oh, that’s definitely not what the usual response was. People were usually unsettled,” she frowns, then points to the gills on her throat, “Like when I sprouted these today.”

“That did surprise me,” Mera admits.

“I subconsciously must have wanted to be more like you three, watching you all move in and out of the water with so much ease. I guess one never really grows out of the desire to fit in.”

Mera frowns and opens her mouth to speak when Arthur comes swimming through the door at full speed.

“Are you ready?”

“Uh... Yeah? I guess,” she blinks.

“You better be. We need you and Orm out of here before Vulko learns that I’m allowing Orm to do this!”

“To do what?” she whines.

Orm beams, drifting up to her and taking her hands in his.

"You look stunning," he says, squeezing her.

"You do, too," she says, and she's never meant anything in her life more than she means those words. His blond hair is pulled back and his wetsuit beneath his silver armor is the exact soft blue of his eyes, with details in thin silver on the collar and across his broad chest. His eyes, usually restrained and thoughtful, are open and calm.

There have been many times she’s seen a glimpse of what he might have looked like as king. This seems to fill in any of the holes she had left over.

“So…” she chuckles, “What is all this about?"

“All this?” he asks, looking at her sideways.

“Something is definitely up, Orm. I was taking a bath and five maids came in, decided I was doing it wrong, and offered their assistance. Now I'm wearing these fancy Atlantean clothes and, although they're beautiful, I can't help but feel a little grandiose,” she says, “I have asked Mera several times, to no avail, and Arthur is ignoring me.”

He laughs and they swim out of the room and onto a balcony.

“Concerning the maids and the attire, I may have decorated the truth a bit to get you the finest care Atlantis can offer at the moment. Actually," he looks down and touches the back of his neck, "To tell you the truth, Arthur and I had a bet."

"A bet?" she inquires, hoping to get information about it from him.

"Yes. Are you ashamed of me?"

She pretends to think it over, then, "No, at least, not until I hear what this bet entailed."

He chuckles and drops his hand, "I bet on you; that you would succeed where I failed. If I won the gamble, I would get to take you anywhere I want in Atlantis as a thank you for everything you have done for me.”

She blinks. This isn't exactly what she expected the stakes to be, but it's kinda sweet, “Really? And if Arthur won, it was something ridiculous, wasn’t it?”

“Absolutely.”

“I suppose I succeeded, then?”

He had been looking out at the city below and now he turns to face her, “You did. I never expected anything different.”

She doesn't know what it is about this Prince Orm. But when he looks at her, she always feels a little childish. It must be his posture. She really wishes he'd slouch more.

She drifts away from his side to look at the city below. The view is very different from their sleeping and training area at the lower part of the castle. Up this high, she can see the sea life swim below them, watching a school of fish follow behind and around a large vessel made to look like a much larger fish. When she looks back at him, he's still watching her, his eyes still so inviting.

“Well then… where are we going?”

The guards swim into the room and a large, elongated, underwater vessel pulls up beside the balcony. He gestures for her to enter and he follows her, followed by the guards.

"We’ll get to that in a minute."

"Orm!"

"You are so impatient! Come, sit down," he laughs, gesturing to a seat of solid white. He sits across from her. "You fought beautifully today."

Though she knows he's changing the subject, she accepts the compliment, "Thank you. You know, Mera asked me something before the fight today that had me thinking."

He frowns softly his eyes not moving from her face, "Really? What's that?"

"She asked me if you and I have ever fought together, as in side-by-side. I had to tell her no. We haven't. Orm, Darling, I think we'd do beautifully together. Especially now, don't you?"

"Especially now that we know most of each other's next moves, you mean?" He asks. She nods and he purses his lips, leaning back in his seat, "I suppose it also depends on who we're up against. But... I honestly couldn't ask for a better ally."

"Ally," she repeats with a sigh.

His head tilts a fraction, "I'm sorry. Should I have worded that differently?"

She is surprised, wondering if she could have betrayed her thoughts on her face.

"Oh? No, I'm more than happy to be your ally. Really."

He continues to look worried and she reaches out and touches his hand in reassurance. This seems to work and he smiles again.

"Our last full day in Atlantis. Tomorrow we return to The House. I thought I'd feel miserable about leaving. Maybe I will be tonight. However… right now, I am content."

"And I am happy you're content."

"Really? I've been trying to figure out how to make you happy. Has it truly been that simple?" He teases. Her cheeks and face grow warm and she waves him off, standing. He follows behind her as she swims to the window to watch how the ship moves through the water, through the city, high above the ocean floor. Quiet for a moment, he speaks again, "Althera, how is it you're able to adapt so easily?"

She tears her eyes away from the scenery, "You mean my gills?"

"I suppose I do."

"Shape-shifting. Though," she frowns, "it's rarely intentional. I can't decide when they come in or when to get rid of them. I think my body takes control in that instance."

"You are less green now than you were before," he observes, "Should I have to worry you might lose them anytime soon? We can figure out a way to drain the ship if we need to—"

She shakes her head, interrupting him, "No, Orm, don't worry. I'll be fine. And if they do disappear, I can make a bubble like before."

They fall quiet again and then she breaks the silence this time.

"What other adaptation did you mean?"

He continues to stare out the window in silence before shaking his head, "It's nothing."

"Is it? Nothing?"

He smiles sideways and glances over at her, "You adapt to people so well. The way you handle Vulko and Arthur and Mera. Vulko is as Atlantean as they come, but you had no difficulty receiving his graces."

"If that is being in Vulko's graces, then Gods I have to get better at reading people," she chuckles, “What about you? Is he more Atlantean than you?”

He blinks, turning away again, “Althera, I don’t know much about myself anymore.”

She thinks she struck a chord with Orm and wonders if she should back down. She knows the question was a bit more invasive than she should have allowed herself to ask so casually. However, his face still has a sense of peace to it that she feels she can trust. And, after all he's done for her while in Atlantis, she thinks it would be dumb not to give him the credit he's due.

“I think that’s a good thing. That means you can be whoever you want to be,” she says. He frowns a little and she continues, “You see… I’ve been in the same boat. When I first arrived here, in this realm, I didn’t know who I was. I was angry, as you were. I was scared and I was so incredibly, deeply sad. And I was alone. I’ve mentioned briefly before, that I had a rage inside of me, both figuratively and literally. I was able to contain it for a while and I truly believed I had had myself under control, but the second I was put under the microscope, I snapped."

She sighs, exhausted just from mentioning her past self. He senses this, leaning over and gently nudging her shoulder with his arm. Clearing her throat, she continues, "But, as you know, Diana found me. She took me in. And, once I came to trust her, she told me what I now tell you. That you can choose who you want to be. That, even if you have a past, that doesn't necessarily mean it has to define your future. Maybe it’s that freedom that helped me learn to adapt to people so well? That freedom of being everyone and no one at all.”

He doesn’t respond. Continuing to look down at the city below, his open eyes become thoughtful once again. Not guarded as they usually are, just deep in thought. When he reaches out and takes her hand in his, she looks down at it in surprise. But he’s still too deep in thought to notice her surprise and she lets herself enjoy it.

These last few days, it has become increasingly apparent to herself that she has feelings for him. And, though she would never go so far as to say she’s in love with him, there has always been a strong feeling of respect and familiarity she has felt for him which has drawn her to him since the very beginning. His recent care for her and his concern for her health and safety may be why she's felt a shift in her emotions towards him, and the way he is holding her hand now is surely helping.

Of course the physical attraction has always been there. What isn’t to enjoy about the broadness of his shoulders, the depth of his eyes, and the perfect command of his voice? But to be in love she’d have to know him. All of him, not just these rare glimpses she is allowed every once in a blue moon. And, to be perfectly honest, she hasn’t given him much of herself to know either.

The feeling of his hand in hers, firm and grounding, draws her out of her thoughts and reminds her of how content she is to have him as a friend. She wouldn’t compromise that feeling for something she doesn’t feel too strongly about in the first place.

“We’re here.”

Chapter Text

“Atlantis’ mightiest soldiers?” she chirps, following him through the water, “I thought I had a run-in with a few of them before. Was I mistaken?”

“Those soldiers would be nothing if not for these,” he chuckles, “I spent much of my time here when I was younger, much less as I got older, regrettably so.”

He stops and she looks around, finding nothing but open water. They had left the city behind them, not too far, but still a distance away that it had piqued her curiosity. She watches with the same curiosity when he raises his hand to his mouth and makes an extremely soft whistling noise.

Her hand in his, she drifts closer to him, right up against his side as she strains to see whatever he's looking for. Nothing seems to be happening, but he doesn’t look too concerned. She figures she has to be patient. Then she sees something. It approaches from further out in the water, a small, dark shape slowly turning larger, then brighter as it gets closer and closer.

She blinks in surprise when the enormous Great White circles them a few times, finally coming to a halt across from Orm.

He grins, speaking quietly to the creature, a softness in his eyes that brings her heart to a sputtering halt. She watches in awe as he brings his hand down the tough side of the animal.

She slips her hand out of his and drifts back to get a better look at the scene before her. He doesn’t notice, lovingly tapping the pointed nose of the Great White.

After her initial shock has worn off, she notices the guards who came with them are making whistling noises of their own. Soon, they are all mounted on a shark of their own.

Orm turns to her and gestures for her to come to him.

“Are you afraid?”

“In awe, mostly,” she says truthfully.

“That’s good,” he says, gesturing to one of the guards, who swims up and hands Orm a large saddle of sorts, “Of course, if you were afraid, she’d know.”

She smiles and watches in pure amazement as the guard assists Orm in saddling the shark, “She’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t she?” he says, settling back beside Althera, his voice gushing with something she’s never heard from him before. The sound of it has her conflicted. Some part of her, deep, deep down, would do anything to be the damn shark, just to have him use the same tone when speaking of her.

She shakes the thought out of her head and reaches out, pressing her hand to the side of the large creature and closing her eyes.

The sensation is like nothing she's ever experienced before. All her thoughts, every worry, and all her troubles soften and become thin and airy, like cotton being torn apart. Inhaling deep, she feels her gills open just like the shark's, one's breath much deeper than the other. She feels the power, the strength, and the intense serenity of the animal all at once. To have felt such peace, if just for a while, is a gift.

Opening her eyes, she takes her hand off the shark and looks up at Orm. She is thankful for Atlantis’ location, as the water washes away her tears before Orm looks back at her.

She grabs his hand and squeezes him and he smiles, "I haven't gone too far, have I? I figured a woman like you would enjoy something like this."

She clears the knot out of her throat and nods, "I'm enjoying this immensely, yes!"

"I'm glad," he says, his smile widening as he gently draws her closer, the guards on their sharks beginning to move around them, "Now I have a question for you. Have you ever sat on the back of a Great White before?”

She shakes her head, “I can’t say I’ve had the opportunity.”

“And if I offered that opportunity today?”

"I would graciously accept," she says, "Though I'd insist you stay as close as possible. To show me the ropes, of course."

"I promise. In fact," he interrupts himself by mounting the shark, holding his hand out for her to take it. She accepts it and he pulls her up in front of him, assisting her in fixing the skirt of her dress, and then closing his arm around her waist. "I will be right here the whole time."

Chapter Text

Prying her away from the shark after a few hours of riding was almost impossible. However, Orm manages to coax her back onto the ship with the promise that, in the future, when his situation in Atlantis is sorted out, they will find a time to return together.

"Besides," he added, "I have another means of transportation that is more impressive. I'll have to introduce you two later on as well."

She cannot imagine what could be more impressive than a shark.

The ride back to her hospital room is quieter than their ride there. She sits on the floor in front of him as she takes her hair down from the elaborate twists the maids had piled it into, and he assists her. He is careful with her, despite her insisting that her scalp can survive him being at least a little less gentle. She loves the comfortable silence of his concentration and she loves the gentle sensation of his hands which lulls her into a dreamy state.

His hands finally stop their movement and he pats her shoulder. She finishes untying the last twist and sits up beside him, pulling the mess of curls out of her face and into what appears to be an Atlantean scrunchie.

"Orm, even before you helped me ride a Great White, I've wanted to thank you for everything you've done these last few weeks."

"I haven't done much."

"You had no obligation to stay by my side this whole time, but you've stayed anyway. You've helped me recover and even helped train me. My underwater skill is so much better now because of you."

"To be fair, you recover incredibly fast and are a good student. You catch on quick."

"What I'm trying to say is… You are a good friend, Orm. A very good friend."

He doesn't rebut her this time, only nods. After a moment, he composes himself, "Thank you. I'm glad to hear it."

She smiles and puts some distance between them as the guards reenter the space. Though he doesn't seem to be anti-PDA, she has noticed that he likes to keep up a certain appearance in front of some people. She tries to be respectful of that.

The ship drops them off and they are escorted to the hospital room. Walking in, Althera almost turns and walks right back out.

"What the hell is all this?" Arthur laughs as Orm urges her into the room. "Someone in the kitchen must have heard about my brother's new girlfriend."

The lighting in the room is dim and a small, cozy little table with chairs to match sits in the center of the room. The table is decorated with soft lights which paint everything in a hazy, romantic hue. Some hidden speaker plays soft, melodic music.

Arthur sits in one of the chairs at the table, a dirty plate in front of him and a devious grin on his face.

"This is ridiculous," Orm says, and if she didn't know better, she'd think he was blushing.

"I think it's what he wanted all along," Arthur says to her, standing up, "The fish is perfect, of course. I had to do a little taste test for you. Wouldn't want a bad fish to ruin the mood would we?"

Orm glares at him and he laughs.

"Alright, I'll leave you two to your date," he snickers, "I was just making sure you two got home safe."

He leaves and Orm turns to her, his ears pink and his brow low over his eyes. She's never seen him so agitated about something so trivial before, "I'm so sorry. This is completely inappropriate and I would never have gone behind your back to do something like this. Someone in the kitchens went too far."

She laughs and dismisses it as nothing, "I've never been date ambushed before. It's kinda funny, isn't it?"

"Humiliating, more like," he shakes his head.

Though his words are sharp to her, she tries to play it off, "We shouldn't let this food go to waste. How about we get into our pajamas and enjoy the meal? Minus the mood music, if that's at all possible?"

He looks at her, the crease between his eyebrows softening, “You aren’t angry?”

“Why would I be?” She laughs, doing well to contain the hysteria threatening to rise into her chest, “I am flattered they think I can handle their former Ocean Master.”

"Althera..."

She reaches up on her toes and kisses him on the cheek. Grabbing the pajamas from the drawer, she walks to the door, calling over her shoulder, “Get in your pjs, dinner is waiting!”

Chapter Text

She admits that placing that kiss on Orm's cheek was extremely gratuitous. It was just a little peck on the cheek, though, and she wanted to tease him after being embarrassed by his real reaction to their fake date.

There will be no ramifications of a little kiss. If anyone knows her true thoughts about Orm, it'd be Barry. And Barry hasn’t seen Arthur after everything with Orm went down the first time. He wouldn’t have had the opportunity to say anything to him. And even if Arthur did know, he probably wouldn't slip it into conversation with his brother. ‘Oh, hey, I know you pretty much hate my fucking guts on a good day, but did you know that the chick you live with has been having naughty thoughts about you since the first day you met?’.

It just doesn’t seem likely.

Steadying her nerves, she sighs, murmuring to herself, “He’s just a man, Althera. He’s not that great. There's no need to get hysterical.”

She suggested they take dinner in their pajamas because Orm's curfew is about to go into effect and, considering tomorrow is the day they leave, she assumes he'll be getting up early for a swim. However, she hadn’t counted on the fact that the entire room would be gutted, including her drawers, in which they replaced all her nightwear with finer clothes, most being much more... pleasant to the male gaze. She had to return to the room twice to find something that wasn’t sheer or lacy and finally managed to pull out a pair of her cotton pjs that they missed in their raid.

Walking back into the hospital room, Orm looks up from the edge of his bed.

“Oh, thank the Gods,” he breathes.

“You saw what I picked up the first time around and didn’t mention it?” she snorts, tossing the slippery fabrics at the dresser.

“I can’t read your mind, Althera.”

“So you thought I was going to try to seduce you?” He shoots her a look and she snickers, “I don’t need skimpy little pajamas to do that. If I really wanted, I could succeed in this.”

He looks at her white and blue cloth pajamas and pink bonnet with a look she interprets as doubt before standing, “They raided my dresser as well. Everything is silk and shine. If I ever allowed a guest to be treated like this, Vulko would have chewed my ear off. Has he said a single thing to Arthur? Not one.”

He pulls out a chair for her and she sits. He takes a seat across from her, his entire posture irate.

“Maybe it was Vulko who planned this sudden upheaval. He seems like an old man with a sense of humor.”

He looks away and sighs, his shoulders loosening a fraction, “Quite the sense of humor.”

Shrugging, she picks up a dish, placing it between them, “If it bothers you so much, we are leaving tomorrow. Never again will you have to think about how horrible it'd be to date me.”

His head shoots up in surprise, “Oh, Althera, is that how I’m coming across?”

Already feeling silly for sounding like a child, she insists, “Nevermind, it’s fine.”

He reaches out and stops her hands, folding them in his and squeezing them so tight.

“Please, Althera, I’m not angry at the insinuation that you and I are in a relationship. Far from it.”

She tilts her head, looking up at him, “What do you mean?”

“I hope you don’t think I was inappropriate, but I could have kept a rumor about us from circulating, but I didn’t. I figure… well, you and I are friends, but not many people put as much weight on the word as we do when we use it for each other. So it is understandable, to me, that some people might get that impression. And I had hoped, some small, silly piece of me hoped that if they thought you and I were together, they would treat you with the amount of respect I personally think you deserve.”

If she said she wasn't surprised by his truthful admission she'd be lying.

"I'm surprised by how quickly we've figured out the main problem," she chuckles awkwardly, "You were worried about how others might think of me. And I have only ever been worried about how you might. All day you've been a sweetheart. Suddenly, the mere notion of a friendly date sounded horrendous to you. From my point of view."

He slumps his shoulders so heavily she half expects him to drop his head to the table. He doesn't. He just looks at her with sweet, apologetic eyes, "I hope you never again think you could repulse me. Never. I was only irritated by the lack of tact and class that these people, my people, have given our false relationship. And the obvious disdain that I had hoped to spare you from."

She's so relieved, she could laugh at herself, but she continues their conversation instead.

“Most people were very nice. Some, however, harbor a little resentment toward you.”

He nods, his eyes growing distracted by his thoughts. When he looks back at her, he sighs, “Yes. I apologize.”

“I knew what I was signing up for,” she tries to make him feel better since he did the same for her, “How many years has Atlantis hated the Surface? Now, as far as they know, you've returned to Atlantis with a simple Surface Dweller. Clearly, I'm of a lesser breed, but they'll treat me sweet because of my connection to the prince. Don’t worry, he’ll soon remember his roots and find a true princess at home.”

She draws her hands out of his and opens the pan. The smell of steamed fish fills the space and she only now realizes how hungry she is. Setting the lid aside, he leans forward, using the serving utensil to pull the food to pieces. He serves them both and they start dinner in silence. After a few moments, he speaks again.

“You say all this, but you seem unfazed by it?”

His voice is so soft and, when she looks up at him, he looks as if his feelings are hurt.

“Atlantis’ identity conflict is none of my business because only Atlantis can change the way Atlantis thinks. Your mother, Arthur, and now you, can contribute by being examples of people who have spent time in both worlds. But seeing as I’m technically not a Surface Dweller, I have no stake in what they decide, so long as they don’t return to the idea of genocide. Does it hurt my feelings? No. It’s been a while since I cared what strangers thought of me. Now if you thought of me that way, it might sting a bit.”

"No, Althera. Never."

“I’m glad to hear it,” she says, taking a bite.

Orm takes a bite of his own. After chewing and swallowing, he continues, “And I didn’t think you were planning to ‘seduce me’, but I did think you were going to wear whatever they gave you to make a point. You have to admit, you’re very stubborn sometimes. And you have a strange sense of humor.”

She snorts and he is relieved when everything between them is normal again.

“Gosh, it’s been so long since I was last on a date, I wouldn’t even know how to act,” she says.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been on a real date. I’ve had many fastidious dinners where I’ve had to host important people, and those have been tedious,” he thinks, “I suppose my required, obligatory dinners with Mera would count.”

“What is that like? To have been raised with the person you are promised to marry?”

“It’s fine at first. When you're a child as long as the other child isn’t too bizarre you accept it. And we genuinely have known each other for so long,” he says, his ears turning a soft pink when she laughs, “Mera and I were good friends for a long while. Then there comes an age when one must make a life-altering decision that impacts who they become in the future. I reached that age before Mera did. I think I became someone she couldn’t trust. Not with her thoughts or her ideas, and especially not with her future. I think she’d given up hope for me, but would have stuck around because of our duty to our Kingdoms. Up until Arthur arrived, of course. When she realized Vulko’s plans were possible, there was no reason to stick by my side. She was freed.”

“You seem to have thought a lot about this.”

He agrees with a frown, “It hurt, when Mera betrayed me. It really did. I was nothing but blind fury for a while after it happened. But after several nights of just three hours of sleep, I suddenly realized that I may have been the one who betrayed her, first.”

They eat in silence for a moment before she asks, “Do you think you’ll ever tell her?”

He looks up over her head and inhales deeply, “No. No, I don’t think I ever will. I don’t think she and I will ever be the same again, so there's no use.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, then feels her entire body burn with embarrassment. He’s never talked so freely before and she finds herself so drawn in by his earnestness that she almost forgets not to be nosey, “Sorry. I… you absolutely do not have to answer that.”

He reassures her that it isn't a problem, considers her question, and then begins, “What I mean is that Mera was also raised with my mother’s stories of the Surface. However, she didn’t have my father’s words in her ear, contradicting every tale. Mera got to keep the stories of King Arthur and the Round Table and I had to dispose of them before the night was through. I learned Atlantis’s history, of course. But to a child raised in Atlantis, the stories of the Surface seemed much more magical. And, because I lost that, I don’t think I’ll ever be the same boy she knew when she was younger. Does that make sense?”

"I think I understand what you mean."

He nods, then looks down at his fork, "It’s strange. Sometimes I feel like I still have a duty to Atlantis. That, if a new marriage were arranged for me, I would accept it at surface as I did with Mera because that is how Atlantis has always done it. However, I think if there were children involved, I’d be better. My father never tried to compromise with my mother, even after I was born. The way he treated her in front of me… Children involved or not, the way he treated her was wrong. Part of me still feels the pull to do what Atlantis requires of me. The other part is repulsed by the idea, for anyone. Afraid that another child would ever have to go through what I did. What my mother did. What I almost...”

He stops himself, staring harder at his fork before taking another bite.

“After getting to know you these last few months, I have a feeling your personality and experience would make you a patient, sympathetic father. If not a tad overprotective,” she muses, “Though I don’t think you’re quite ready for such a big step any time soon.”

He takes a deep breath, chuckling, “No, not quite.”

Why they've ventured into such a topic is a mystery to her, and she folds her hands in her lap, hoping to appear humble when she inevitably oversteps.

"I mean it, though, Orm. From what I've heard about your father, although it's honestly not much, you are not him. You've made some really bad decisions, I'm not gonna lie," she lets a laugh escape her at the obvious understatement and he blushes, "And I know I've been living with someone who has committed literal war crimes. But at the very least, you are a man who once hated the entire Surface who now has taken the time to expand his worldview by beaching himself. That is commendable and I think it attests to the man you are."

"The promise of your companionship made the decision easier to bear," he confesses.

"And I'm flattered. But the decision was still yours to make. I could have left Atlantis without you, you know."

"You really could have," he says, as if realizing it for the first time, "Why didn't you?"

"We've talked about this before. I was eager to make a friend."

"You have friends."

"Friends whose relationships I'd strained so much they didn't even realize I'd been missing for two years! I love them, of course, but I wasn't as close to them as I could have been. And besides, I've never had an Atlantean prince before," she says, unfolding her hands and reaching out. He places his right hand in hers and she folds her other hand over it, "But now I do. The second I saw you, with your mother flying into that cell to fret over your frustrated face, I knew I had to do anything to know you and your story. I didn't realize that the story would be so familiar to me."

"You've mentioned that before, but you said much more. Considering you're the woman who has defended me since the first moment I met you, practically, I'd like to know you better."

"I would bore you with the details!" she sighs dramatically, trying to deflect his curiosity.

He laughs and she knows her attempt didn't work, "I highly doubt that. Althera, I know exactly how long your morning routine is, I know how you like your chicken prepared best, and I know a lot about how you fight. So much so that I would dare to put my life in your hands, if necessary. But I struggle with understanding exactly how you say our stories are alike. How does someone as powerful as you wind up babysitting someone like me?"

She looks up at him and once again admires how open he has been with her the past 12 hours. It would be unkind to not reciprocate just a little bit.

"As I'm sure you've guessed by now, my family isn't perfect. There are very few of us in my immediate family who haven't done something people might consider as bad as, if not worse, than what you've done. Some of them regret their choices, others make it seem like no big deal, and some have tried their hardest to redeem themselves. We are all disasters. That's why I don't judge you too harshly.

"Everyone in your family?" he inquires.

"Everyone on my father's side of the family," she scrunches up her face, "I never really knew my biological mother. She was a princess on the African continent on her path to be queen, or the equivalent of one. My father was traveling with a group of Mediterranean diplomats on a journey to the homeland when he met her. He had disguised his true identity, of course, and she didn't realize what he was until she had given birth. My older sisters and I were triplets. They were born… unremarkable for the most part. They got to stay and be raised as twins; Princesses loved and adored by their people until their death. I was different."

She grabs her empty plate and he takes it from her, stacking it on the other empty dining platters. Then he leans forward, teasing and cute as hell when he murmurs, "I knew you were a princess all along."

"No you did not!" she laughs, "You had no idea!"

"I did. A prince always knows when he's around a princess," he grins from ear to ear, propping his head up on his hand and she rolls her eyes, trying to avoid looking directly at him, "I had been assuming you were an only child, though."

She laughs, "No! No, no, I have several siblings. Most of them are a lot older than me, though."

"Well, isn't separating one triplet from the others just because they're different also a somewhat cruel thing to do?"

"Maybe, but my mother tried her best. A child like me is not easy to take care of. There's a story about when I was an infant. Someone separated my sisters from me and I set the crib on fire!"

"On fire?" Orm laughs, then teases, "I pity the father of your future children."

She presses her palms to her warm cheeks and then looks up at him, "And I haven't fully grown out of some of the accidents. Mera and I were talking today and I told her that I would always shapeshift to take the appearance of whoever was taking care of me, a recent example would be these gills. I told you that when I shapeshift, it's rarely intentional. So I have always been a lot to handle and I like to think my mother did all she could for me, but when one of the servants tried to kill me for being an abomination, she decided to get back in touch with my father. He brought me back to his wife, who was kind enough to me, but I could hardly call her my mother. Even getting to that point in our relationship was... A process. She was understandably furious about my existence and, while they decided whether they would separate again, I was left in the care of my uncle."

“Whom you love tremendously,” Orm observes, “I hear it in your voice whenever you speak of him.”

“Oh, I do,” she nods, “He and my aunt took care of me for the first three years of my life. The days I spent with him, I never had to be anybody but myself. He loved me unconditionally and spoiled me silly. But the thing I loved the most that he didn’t even realize was that he held my hand in public. He wasn’t afraid to be seen with me, even when the other people whispered behind us. And my Aunt! When she would come home, she was just as wonderful to me. For a little while, we were like a happy little family. But my father, despite how little he paid attention to me, remained possessive. I was very young, but I still remember the arguments my uncle and father would have when they thought I was asleep. After three whole years, I was suddenly uprooted from where I belonged. I continued trying to fit in, mostly gaining pity rather than friendships, and it eventually all wore down on me. When I was old enough, I left. And, well, I eventually wound up here. With you.”

She looks up and is surprised to find him looking at her with a small smile on his lips.

“Sometimes I don’t give you enough credit, Althera.”

“Has there ever been a time when you’ve given me too much?”

He shakes his head, “Not yet.”

“Well, nobody’s perfect,” she says, then stifles a yawn, "I think I'm going to wrap up storytime right there. I'm exhausted, Orm."

He chuckles and calls someone to clear the room, then pulls the curtain around their makeshift bedrooms. Snuggling up to her pillow, she finds herself deeply homesick for the first time in years.

Chapter Text

"This is ridiculous," he murmurs.

"Say bye, Darling! Say 'thank you for having us'," she says, waving at Arthur. Arthur waves back, grinning wide, and Mera shakes her head, diving into the water.

Orm raises his hand and waves once, his arm stiff, and Arthur laughs hard, gripping his stomach. She is almost sure that Orm smiled a little when he turned away.

Looking at the beach around them, she is mystified.

"It's spotless."

He clears his throat, looking at his feet, "It is."

"Was it like this when you left?"

"No, it was exactly how I'd left it."

"Very funny," she snorts, though she genuinely means it.

"Maybe he had something to do with it."

He gestures at the man parked at the top of the hill. Bruce Wayne looks down at the pair, his arms folded across his chest.

She grins and takes off, taking on the impossible task of running up the sandy hill.

"Brucie!"

"You look incredible," he says, "No at all like you were taken out by 30 highly poisonous creatures."

"Orm took care of me," she chirps. "You remember him, I presume?"

Orm makes it up the hill beside her when Bruce offers his hand. He shakes it, looking only slightly off-put.

"I'm sorry I was so distrustful. Althera is a good friend and you're a stranger. I let my worry get the best of me."

Orm shakes his head, "Understandable. Had our roles been reversed, I might have reacted the same way."

Bruce nods, then turns to Althera.

"I've come as a warning. Your house is holding a handful of people who have worn holes in your floor from pacing."

"Oh Gods, is Mama Di there?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Last time I saw her she lectured me about taking in Orm. About how I can't trust every sob story after… well..."

Bruce's eyes soften sympathetically, "Althera, she wants to protect you. I don't blame her after what the two of you went through."

"She used the lasso on him, Bruce! It was completely uncalled for and made me feel like complete shit for a vast number of reasons."

"I think you two need to sit down and talk. There are still a few things we're not all caught up on. Maybe you'll understand her motivations a bit better afterward."

Not completely satisfied since he didn't blindly take her side, she grimaces, "A few things including you having got Superman killed?"

A blushing Bruce Wayne is a beautiful sight, "I didn't know you knew each other. Had you been there, things obviously would have gone differently. Besides, I brought him back to life afterward."

"Uh-huh," she hums, giving him a look. He sighs and opens the car door for her and she looks up at Orm.

"I think I'll walk back, Althera. My new therapist says it'll be good to give myself moments to ground myself. I think this will be good for me before I greet all your… people."

She frowns, "Are you sure? I can stay behind if you want. We can walk home together."

"No, everyone is waiting for you. It'd be impolite. You go on. I'll be there before you know it."

"Alright. I'll see you then," she says, kissing his cheek before slipping into the car. Bruce nods at Orm before getting into the car himself.

They drive off and she looks out the window at Orm's shape as it gets smaller in the distance.

"You're worried about him?"

"Eternally. But he'll be alright," she says, then shakes her head, "I’m being silly, but the time that it takes him to walk home will be the longest we've been away from each other all week. I think I'll miss him."

"Well, there's a lot of people at the house who miss you, so maybe that will take your mind off of it for a little while."

Chapter Text

She’s grateful that Bruce walked in before her, as he is a large cushion between her, Diana and Barry. And because the figure who sits on the couch doesn’t see her immediate reaction upon seeing him there.

She reassures Mama Di and Barry enough to finally get the door closed behind her, Barry oogling at her new urchin scars, while asking where Orm is and at what time he’ll be coming home. Diana cools down after seeing how well Althera can walk on her own, having initially insisted she lean on her if she needs to and to not try to be tough about it.

Walking into the living room, her other guest stands.

“Kal-el.”

“Al.”

She looks up at him, pushing up off the ground to hover at his eye level. He watches her with a straight face, his head tilting slightly, his blue eyes watching her from under those cute, dorky glasses he’s been wearing the last few times she’s seen him. Could he really have been dead without her knowing? Without her feeling it in her soul?

She reaches out and touches his cheek and his eyes brighten as he tries not to laugh.

That is definitely her Clark!

She breaks into a smile and grabs his hands, dropping back to the floor and pulling him into a hug, squeezing him as tight as she can. He smiles and squeezes her back just as tight.

“I heard you had quite the adventure while I was gone,” she muses.

“I could say the exact same thing to you.”

“Not much of an adventure, as I was in a coma for the majority of it.”

“Not much of an adventure, as I was dead for most of it.”

She laughs and steps back, looking up at him, “Dead be damned, you look as good as ever.”

“And you don’t change. Your hair is much longer, though. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your curls so long. And you have... gills now?”

“Temporary, I think. Useful in Atlantis, not so much up here,” she blushes, pulling her hair forward to cover them, “It’s really great to see you, Clark.”

The look in his eyes is so familiar it hurts when he nods, “It’s wonderful to see you, too, Althera.”

Diana, Barry, and Bruce had stood to the side of them, watching their exchange. Now Althera looks at them and they disperse, Bruce walking to the kitchen and pulling out a bottle of champagne. He gestures to Althera and she hurries over.

“I meant to open this to celebrate your health, but I don’t want to leave one of your friends out.”

“You’re the sweetest, Bruce. Thank you. He shouldn’t be long and I’m sure there’s something I can make, food wise, to tide everyone over in the meantime--”

He interrupts her, shaking his head, “You’re not going to make us lunch, Althera. You just got home, this is your day. I’ll order takeout or something.”

“Are you sure? Because I kinda wanted to use cooking as an excuse to not be the center of attention.”

He nods, “Come on, time to talk to your friends.”

She groans as he puts the bottle away and drags her back into the living room.

“That is insane!” she gasps, leaning toward Barry excitedly. “The whole thing fell over, just like that?”

“I mean, Superman over there kind of helped and gave me a nudge,” Barry says as if just remembering. Diana laughs, shaking her head, and Althera snorts, dropping back onto the couch. “But it was mostly because of my effort, wasn’t it?”

“It definitely was,” Kal says, giving him a genuine nod. She looks at him with her eyebrows raised and he chuckles silently.

“Victor mighta helped a little, too,” Barry recalls.

“Your new friend, Victor? You didn’t tell me he was in the League.”

“Yeah. I didn’t want you to worry about me not having friends outside of work.”

“Hmm, I might meet him someday, then?”

Bruce makes a soft sound and she looks over, “Probably not. He’s not extremely social. Likes to keep to the shadows.”

“Yet she has the Batman sitting on her couch snacking on chips,” Diana teases. Althera has never seen Bruce blush so profusely.

The doorbell rings and she stands, “That’ll be the food.”

“Althera, sit down!”

“Diana, I can grab a box of food, I’ll be perfectly alright. Besides, I’m technically the hostess around here,” she calls over her shoulder.

Opening the door, she finds the uncomfortable Chinese food deliverer along with Orm, who looks down at the man in confusion.

“Orm, darling, come in,” she giggles, and Orm walks around the man, taking his place behind her. They make a capitalistic exchange and Orm grabs the box of food before she can.

Leaving the front door, Orm follows her into the living room.

“Our host has arrived, though don’t make too much of a spectacle about it. I’m still the main attraction of this freak show.”

“Barry,” Orm greets him, used to his presence around the house. He shifts the box of food in his arms to shake Diana’s hand politely.

Frowning, Althera looks around, “Where’s Kal?”

Barry points to the bathroom as the door opens and he walks out of the hallway. His eyes land on her first, then he notices the new person in the room.

“I take it this isn’t the food delivery man?” he says.

“Orm, Darling, this is a friend of mine, Clark Kent or Superman or Kal-el. Kal, this is Orm Marius or Prince Orm, Arthur's half-brother. He is also a friend of mine,” Althera says. She clears her throat and grabs the box of food from Orm, placing it on the coffee table. She drops herself onto the couch and Barry looks over at her, raising his eyebrows as she glares at him.

Kal walks over and Orm meets him halfway. Shaking hands, Kal-el speaks, “I hear you’re who we should thank for taking care of our mutual friend.”

Orm shakes his head, “It was nothing, really. Her quick recovery made the task a simple one.”

“It could also be said that Orm is the reason she got hurt in the first place, so he kinda just did what he had to do,” Barry chirps from the couch, a box of noodles already open in his hands.

“Barry!” she scolds.

Orm’s cheeks turn pink and he nods, “Yes. Well, there’s that, too.”

Diana clears her throat and Orm looks at her. Though his facial expression remains polite, Althera can feel his guard go up.

“Bruce said you went into action to get her the help she needed immediately, despite putting yourself in a bad situation. Althera is family to all of us, so thank you for bringing her home.”

“I am honest, it was no problem. Any time spent with Althera is a pleasure itself,” he says, looking down at her. She blushes and stands, reaching out and squeezing his hand.

“You’re sweet, Orm,” she says, “But this is getting a little too sentimental for my liking, so we should crack open the food asap.”

Everyone’s bellies full of Chinese food and champagne, they swap their favorite stories of their adventures with Althera. Diana typically paints her in a sweet, helpful light. Barry and Clark share personal stories, though Barry typically ends with her getting in trouble and Clark's with a lesson they both learned that day. Bruce's involve things she did while on missions with him.

"...and she just dropped herself to the ground."

"No! No, she didn't," Diana says in disbelief. Althera covers her blushing face as if she could hide away.

"She did. It scared the hell out of the guard. He started calling for help and that gave me the opportunity to appear like I was bringing aid. I put a bug on her and, when they carried her in, they didn't expect a thing."

Diana glares at her for putting herself in danger and, sensing that hiding behind her own arms isn't working, Althera sinks into Orm's side, blocking herself entirely from view.

"Gosh, I've got another," Clark says, "A bit different from my earlier ones."

"Oh goody, Clark," she breathes, sitting up again. He beams at her, then begins.

"Everyone has been wondering about this info, I’m sure, but yes, Althera and I were in an on-and-off relationship for a while. Cat's out of the bag."

Barry's mouth falls open and Diana covers her face, laughing. Bruce smiles softly, shaking his head, his eyes averted.

She had never planned to say it out loud, it seemed like one of those things that just isn't mentioned. But Clark just spitting it out like that makes her cheeks burn like fire and he winks at her.

"Oh, Gods, as if today hasn't been humiliating enough," she groans. Looking up at Orm, he looks at her with his eyebrows raised and a million questions in his eyes. She gives him a look of her own and he smiles, giving his attention back to Kal.

"Anyway, we were in Greece and Althera was there visiting her uncle. I was back at the hotel, in the lobby and I hear these people mentioning that there is going to be a festival there in a few days. So I keep listening because it sounds like something Althera and I could do to pass the time. Then they mention that some Seer is supposed to be there. What was her name again, Al?"

"Lula. Lula the Knowing," she snorts.

He chuckles at the memory, "Well, fast-forward a few days and we are at the festival walking around and eating our souvlakia. Althera spots a baklava taste testing stand in the distance and just takes off. Well I'm not one to shove my way through a crowd for a flaky, sweet snack, so I step away for a bit. I'm standing behind this large tent, and this lady comes out behind me. I figure she's already given me a good look down before I notice her staring. Lula was not nearly as old as I expected her to be. The two of us started talking because she mentioned Althera's love of baklava. Finally, after some time, Althera emerges from the crowd, her fingers sticky and her face disappointed. I introduce her to Lula who keeps watching Althera..."

"Wait, was this lady really a Seer?" Barry asks.

"Let the next part of the story answer your question," Althera shakes her head.

"After looking Althera up and down, she finally says, 'You didn't tell me she was a cradle snatcher'."

Bruce chokes on his sip of champagne and Barry wheezes.

"She knew Althera’s age?" Diana asks, intrigued.

Kal nods, "She knew there was definitely something to Althera, beyond her age and her affinity for baklava."

"Hardly a Seer," Althera shakes her head, "when I had honey all over my fingers."

"Althera, she gave us the name of your biological mother," Kal-el looks at her.

She grunts, Orm and Kal both chucking at her.

“Orm, don’t you have any stories of Althera? You’ve been living with her for a while now and it’s hard to believe she hasn’t done a single crazy, or inspiring I guess, thing since meeting you,” Barry says.

Orm laughs, looking down into his glass, “No, Althera is pretty well behaved. She has to be a good influence for me, doesn’t she?”

“This is why he’s my favorite out of all of you,” she says, receiving a glare from everyone in the room.

“Although…” he says, looking at her sideways, “I have promised that I would travel with her in the near future. Maybe in a few months I'll have better stories to share."

She smiles, perking up and wrapping her arms around his waist. He lifts his glass so it doesn't tip, looking down at her.

"I think I'll find a way to bribe him into keeping silent before then."

Kal-el is the first to leave, followed by Brucie. Before he left he promised Althera a mission soon, which she was eager to accept. Diana hung back for a while longer than Althera expected, promising to send her a bunch of documents involving the case she's working on at the moment. She mentioned that Althera would have a particular interest in it if she took the time to read it. Of course, Barry sits on their couch, tipsily cracking open everyone's fortune cookies on their behalf.

"Mr. Kent's says that he should expect big news in the next week. Boring," he says, tossing the slip of paper over his shoulder. Orm picks it up and sets it aside. "Bruce's is also pretty cliché. Keep an eye out for people who might want something you have. Okay, that's literally everyone in his case."

Orm stands and walks out into the garden. She watches as he looks at the soil, bending down and sticking his hand in the dirt. Then he stands up straight and looks up at the sky.

"Diana's says to be wary of smiling faces as they might be a mask. Okay, might have to talk to her about that one."

"You're having too much fun with these," she purrs, squeezing his arm.

"These are the fortunes of many prominent members of the Justice League. These should be regarded with the most seriosity."

"I apologize, please continue."

"Orm's is right here," he says, looking over his shoulder and then cracking the cookie open, shoving it into his mouth, "It says time and patience are dire for self-acceptance. Okay, that's weird. Yours now. You wanna do it?"

"No, you're doing so well on your own."

He scrunches his nose at her and cracks the cookie open, "Althera, a recent romantic endeavor has potential if you remain patient."

She swipes it out of his hand, "It doesn't say that."

"That's really specific," he snorts, eating half the cookie. "You should look into it."

The tiny slip of paper does indeed say what Barry read and her face turns warm. Barry notices her silence and grows curious.

"Hold on. Is something going on between you and Mr. Ocean Master that I should know about?"

She rolls her eyes, "No."

"No?"

"No. It's just," she pauses, then sighs, "Well, the last few days were a little strange. There were a handful of people in Atlantis who were trying to paint us in a different way. Then last night, they set up this dinner for the two of us. It was silly and we ended up eating in our pajamas and just talking for a while."

"Talking about what?"

"Our families. Our up-bringing. Just stuff."

"Then why do you sound so flustered?"

She glares, "I'm not flustered. It's just that… well earlier that day… We… well, we…"

"You what?" he nearly yells, excited and impatient.

"He took me for a ride on the back of a Great White Shark, Barry!"

"You're joking? Seriously, you have to be joking."

She shakes her head, dropping herself onto the couch and grabbing the pillows, attempting to smother herself.

"How are you not going to fall in love with him?" Barry teases.

She groans and chucks the pillow at his head, which he catches, laughing hard.

"Don't you dare say that ever again. Don't even imply..."

"Dude, you probably had his arm wrapped around your waist while riding a shark and then you had an accidentally romantic dinner together while talking about both of your childhoods all in the same day? I don't know where your strength comes from."

"It is deteriorating. I can feel it."

"Well what are you going to do? Let it?"

"No! No," she grimaces, "He's clearly not even considered changing our relationship. He even said that, if he has to, he’ll accept another arranged marriage. And I'm just so happy to have him as a friend, Barry, I really am."

Barry smiles, "Yeah, I know. I can tell."

"He has bigger, more important things on his mind at the moment and that's perfectly fine. Besides, I know with near certainty that, once I can find someone else who is enough eye-candy to get my mind off of Orm long enough, I'll be over it. I'm not gonna complicate our friendship over something like this."

"One: it seemed to work out fine for you and Superman. Two: that's not what the cookie said."

"Clark is different, obviously. There are very little similarities between Orm and Clark. And forget the cookies."

He shrugs and turns back to the cookie wrappers, cracking open the last one, "Mine says that gossip can cause a good mind to spoil."

She looks at him and he looks at her. They burst into laughter at the exact same time.

Chapter Text

They had expected to leave town and begin their first adventure immediately upon returning from Atlantis. What they did not expect was their dear neighbor Elena’s concern about them having left so suddenly and her gentle persistence that they visit her as soon as possible. Therefore, it took a few days before Althera could convince Orm to go with her.

When they arrive, Elena already stands at the door. She gives them both tiny hugs and, when John comes in, he acknowledges them with a pat on the back each before taking Orm with him around the back of the house.

“When we came over and no one was home, I figured you two must be off doing whatever it is young people do nowadays. But it was a pity you missed the event Mr. Wayne had last week.”

“Mr. Wayne?”

“Bruce Wayne. You know, the billionaire.”

Though Althera had already assumed he’d been involved with the town’s scattered beaches being clear, he never said anything to her about an event.

“Oh yes, he was here only for a minute or two to thank everyone for coming and then he left for some important business. But it was on the news that he donated money to an organization that finds new ways to clean the beaches and get rid of trash. Apparently there was a raffle and Marty down at the fishermen’s docks says he didn’t have anything to do with it, but we know he was the one who entered our little town in such a raffle, because who else would do such a thing? Good ol’ Marty.”

Althera blinks, feeling a little lost, “So Mr. Wayne came here for a raffle?”

“No, Mr. Wayne came with the non-profit. It was the people from the non-profit and a bunch of our own townsfolk who signed up to contribute who cleaned the place up.”

“You’re kidding me,” Althera laughs in disbelief, “We really missed all of that?”

Elena smiles proudly, then her eyes soften to a look of earnestness, “You know, when that storm threw all that trash on the shores, I was so scared. Everyone was, of course. It seemed like… like some terrible reckoning. But… well, I’m glad we are making something good out of the bad.”

Suddenly feeling guilty for something she didn’t do, Althera looks down at her hands as she finishes her job at the sink. Elena continues talking as she putters around the kitchen, something about a grandson or a baby, but Althera’s mind is still on Bruce.

A little while later, Althera goes outside to see what John and Orm are up to, and she finds Orm is at work, dropping hay from a large trailer at the side of the house. John walks past her with a dolly, taking the bales Orm dropped.

“John, do you think I can talk to Orm for a minute? We’ll keep working, won’t slack off in the meantime,” she says, her voice sweet as honey.

“I’ll go see what my wife is up to,” he says, wiping his forehead. His cheeks are flushed red like he was working hard and he looks happy to walk away.

Orm drops down from the trailer beside her, not a drop of sweat on his face.

“Is something wrong?”

”No, darling. It’s just… you know how we noticed the beach was clean when we arrived?” she asks, tipping the dolly and hay back. He follows her into the barn and climbs up the already stacked pile. Once he’s at the top, she starts tossing the bales at him. By the looks of it, this will be the last delivery of hay. The barn is already full and John and Elena should be alright before winter comes and the grass freezes over.

“It was your friend?”

“Yup.”

“Nearly, what, a year after it was thrown on the beaches in the first place?” Orm snorts, catching two other bales before landing beside her, “Seems like he did it because this is your beach.”

She grimaces and they walk back to the trailer, “Actually, anytime Bruce Wayne extends himself out of his city of birth is a miracle. He’s got, like, a really one-track mind in that regard. A bit like someone else I know.”

Orm doesn’t respond to her and she feels herself start to prickle with a little bit of agitation, “But I guess Gotham Harbor may have been affected by your shenanigans, as if it weren't already bad enough. And apparently, he’s done more than just our beach. I looked it up on my phone and he’s donated a lot of money to an organization that is working to find solutions to these problems.”

Orm climbs up and drops a few more bales, which she stacks on the dolly.

“Fascinating. As a politician, I can’t help but wonder what his edge is.”

“And if ever you tried to group Bruce in with any politician, the whole thing would blow up in your face,” she warns, “He was quiet at our home, which he purchased for us mind you, because he found himself in good company. He was, dare I say, comfortable. You will find him a completely different man around any politician friends. Again, I’m sure you can relate a little.”

Orm raises his eyebrows to acknowledge what she said, but otherwise continues moving hay.

Still a little agitated, she assists Orm as she continues.

“I feel like he’s doing this as a way to tell us he’s got our back, you know? He’s not super affectionate, so he tends to show he cares in ways that can be a little bizarre…” she scrunches her nose and sighs, “Look, I’m fudging my words up and I’ll just spit it out. I think Bruce is trying to say he’s going to trust me in trusting you. And yeah, he probably is doing it solely because you’re connected to me now, but I think that’s perfectly okay. And I would appreciate it if you would be just a little less cynical of my friend.”

Orm pauses, squinting up at the sun. When he looks down at her, his expression softens a fraction, “I’m sorry. And you’re right. I am, quite literally, in his debt.”

“I just don’t want you watching the news one day and seeing something about him and his… past public appearances. This Bruce Wayne persona he puts on. The media knows a completely different man from the man I know, just like Atlantis knows a different Orm than the one I know.”

He wipes his palm on his jeans and nods, “To be honest, I did see a bit about it on the news. And I did form an opinion of him.”

“You watched the news without me?”

“You said you hate watching it.”

“I do, but I would have liked to have discussed some current events with you. We could have had this conversation in the comfort of our living room, not in this smelly barn.”

“I apologize. But I also feel obliged to ask why you care so much about what I think about Surface Dweller news.”

“I don’t know, Orm,” she sighs, tipping the dolly back, “Maybe to help me understand what’s going on in your mind a bit better? Arthur, Mera, Vulko, even your mother… they look at me like they want me to reassure them that you are becoming whatever it is they want you to be. But I can’t lie to them because I don’t know what it is they want me to tell them. And I can’t tell them the truth because you keep your thoughts about the Surface locked up pretty tight.”

He frowns deep, his eyes looking conflicted before he admits, “I have indeed had a few observations about the Surface that I have not shared. But, seeing as none of the thoughts are fully formed, it would be incredibly… vulnerable of me to share at this time.”

“This is your journey, Orm, so I get what you’re saying. But I sorta stuck myself in the middle of something crazy when I got involved with you,” she chuckles, “I don’t regret it, but you have to throw me some scraps every so often. Because I know in my bones who you are. But if I tell them that, they’ll look at me like I’m naïve as hell.”

She carries the hay up herself and he takes the dolly back on his own. When he returns, he climbs up beside her and pulls her down next to him.

“Orm, I promised John no breaks.”

“Althera, just a moment. Please.”

She sighs and looks up at him.

“I would be lying if I said I had considered how this aspect of our arrangement would affect you. I suppose I thought that, if I wasn’t actively out drowning Surface Dwellers or plotting to usurp Arthur, they would assume I was doing as they wished. Clearly that isn’t so. I’m sorry I haven’t been communicative about this. And I admit, it is going to be difficult to start. By Atlan, it would be so much easier if you were the only person I had to report to. Because it’s like you've said before. I can be absolutely everything or nothing at all with you.”

“That makes me happy to hear,” she says, her heart tightening in her chest. Then she smiles sadly, “Vulko, not so much. People like Vulko need proof. How we behaved in Atlantis helped a little, but soon enough someone will be back to demand more.”

He takes a deep breath.

“That is true. Like I said, I will do my best to share more,” he says, then squares his shoulders, “As a matter of fact, I was thinking about what the Surface Dwellers were saying on the news about what I did just a little bit ago.”

She looks up at him warily, “Really?”

“It’s strange. You and Arthur have mentioned that the human governments deny the existence of Atlantis. Yet some people speculate because of Arthur’s existence. At first, I resented them. The fact that they were so ignorant. But when I started listening… I was surprised, to say the least.”

“How so?”

When he looks back down at her, his blue eyes are calm.

“They said they understood.”

She takes his hand, looking down at his palm.

“The ones who speculated about Atlantis's existence were the ones who said this most often. I saw them discussing it on the television. There were others, of course, who focused only on the emotion behind the lives lost. I don’t blame them, as I knew what I was doing when I gave the order. But the fact that so many had the gall to come out and say ‘I understand why Atlantis would want to do that’ just made my head hurt even more than it did before.”

She drags her finger across his lifeline, noticing a deep line she hadn’t noticed before. He keeps talking.

“I wanted to scream at them that they damn well should understand. I nearly burst a vein.”

She traces this unfamiliar line across the back of his hand, having it disappear and turn into a scar. When he doesn’t continue speaking, she looks up at him, “And then what?”

“Then I heard you stirring in your room, so I turned the TV off. You came out, we argued about the thermostat, you took a shower, and we had a pleasant breakfast.”

She snorts, “That was literally yesterday morning.”

“Yes.”

She glares at him and releases his hand, “So I should tell your family that you want to scream at Surface Dwellers.”

“Not all of them, but yes. And I think that is much better than wanting to drown them all.”

She squints up at his face, the sun now behind his head, then shrugs, “I guess that’s true. Even humans want to scream at other humans after they watch the news.”

“Exactly.”

“Then should we inform John and Elena of this progress of yours?”

“Absolutely not.”

She snickers and he grabs her, pulling her into a sideways hug. They quickly finish unloading the hay before John can rejoin them. Elena looks extremely happy that they finished so quickly, insisting they stay to eat before they walk home, which Althera accepts enthusiastically.

Making sure Elena knows about their upcoming trip, Althera reminds her twice before they begin the walk home.

The changing fields around them rattle and sway in the soft breeze and, as she walks, she feels the rain begin in a light, misty kind of way. Orm looks up at the sky, curious, then smiles as she holds her hands out, the water condensing on her like a second skin.

“Why be Ocean Master when you can have a friend who masters not only the water, but earth, fire, and air, too?” he teases, watching as she sloughs the water off of her like a snake molting its skin.

“If ever I get an ocean of my own, I’ll let you be its master.”

“I don’t know how you’d randomly acquire an ocean, but I’m glad you think I could handle the task.”

“I’ll call it… Altheris. And the city you rule in can be named… Ormeris.”

“Clever.”

“Unless you’d like to name it something else?”

He makes a face, then shrugs, “I can’t very well name it after my mother. Then it’d just be Atlantis 2.0. Or Atlanntis, with two n’s.”

“Ormeris it is!”

He shakes his head and happily follows her the rest of the way home.

Chapter Text

Dear Althera,

Apparently it is a common practice in therapy to write letters to people with no intention of ever delivering them. Usually these letters are for important people in the writer’s life. Therefore, I decided the first person I wanted to write to was you.

To be honest, Althera, I find it mortifying how much power you have over me. And I know you well enough now to know that you would never exercise that power without purpose (we both know I had to learn that the hard way). Yet, even then, I imagine myself a shell of the man I used to be, letting life drag me along while I cower beneath the wing of a woman, of a being, I don’t quite understand. A woman who confounds yet brings so much peace to me.

Althera, I wanted nothing to do with you. You were a nuisance. The way you continued to buzz around my cell despite my silence towards you was the most frustrating thing to me at the time. Now, I am so very happy you were so persistent.

Not that I am worth such a long pursuit. In all fairness, you didn’t have a lot of options at the time.

That is something I am still struggling to understand. You are not my half-brother, not my mother, not connected to me by blood at all. Nor are you obligated to spend nearly every hour of the day with me. Yet, for some reason, you do. An absolute stranger. We make each other meals, we go on walks together, and talk about silly, trivial things. We paint and read together and you are always so inviting, so giving.

You are the most giving person I have ever met and I don’t deserve you.

I do not deserve your kindness, Althera.

You know well that I am not always the best at communicating what I am thinking. But I hope you have some idea of the earnestness of my feelings for you. I want to be a better friend. And, of course I am doing this therapy for me. But as I sit here and write this, I suddenly feel like I need you to know that I am doing it, in part, for you as well.

Our last night in Atlantis, I promised myself that I would make the time you’ve spent with me worth it. Because if I return to you even a fraction of the peace you give me, I would be happy. Even that fraction would be priceless.

You’ve trusted me since the very beginning, Althera. Maybe it's genuine trust, or maybe it's because you've had nothing to lose, even if I did decide to betray you. I can't be completely certain. But if there is anything I am certain of in my life right now, it is you and your kindness.

Thank you for Everything,

Orm Marius

Chapter Text

"Beauty or destruction?" she asks.

"Which is the truth?"

"Both," she says, chewing on her pencil.

"Then we should begin with a place of beauty, don't you think?"

"I have somewhere in mind, but how should we get there?" She says to herself, dragging her pencil down the pad of paper. She sets it down and Orm and grabs it, studying the line she drew intensely.

"How do others?"

"By boarding large means of transportation with large groups of other people. I don't think this is the best way for us, though, as I am not very inconspicuous when it comes to dealing with large crowds in confined spaces."

He looks up from the pad of paper, "You're claustrophobic?"

“Why board a plane when you can pretty much fly everywhere?” she snorts, then grins, “I’ll fly you there with me.”

He looks at her warily.

“Alright,” she says, offering him her hand, “I promise you will not fall. But if you want to land, tell me.”

He gives her a single nod. She has noticed his aversion to heights and doesn’t want to push him too hard, too soon. He’s been quiet since they came outside and she figures he’s been giving himself a silent pep talk.

He takes her hand and she raises them a foot off the ground.

Almost immediately, they start to tip, his hand squeezing hers tighter.

“Orm,” she says, pulling them back up, “How about you look at me and not at the ground?”

He inhales, then slowly straightens his head and shoulders to their usual strong posture. He looks at her, that same focused, determined look in his eyes, and she drifts towards him, “It’s just like swimming in Atlantis, except there is air around us instead of water.”

“Except that I would never fall to my death while underwater,” he says, his voice tense.

She smiles, her one hand still in his as she lifts the other to his face, looking him straight in the eyes, “If you were holding my hand, would you ever allow me to drown in Atlantis?”

He looks down for a second, the two of them tipping before Althera steadies them again. Looking back at her, he frowns, “Of course not.”

“And as long as I’m holding your hand I will not let you fall."

He holds her gaze, a million thoughts running through his mind. Finally, he nods and she raises them a little higher. Then more.

He looks over at the house and finds himself above the roof. He makes a sound of surprise and they begin to tip yet again, quicker than before, and she rises and tugs him into her. Nose to nose, he looks straight into her eyes and chuckles nervously.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she giggles.

“I may… I may have to admit that I have a fear of small heights.”

She smiles, “Well I’m claustrophobic, so it happens to the best of us.”

“Maybe we could try this again another day?”

“Sure.”

He lays on the floor and she sits above him, paint covering her fingertips.

Strewn on the floor are little buckets of paint, paintbrushes, gray water, and dirty, colorful paint rags. Two partially painted canvases lay forgotten as she paints a sunflower around his eye with the tip of her finger, directly above the daisy and tulip she’d already painted on his cheek. When she lifts her hand, he opens his eyes.

“You look very pretty.”

“Are you happy, now?”

“I am positively cheerful,” she grins, “What about you? We were supposed to be painting so you could relax.”

“I feel pretty relaxed.”

“I can make some chamomile.”

He shakes his head, sitting up, “No, I’m good.”

She looks at him for a long time, then reaches out, wiping her hand on a rag. After a moment of her continued silence, he looks at her, “What?”

“Can I please take a picture of you?”

“No.”

“Orm!”

“Absolutely not,” he stands, heading toward the bathroom.

“Please don’t wash it off yet! You look so handsome!” she jumps up, chasing after him. She dives into the bathroom before him and sits on the counter in front of the sink.

“Princess, you better move.”

“I promise I’ll keep it to myself forever and ever. I won’t show anyone, just you and I will know it exists,” she says, grabbing his hands, “Please!”

He sighs and steps back, thinking hard for a second. Then he leans down and looks her straight in the eyes, “Do you promise?”

“From the bottom of my heart.”

"I need a stronger, more solemn promise that my half-brother, in particular, will never lay eyes on it."

"Of course I won't show Arthur! He'll want me to paint his face, too," she rolls her eyes.

"While we're on the subject, no one in all of Atlantis will ever see it either. Swear to me, Althera Prince."

She groans and nods, "Fine! I promise. I swear."

He stands up straight and looks over her head into the mirror. After a moment, he groans and murmurs something under his breath, gesturing, “Hurry up and take the picture.”

“Really?”

“Do it before I change my mind.”

She flies out of the room to retrieve her phone and flies back in an instant. She hugs him and takes the picture, then takes a picture of the two of them.

“Now can I wash it off?”

“Fine, ruin my masterpiece,” she pouts as her phone starts to ring. Bruce’s name pops up and she steps out of the bathroom to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, are you busy?” he asks, hearing the water turn on behind her.

“No, Orm and I are just hanging out. We had plans, but it seems like we’re gonna have to stall them. Why? Do you need something?”

“No. I had a bit of free time and was just wondering how you’ve been doing health-wise. What did you say about your plans?”

Orm comes out from scrubbing his face, his cheek bright pink from the effort. She reaches out and he stoops down for her to gently pat the side of his face that hasn’t gone through hell. He smiles and chuckles as he straightens out and walks to the kitchen, “Um, nothing. Orm and I were planning a little thing and it just… well, you remember what happened the last time I boarded a plane?”

On the other end of the call there’s silence. Then, “I do.”

“Yup.”

“What are you getting on a plane for? Because you know I can get you there.”

“No, Bruce. Absolutely not.”

“Hypothetically, where would you be going?”

She sighs, “I was going to take Orm to Alaska. There are some beautiful places around there. I went once during a pretty bad breakup and it was so soothing.”

Bruce snorts, “He could definitely use some of that.”

"Look who's talking!" she grimaces.

"Hm."

“There is no way I can allow you to fly us out to Alaska.”

Silence. A few sounds of shuffling around. Then, “Even if you were doing me a favor?”

“You’re making something up so I don’t feel bad and it’s not going to work.”

“No.”

“There is no way you just happen to have business in Alaska.”

“I was going to ship out some parts to a man who works for me. He lives in a small town near a cabin that I already own. I’m not making this up, you can ask people in the town about me. The old man who works for me is named Hawke. His kid has a weird nickname. He'll get all these parts he needs two months early if you and Orm deliver them. I swear to god, Al.”

“Bruce, there is no way you didn’t make all this up.”

More silence. Then, “You have to go now, Al. Alfred already sent Hawke an email that the delivery is on its way.”

“Bruce!”

“If you don’t make this delivery, that old man is going to be very disappointed.”

“You’ve already done so much, Bruce. I feel like I’m way out of line.”

“Don’t worry about it. You always pay me back tenfold. Besides, I may have a mission for you soon. I just have to work out some kinks.”

Though she hates the idea that she could ever be taking advantage of him, he has said this cargo will be delivered anyway, with or without her.

“Fine. But if I find out you made this old man up, I’m gonna be pissed.”

“I’ll send you a car so you and Orm can make it to the first plane. You’ll probably have to do a few hops. Then the helicopter will take you to the actual cabin.”

“Planes and a helicopter!”

“How else were you imagining getting there?”

“I forgot Orm can’t fly!”

Orm’s head pops up from behind the kitchen island at the sound of his name, his cheek nearly back to a normal color. She wonders what he is looking for as he gives her a confused look.

“Well, until he can learn I guess you’ll be in my debt,” Bruce teases.

“Speaking of which, do you know where Arthur is right now? I don’t have any way to contact him, but I have something I want to propose that will prevent me from digging myself into a deeper hole with you.”

“I’ll try to get him for you. In the meantime, I’ll add some money to your allowance so you can buy proper clothes for the weather.”

“You know I could just borrow money from my uncle to repay my debts.”

“You could. But you like working for me.”

“I do like being one of Bruce Wayne’s spies,” she admits, “You’re lucky those rich old white people can’t recognize the same Black girl in a different wig.”

Bruce sighs heavily as she giggles to herself at how easily it is to get this reaction out of him.

Orm walks over, offering her a half-eaten bag of chocolate chips they’ve been snacking on and she eagerly holds her palm out.

“But really, Bruce. Thank you so much. For everything.”

Chapter Text

The next morning she wakes to a car being dropped off in their driveway. Orm’s already in the living room, watching from the bench seat window. She wraps her blanket around her shoulders and he moves to the side so she can sit and watch as well.

“We’re deeper in Wayne’s debt?”

“Yup,” she says, yawning.

“Have you gotten in contact with Arthur?”

“Bruce called his dad and he says he thinks he’s in Atlantis at the moment.”

Orm frowns, looking back out the window. A van pulls up and the two men who drove the car walk to it and pull out a long, shiny, white box, before walking to the house. Orm and Althera watch as they set the box outside the front door and ring the doorbell. Then they turn and walk back to the van, closing the door and driving away.

“That box is Atlantean.”

“Is it?” she asks, getting up and stretching. He watches as she walks to the door and then stands when she brings it inside, closing the door behind her.

“It’s a decent weight,” she says, setting it on the dinner table.

“It’s not what you asked for.”

She looks up at him, reaching up and taking his face in her hands, “You are just adorable when you’re grumpy, Prince Orm.”

He rolls his eyes and she releases him, turning back to the box. He reaches around her and slides his hand under the base of the box. It pops open and she pushes the lid open, her eyes growing wide, “Still grumpy?”

Orm’s eyebrows furrow as he grabs the trident lying inside the box. It’s the one they battled with in Atlantis, the one Arthur joked about letting him bring to the Surface with him. To be honest, Althera is just excited to have such a cool weapon in the house. Orm looks conflicted by the gift.

She reaches into the box herself and finds an odd disk with thin blue lights on it. She holds it out to Orm, who nods and sets the trident down, “Ah. Follow me.”

She is bewildered when he leads her to the bathroom and begins filling the tub.

“Are we gonna take a bath?”

He raises two unamused eyebrows at her, “Patience.”

After the tub is part full, he does something to the surface of the disk and the water in the tub starts swirling. He wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her back slightly to keep her from getting splashed. She looks at him in confusion and when she turns back around, Arthur stands before her, his form composed of the water from the tub.

“What’s up, kiddos?”

“Hey,” she says, reaching out and putting her hand through his chest only for it to come out dry, “That’s crazy.”

“I know, I still don’t even know if I’m pushing the right buttons. Glad the Bat timed the delivery right, though. It’s great to see y’all in your jammies.”

“So, Arthur… have you heard about my request?” she chirps.

He sighs, “Think maybe you’re asking for a little much?”

“It will literally be, like, once a month, back and forth, tops.”

“We already agreed that he would stay out of the water--”

“Out of Atlantis’ waters,” she corrects. “And we will. He knows the places to avoid underwater and I know them on land. And it’s not a huge ship we’re asking for, that would just make travel harder. Just something we can hide underwater and get semi-near the coast with. The whole thing will be discreet to Surface Dwellers and easily traceable for Atlantis.”

He sighs, staring down at her. After a whole minute of them glowering at each other, he shakes his head, “Look, Vulko will have my head if he hears about this, but one light cargo-sized ship will be waiting for you when you get back home. I’ll send you coordinates or something for you to find it.”

She is so shocked that she got her way that she squeaks in delight, “Arthur, if I could give you the most appreciative hug I would! You are my third favorite Atlantean by far.”

“Third?”

“Orm’s second. Your mom is first,” she shrugs, “I promise you won’t have to regret helping us.”

“I appreciate it, also, Arthur,” Orm says. He removes his arm from her waist and walks out of the bathroom. She frowns, watching him disappear into his room.

“How’s he been?”

“Fine. He’s kinda quiet most days, like he’s thinking a lot, but we haven’t talked much about anything. Bruce is helping us get to Alaska, so I’m hoping the change of scenery will cheer him up.”

“And you’re good?”

“Me?” she laughs.

“C’mon. Dealing with him 24/7 can’t be easy.”

“Aw, no, he’s actually been really, very sweet. He just hates your guts,” she teases.

“That’s true,” he laughs awkwardly, “Alright. I’ll let you go.”

“I don’t need to do anything with this disk thing?”

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

The water loses its shape and splashes outside of the tub, soaking her fuzzy socks. Cursing, she dries the floor with a towel. Setting the disk aside, she fills the tub the rest of the way and undresses, stepping in and enjoying the warm water sinking into her muscles.

A light tap on the door and she closes the curtain so just her head peeks out, calling, “Come in!”

Orm enters and is surprised to find her in the tub. He keeps his eyes locked on hers when he speaks, “I just wanted to talk, but it can wait.”

“Are you sure? You’ve seemed tense this morning.”

“I’d hate to interrupt your bath.”

She giggles, “Alright. We can talk later.”

He pulls his eyes from hers, looking at the opposite wall. Then he sighs, sitting down on the toilet lid and burying his face in his hands.

"I met with the soldiers the day we arrived. When you and Bruce drove to the house. I met with them and we talked."

She sinks deeper into the water, feeling it cover her gills which still haven't disappeared despite her skin color going back to normal almost immediately.

"Oh," she says, her voice soft.

“Please don’t misunderstand. I told them they went too far when they hurt you. That, if there were any chance of my cooperation, it was ruined. They tried to convince me that you brainwashed me, which is ridiculous. It’s clear that they’re grasping for straws.”

“And then you came home and acted like nothing had happened?”

Her voice is tense. They both hear it.

"I didn't think bringing it up in front of your friends was a good idea."

"We live together and it's been a week since then."

"I know. I know," he says, "It's no excuse. I've just been so conflicted."

"Well you really fooled me."

"Althera…" he sighs.

She slips underwater and stays there for a second, trying to diffuse her anger around her. Everything she sees is scarlet and she closes her eyes, knowing that if he looked over right now he would be able to see the literal red of her irises.

Rising out of the water, she finds he hasn’t moved, staring at the cabinets in front of him.

She continues her bath like he isn’t there. The entire time, he just sits there. She’s torn between being annoyed and amused.

“Are we going to be here all morning?”

“Althera, I’m sorry.”

“For what, dear? You’re the Prince of Atlantis, what you do is your own business and you have no reason to explain yourself or anything you do to a lowly peasant like me.”

“Now come on--”

“So that’s not what you were thinking?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Whatever.”

“It’s like you people want me to fix everything overnight and I just can’t do that! It’s not possible.”

If she wasn’t offended before, she is now.

“You people?” She breathes, “Sure. Okay.”

“You know what I mean, Althera.”

“I really don’t, Orm,” she says. She closes the curtain on his exasperated face and stands, pulling her towel into the tub with her. She hears the door close and she peeks out from behind the curtain. The room is empty and she hops out, drying herself off quickly in short, irritated movements.

She grabs her robe and then ties up her hair in her towel. Stepping out of the bathroom, she nearly smacks her face into his arm.

“Orm!”

“I am trying to talk to you and this is difficult for me. I knew you would be angry with me for speaking with them and compromising our deal with Atlantis--”

“I’m not angry about that. To hell with our deal with Atlantis! I am angry because you did it behind my back and then hid it from me for a week. The people who almost killed me, Orm.”

She walks past him and he follows on her heels, "Okay. But I’m telling you that I didn’t know how to tell you because your expectations of me, everyone’s expectations, are unattainable. I can’t force myself to be someone I’m not.”

She turns and looks at him, “Did you stop and think for a second about who you are talking to?”

He looks at her blankly.

“I have never forced any change on you. I have never wanted you to become someone you didn’t want to be. All I have ever wanted since the day we met was to be your friend. You have never had to prove anything to me because I knew you were tired and in need of rest and contemplation. You never had to redeem yourself with me because I have never expected anything from you, Orm! Not a damn thing!”

Silence. Her anger echoes throughout her head and she sinks into the couch cushions, closing her eyes. He remains still and, when he speaks, his voice a near whisper, “Why else are we here? Why else would you be angry now?”

“I just… I thought you needed some time away from everything in Atlantis. I thought it’d be good for you,” she sighs and opens her eyes, looking up at him, “I am angry now because the one thing I do ask of you is for you to be truthful with me. And you weren’t. And I think it’s fair for me to ask you not to associate with the people who nearly succeeded in killing me.”

He stares for a long moment and she honestly thinks he’s at a loss for words. Finally, he turns and walks to the back door. His hand on the handle, he turns partially, speaking at her rather than to her.

“I’m going to take a walk. I need a second.”

She is in the kitchen when he returns. He walks beside her and she moves aside so he can access the sink. He grabs a glass and drinks for a long time before he rinses the cup out and surprises her by gently touching her hand.

She sighs and looks up at him.

“Please, may I talk to you?”

He holds her hand and guides her to the table and he surprises her when, instead of sitting across from her as he usually does, he sits in the chair directly beside her. Turning to face her, he looks her straight in the eyes.

“Althera, I’ve never been able to truly confide in anyone until I met you. I never even had the desire to share anything with anyone until I met you,” he says. “In some way, I felt justified in not telling you because I didn’t want you to worry. But I still felt guilty hiding it from you because I care for you. I really do.”

“Orm--” she frowns.

“I may have been irate before due to the number of thoughts that are on my mind. Please, let me speak to you about this.”

She sees the actual stress in his eyes and she feels it would be unkind to ignore him. She gestures for him to continue.

“A few of these soldiers have high-grade weapons, which makes me think there is someone still inside Atlantis who is discreetly making transfers in and out of the city. Someone who claims they are still loyal to the throne. My rejecting them doesn’t mean they’re going to step down.”

She hears the change of tone in his voice and lowers her guard despite herself.

“You’re really worried, aren’t you?”

He looks over at her, his eyes searching hers before nodding, “My mother is back and forth between Atlantis and her home with Tom Curry on the Surface. These people continue to view her as a tyrant and hold that against her. If something ever happened to her…”

She remembers how worried he was during the urchin incident and how he didn’t eat until he learned she was okay. She can’t imagine how hard losing Atlanna for the second time in his life would affect him.

Her anger subsides enough for her to reach out to him.

“What do you want to do?”

He looks at her and the majority of her anger sizzles away. The pain in his eyes combined with the sense of fear that pours off of him catches hold of her pity. She squeezes his hand in hers and he places his other on top of it.

“You’re not angry?”

“I am angry, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you or that I’m fine with your mother being in danger. We’ll figure this out together. Okay?”

He holds her hand between his two, lifting it and placing a kiss on her knuckles, "Thank you."

Chapter Text

She sits in the car with the windshield wipers on. It drizzles gently outside, the sound of the wipers and rain so soothing that it is becoming much more difficult to stay angry.

They were both pretty quiet while getting ready, which is very different from their usual morning banter (friendly or grumpy depending on who woke up on what side of the bed). Today, however, there was only the sound of the clinking silverware on dishes.

She’s never been good at holding a grudge, though, and she expects she’ll cave soon.

Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, she looks over as he slides into the seat beside her.

“This is unaccommodating,” he says, his knees hiked up toward his stomach.

“Yes, but the car is environmentally friendly,” she says, then deciding that she won’t make him suffer the entire ride, she adds, “There’s a button on the side to move it.”

He fixes the seat and then looks at her.

“Seatbelt,” she points out.

He tilts his head, “It’s unnecessary.”

“It’s being a good example,” she insists.

“To whom?”

She glares and he reaches around, his jaw clenching as he locks the belt in place. Turning back to the windshield, she has to admit to herself that this quiet treatment thing is actually pretty funny.

Starting the car, she pulls out of the driveway and heads away from town and towards the city. They are 20 miles from the nearest store that is going to sell the type of winter gear she wants. She assumes that things will be less chilly between them once they reach their location.

He looks out his window and she stares forward at the road, watching the trees as they pass them. After about seven minutes of silence, he sighs.

She takes her hand off the wheel and holds it out to him. He looks at it and then takes it, their fingers intertwining.

“I really am sorry, Althera.”

“I know,” she says, her voice soft, “And I probably should have reacted better. It did hurt my feelings, though.”

His thumb moves across the back of her hand, “You and my mother are the last people whose feelings I want to hurt. I mean that truly.”

“Being next to Queen Atlanna on any list is an honor,” she smiles.

“Oh, you two are on many together. Including ‘people I can tolerate for longer than 24 hours’, ‘people allowed in my personal space’, ‘people with interesting life stories’, ‘people with the brightest smiles’--”

“Alright Prince Orm, I think you’re trying to flatter me to make me feel better,” she says. Her cheeks warm from the last one, she has to focus twice as hard on the road than she had before.

He looks at her, that cocky, but happy smile on his face, “Well, is it working?”

She takes her eyes off the road, looking at him and then laughing, “You’re unbelievable.”

“It’s all the truth, though. Every word.”

“Well… thanks,” she says, sliding her hand out of his and placing it on the wheel so she can open the windows with the other. It was starting to feel too warm in the small car.

They travel in silence for a while before Orm asks, “Can I drive?”

“Have you driven a car before?” She asks, looking over at him.

“No, but I have a small ship in Atlantis--”

“Absolutely not.”

“How different can it be?” he laughs.

“I will teach you the basics of how to drive and you can observe me today. Then we can resume our lessons after we return from Alaska. You are not, however, going to jump into the driver’s seat of the car Bruce just had delivered to us.”

He laughs that loud laughter that elated her when they first met, “Your friends all say you are crazy, but you’ve only ever been a good girl with me.”

By the Gods, they can’t get to the store soon enough! He’s already made her blush twice in one morning after a pretty heated argument. It’s too many emotions for one poor girl to handle.

“I am not a good girl, Mr. Marius,” she grimaces, “I am trying to be the good, positive mentor to you that Diana was to me. Diana didn’t leave me stranded on the interstate, but I very well may leave you right next to that speed limit sign we just passed.”

“Never. You enjoy my company too much,” he says so confidently that she gently presses her foot into the brake and looks over at him with a ‘test me’ look, “Alright, alright, maybe you would.”

She explains some driving concepts to him and, despite his insistence, she continues to refuse his request to switch seats. Pulling up to a stop light, Orm turns and looks out his window. The car beside them has all the windows down and two brown-haired little boys stare at Orm.

The oldest looks to be seven and the younger five. It’s the oldest who speaks first.

“Hi.”

Orm smiles politely and nods.

“Look, Dad! That guy has big muscles and he wears his seatbelt to be safe,” the younger one says.

The dad turns and looks at Orm, returning Orm’s awkwardly polite smile, and grumbling slightly when he reaches out and clicks his seatbelt into place.

“Orm, darling, you’re such a good example,” she purrs as the light turns green. He looks at her in pure disbelief, his blue eyes shining.

“You have some form of psychic ability, I know it.”

Snickering, she shakes her head and turns onto the main road into town. The store isn’t far, and in the parking lot, she walks around the car and to his side, looking up at him expectantly.

“What are you up to?”

“Thank you for not betraying me to the mean Atlanteans.”

“You already have to deal with the worst one,” he teases.

“Not the worst, the sweetest,” she corrects, then, “Do you think it’s fair to Barry that I have two best friends now?”

He takes her hand in his and raises it to kiss the back of it. Her heart in her belly, she grins when he asks, “Two best friends? Who might this other person be?”

“He’s kinda tall. Blond. Has blue eyes and a bit of a superiority complex,” she hums.

And his laugh is to die for, as they walk towards the large building, “A superiority complex?”

“Just a little one.”

“I think he’ll handle the news fine. Barry doesn’t seem like the jealous type,” Orm reassures her.

She makes shopping for their new wardrobe quick, buying Orm things she specifically thinks he’d look handsome in, considering he doesn’t really need them to stay warm. The trip goes a little slower than she intended, though, as she had to fend off a few curious, amazed souls who came to ogle at the gorgeous Atlantean specimen at her side. No, she and Orm weren’t dating, but they’d been holding hands since they walked into the store, and, out of principle, she made it known to these strangers that he is hers.

If Orm noticed the petty game she was playing, he didn’t say anything.

Orm assists her in putting the bags in the back seat. She gets in the car, but he lingers. She watches him as he looks across the parking lot. A family of a woman, man, and baby pack themselves into their car. The man holds all the bags and he places them in the trunk as the woman puts the baby in the car seat. When she turns, he has already walked around the car, holding the door open for her. She smiles and kisses his cheek before sitting and he closes the door behind her, rushing around to the other side and driving off.

She wonders what Orm could be thinking as he watches, his eyes so focused. Then he heaves a big sigh before opening his passenger door and sitting beside her.

“Are you hungry?”

He clicks his seatbelt into place and looks at her, “I could eat.”

“I saw a place I wanna try. You have nothing against fast food, do you?”

He looks concerned, “I don’t know. Should I?”

She giggles and starts the car, “We’ll see.”

She is pleasantly surprised to learn that Orm has quite an affinity for french fries. She ends up ordering more because of his many attempts to steal some from her box. The biggest difficulty was getting him to ditch the fork and use his fingers instead, which he eventually did, wiping salt off his hands on a napkin with distaste.

When they are at the grocery store, he follows her around, his eyes wide. She made sure to go to one of those expensive places where everything is economically wrapped.

Not knowing he was watching her, she was surprised when he spoke.

“You’re selecting a lot of ingredients I don’t recognize. Are you making something new?”

She hums yes in response, “I desire baklava. Is there anything you would like to make?”

He walks silently beside her for a little while, his blue eyes examining some of the people who walk by. One man looks at Orm, sees his perfect posture, and attempts to emulate it.

Orm looks down at her, “Humans are easy to influence. Maybe the Fisherman King was onto something.”

“Who’s the Fisherman King? Other than the obvious.”

“A political philosopher. He believed that instead of conquering the Surface, we should emerge and teach them our ways. That we’d be able to educate them and create a better future for both worlds.”

She continues reading the back of the box in her hand when she responds, “He sounds interesting. Maybe I’ll meet him in Atlantis someday.”

“That’d be impossible. I killed him.”

She sets down the box and looks at him, “Oh, Orm.”

“Then I forced his daughter to collect her army and join me in battle.”

She rubs her face, her eyes partially covered as she peers up at him. Something in his expression tells her he wants to continue, but doesn’t know exactly why he started in the first place. He clears his throat and she grabs his hand as they continue walking.

“If you’re able to teach me, I’d like to learn to make fries.”

“Of course, Darling.

Chapter Text

Orm wheels the cart to the designated cart space, then takes his seat beside her in the car. They sit in silence before Orm reaches out and turns on the radio, shuffling through the stations for a second before sitting back.

Halfway home, he speaks.

“You don’t pity me. You don’t hate me.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“What good would it do me?”

He looks at her, his hands turning into fists in his lap, and she keeps her eyes on the road. Then he speaks, “There was a family at that department store. They were getting into their car. Though they looked not at all similar, they reminded me of the Fisherman King and his family. The daughter was still a baby, but I saw the Fisherman Princess in her. I could see how in love the man and his wife were.”

The tone of his voice isn't like anything she's ever heard from him before and she shifts a little in her seat, “Oh yeah?”

“At the time I did what I did, I didn’t care about anything like this at all. I did what was necessary to get what I wanted and thought very little about how I would affect others,” his hands open and he presses his palms to his jeans, turning to look out the windshield, “I was enraged by my brother, about Mera and Vulko’s betrayal. I felt nothing but pure hate, day and night. Everything hurt. There were other options available, but I took out my anger on this king and his family.”

“Orm…”

“The anger I felt at that moment has been replaying in my mind over and over and over again. I was a heightened version of everything I hate most about myself. I was… pure hatred. And I had actually exceeded my father in everything I hated most about him. I thought I’d be happier since I got what I wanted. But after that, up until my mother appeared, all I felt was more and more anger.”

She finds a place to pull over while he speaks and reaches over, turning off the radio. She unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to look up at him, her eyes worried, "Darling? Orm, look at me.”

He takes a ragged deep breath and his shoulders shake, “Althera, that anger is gone and yet, without it, I don’t know what I am. Is that what I was made for? For invoking pain and suffering onto others?”

His breathing is shakier and she reaches out and grabs his hands. When he looks at her, her heart twists and breaks inside of her, seeing his eyes filled with tears.

“No, Orm. No,” she says, trying to keep her voice as reassuring as possible even though it wants to shake, “No person can be defined by a single emotion. Your anger was so powerful at the time because you were hurt. But please believe me when I say that the opposite is possible. By the Gods, I hope you get the chance to experience the power that comes with being so incredibly happy and thankful. But until then, you have to trust me when I say that you are capable of so much good.”

He shakes his head very subtly and she can’t help but smile, “Yes you are, Orm. I know it, I can feel it in my bones.”

His voice is tense when he responds, “I was raised wrong.”

“Yet when your mother arrived during yours and Arthur’s battle, you say your anger faltered. When you and I go for long walks and you give me big hugs to keep me warm, you make me feel so special and happy. When you visit Elena and John with me and help them, the same Surface Dwellers you were raised to hate, you defy this thing you hate inside yourself. But does that ever feel unnatural to you?”

He reaches up and wipes his eyes, soft pink rings forming around them and the same pink at the tip of his nose, “No. No, I’m just… tired.”

“Tired of what?” she asks softly, not wanting to sound pushy.

“Of being lost. Of not being wanted,” he spits it out as if it were a curse, “In Atlantis I felt their stares. Some of them bore deeper than others. Up here… everything is so foreign that I could never see myself at home here.”

“And what about me?”

He had been staring at his hand, but now he looks up at her, “You?”

“Don’t you feel at all like you and I were destined to meet?”

“I…” he stares, puzzled, “Of course.”

“Does it mean nothing that I want you in my life? That I love you so much and want nothing but the best for you?”

Never before has she seen him so utterly lost for words. It would be cute if it weren’t so deeply sad.

“Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I don’t say it enough. But Orm, I love spending time with you. I love living with you. It’s so much fun to watch you learn and it’s fun having weird, philosophical conversations with you that no one else is going to have with me. I love our morning routine and I love when you ask about something and I have the opportunity to teach you something new. I love seeing your grumpy face when I ask you to do something you think is unpleasant and I love that you sometimes suck it up, just for me. Nobody’s tricked me, nobody’s cursed me, and even if Bruce couldn’t help us, I’d still want to do this with you if we were living on the streets. Because I do have so much love for you, Orm. In the purest sense of the word. By the Gods, there are some days I just want to stay in bed and lock myself away from the rest of the world, but then I hear you moving around in the living room and I have something to look forward to. You, Orm.”

He grabs her, pulling her into his lap into the tightest hug she has ever received before. He holds her like he’s holding on for dear life and she has never felt so needed, so perfectly wanted, ever before. Such a feeling makes resisting her own tears even harder.

“Thank you, Althera,” he says, his voice shaky, but strong.

She buries her face deeper in his chest, “I want you to be happy, Orm. Me, your mother, and as much as you might hate it, your brother. We all want you to find the happiness you want to find. And… and I know you said I make you happy sometimes. But I want you to find it inside of yourself, so I know you have it even if I’m not around.”

He holds her closer, kissing the top of her head, “Thank you.”

The two of them do not part for a length of time. In that time, Althera remembers that he isn’t the only one benefitting from this relationship. That she had needed him just as much as he needed her. That, even before being locked up in Atlantis, she was beginning to recede into herself, starting to distance herself from those she cared about. When he had appeared in the cell next to hers, her interest in the world came back all at once. She wanted to know anything and everything about this Atlantean Prince. And slowly, so very slowly, he started to let her in. And he had started to see her for who she was on the inside. He could see her, even when her soul was disconnected from her body and left to roam freely, he looked straight at her and he saw who she was.

Sniffing, she pulls back and looks down at him. He looks up at her, his eyes damp, but otherwise clear.

They start giggling.

“Where would I be without you right now, Althera Prince?”

“Locked up in a cell in Atlantis, most likely.”

“Would you say I deserve it?”

“Oh, most definitely,” she purrs, bringing her hand to the side of his face, “But if you knew my past, who would I be to judge?”

He looks up at her with a soft smile in his eyes, “I don’t deserve a friend like you. You speak honestly and help me see straight.”

She studies his eyes, then inhales deeply, making a decision.

“What you did, what you were planning on doing, was… extreme. If that princess you spoke of wants your head to this day, who would blame her?”

“Some days I’d gladly let her have it and put me out of my misery.”

“Orm.”

“Sorry.”

“You feel remorse for taking this man’s life. It keeps you up at night and it buries itself under your skin. Makes you feel like nothing’s changed and, if things have changed, that you don’t deserve it. But that’s healthy, to a certain point. It means you’re growing.”

He continues to look at her as she looks away. A tremor rolls through her body and she sighs.

“Althera, are you alright?”

She nods, “Your story of the Fisherman King and his family… I know it too well.”

“You?”

“When I first came to earth, I resided in a small, remote village. The people there loved me, at first. Then they slowly began to hate me, for a good reason. I got spoiled and paranoid. When I didn’t get my way, I would throw a fit. A petty princess. When the villagers failed to bring me what I wanted… I was known to invoke wrath upon the city. At one point..." she pauses, feeling a hitch in her throat as it tightens. She clears her throat and looks past his head, out the window. "At one point, I intentionally caused a drought. I remember… I remember walking through the streets and seeing families grow thinner and thinner as the crops failed. And I remember thinking, ‘it’s what they deserve’."

"Oh, Althera," he breathes.

Her sight blurs with tears, though not enough to fall. She clears her throat, "I thought I was above them. Now… I shudder. I am thoroughly repulsed that I thought so little of their lives. I know some of the elders survive to this very day. And I know if I returned, they would chase me out with hexes of fire and disaster. And, deep down I would know, despite what I've done to better myself, I deserve it.”

She imagines his thoughts as he processes this new information about her and she almost feels sick. Then he places a hand on the back of her neck and gently guides her head down, kissing her forehead. The relief in her heart is immediate and she wipes her eyes before her tears can fall.

"That is why I do not pity, nor do I hate you, Orm Marius.”

He nods, “I understand.”

“If your feelings of guilt hadn’t emerged after this time, I’d be a little worried. But I’m not worried about you finding a new path, Orm. I believe in you wholeheartedly. And I know this whole process feels long and tiring and some days it feels better to curse everyone and everything that gets in your way. But I find that spite can be a pretty good motivator.”

He stares up at her, the funniest look in his eyes. Becoming increasingly aware of her position in his lap, she grows embarrassed. He smiles and releases his hold on her and she manages to get back into the driver’s seat.

Starting the car again, they watch what little leaves are on the trees wave as they pass them.

Finally, he speaks, “You suggest that I should become a better person to spite the person I was before?”

“I was just sharing my technique.”

“Hm.”

“Orm?”

“Althera?”

“I think I might have a plan to keep your meeting with the rebel Atlanteans between us, but still get your brother the information he needs to keep your mother safe. But you'll have to trust me.”

Chapter Text

Stepping out of the car, Orm starts unloading the trunk immediately. Walking past her with his arms full, he pauses, kisses the top of her head, and rushes inside.

Her heart dances in her chest and she composes herself, following him inside.

Orm sits in the living room as she makes her “call” from the dining table. He is curious because she said she's going to call her "connections". He stopped feeling left out when she told him that not even Bruce Wayne has access to these connections.

In actuality, they’re just her uncle Poseidon's nymph friends. And she doesn't exactly have anyone's phone number.

She does have a small bowl in front of her, filled with salt water from the beach that she picked up once while on a walk with Orm. Next to it she pretended to get herself a snack, though she doesn't particularly love sardines.

She opens her phone line so it doesn't ring while she's having a conversation, therefore alerting Orm that she isn't actually calling someone.

Then she holds her hand over the bowl of water and sardines, creating tiny waves as if the bowl were a small ocean of its own.

“Uncle? Uncle?” she whispers, to no response, “Poseidon!”

“Who summoned the mighty-- What the...” A tiny green shape appears in the bowl and then swims around in confusion, his voice high pitched due to his size. Then he looks up at her and gasps in horror, “No. Nope. Please don’t squish me.”

“I'm not mad about the gills, Uncle. They are a nice gift, I promise.”

“Then why did you summon me into a... This isn't even a fish bowl, this is a cereal bowl!”

She hushes him, looking over at Orm, “Look, I brought you sardines and I’ll make you whichever one of Aunt Persephone’s dishes you want when I see you next.”

He ponders this for a few moments before reaching over the bowl and snatching a sardine from the tin. He munches on it while gesturing for her to continue.

“I need to contact Admete.”

Chewing, he sticks his food in his cheek, “Why don’t you ask Persephone?”

“I can’t summon Persephone into a bowl, can I?”

“Well I don’t know where she is. She and I haven’t been getting along lately. She thinks she's all fancy ever since she started hanging out with the flower nymphs.”

“I'm sure all she did was raise her standards,” Althera snaps and he shrugs, taking another bite, “I know you know where she is, Uncle.”

“Why are you whispering?”

She looks over her shoulder at Orm, “I have a friend here and he doesn't know my uncle is King Poseidon. He's from Atlantis.”

Poseidon's eyes widen and he puffs his tiny chest, “An Atlantean? They adore me! Can I talk to him?”

He tosses his sardine aside and starts to climb out of the bowl, but she stops him, grabbing him by his little green foot and putting him back in the bowl.

“No! Besides, he's currently banned from Atlantis. That's why you need to get me in touch with Admete.”

“Banished from Atlantis?” he snorts, grabbing another sardine, “What, was he the one who threw all the trash out of the ocean or something?”

She makes a face and scratches her neck, “Well....”

Poseidon looks over the edge of the bowl, “Oooh. He is, isn't he? I'm a big fan of his work. Will getting the location of Admete help him on his quest?”

“Truthfully, yes. Immeasurably so.”

Poseidon ponders this new information for a little while, then redefines his terms, “You have to promise I’ll get the food you promised me and I get to meet him someday.”

She groans and sinks into her chair. He eats while she weighs her options, then, “Fine. But you two will meet on my terms.”

“Alrighty!” Poseidon grins, “The last time I heard from her, she was with your brother helping him with something.”

“Which one?”

“Hephaest...tus?”

“You sound uncertain.”

"You have so many," he grunts, then, "I think he was with Calypso, actually...”

“Calypso!” she gasps, suddenly interested in the gossip, “What could she be helping Hephaestus with?”

“No, Admete did visit Hephaestus and she said she was on a mission for my wife,” he pauses, then blinks, “I know a lot of nymphs, to be fair.”

She stares at him, “Well then, where is your wife?”

He kicks his feet in the water lazily, looking down at his toes, then replies, “Cabo?”

She stares down at the tiny green monarch and sighs, “You've been a lot of help today, Uncle Poseidon.”

He grins, looking into the tin and finding it empty, “Have any clams?”

“Not for you.”

“Wine?”

“I reiterate.”

“You make really good stew, Baby Althera.”

“Are you still talking?”

He laughs, “I have Amphitrite’s phone number memorized, I'll recite it now.”

She memorizes it herself and thanks him, “Now please get out of my cereal bowl, you're making it smell fishy.”

“Tell your friend if he wants to be King of Atlantis again, I can make it happen,” he says with a thumbs up.

“I absolutely will not be telling him that, thank you Uncle.”

He disappears with a little poof and a miniscule splash and she sighs. She and Amphitrite haven't talked a lot before. She was always so reserved and majestic looking, so the opposite of Poseidon, and it was slightly intimidating. She would ask her Aunt Persephone to get involved, but then she'd have to explain her situation with Orm, which is a slippery slope she'd rather avoid.

She gives herself a pep talk before she calls Amphitrite.

When she finally got in touch with Admete she did not initially want to be helpful, as she wasn’t a fan of Orm’s work like Poseidon was. But when she heard that Orm’s mother was in potential danger she thought about it for a second and said she respected a son’s desire to protect his mother. She promised she’d send some scouts to Atlantis. She said that, though she cannot legally get involved with Atlantis in any big way, she already has connections who can do a little sleuthing on their behalf.

”I met Queen Atlanna when she was four years old. She was a beautiful little girl. And fiery, too. You give me all the information you can and you leave the rest to me.”

She told her everything about their deal with Atlantis and Orm’s vehement apology for having gone behind her back to converse with the soldiers. She told her about their upcoming trip to Alaska and even about Orm’s new trident, just in case it could help. When they finally said goodbye, she felt like a huge weight was off her shoulders. Admete is good friends with her Aunt Persephone, and she is someone Althera feels she can rely on.

Of course Orm wants to know about everything, and the only thing that saves her is his trust in her. She feels proud that he is able to put his faith in her.

The rest of the day they spend packing and cleaning the house in preparation for their trip.

By dinner, the two of them are finally finished. They eat in relative silence and retire to the couch. Though they both have books they're reading, neither of them picks them up tonight.

She leans against him, her head under his arm which is slung across the head of the couch. The TV is on, though the volume is low and neither of them pay much attention to it. His hand is upturned on his thigh and Althera's hand in his.

For the longest time, neither of them speak. Lost in their own thoughts, and not at all uncomfortable with the silence. Therefore, she is surprised when he clears his throat.

“Do you really think your plan will work?”

“Are you doubting me?” she asks, leaning forwards to look up at him.

He frowns and shakes his head, “No. But if anything relies on luck I worry that, given my history--”

“Positive thoughts, Orm Marius,” she purrs, dropping her head back against his arm. He chuckles softly. Then he shifts a little and sighs.

"Althera?"

"Darling?"

"I guess I haven't been completely honest with you."

She raises her eyebrows, tilting her head to look at his face.

"How so?"

He seems to hear what he just said and continues quickly, "Not in the same way as this morning. I promise, it's nothing like that. It’s more akin to how you said you feared you weren’t open with me. After we spoke in the car, the majority of today, I couldn't help but think that... you are my everything."

She blinks, turning so her folded legs are facing him.

"I am not exactly wanted in Atlantis right now. The people who think they need me are imbeciles to say the very least. My mother is loving, so very wonderful, but she has her attention torn in so many different directions and it’d hardly be fair to demand any more of her time. And up here, everything is foreign to me. Even my own mind is foreign at this point. And the only person or thing in my life that makes any sense is you."

"How ironic," she purrs, nearly silent.

"You said you love me?"

She attempts to control the heat in her face and nods, "Yes, I did."

"You said that some days I'm the only thing that helps you get out of bed. That you enjoy the time we spend together. That I make you feel special at times. Didn't you say that?"

"What good would it do to deny it?" She muses.

"This is exactly the same way I feel about you and you don't know it. And I feel just as guilty about that. You said that all of this means that you love me. In that case… I love you, too, Althera. You're my everything right here, right now, just like you said: in the purest sense of the word. You are my best friend and I don’t want anything to change that.”

She takes both his hands in hers and smiles up at him. Though the smile feels a little forced she is, at the root, very happy.

"I promise nothing will change."

Chapter Text

Hearing him enter his room at 10 pm, she lay still for a while staring up at the ceiling. At 11, she sits up and picks up her shoes, tiptoeing into the living room and grabbing her purse and jacket before slipping out of the house and into the car.

She is happy, so blissfully happy that Orm is happy with her. She is overjoyed that he feels comfortable sharing difficult stories with her and that they are now on the same page.

However, it still hurts deep down that she promised nothing would change between them.

She has no reason to feel hurt about it. She hasn’t let him in on how she feels. She herself isn’t even sure. So she hasn’t officially been rejected. Yet, for whatever reason, the feeling of wanting anything more from him seems like a betrayal.

Sitting up straight, she takes a deep breath and shakes that thought out of her head.

Feelings are natural. There’s no betrayal involved. A true betrayal would be taking advantage of his trust in her and tricking him into a romantic relationship when he isn't ready for one. She hasn’t stooped so low, she doesn’t plan on doing so, so she’s not betraying him at all.

She feels a bit better, starting the car and directing it towards where the small town opens up. Parking, she gets out and straightens up, walking into the bar.

When she enters, she automatically feels the eyes on her.

She resists a smile. She is a performer at heart and having this much attention boosts her and brings her out of her own head.

Now she wonders who might approach.

She thanks the bartender for the drink and turns her back to the bar. One table in particular seems interested, but none of them make a move. She shrugs inwardly. Guess it’s just as well. She is getting a little tired, it’s been a long day, and the bar closes at 12 anyway.

The next time the door opens, she plants herself to her seat.

A tall, golden blond man with a strong jaw, brown leather jacket and cowboy kind of walk enters and makes eye contact with her from across the room. He has a simple look. Still, the way his dark eyes take her in makes her feel a certain way.

He walks over to the table that she had noticed before and they talk quickly before his attention is redirected to her by one of the guys at the table.

She pays them no mind, but she doesn’t act surprised when he walks up beside her and sits.

“You don’t mind if I take this seat, do you?”

A slight Texas drawl? She smiles to herself.

“No sir,” she says, giving him a little side eye. He smiles and makes himself comfortable.

“Whenever I see a woman drinking straight whiskey I always assume she could kick my ass if she wanted,” he chuckles, gesturing to her glass. His eyes had been dark from a distance. Up close they are a warm, chocolate brown. His smile is relaxed and open. She is already thanking the gods.

She smiles her brightest smile, “You’d be correct.”

He orders the same drink as her and two glasses are brought over, the second he pushes towards her from the bottom of the glass.”

“My friends say they’ve never seen you around here before,” he says casually.

”No, they wouldn’t have. I just moved here a little while ago and have been in and out of the house because of work,” she says. It’s only a partial lie.

He nods, “Ah, I’d have to take their word for it. I’m just here house-slash-dog sitting. And visiting my grandparents and some old friends for a little while.

“You’re from out of town?”

“Texas, actually. Law enforcement.

“Fascinating,” she hums.

She is absolutely silent when she leaves the quaint little house they had walked to. So quiet that neither of the three chihuahuas he’s dog sitting wake up, which is a miracle considering how they reacted when they first got there.

She rushes down the street and to the bar to where the car is still parked. Digging through her bag, she pulls out her phone and checks the time: 4 am. Orm should be asleep when she gets home, which is a relief. How would she have explained this one?

Before she puts her phone away, she stares at the lock screen.

“Who’s the man on your phone?” Ben had asked.

She had checked the time before they’d left the bar, having forgotten the selfie she made Orm take with her after she’d painted his face.

“Just curious,” Ben laughed.

“He’s a friend of mine,” she waved the question off. No big deal.

The rest of the night, Orm hadn’t been on her mind at all. For the first time in months she was thinking only about what she wanted. What she needed. And it felt… pretty good.

She has Ben’s phone number now. Maybe she’ll call him someday. Maybe.

But today: Alaska.

Driving back to the house, she is surprised to find a light in the dining room. Walking inside, Orm leans against the kitchen counter and, when he sees her, he blinks in surprise.

“Althera?”

“You’re awake?”

“Nightmare. You said chamomile helps, so...” he says, gesturing to the cup in his hands. “I thought you were in your room.”

“I just got up a little earlier this morning.”

She catches him eyeing her clothes, the same she was wearing yesterday, and she curses herself silently.

He surprises her by laughing, the tips of his ears pink, his eyes on his tea. “You don’t have to lie, Althera. Unless it’s Kent again. Then maybe you should keep that one to yourself.”

She stands in shock when he walks past her, pats her head, and enters his room. Total acceptance. Not a hint of jealousy. Her heart sinks a little, but she’s resolute she’s made the right choice now. Orm Marius doesn’t feel the same way about her as she does about him. But she can make herself feel the same way he does about her. She has to.

Chapter Text

Walking into the living room, she resists the urge to turn back to her room and hide under the blankets for the rest of her life.

Orm stands over his suitcase, a towel wrapped around his waist and that seems to be all. He turns when he hears her, his face and collarbones flushing red.

“I’m new to packing and shoved the majority of my wardrobe in the box. I have no clothes in my room at the moment,” he explains.

Sending a quick prayer to Athena for strength, she composes herself, laughing, “You’ll get the hang of it eventually. Weirdo.”

She quickly walks through the kitchen and into the pantry. Holding onto the shelf, she tries to clear her head.

It really isn’t fair. She made her decision last night. She was going to cut the Orm thoughts cold turkey starting today and he will be her future children’s favorite uncle. Nothing more, nothing less.

But she’s never had the privilege of seeing him in his towel before. His wide back and the scar that cut across it. He has a few freckles across his shoulders and his chest stuck out further than she’d ever imagined, as she never wanted to assume he was truly perfect. And when he turned to look at her, the muscles of his stomach--

No!

She is supposed to be using this time to focus on bettering herself. She thanks Pallas Athena for the reminder, walking out of the pantry and finding Orm pulling his shirt over his head, now fully dressed.

“What were you doing in there?” he asks, giving her a small, confused smile.

“Revering the gods. I’m making cereal to use the rest of the milk. Shall I prepare a bowl for you, sir?” she asks, grabbing a spoon and walking back into the pantry.

“No, I’ll take care of myself, thanks.”

The rest of the morning goes as usual, just sped up. And, by the time they're in the car, her head is clear and she is focused on their trip ahead.

“Hello, Bruce,” she answers, as Orm sits down on the only available seat, a sort of padded, uncomfortable looking bench. This plane is the smallest of the three they’ve been on today, and it is the one that will take them to the helicopter.

“Are you guys getting along fine?” he asks.

She looks up at Orm, who looks out the window unenthusiastically.

“Well…” she starts, then grimaces, “One of the men who was helping us move the packages was accidentally a little rough with one of the crates and it burst open. Orm was already a little irritated, so he dismissed him. The guy may be stranded in… Honestly, I’m not sure which state we left him in. We might have even already been in Canada.”

“Really? I’ll see if someone can locate him and get him a ride home. You two should be there within an hour or so, so it shouldn’t be too much to handle.”

”Alright Mr. Private Jet. An hour is an eternity for someone with a low tolerance for heights or confined spaces. I think we’ll be fine, though. We’re pretty tough."

“I know you are,” he says. They say their goodbyes. When she hangs up, the pilot turns and raises two glasses and a pricey looking bottle of champagne, shouting over the sound of the plane, “Mr. Wayne had me prepare this for you, Miss Prince. He says, and I quote, ‘relax’.”

”Thank you,” she laughs and takes the gift out of his hands, “A gift, Orm!”

“Isn’t this entire trip a gift?”

“We are on a mission, Darling. And now we are on a break,” she giggles, walking over to him and squishing onto the seat beside him, “Scooch over.”

She pops the champagne open and squeals in delight and Orm can’t resist a smile. Taking a sip, he looks pleasantly surprised, “I think that is the most expensive thing I’ve put in my mouth since leaving Atlantis.”

She laughs, “If you want more expensive things, I can make it happen. I'd have to start running a few more interactive missions for Bruce or my uncle, though. Take a few odd jobs here and there."

"I hope you didn't misunderstand, Althera," he says, turning to face her, "I wasn't complaining, just making an observation.”

“Yes, but you are still a prince. And a prince should enjoy nice things once and a while."

He chuckles, then, “Your uncle… when you speak about him, it sounds as if he is quite wealthy. Comparable to Wayne?”

She takes a drink and smiles, “Oh yes. Basically royalty.”

Orm looks at her with his lips slightly parted, then he shakes his head, “You’re an eternal enigma to me, Althera Prince.”

”I’ll have to visit my uncle soon, anyway, to find some alcohol that’ll get me drunk in under two bottles,” she grunts, tipping the rest of the champagne back, “Gotta love Bruce for trying, though.”

"What you need to try," he says, suddenly animated, "Is this drink we have in Atlantis. Absolutely vicious, I hear. I never tried it myself, as I had too many responsibilities to have such a recreation. But Nereus used to tell his men some stories I think you would have found to be extremely entertaining."

"Nereus? That's Mera's dad, right? King of Xebel."

"Yes. I think you two would get along. Mera and him are quite similar in some ways. And you and Mera got along quite nicely, didn't you?"

"When she finally stopped telling me I was naïve for trusting you, yeah. And she wasn't a half bad partner when we were training, either," she says.

He nods, "Every year I'd gift Nereus a crate as part of a political gift exchange. And every time I’d catch word of new stories."

"If Nereus had time to have all these stories, why didn't you?"

He shrugs, "I didn't quite like the idea of being intoxicated around a bunch of people I didn't particularly like. Or trust. It didn't sound… fun."

He puts a strange emphasis on the last word and Althera grins, "You should go drinking with me and Barry sometime. We talk a lot of shit, but usually the night ends with us asleep on someone's couch. But before that, it gets pretty interesting."

He gives her a look and then smiles sideways, "I'll think about it."

Chapter Text

”Althera.”

Opening her eyes, she stares at the pile of crates and packages in front of her. The heaviness in her eyelids is so peaceful and she sighs.

”Althera,” he says again, a small chuckle in his voice, “I forgot you were busy not getting any sleep last night.”

Her brain jolts awake and she sits straight up.

Her head had been in his lap and now she yawns, glaring at him. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes and he grins.

”I didn’t want to wake you, but they’re moving our stuff,” he says.

“To the helicopter?” she asks, twisting to look out the window. Sure enough, a big black dragonfly hugs the thin layer of snow on the asphalt as more snow falls gently. The time change puts them hours behind and she’s glad she got that nap in.

”It’s so warm in here,” she murmurs, thinking about crossing to the other aircraft. Then she stands and stretches, “Welp, better hurry up, it looks like we’re ready to go.”

“For a place so large, the fact that it has one bed is a bit ridiculous.”

“It looks like the couch pulls out, Orm,” she says, gesturing to the creases in the leather, “I’ve never seen a space so wide open before. Some fancy ass cabin. I should have just flown us out here myself and built a real log cabin. And I don’t know what I think about the bed being right at the top of the stairs. But I guess Bruce’s kind of entertainment doesn’t require too much closed space.”

He pretty much ignores her rambling, looking out the large living room window.

“So this is snowfall,” he says, his voice casual, as if recognizing someone from another’s description. “It wasn’t as cold as I expected.”

”Well, it’s not as cold as ice, per se,” she says, turning to look at him. She is glad they made it here safe and that Orm’s discomfort in the sky is over. “But you’re familiar with ice. Snow is just… softer.”

She stands beside Orm and watches the people unload their bags. She should have expected that Bruce would have a landing pad on the property, “Maybe we should go help them.”

“Wayne hired them to do it,” he says.

“Yeah, but we’re so much faster than they are. Besides, I think that guy just put my suitcase in the snow. My stuff is gonna get all wet.”

“Weren't you the one telling me to relax? It’ll be fine,” he reassures her. She sighs and slumps into his side.

“Today is already too long. And the time zone change makes it even longer for us. I suggest we sleep for the rest of the day.”

“You should. I’ll unpack and dust around here.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, uncertain. He nods and she smiles, kissing his cheek, “You’re the sweetest. Tell me when you want to switch from the couch to the bed. Does every other night sound good?”

“It’s all the same to me.”

She drops herself on the mattress, her head at the foot of the bed as she watches him through the rails of the stairs. He remains near the window, looking out at the falling snow. He opens the door for the men with their luggage and thanks them. When the helicopter takes off, he stays at the window and she wonders what is going on in his mind. After a while, he turns away and grabs his luggage, moving out of her line of sight.

Watching him put her in a more soothing, dreamy state and as soon as she closes her eyes, she falls asleep.

She wakes up to the sensation of someone sitting down beside her. Rolling over, she looks up at him with groggy eyes.

“Dinner,” he says.

“We don’t have any groceries, yet,” she murmurs, sitting up.

“No, but you told me that canned foods have a long shelf life and Wayne had a little left over. Don’t worry, I checked the dates. I’d hate to poison you,” he teases, handing her a plate.

She looks down at the plate in surprise, “You made all of this? Just using canned food? I’m impressed.”

“Looks like a spoiled prince can make his way around a kitchen after all,” he says, watching her as she examines her plate, “If anything looks questionable you can toss it. I won’t be offended.”

“I’m sure it’s all perfect,” she tilts her head and beams at him, “You spoil me.”

He chuckles and bashfully looks down at his plate.

They stay sitting on the bed for the rest of the evening, talking and playing a dumb word-association game they made up. Laying back on the bed, she tilts her head.

“Orm,” she says, interrupting him as he recounts a story of a moth that he could almost swear flew out of one of the cans he opened, “Does the ceiling look like it opens right there?”

He follows her finger to the ceiling above the bed, where a rectangle shape is in the dark wood, “It appears so.”

Sitting up, she crawls around him to the dresser and opens the first drawer. It’s empty and she checks the second. It’s empty as well. Frowning, she rolls over to the other side and opens the first drawer. Inside is a remote.

“I think it’s a sky light.”

“A sky light?”

“A window on the ceiling,” she says, examining the buttons. After a moment of deliberation, she presses one. Above them, the panels slide out of place and open up to a dark gray mass. She snorts and giggles at herself, “Of course the snow is blocking the sky.”

He looks up at the thick layer of snow and smiles, “We could climb up and push all the snow off.”

She looks at him sideways, “Maybe tomorrow. I’m not quite ready to greet the cold air right now.”

He continues his story about the moth and she giggles when he says how quickly he threw the can in the trash despite not being certain of the moth’s origin. There’s a button on the remote that looks interesting to her and she presses it. She frowns when it doesn’t do anything and she rolls over, asking him if he’d checked out the bathroom yet.

“There’s a separate shower and bathtub,” he says, “The tub is large enough that I could stay in it all day and consider it my adventure.”

She snickers and looks at the remote, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you could control the toilet with this thing.”

She laughs and he shakes his head at her in that disapproving manner that always makes her giggle harder. Grabbing her stomach, she looks up and gasps.

“Oh, Orm!” she says, touching his arm. He looks up.

“How did you do that?”

“I pressed this button that said ‘melt’, but it didn’t look like it did anything. It must have been warming up.”

“Will it stay like that all night?” he asks, laying back beside her to look up at it.

“I don’t know, it probably has an automatic timer that turns it off if it gets too warm.”

Looking at the side of his face, she looks back up and can see the view from his eyes. The sky is that calm orange color of the first snow. The thick clouds block the stars from shining through, but the moon is able to cast a pale, misty light down. The flakes are large and fluffy, the kind that cling to each other before landing. When they land on the glass, they melt and run down like tears. She can feel his desire to go out and be among it and she smiles. That curiosity that fills his eyes every time he sees something new, despite how much he resented it when he first arrived, is what drew her to him in the first place. The Mortal Realm was starting to pale. Now, she can see everything as if it were brand new again.

“You should take the bed tonight,” she says, her voice soft.

He tears his eyes away and looks at her, “No, I’m alright.”

“Please. You look peaceful here.”

“It is very peaceful,” he says, “But I couldn’t.”

“How about we both sleep here tonight? Like a sleepover? Cause I really think the snow could be relaxing for your insomnia.”

“You’re certain you’re fine with that?” he asks, his eyes sincere.

“Of course. How many times have we accidentally taken naps on the couch? This isn’t much different,” she chuckles, looking back up at the sky.

“I suppose not,” he says, looking up again as well.

It turns out to be much different.

Having seen all she personally could of the sky and snow, she went to the bathroom and changed into her pajamas, then ran back upstairs to wiggle under the blankets. Orm got up a little while later, then returned. She silently decided that it is an incredibly strange sensation to feel someone crawling into bed beside you, especially after not having it for a long while. She wonders if he feels strange doing it.

Pulling her corner of the blanket tighter around her, she stares at the wall.

Even before being locked up in Atlantis, it had been a while since she felt this comfortable with somone new. Maybe loneliness was a factor in why she was planning to return home.

As if it would have been any better there.

She takes a deep breath and makes up her mind. Rolling over, she scoots closer to Orm and presses her cheek to his arm. After a moment, he reaches down and pulls the blanket tighter around the two of them, then presses his cheek to the top of her head.

”Night, Orm,” she murmurs.

“Goodnight, Althera.”

Chapter Text

“What is on the agenda for today?” he asks, handing her a glass of water.

“We are on an adventure, so I guess we start adventuring. Though we should probably deliver Bruce’s stuff first. I checked the truck outside and it works alright. Oo, I hope Bruce put some orange juice on hold for us.”

Falling back into their morning routine, she finds it enhanced every time she walks past a window. And every time Orm does the same, she watches him hesitate, his blue eyes appearing crystalline from the light on the snow.

Soon, the pair are piled into the truck, bundled up in their brand new Parkas.

Stealing a glance at him while she drives, she can’t help but smile as he takes in everything they pass. It doesn’t take them long to reach a quaint, mismatched town. Parking the car, the few people who are out and about stare as she leaves the truck and enters the store. At the counter there is one old man behind the register and he’s half asleep.

“Excuse me. I’m here to deliver some packages and some cash in exchange for groceries for the Wayne Cabin.”

“I have your groceries. Hold on,” he says from somewhere behind his wiry gray beard.

She walks out to the truck when the man goes into the back room. Orm seems to have moved most of the packages already, placing them on the store’s porch. The last box has special directions to handle with care and keep dry, so she decides to take it inside with her. Picking up the box, she is surprised by how heavy it is, tucking it under her arm.

Walking back in, Orm waits for her at the counter as the man struggles with a dolly carrying three large crates. He turns as she sets the box down on the counter.

“That can’t be what I asked for.”

“Oh? I’m just delivering, I don’t know anything about what’s in the boxes,” she frowns, “I’m sure Mr. Wayne would be fine if you took a peek to make sure.”

“I don’t have to peek, Miss, I was going to use the dolly to bring it around the back of the store to make it easy.”

She looks at Orm and blushes, “Well, why not have a look anyway?”

The old man grumbles but takes a box opener from his pocket and peers inside. He frowns, looking into the box and then up at her. He tries to pick it up from the bottom, strains a little, looks in the box again, then up at her and Orm again before murmuring, “That’s it. Could you bring it around the back for me?”

“No problem,” she chirps.

“Do you work for Wayne?” he asks, watching her as she tucks the box back under her arm.

“Yeah. Just random tasks here and there,” she says, following him into the back. She is amazed when the store opens up to a wide garage space full of large contraptions, machines, and doodads. “I don’t know much about the technical stuff. But I feel you do?”

“My godson met Wayne at a conference in some big city in the lower 48. Ended up wanting to fund some of our research. Then that freak accident of a storm happened, bless it,” he says, then looks up at her sideways, “Eh, not being insensitive. People did die, I guess. But without it, we wouldn’t be getting paid to do what we love doing.”

She continues to poke around and Orm follows her silently, “I noticed the shore is pretty clear around here. That’s due to you?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he says, growing friendlier by the second, “And at least 20 other beaches, from what Wayne has reported to us.”

"Wow. You should be very proud,” she hums.

“Well… I… you know, it’s what we were made to do. Our brains just work like that,” he murmurs, then, “Would you do me a favor and take that out of the box and place it up there? We were gonna use the pulley for it, but having you around makes this easier.”

She laughs, climbing the ladder he pointed out and lifts the part out of the box, setting it on what looks like the correct spot. Looking at it, she offers, “I can bolt it down while I’m up here.”

A wrench is passed up to her and he calls up, "Tighten it up as much as you can. I don’t plan on dismantling it and I don’t want it bouncing around while it’s up there.”

She does as he requests, then they return to the store.

“I’ll see you around, Miss…”

“My name’s Althera. This is Orm. We’re staying in Wayne’s Cabin for a week or two,” she says, picking up two of the crates of groceries from behind the counter, tucking them firmly beneath her chin. Orm follows her, picking up one, and the old man goes in the back bringing out two more crates on the dolly. While Orm takes them back to the car, she finishes up their conversation.

“I’m Hawke, by the way,” he says, his nose peeking out of his beard in a particularly hawkish kind of way. She takes out the cash Bruce had instructed her to give him and he shakes his head, “I’ll find you two while you’re here if I need some manual labor done.”

She laughs, returning the money to her pocket, “Please do. It was nice to meet you, Hawke.”

Walking out to the car, Orm waits for her in the passenger’s seat, his eyes watching her as she approaches.

“Did you just promise our services to that old man?”

“Yup,” she clicks her seatbelt into place.

“Of course you did,” he says. He doesn’t sound mad, just matter-of-fact.

“I always assume you'll get bored when it’s just the two of us,” she says, backing the truck onto the road. He tilts his head, watching out the window.

“I haven’t thought about it,” he admits, “I wouldn’t want to be alone with him, though.”

She giggles, “He has a lot of weird machines, I want to know what all of them do. Don’t you think getting involved with whatever he’s making might be an interesting adventure?”

“It’s taken me some time to realize that when you say you want to ‘find an adventure’ what you really mean is ‘get into trouble’,” he says. She looks over at him and he is already looking at her, his eyebrows raised in a way that makes her laugh.

“Orm, I am the semi-adopted daughter of one of the most prominent members of the Justice League. I am never up to no good.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, smiling, “If I were that old man, I’d lock up those machines immediately. Poor thing doesn’t know any better. You can be disarmingly charming when you want to be, so it’s not difficult to believe he’d fall for your little façade.”

“Hush,” she says, taking her hand off the wheel to cover his mouth. He grabs her hand before she can and squeezes her fingers, “You’re not allowed to analyze me, Ocean Master.”

“That’s all I’ve been doing since the day I met you,” he laughs, his voice slightly distracted, “Althera, there’s an animal in the road up ahead.”

She looks across the bend in the road and grins, “A reindeer, Orm!”

He gives her a look and she snorts, continuing to drive.

“I genuinely don’t know how to explain reindeer to you if you don’t know what they are, but there’s one right there,” she gestures, pulling over and sliding out of the car. She slips her coat off then shoves it through the truck window. Orm frowns and watches her.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna make friends with the reindeer. Look at her nose, it looks so soft.”

The reindeer raises her head and looks at Althera, then looks over at Orm, who hasn’t moved from the truck.

“You are impossible, Althera Prince,” Orm breathes when the large animal walks up to Althera’s closed hand and allows her to pet its nose.

“Impossible to resist,” she snorts, turning to look at him. Then she smiles, “Come here.”

“What if it doesn’t like me?”

“We’re a packaged deal at this point, so she’ll have to get over it, I guess,” she says quietly, scratching the white chin.

He takes his coat off and carefully follows her tracks before stopping beside her.

“This is my friend Orm,” Althera says, as if introducing them. The big eyes examine Orm for a moment and Althera takes her hand from the reindeer’s nose and places it against Orm’s chest, instead.

Placing his hand over hers, he asks, “What are you doing?”

“Telling her she can trust you,” she says, her voice soft.

“You speak reindeer?”

“Very funny,” she purrs, then frowns, “Don’t try to do this if I’m not around, though.”

The reindeer steps closer and sniffs Orm’s stomach. After a moment, he slowly reaches out and pets her nose. Althera watches and can’t help but feel proud when a smile appears in Orm’s eyes. Oddly, she wishes Atlanna were here to see her son at this moment. Without him noticing, she takes her phone out of her pocket and takes a picture. For Atlanna, of course.

When a few other reindeer appear on the other side of the road, their friend grows distracted. Althera says goodbye and Orm follows her to the truck. They drive for a while in silence.

“That was a beautiful creature,” he breaks the quiet, his voice thoughtful. Then, “I need to ask Barry to send me that list.”

“I assure you, conversing with animals is not there. And neither are there any psychic abilities.”

“Then an explanation would be nice,” he insists.

“There’s nothing to explain. It’s a feeling. An intuition. And with animals, they seem to be able to pick up the same feelings, so we sort of mirror off each other. I feel their peace, they feel mine and it allows them to trust me. I can do it with people, too, but it’s different.”

“Have you ever done it to me?” he asks as she parks in the cabin’s driveway.

She rests her head on the seat and smiles, “No. I don't play with people's minds. Besides, if I had I would probably have you Pavloved by now. You would feel calm or excited every time I came around.”

He drops his head on the seat as well, “I do feel calm every time you come around.”

She squints at him, “Well, that’s your own fault, then.”

“I feel ridiculously calm around you,” he says in sudden disbelief, “You know, when I used to read about friendships where they loved each other to the point of feeling each other’s pain, I always thought it dramatic. I’ve never cared for, never loved another person as I do you, Althera.”

“It is extremely dramatic,” she says, and then lifts her sleeve and gestures to her urchin scars, “But we have our matching scars now, anyway. We’ve endured that pain together. And I love you dearly for it.”

He chuckles, raising his sleeve and tracing the mark on his own skin, “I wish Mera and I had had the same connection. Any love, platonic or not, would have been better than none at all. And I feel, given the option, she'd let me plummet to my death.”

“You said once that you’d accept another arranged marriage if you had to. Is that still the case?” she asks, trying to mask the special interest in her voice.

He sighs, looking at the ceiling, “If that’s what it takes to fulfill my duty to Atlantis. And with the new start, hopefully love could grow from it.”

She sighs and chuckles, “You and your duty to Atlantis.”

“Althera?”

“Hm?”

“We should try it.”

“What?”

“You should try to influence me with your magic.”

“No way!” she laughs.

“Why not?”

“Two reasons: I shouldn’t be getting into other people’s heads for no reason and it’ll be hard to get into your stubborn head in the first place.”

He laughs and urges her, “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

She stares at him for a long while, then sighs, “I’ll have to question you first to make sure we’re 100% on the same page. But first you need to help me with the groceries.”

Carrying the crates, something catches her eye on the way to the door.

“There's a lake in the backyard?"

“Quite a large lake for you to not have noticed," he says, walking past her and inside.

She grimaces, following him, “Well sorry, Ocean Master. Or should I call you Lake Master now?"

He gives her one of his testy looks and she grins back.

“I slept all yesterday. I didn't look around much," she reminds him.

“That you did," he agrees, hand yanking one of the lids off the crate, then setting it aside. “And here is your reward for it."

He pulls out a carton of orange juice and she feels herself rise off the ground and float to him.

“Orange juice!"

“Will you ever be as excited to see me as you are to see that orange juice?"

“I'm always excited to see my darling Ormie Orm."

He raises his eyebrows, “And didn't we say we'd never use the name ‘Ormie' ever again?"

She laughs mischievously and opens her crates.

“I feel like a new woman," she says, staring into their fully stocked fridge.

“Good. Now, let's get back to what we were discussing before."

She frowns, "What was that again?"

“Your magic, Althera."

“There's only one thing of mine I refer to as magic, Mr. Marius, and I definitely have never discussed anything about it with you," she murmurs when his back is to her. She is more affected than she thought she'd be when his ears turn pink, the only sign he heard what she'd said.

“You said you'd have some questions beforehand."

Groaning, she lets him lead her to the couch, “Alright. First we gotta get comfy."

She sinks into the cushions and crosses her legs. She watches as he works to get into the same position comfortably.

“Alright, are you comfortable?"

He nods.

“Good, first thing I'm going to ask is if there is anything you might not want me to see in your mind?"

He thinks for a second, then shakes his head, “No. If there's anything I haven't told you it's because I have forgotten or I just haven't gotten around to it."

“Okay… next, do you have any addictive tendencies?"

He blinks, "Do I?"

“I haven't noticed any."

“Then no. Why do you ask that?"

“The sense of peace, or any feeling really, might be like a drug to some people who are easily influenced. The last thing anyone needs is to be addicted to… well… me."

“Ah. Fascinating."

“Though this isn’t necessary, it makes things a little easier; do I have permission to touch your face?”

His eyes are soft and when he smiles it matches so perfectly her heart melts into a puddle, “Of course.”

She feels herself tense up. In order to do it right, she has to have a clear mind. But these last few days, her mind has been absolutely full when it comes to Orm.

Clearing her throat, she attempts to continue anyway.

“Close your eyes,” she murmurs.

His eyes close and she reaches up and takes his face in her hands, feeling for an entrance point.

Silently, she frets while gently pressing her fingers to his skin. Though he says there isn’t anything in his mind that he wouldn’t mind her seeing, the opposite isn’t exactly true. If her focus slips even once, she could accidentally share a bunch of unnecessary and potentially humiliating information with him, making this a very dangerous ordeal.

Finding an access point above his temple, she presses her ring finger a bit firmer to the spot. Her pinky rests just below his eye, gently pressing into his cheekbone. Then she sighs, dropping her hands.

“Darling, I can’t do this.”

He opens his eyes, disappointed, “Why not?”

“I can’t…” she frowns, looking over his shoulder out the window, then standing straight up, “I can’t focus on anything when there is a stranger outside the cabin.”

Chapter Text

He stands and she follows him, slipping on their boots without socks and running outside. Orm frowns down at some tracks that wrap around the house and he looks at Althera.

“You should go inside.”

“And miss all the fun? Nah.”

He gives her a disapproving look, then grabs her hand as they continue around the back of the cabin. Peeking around the corner, they find a man in the backyard with a shovel. He seems to be having trouble digging, the grass frozen beneath the snow.

“Do we know him?” Orm whispers.

She shakes her head, “He doesn’t look familiar from the back.”

“Do you know if Wayne has anything buried back there?”

“Does he look like the type to start digging holes in his yard? There’s definitely a safe hidden inside the cabin somewhere, but not in the grass.”

Orm grimaces, turning to look out again, “He looks like he knows where he’s digging.”

“Should I call Bruce?”

“Can’t we handle this?”

“How?”

“Excuse me, can I help you?” Orm calls out.

Containing a giggle fit, Althera puts on a straight face and follows Orm as he steps out from around the house. The man with the shovel freezes in his place.

“Oh, hey… y’know, I don’t want any problems.”

“What exactly are you doing?” Orm asks, walking closer.

“Look, dude, I’m not trying to start any trouble, I’ll just get out of your hair and be on my way, y’know.”

She registers a movement, his hand tightening on the shovel. There’s a loud, metallic clashing sound that rings in her ears as the shovel comes in contact with Orm’s chest. The guy drops the shovel, looking up at Orm in horror. Grabbing his own wrist he turns as she flies and hovers above him. He smacks into her like a wall and lands on his butt in the snow.

“Oh my god! Oh my god,” he whimpers, “Please don’t kill me. I promise I wasn’t taking anything from Mr. Wayne! I was just gonna dig it up and go, please. Don’t kill me.”

“Nobody is killing anybody,” she breathes, looking at Orm, who brushes a clump of snow off his shirt, “This guy doesn’t seem like much of a threat.”

“No. No, I’m definitely not a threat. Please don’t let your boyfriend hurt me. I think he broke my wrist.”

“I think you broke your own wrist trying to hit him with a shovel,” she grimaces, then drops her feet back to the ground. Reaching out, she grabs his good arm and pulls him to his feet, “Come on. We have first aid inside.”

“So, did Mr. Wayne hire you? He’s like, so stinking rich. I bet he could afford a few superheroes.”

“Who said we were superheroes,” she asks, pressing the bandage in place. His eyes grow wide as the word ‘supervillain’ pops into his head. She laughs and their guest giggles anxiously, “Besides, shouldn’t we be the ones asking questions?”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“What were you doing out there?”

“Digging. But now my wrist is kaput. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this guy was Superman’s ghost, as pale and… thick skinned as he is. But the man of steel was brought back from the dead ages ago. And your boyfriend does, in fact, look quite supervillainy now that I’m looking at him.”

She looks at Orm, who sighs and walks around the table, standing behind her with his arms across his chest. It’s true. Had she seen this version of him immediately after meeting him in Atlantis, it would have been believable. But seeing it after living with him for some time, something about this serious, intimidating face and tough demeanor makes her want to giggle.

“Why were you digging?” Orm asks, his stern voice sending a lovely chill down her spine.

“Can we go back to when she was asking the questions?” he asks, looking up at Orm, “Also, I think you two are doing it wrong and there is supposed to be at least one good cop. Yeah? I mean, unless bad cop, bad cop is what you’re going for. In which case…”

“Do you think you’re funny?”

“I do. But I think I’m at fault for that.”

She bites down on her tongue, walking around him so only Orm can see her grab a pillow off the couch and smash it against her face. She shakes out her giggles and, when she finishes, she walks back around the table.

“Look, kid…”

“C’mon, I’m basically your age,” he sighs.

“You look like a fifteen year old,” she blinks, genuinely surprised.

“I’m twenty-five,” he grumbles.

She bursts into laughter, snorting and grabbing Orm’s arm. Orm isn’t humored and he raises his eyebrows at her when she looks at him.

“Are you done?” he scolds her.

“Oh, darling, but that was hilarious. I would have sworn on my own head that he was fifteen years old. Maybe sixteen.”

“Haha, very funny. Geez, I kinda wish you had just killed me,” their guest murmurs.

“That can still be arranged,” Orm says and he shrinks into himself.

“Look, ki-- I mean, look, we’re all pretty reasonable adults here. No one is gonna kill anyone. Right?” she intervenes.

Orm drops his arms, “Sure.”

“If you tell us what you’re digging up we’ll decide if we let you go or call up Mr. Wayne. I’ll even escort you back to your shovel in the back. But my friend is getting annoyed with all this back and forth.”

“You’ll let me go? Really?” he cheers up, “Why didn’t you say so? Do you know what people would do around here for a good sheet of aluminum?”

He looks at them and when they don’t seem to get it, he continues, “Well, it’s super expensive. People started sneaking bits of my godfather’s aluminum sheets away and trading them for other things. So, a little while back, I started hiding them.”

“In Bruce’s backyard?”

“Whoa, you guys are on a first name basis?”

“Do try to stay on topic,” Orm frowns.

“Right. Um, yes, there’s about three sheets wrapped in tarp under the grass right now and I need to get them out before the grass freezes.”

Althera looks over at Orm. Then she sighs, “I’ll be right back. Keep an eye on him?”

“Ah shit,” the kid grunts.

Walking out the back door of the cabin, she locates the hole. She raises her hands over the ground. The grass and dirt rises and, after about three inches of soil, she feels a little tug of resistance. Peering into the hole, she laughs, “Would you look at that?”

“You’re Hawke’s kid?” she says, walking into the dining room.

“Whoa. Can you read my mind?”

She sighs, “We just met your godfather. Brought him a delivery from Bruce in exchange for some groceries.”

“Really? Wow, small world.”

She leans against the counter, “Your wrist isn’t broken, by the way, just sprained. What would you have done if you had knocked someone out with a shovel?”

He chuckles, chewing on his thumbnail, “Well, I was gonna call my godfather to help sort it out. But, hey, we’re lucky it didn’t come to that.”

She sinks into the chair across from him and Orm leaves his station.

“I’m Althera. He’s Orm.”

“I’m Bean.”

She raises her brows, “Hawke and Bean?”

“Althera and Orm?”

She nods, “Touché.”

“So what’s your guys’ deal?”

“We just…” she looks up as Orm walks back into the kitchen, turning on the coffee maker, “We needed to get out a little.”

Bean nods, then worries, “Wait, I’m not interrupting your honeymoon or something, am I?”

“No,” she laughs, “No, Orm and I are just friends.”

“Oh?” he says, “Well, in that case… hey, I’m Bean.”

She giggles and Orm leans against the counter, rolling his eyes.

“Anyway,” she says, “You should stay for lunch, since you did injure yourself on Orm’s property.”

“Sure. What do supers eat for lunch anyway?”

Orm sets a steaming mug of coffee down in front of Bean, “Nothing extraordinary.”

Chapter Text

“This stuff is so strong… Hey, should we really be drinking Mr. Wayne’s liquor? I mean, it’s probably like really expensive and I’m already kinda in his debt,” he says, looking into the glass on the table before taking another sip.

Althera laughs, drinking straight from the bottle, “I’m almost certain he forgot this was here. Don’t sweat it.”

“Cool. Hey, I bet you saved Mr. Wayne’s life or something. Oh, that’s so cool. Hey, do you think…” he scrunches his face up and looks at her, “Hey, I think you and me are best friends now, right? Cause I really want a superhero friend. And you’re really nice. You let me stay for lunch and dinner.”

“I have another best friend?” she muses, trying to inventory them.

“Who are your other best friends?”

“Barry! He’s the best. Barry… if Barry were here it'd be more fun because he’d make us dance and stuff. My other best friend is that guy,” she says, pointing across the table at Orm, “And you, I guess.”

She looks over at Orm, who reads a book, not paying attention to her. That kinda bugs her. Usually Orm pays lots of attention to her.

Standing up, she walks over and drops herself in his lap. He finishes reading his paragraph and then sets the book aside, looking up at her, “Can I help you?”

“I just want your attention,” she sniffs.

He laughs softly, sitting up straight and putting his arms around her waist, “Alright, you have it. But I think you’ve lost Bean’s.”

Looking over her shoulder, she sees that Bean is now asleep with his head on the table.

“Silly Bean. That wasn’t even a full glass.”

“Should we help him home or is he staying the night?”

“Do you want him to stay the night?”

“Darling, I honestly didn’t want him to stay for dinner.”

She giggles and hiccups, standing up, “Wanna resume our driving lessons while I’m tipsy?”

“This sounds like a horrible idea.”

She is glad Orm learns quickly. The drive there was short. Hawke thanked them for bringing Bean home, asked her some questions that she instantly forgot, and then Althera watched out the window as he and Orm dragged Bean through the store and to the bedrooms at the back.

The ride back to the cabin feels so long in comparison. She could have sat on the far seat and fallen asleep against the glass, except that Orm's shoulder is much more comfortable. Besides, he kept trying to drive with a foot on each pedal and that was annoying the hell out of her. This way she is able to keep watch.

When the truck finally stops, she hears Orm’s voice.

“Come on, Althera."

He grabs her around the waist and pulls her towards him. Finally, she decides to put her feet down in the snow. The shock of the cold on her toes makes her a bit more alert and she laughs.

“By the Gods, where is your shoe?” he frowns.

“I’ll get it,” she says, reaching backwards into the truck and pulling it out from under the seat.

“Hand it to me,” he says, untying it and leaning down to slip it on her foot.

“I’m like Cinderella. Get it. Cause you’re a prince and all.”

“Tipsy Cinderella,” he murmurs and she giggles. He grabs her hand and they walk to the door.

“Bruce was withholding the good stuff. I’m so sleepy.”

“It’s getting pretty late,” he replies, “Take your shoes off and I’ll get your pajamas so you can go to sleep.”

He leaves her at the bottom of the stairs and she kicks her shoes off, peeling off her wet sock. He returns and she beams, “Thank you, Prince Charming.”

“Go change.”

She walks into the bathroom, even more impressed by the size of the room and especially the bathtub. It’s so big she could easily sleep the whole night in it comfortably if Orm brought her a blanket and pillow. She buttons up her top, then has to rebutton it as her first attempt was crooked.

Orm sits on the couch reading something on his phone and she walks up the stairs, laying on the bed on her stomach so she can look down at him.

“Orm?” she calls down.

“Althera?”

“You’re gonna leave me someday.”

He looks up at her through the rails, “But not anytime soon. I promise.”

She feels a little giddy inside when he says this and she rolls over, “You know, I think if you asked me to marry you right now, I’d say yes. I think it would be interesting. Even if we ended up divorced in, like, three weeks, I think it’d be cool being married to you. I could be like, ‘oh, yes, my ex-husband the Prince of Atlantis, Orm Marius’. You’re nice and handsome enough. And you’re one of my best friends in the whole Universe. And you’re smart and silly. And you just make me happy. Shouldn’t you marry someone who makes you happy?”

He doesn’t respond and she rolls over to look down at him again, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Darling.”

She sighs and pulls on the edge of the blanket, “But otherwise… what other reason is there for us to not get married?”

He chuckles, “I thought you said you were tired, Althera.”

“I’m also cold.”

“Put your blanket on.”

She grabs the blanket and wraps it around her. It’s warm inside.

“I’m sorry, Orm, but I cannot marry you. Diana would be so mad at me.”

There is a pause before she realizes he’s laughing.

“What?”

“Sorry. That’s just a really funny reason to not get married.”

“She would be mad, though.”

“I don’t think Diana has the capability of being extremely mad at you. You have her and Bruce in the palm of your itty bitty hand.”

She laughs because she knows it’s true.

“Alright then, let’s get married.”

“Logically, there seems to be no sound reason why we shouldn’t.”

“Nope. Unless you secretly hate me.”

“Never in a million years.”

She beams. Rolling over, she stares at the stars outside the sky light. It’s not snowing tonight, so she can see them clearly.

“Orm? I'm just gonna say, this whole talk of getting married was just a long preface of asking you to come up here and cuddle with me because I’m pathetic. And you’re, like, really good at hugs. And you’re my best friend in the world, right now, but I still feel like I’m really bad at letting you know exactly what that means to me. That’s why I hug you so much. I just get so many emotions and the only way I know how to share them with you is by squishing you with them. So… yeah.”

It is quiet for a long moment. Then she feels the bed dip beside her.

“Now will you go to bed?” he murmurs, bringing his hand to her forehead.

She nods, sitting up and throwing her arms over his shoulders. He tips back onto the mattress and he grunts, adjusting himself. She curls into his side and buries her face between his neck and the pillow, swinging her leg around his waist, trying to get comfy.

“Althera,” he grunts, exasperated and soft. She lifts herself up and he moves his arm out from under her. Finally, he is able to settle in, sighing.

He must think she’s horribly clingy and annoying. She hopes he doesn’t.

“I’m happy now,” she says, then worries, “Don’t worry, it’s not sexual.”

“I know. Now sleep.”

“Just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.”

“Althera, I will literally marry you tomorrow if you shut up and go to sleep right now,” he murmurs.

Giggling, she brings her hand to his head, gently scratching his scalp. Within moments, he’s breathing slowly and evenly, deep asleep.

She follows close behind.

Chapter Text

Waking up, she finds warmth surrounding her and humiliation filling her to the brim.

She had rambled a lot last night. From what she remembers, everything had been pretty innocent. Guess she’ll just have to see how he acts today.

He grunts a little and moves, his hand sliding up her back, catching her by surprise and creating chills across her skin.

Knock it off, she scolds herself.

She starts to untangle herself from him, but he tightens his arms around her waist and kisses the top of her head.

Oh, hell! Hestia, Artemis and Athena, give me strength to resist the hold this man has on me.

Leaning back, he looks down at her with that smug smile, “Good morning, Cinderella. Are we still due for a wedding today?”

“Shuddup,” she grunts and he laughs so hard he shakes around her.

“Last night was entertaining. Are you always like that when you drink?”

“If you must know, yes. But when Barry is with me, he doesn’t make me ask for hugs. You, however, seemed to enjoy my suffering.”

“Well, now I know,” he says, pulling away, “I assume you’ve proposed to Barry before, as well.”

“Actually, I think you’re the first. Barry and I have never lived together,” she says, sitting up and stretching, “So the whole having to move my stuff to his place made the arrangement less logical than our engagement.”

He raises his eyebrows, “Ah, I see.”

She takes off her bonnet and attempts to get some shape back to her hair. He is quiet the entire time and when she finally turns to look at him, he grins from ear to ear.

“You think this is all so funny, don’t you?” she glares.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he admits, “I’ve never been squished with emotions before, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t slightly enjoyable. Though… well, if it were anyone but you, you’d have spent the night in the snow.”

She smiles, “Well, I guess I have Prince Orm in the palm of my hand, then, don’t I?”

“I guess so,” he hums. The look he gives her is so long that she blushes and looks away. Then he clears his throat, “Well, as much as I’d like to stay in bed with my newly betrothed all day, I believe intoxicated Althera made a promise to Bean’s godfather to do some work today.”

“She did?” she whines, dropping back into the mattress. “Ugh.”

"Don’t tell me you have a hangover from the tablespoon I poured you,” she says, handing Bean one of the sheets of aluminum Orm had reminded her to bring in the truck.

“No, I’m just ridiculously tired. Which is ironic, since last night was the most sleep I’ve had in a long time,” he grunts, rubbing his face on his shoulder.

“How’s your hand?”

“Still hurts. Can you kiss it better?” he pouts. She snorts and he looks around, “Speaking of which, where’s the anti-superman?”

“Ugh, please don’t call him that, of all things. He’s still in the truck. He’s in a good mood, so don’t mess that up.”

“I think he hates me,” he says, looking over his shoulder as he leads her into the giant workspace she had visited yesterday.

“Don’t think so highly of yourself, dearest Bean. You are simply one of the many who he has very little tolerance for.”

“How do two people like you even meet?”

“Prison?” she suggests.

He laughs sarcastically and she giggles to herself.

Orm comes in a little later, politely listening to Hawke prattle on about something.

“Oh, I forgot!” Hawke erupts, darting out of the room. Bean follows him.

Orm walks up to her, putting his arm around her and squeezing, “Sounds like he’s going to have us do a lot of heavy lifting.”

“Think you can handle it?” she teases.

“I had a great breakfast. And if I had slept as well as I did last night a year ago, I would still be King of Atlantis.”

She laughs, “Don’t let Mr. Vulko hear you say that!”

“I think you’re my lucky barnacle.”

“Orm, Darling, please tell me you did not just call me a barnacle.”

“Because you’re clingy and you’ve brought me good luck.”

“Oh, no, I understand that, dear,” she says, touching his cheek, “It’s just so sad that we got engaged yesterday and I’m already going to have to break it off on account of the worst pet name I have ever heard in my entire life.”

He laughs and Hawke returns, putting them to work.

It is late by the time he sends them home, and they are exhausted. The work wasn’t difficult, but the sheer amount of it was unbelievable.

Althera drives them back to the cabin and they each have a bowl of cereal for dinner, leaving their dirty dishes on the coffee table.

She teaches him how to purchase ebooks on his phone. While he browses lazily, she dozes off.

Chapter Text

She wakes up to the sound of Orm in the kitchen. He has soft music playing as he works and, after enjoying the sounds for a little while, she decides to take a bath in the big ass bathtub.

”Morning,” he says as she walks past him.

“Morning. You sleep alright?”

He shrugs, then, “Do you want me to make you something?”

“No, I think I’m going to soak in the tub for a while.”

“I’ve been trying to think of a way to transport it on the helicopter with us when we return home, but so far it seems impossible.”

She laughs, “I think we’ll also need a bigger house for it to fit.”

The soak is as relaxing as she had hoped and she enjoys the atmosphere that the small, stained glass windows cast around the room. She is pleasantly surprised when she hears Orm’s quiet humming drift into the room as well, an easy task as there’s not really a door on the bathroom separating the two of them. She closes her eyes and enjoys the sound. His humming is a rare, but welcome treat.

Today is going to be their first day of real adventure, meaning she is going to find something interesting for them to look at, even if she has to climb up some rocks to do it.

The point of bringing Orm to Alaska was to show him the natural beauty that the Surface has to offer. Not something created by Surface Dwellers, she’ll save that for a little later, but born of land and weather. Most of these sights she can find by walking out the back door. The snow is beautiful, but the dark clouds have obscured a lot of the sky, so she wonders how much stargazing they’ll be able to do.

That’s fine. Stargazing is too romantic anyway.

Romance. The last time she was in Alaska was the first time she and Clark Kent broke up. She is glad he outgrew her and found the love of his life. Otherwise, she’d likely find herself careening back into his life like she had before. Which, now that she looks back on it, is beyond cringeworthy. He deserved better than that.

She sinks deeper into the bath, feeling her gills open as the water runs across them.

That’s why she needs to get over this crush on Orm. She’s not good for him. It’s apparent in the way she treated Clark. He was one of the only men she has ever really loved and she made sure to keep an emotional six feet away from him at all times. That way what she felt was real, but it wasn’t real.

The beautiful idiot still cared for her. He did anything for her while they were in a relationship and she loved him for it. So why was she so… unfair? And still, he is a good friend. And, still, if he heard she was in trouble he’d drop anything to help her.

She can’t do that to anyone again. Especially not Orm Marius.

Sliding deeper into the water, she plunges completely in, her guilty tears washing away. Opening her eyes, she stares at the strange shapes the water and bubbles create out of the ceiling and the lights.

Guilt is good. That’s what she told Orm. It means you’re growing.

She can’t fix her past. That is something she has had to come to terms with many times before. But she promises herself that her friendship with Orm will never be something she has to come to terms with. She is going to be, relatively, honest with him and appreciate him completely while they are still close, not in hindsight.

Happy with her decision, she lifts her head out of the water and gasps in surprise.

“You were so deep in thought,” Orm laughs, his eyes focused on hers.

“Sorry,” she says, wiping bubbles off her face, “Are you alright? Do you need something?”

“No, I just wanted to bring you this,” he says, taking his hands from behind his back. She was so surprised to find him standing there that she hadn’t noticed he was hiding something. Now he sets a plate of fruit on the edge of the tub, “Hawke came over early this morning to thank us for the work. Brought some fruit. I thought it might help you relax.”

“Oh? Thank you,” she says, “That’s very kind of him. That was probably pretty expensive.”

“I’m sure he’ll have us pay him back,” Orm snorts, turning and leaving the bathroom.

Taking a closer look at the delicately arranged fruit tray, a list of things cross her mind:

1. She doesn’t think she and Orm can handle another day of following Hawke from task to task, though she does want to do something for him to thank him for this treat
2. Orm is just the cutest, most precious thing she ever saw and she’ll never do anything to intentionally hurt him
3. If anyone else were to ever try and do so, she’ll smite them on the spot and...
4. If she wasn’t so civilized, she would have dragged Orm’s lovely, unsuspecting ass into the tub with her ages ago

Chapter Text

It’s their last night in Alaska. Over the days that occupied their two weeks vacation, they were greeted by three bears, four more reindeer, two of Bean’s interesting friends, sixteen of Hawke’s ‘side projects’ (only one of which exploded in a bright shower of sparks that caused a blackout for the entire small town), three days of wandering through the forest, and zero more days of tipsy cuddles.

Orm is still the usual observant, contemplative Orm she has known, exaggerated every day he pauses and stares out the window for long, quiet moments. She wonders if it’s the scenery he’s seeing or something else. She could ask and he would speak to her honestly, but she usually leaves him alone to his thoughts.

Now, she looks out the back door and sees him standing outside in the snow. He wears a dark gray sweater, one of the ones she bought him before they came out here. He stares out at the silvery lake, his eyes thoughtful, his shoulders and stance so proud and serene that she decides she wants nothing more than to wreck his peace.

Slipping out the back door, she tiptoes up to him. Shivering, she looks up at him before he reaches out. Grinning, she steps into his arms and he drapes them around her, hugging her to his chest.

“What are you doing out here?” he murmurs.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

He smiles sideways, “It’s… nice.”

“You think?” she asks, leaning into the heat he gives off. He rubs her arms without much thought, warming her up further.

“You chose this place for a reason, didn’t you?”

“Of course. I wanted you to see something beautiful and you agreed. I didn’t expect this sunset, though.”

He nods. After a moment, he looks down at her. She feels his eyes on her for some time before he asks, “Are you cold, Althera?”

“I’m not quite like you Atlanteans," she admits, "It takes me a little while to warm up. It’s hard for me to believe that you could hop into that lake and not come out an icicle.”

He shrugs, now intentionally rubbing her arms to heat her up, “I could, though, which is what really matters.”

She snorts at him, already much warmer and feeling inspired to do something stupid. She wonders briefly how he might react. Will he be like Bruce who just shakes his head, watching from a distance? Or like Barry, who quickly tags along. She could see him responding like Diana, who crosses her arms and scolds her. He could even be like Kal, who laughs, sometimes joins in, and then later lectures her on why what she did could have been dangerous.

Preparing herself for the scolding of a lifetime, she steps out of her shoes and puts her bare feet in the snow. She is grateful for the heat Orm lent her, as she pulls her sweater off, looking up at him.

His eyes are wide and he looks extremely confused. And… something else? No, she definitely imagined that.

She sets her discarded sweater on a tree stump and shimmies out of her pants. A jolt of shock shoots through her when she realizes she’s practically naked in front of him. She recovers quickly, using her performative spirit to shake off her shyness.

“Althera, do you mind humoring me for a moment and explaining why you’re standing in your… underthings in the snow?”

“I wanna see if I’ll become a popsicle.”

“You’ll get sick.”

“If I do, it’ll be worth it,” she grins.

“You would give up an honorable death in battle to die of pneumonia?” he scolds.

She laughs, walking backwards to the lake, “I’m not going to die of pneumonia. If any illness is going to take me out, it’ll be the common cold! Come on, Ocean Master.”

“I don’t think this will benefit me in any way, Althera Prince.”

“Ooo, did I just get scolded?” she teases, turning her back to him and dipping her toe in the water. A shiver rolls through her body and she giggles, “Are you really going to make me go in alone?”

“You’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

“Aw, come on,” she complains, dipping the toes of her other foot in the water and shivering again, “It’ll be fun. Or does Prince Orm Marius not know how to have fun?”

He doesn’t respond and she looks over her shoulder. She giggles as he glares, then reaches down and pulls off his sweater, tossing it beside her clothes on the stump. Then his jeans. He grunts to himself quietly before walking up beside her, “This is ridiculous.”

“It is.”

“Is this what Arthur means when he says to enjoy life?”

“If standing with your best friend in your underwear in snowy Alaska at sunset isn’t enjoying life, I don’t know what is,” she says. Then she pushes herself off the ground. Hovering over the lake for a second, she prepares herself for the sensation before diving in head first.

Before she can feel the cold, her entire body goes numb. When she emerges from the water, all she can feel is the adrenaline. When Orm swims up beside her, his face worried, she grins and he shakes his head, “You are impossible. You could have told me you’d be fine.”

“Oh, no, Orm. I’m freezing cold. I just have a good poker face.”

He frowns, seeing how much she actually is shivering, “Come here.”

“I’m fine,” she shivers and he swims closer to her, rubbing her arms as he did when they were on land. She borrows his warmth in the same way and, again, she warms up nicely.

When her teeth stop chattering, she swims away from him.

“Look, it’s warmer over here,” she says, then whispers a quick prayer to Poseidon that it actually is. Orm swims up beside her and looks dumbfounded.

“It’s considerably warmer,” he blinks, then squints up at her, “Is this your doing?”

“The only way I know how to heat water is by boiling it, and I’m not about to make Orm stew, or peeing in it,” she says and he rolls his eyes. She laughs, and looks out at the sunset again. The entire sky is a painting of orange and gold. It has a hazy, dreamy feeling on the surface of the water. Orm looks as well and she sighs, “I wish I could touch it.”

He tilts his head, “You could be a poet.”

“Oh, no. I read poetry, I don’t write it,” she blushes, “But you can write me a poem.”

He laughs once, “It’s been years since I wrote a poem. Years since I wrote much of anything for my own pleasure, really.”

“Why?”

“It’s hard to keep writing when you’re planning a world war,” he says, floating around her and bobbing in the water, “I don’t think I’ve ever swam like this before. It’s interesting.”

“What you usually do can only be described as flying underwater,” she laughs, then, “You should start writing again, if you enjoyed it.”

“What about? The Memoirs of Orm Marius, Former Ocean Master, Ex-Terrorist: He Peaked At 27 Years Old?”

She laughs and he sighs, drifting onto his back and staring up at the sky, which is slowly growing dark.

“You could start off with a poem about that sunset,” she suggests, then pouts, “It’s almost gone, now, though.”

He sinks himself, just his steady blue eyes watching her from above the waterline, and he reminds her of some oceanic predator just waiting to close in on its meal. She giggles uncomfortably and then raises her hand in the air, shaking it to dry it off. He watches as she snaps her fingers and creates a bloom of hot flame between her fingertips. She sets it on the water and it drifts toward him, before sizzling and sinking.

His eyes brighten, entertained, and when he speaks, his voice carries from underwater, “I could write about you.”

“Eh, I’m not good poetry material.”

“You already know I think you’re fascinating. I’ve seen you glow a brilliant violet light before lighting several old, underwater buildings on fire. I don’t mention that incident a lot since it was a moment you weren’t proud of. But, honestly, you make such a large impression for someone so physically small.”

“Oh, Orm. That would be the worst thing to write a poem about,” she sighs, and sinks deeper into the water, turning and swimming into the colder space. He follows behind her and she sighs, floating on her back. He swims beneath her and then rises up behind her head, looking down into her eyes.

“I say I shouldn't mention the incident and yet I do anyway. What an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, Orm,” she hums.

She continues to drift silently on the water and he circles her quietly for a few long moments. When the sky is completely dark, they make their way to the shore. He grabs her hand and they grab their clothes from the stump, running inside the cabin.

Chapter Text

Shivering, Althera starts a fire inside the cabin. She goes to the bathroom and peels off her dripping bra and underwear, getting into her sleepwear. She hears Orm rattling around in the kitchen and she begins drying her hair with the blow dryer. The warm air feels wonderful and she closes her eyes to enjoy it.

Walking into the living room, Orm stands in the middle of the room, looking sheepish.

“I plugged in the kettle for some tea and I put the squeezable cookies in the oven. Will you stay up with me a little longer?”

“Sure,” she says, dropping herself on the floor in front of the fire, “But just because of the cookies.”

He grins, then runs into the bathroom to change. He’s in a fresh pair of pajama pants when he returns, having become much more comfortable wearing no shirt around her this last week. She doesn’t blame him, as she literally stripped down to her underwear in front of him moments ago. When he sits down next to her, she looks into the fireplace.

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat, “I think we confirmed that you would not like my poetry.”

She laughs, already feeling silly for her earlier reaction, “I still want to read whatever you write, Orm. Even if it is about silly ol’ me.”

He puts his arm around her and she sighs, dropping her head against his shoulder.

“Thank you for making me do this.”

“I have yet to make you do anything, Orm,” she murmurs, “These are your choices, I’m just the tour guide.”

“I know. But none of this seems possible without you. And whenever I try to give you credit, you shrug me off,” he frowns, turning his head to look down at her, “As much as I hope to have you as a friend until the end of time, I know that if we ever part I will already be a better person than I was before because of you.”

She scrunches her nose up and he laughs, then she asks, “Orm, have you heard about soulmates?”

“A little.”

“You know that they don’t have to be romantic? Like you and your mother could be soulmates, right?” she says. He nods and she continues, “Ever since you said what you said a couple weeks ago, about how you’ve never had a friend whose pain you felt like you felt mine, ever since you held your scar next to mine, I’ve been thinking that you and I… well, I think you’re my soulmate. Like we were destined to meet and learn from each other and fight battles together. And, honestly, the reason why I shrug off your ‘thank you’ is because you truly cannot thank me for getting to know the man you are, because that itself is a treat.”

He leans back and looks at her, then laughs once, “Is it bad that I want to thank you for saying that?”

“Orm!”

“Really, Althera, I’m glad you feel this way. You and I… we’re soulmates,” he says, his voice trailing off as he looks back into the fire, “It makes sense. You were the first person who didn’t punish me for being myself. My father hated that I was half my mother. Mera and Vulko hated that I was half my father. My mother was always worried I might turn out just like him. You found me, Althera, and you said I was neither my mother nor my father. That I was Orm. And you’ve been so patient as I try to figure out who that person is.”

He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and she turns and throws her arms around him, “You’re going to make me cry.”

His cheek against hers, he asks, “Is it silly that all I want is to make you proud?”

She pulls back and looks down at him, “Please know that making me proud of you is the easiest thing you’ll ever have to do. You make me proud every day, and I am so proud to be your friend.”

He squeezes her tighter and she buries herself in his arms. Strong, sturdy Orm.

When he releases her, they turn and she sits across from him, their sides to the fire. He looks her straight in the eyes and says in the sweetest voice, “You are so beautiful.”

She raises her eyebrows and is glad they’re sitting so near the fire, as he can’t sense exactly how much he’s affected her. Crossing her legs and placing her hands in her lap, she nods, “Thank you. As are you.”

He blinks, realizing what he said. From his expression, she expects he is happy they are near the fire as well, “I mean to say your soul is beautiful. Obviously your… face and… general physical being is beautiful, too, but I meant to say your soul. And I mean it.”

“I mean it, too,” she says, “Your beauty, Prince Orm, is bold and direct. Dignified and grand, just like you. And it’s nothing to joke about.”

He gives her a long look, still not convinced she isn’t teasing, before rolling his eyes, “You weave your words to flatter me. Maybe you are a siren sent to keep me tame and compliant.”

She snorts, “Darling, there is very little that is tame and compliant about you. Every day you wake up and look impossibly indignant. So much so that I can easily imagine what you looked like as a child who didn’t get his way.”

He laughs one of his loud, clear laughs and she literally rises off the ground with pure elation. By the Gods, if only he knew he was the siren himself.

He reaches out and presses her back into the floor, “I believe it’s time I compliment you.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

He continues anyway, “What of Althera Prince’s beauty? Doth she be of seraphic beauty? Or more earthly, of man?”

She laughs, covering her face, “Stop. You’re reading too much Shakespeare or something, nobody talks like that!”

“Nay, for she is much too lawless to be one or the other. Far too fierce in one moment and so tender the next. Thus, she thrives on incertitude. Thus, in her respite, we have naught but to speculate. To guess.”

“Now you’re teasing, Orm Marius.”

“I do not tease, only barter: one compliment for another. It is the law of order, that one cannot take and never give. Even if it is just one compliment…” he says, his voice growing less teasing, less of a performance, and much more thoughtful and real, “... this is what I can give to you. Tell me, Lady Althera, and speak to me in earnest; why do you not like being compared to a thunderstorm?”

The timer goes off for the cookies and he rises and disappears out of her line of sight. She looks down at the pattern on the rug, her heart pounding in her chest on its own will. She swallows down the lump in her throat and closes her eyes, wondering if she should make such a quick decision.

When he returns, he lowers himself slowly, careful not to tip the steeping tea or cookies. Setting the tray aside, he looks at her. Before he says a word and before she changes her mind, she leans forward and takes his face in her hands.

“Althera, what are you--”

“Orm, please hush. I'm trying to focus.”

She meditates on the thoughts she wants to convey to him. The answer to his question. She isn't sure how to tell him. She's wondered how to break this news to him before, but now that the time is actually here, she's drawn a blank.

So she focuses on what they have in common, instead.

She focuses on their desire to please as children, yet falling short of their fathers' impossibly high expectations. The vicious, disappointing cycle.

Orm's hands find her waist, his fists tightening on her clothes as their emotions intertwine, becoming more potent. Tears well in her eyes and she shudders, but continues to focus on the connection.

She feels the resistance as she tries to dredge up her own difficult memories and, in her hesitation, the memories that fill her head are no longer her own. She gasps as the memories become real to her, as her suspicions about his past are confirmed. The fear. The confusion. The lies.

Then the ball is back to her, the arguments and the pettiness of the proud gods. Of her family's sanctimony and her weariness to save face. Hypocrisy. Anger, her own, her father's, and Hera's. The accident...

"This is why I'm not too keen on thunder," she wants to convey, "This is what I want you to know."

The buoyant sensation of being understood fills her up and her entire body relaxes as she slumps into him, her hands falling from his face to his shoulders. Her tears falling freely from their combined misery, yet so happy to be understood.

His hands release their tight fists and lay flat against her sides. He sniffs and suddenly grabs her, pulling her into his lap and squeezing her. Draping her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in his neck, she feels him take a shaky inhale, and then he squeezes her even tighter than before. The pressure feels like he's holding the two of them from unraveling.

They stay in this fashion for some time and, when the alarm for the second batch of cookies goes off, she hates the thought of pulling away. And he stands before she can, his arm under her butt as he walks into the kitchen.

He sets her on the counter and she watches him remove the batch of cookies. He takes a deep breath, straightens out, then looks at her.

"Your father... You're a direct daughter of the Old Gods. You're... you're a daughter of Zeus."

She smiles weakly, "That's me."

"I thought the Old Gods were dead?"

"No, they're alive. Might get their butts kicked every once and awhile, but they always recover. The last time they got their butts kicked, Dad signed the Regulated Deity Intervention Act to save his reputation. Apparently there was a lot of paperwork," she chuckles wryly.

Orm nods, grabbing a clean dish towel and wringing it in his hands. Then he breathes, "He neglected you. They neglected you."

"Well... many of us were neglected in one way or another, really."

"Althera."

"He's Zeus, Orm!" she laughs, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, "I know that parents aren't supposed to choose favorites, but he did. I was defective as a child. I still am, at times, you've witnessed this. And I know what you'll say, that it shouldn't have been like that, but it was. And I've accepted that. And I've made it so I can survive on my own elements, on water, fire, air, and earth. I don't need his lightning."

"Because he hurt you with it."

Their silence echoes through the room.

"That was nothing, Orm," she says, her voice faint, "It was nothing like what you went through. The lightning thing... It happened as quick as the lightning struck and never again. He panicked, Hera panicked. Honestly, that was the first time Hera had ever looked at me like I was truly one of her own. It was as if they suddenly realized what they were doing to me my entire life. And I left. But you, Orm. You were a child. A child, and he made you think that that was what a father had to do to teach his son to be a good man? A king?"

Her eyes full of tears, he looks down at the towel in his hands. He closes his eyes and breathes and, after regaining his composure, he looks up at her with a sad smile on his lips. Reaching out, he wipes the tears from her cheek with the towel. She laughs lightly, grabbing his hand and he murmurs, "We both deserved better."

She nods, reaching out. He steps closer and allows her to pull him into her chest. She wishes she could hold him there forever, to shield him from the world. He hugs her back and she gets the feeling he would do the same for her if he could.

"I'm glad you had your aunt and uncle, Althera," he says, then leans back and frowns, "Your uncle, who is not... King Poseidon?"

"Poseidon is my uncle, but he's not who helped raise me," she says, looking down at her feet.

"No. Of course. Your Uncle," he says, and she appreciates his attempt to sound casual, "God of the Dead."

"Among other things," she smiles.

He takes a deep breath, "Wow."

"Orm," she grows worried, "Orm, you really shouldn't have shared such personal information with me. We shouldn't have used the connection so recklessly--"

"I don't care," he interrupts, "I'm glad you know. If this is the way I can get you to understand why I am the way I am, why I made the decisions I made, I'll take it. I don't regret telling you a thing."

She frowns, touching his cheek and he continues, "My crime and punishment are not equal, Althera. I am far from home, yes, but I'm with you. And sometimes this all feels more like a vacation than a punishment. And when everything feels so nice, I begin to detach myself from what I did. But the day always comes, when I remember and everything comes crashing back down on me. You know what that's like. You know the effort it takes to be different. From what I once was, from how he taught me to be."

His voice cracks and he looks down. After a few moments of silence, she responds, "If you want me to punish you more often, I can."

"Althera," he breathes, so soft as he lowers himself and holds his cheek to her heart, the placement of her first scar. Her fingers trace the now familiar old scars across his broad back.

"I know," she says, recalling how uncomfortable she once was with Diana's warmth, "I know."

Chapter Text

When she walks into the mansion, the yelling floats to her from down the hall. Today was already pretty cruddy and here is the cherry on top.

She closes her eyes, trying to take a deep breath but finding it nearly impossible as her hands start to shake and she rises off the ground.

Is it really too much to ask that she return home just once to the sound of laughter? Of genuine, happy laughter between her father and Hera, instead of this intolerable, infuriating, inflaming yelling game.

The sound of a fire alarm goes off in the room next to her and the screaming down the hall stops.

She hears Zeus appear in the hallway, Hera behind him. Hera groans as he runs past her, rushing to put out the fire. She opens her eyes and watches with a blank expression as they struggle with the task. Athena was right, her flames are getting more intense. She was also correct that Althera should practice controlling it better. However, this house isn’t the best place to practice focus.

When she comes out of her thoughts, she finds her dad looking up at her, his purple brow furrowed, “If you’re going to create a mess, fix it.”

“Big words,” Hera snorts, her golden hair down to her feet and her hands covered in ash, “Said by Olympus’s biggest hypocrite.”

Then she turns and walks off, her clicking heels echoing through the hallway and towards the stairs.

“I’m the hypocrite?” he starts to follow her and then pauses, turning back to Althera, “Clean that room. Throw out what you’ve destroyed.”

Hera stops at the bottom of the stairs and turns, “No, that is one of my rooms! I’ll take care of it later. She wouldn’t know what’s important anyway.”

Zeus makes an exasperated noise before shouting, “Fine! Leave it alone, then.”

Hera nods and then stomps up the stairs.

Althera takes a deep breath and announces, “I have decided to move out.”

He had been running after Hera, but now he stops in his tracks, in the middle of the stairs. Messy strands of his long, purple hair hang in front of his face and he pushes them back. He tries to take an even breath, but fails, “You’re not going anywhere, Althera. You’re 16 years old.”

“I want out of here,” she says, then sudden emotion takes over her and she starts sobbing. She feels the ground return to the soles of her feet and she sprints up the stairs and past him, toward her room. She can hear the sound of him close behind.

“I forbid you from entering Hades’s house!”

“I don’t need to go to Uncle! I’ll go anywhere.”

“And you’ll use my money to do it?”

“I have my own money. I made a work arrangement with Hermes a year ago. You would have noticed if either of you paid any attention to my extracurriculars," she snaps, going to the closet and pulling out random clothes as her dad continues to huff and puff behind her. "And I have enough money to make it a year on my own, at least. I can earn more!”

“Hera!”

Hera appears, seated in Althera’s swiveling chair with a glass in hand, her makeup smudged.

“Yes, husband?”

“Do you hear her? Tell her not to leave?”

“Why would she listen to me?” she laughs, “Besides, I encourage her to go. This house is poisonous. You are poisonous.”

“Poisonous,” Althera repeats under her breath.

“If I’m so poisonous, why have either of you stayed this long in the first place?”

“Because you won’t let me go!”

They had screamed the same words simultaneously and Hera looks over at her, then sighs and turns away, taking a deep drink.

Zeus doesn’t seem to take their words to heart, the light flickering in the room.

“You both hate me. Lovely. And I expect you’ll be happy if Hebe and Athena hate me someday, too?”

Althera snorts and reaches under the bed, pulling out her duffel bag. As she shoves her clothes inside, she feels the cold air surround her as Hera opens the door to the balcony, pulls out a long cigarette, and returns to the desk chair. Althera almost retorts for a second, as the tripod, copper cauldron, and tools she was working on to present at her next school conference are out there and not ready for anyone to see yet. On second thought, she doesn’t care. It’s not like they were going to go, anyway. Zeus always assumes his children will receive high grades from their teachers. And they all do.

Frustrated, she stands, “They have no reason to hate you. You’re the perfect father for them because they are the perfect daughters you actually wanted. I am a mistake. I see it on your face. I see it on Hera’s. I see it on everyone who looks at me! Another one of Zeus’s mistakes! Pity me!”

“You are ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful? Why should I be grateful? I’m a child of an affair. You took me from the family who loved me. You only keep me around for appearances, to look like the perfect little family,” she glares, grabbing her duffel bag and stopping in front of the balcony, the cold air chilling her bones, “Isn’t that true, Hera? This is just one big game of house. You don’t want me around. Even my name is a petty joke. No, you don’t love me. You have never loved anyone but yourself!”

Zeus rises off the floor, his eyes glowing white. She refuses to back down, the bag falling from her hand and her eyes growing scarlet. This only makes him more furious, seeing her look more like his brother than himself. The sky opens up and Hera jumps up to calm them both down.

She is too late.

Hera and Althera turn to look out at the balcony as the lightning crawls through the scattered mess of tools and the cauldron, a lead striking the tripod leaning against the rail, then branches off, hitting Althera directly in the center of her blue chest.

Her eyes widen and her entire body glows for an instant before she falls forward into Hera’s arms.

Everything feels hazy, though there's no pain. She doesn’t feel much of anything, really. Though she watches the scene, she knows she isn’t fully aware of her own body. She couldn’t be, as her body is in Hera’s arms, yet she drifts above them.

Hera’s scream breaks through the haze, “What have you done?”

Zeus falls back, tripping on his own foot and landing on his back. Then he crawls to Hera’s side.

“Althera, answer me, baby, please, ” Hera sobs, stroking her cheek, and she watches curiously from above.

“Althera…” Zeus breathes, his eyes wide with horror. He reaches out to touch her arm, then recoils, looking at his hand which sparks like static shock when he gets too near.

She felt that, raising her own incorporeal arm. It draws her back down and into her own body and she sits up suddenly, gasping for breath.

“Oh, Althera!” Hera gasps, reaching out for her, her eyes full of regret and something else. Something she has only seen glimpses of.

No. It’s too late for that.

“Althera, that should never have happened. I wasn’t paying attention. I’m a fool and an idiot. I’m so sorry,” Zeus says. She can see he truly is sorry.

The sky opens up again, only this time it is not Zeus’s doing, but her own. She rises and drifts outside, above the balcony. They chase after her, rain pouring over all three of them in sheets, the lightning casting strange shadows across the house.

She continues to rise above them until they are nothing more than two small dots. She flies for miles, that haziness returning to her slowly until everything goes black.

Chapter Text

She wakes up to find Orm standing above her, his face thoughtful. She blinks, then grabs her blanket and pulls it up to her neck, “What are you doing?”

“Are you okay?” he asks, “You were muttering in your sleep.”

“I’m fine. It was just a dream. Or, a memory, I guess. A side effect from last night,” she says, rubbing her eyes and sitting up on the couch. Orm sits down beside her, staring at his palm, “How about you? Are you okay?”

He inhales deep and nods, “You’re right. That ability of yours isn’t something that should be used lightly.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, “That was a lot.”

“Althera, what… what happened to you, after that incident with Zeus?” he asks. She wonders what she had been saying in her sleep and is only a little embarrassed.

“Uh, well… I ended up hibernating for about a week or so. I had buried myself under a mound of soil in a park, though I have no memory of the journey there. It was a satyr who dug me up. He was really cute, with these perfect little horns and a full beard by the time he turned 17. He actually became my first boyfriend, but that’s a little later on. Anyway, since I was missing for a week, my family had been freaking out and looking all over for me the whole time. Hades just happened to be home when I arrived at his front door and he held me and I just… I cried and cried. Zeus and Hera hadn’t told him or anyone else what had happened, so I filled him in. I stayed in his home until my scar no longer hurt to touch, which is also when I realized I had newfound lightning powers. Then I moved out as I had intended.”

“You didn’t stay with Hades?”

“No. No, my satyr boyfriend had an older sister in the Underworld who needed a roommate and I stayed with her for a couple of years until I graduated from homeschool. Then I got a scholarship to go back to Olympus where I lived in the dorms. I didn’t finish my first year, though. And after that, it was just a lot of moving around,” she looks up at Orm, who looks at her with a sad expression, “I didn’t want to be a nuisance to Hades, darling!”

“I doubt he saw it that way,” Orm says.

“Oh, I know that. In retrospect, I know I should have stayed with Uncle. I think I would have been happier. But I turned out okay, don’t you think?”

Orm smiles as her phone starts ringing, “Better than okay.”

She grins and he stands as she answers the phone.

“What’s up, Bruce? I know I didn’t sleep in, so the helicopter couldn’t have left without us.”

“How do you feel about taking a mission for me?”

She rubs her eyes, perking up a little, “A mission?”

“Yes. And before you agree, know that I need you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” she sniffs, freeing herself from the twisted blankets. “So would you have us picked up later today?”

“Yes. Then I would have you delivered to a private jet.”

“A what?” she asks, standing and trying to shake the rest of the sleepiness out of her bones, “What kind of mission would require a private jet?”

“This is a big one, Al. And I really think you are the perfect person for it. And the Prince of Atlantis can help you, too, if you want. It might even be better if he does.”

“Are you not going to be coming along?”

“Alfred has already supplied the jet with what you need to prep yourself, Orm, and the room you’re going to be staying in. You'll meet up with me, but no, I won't be going.”

She pouts, scratching her head, “It sounds like you’ve already made the decision for us. But I’m going to ask Orm if he wants to be part of your mission instead of assuming his answer will be yes. I’ll text you if it’s a go.”

“Thank you, Althera.”

They say their goodbyes and she walks up to Orm, who looks very attractive doing push-ups. She sits down on the floor across from him and watches for a bit before he notices her watching. He lowers himself to the floor and looks up at her, “Can I help you?”

“How many was that?”

“I literally just started. I much prefer you waking up late, then I don’t have an audience,” he teases, then resumes his exercise. She grins, eternally feeling like being a nuisance, and climbs on top of his back. He continues on as if she isn’t there.

“Bruce called. He has a mission for me. Tomorrow.”

He stops with her still in the air, “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah.”

“Is this a dangerous mission?”

“I mean, it could be. But he hasn’t given me any details.”

“Hm,” he grunts, then resumes his workout.

“He said you could come with me. Honestly, from the sound of it, it’s probably going to be some boring little business meeting he can’t attend. Of course, he said it was kinda a big one, but I don’t know. I’m sure he’ll give us more info. Ooo, he also said he was going to put us on a private jet if we say yes. Which is like, super luxurious.”

“Doesn’t Barry technically work for Wayne? Why not send him with you?”

“If it is some high brow dinner we have to go to, I don’t think Barry’s cut out for it. And if Bruce is trying to impress, I could understand why he would want you there.”

“Why?”

She snorts, “You’re literally royalty. And when you want to, you really know how to make people notice that.”

“Is that why he chose you, too?”

She laughs, “He thinks I’m a great actress, Orm. A chameleon. Meanwhile, I’m out there having the time of my life, just watching the rich, misogynistic old dudes kiss up to Thomas Wayne’s son, the Batman. I’m more like a comedian than an actress, to be honest.”

Orm makes another noise to acknowledge her and then they fall silent, punctuated by the sound of his breathing. After about five minutes of being raised up and down, Althera asks, “How many of these do you do a day, anyway? Don’t you get bored?”

She whoops in surprise when he rolls over, tipping her off of him and onto the floor.

“You’re right,” Orm says, looking around the spacious, interiorly decorated, cabin in the private jet. “It’ll be much easier to suffer my acrophobia in here.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” she says, smiling at the handsome man who takes her suitcases from her, “My claustrophobia is going to be very confused about the whole situation.”

Her phone chimes and, thinking it’s Bruce, she looks at it. Her eyes widen and she slips the phone back into her pocket. Looking up at Orm, she is happy to see he’s too busy feeling the texture of the seats to pay attention to her.

Ben from the bar has only texted her twice in the two weeks she and Orm were in Alaska. Ignoring the third text as she has the first and second, she feels a little guilty.

She blinks when a pretty lady appears from somewhere on the jet they didn't notice. She smiles and introduces herself as Clara and says that if they need anything to press a specific button and she'll be right over. Then she takes their dinner order and disappears again.

“She was pretty,” Althera says.

Orm had just settled into his seat and he looks up at her, “Uh, yeah. I guess she was.”

“Pretty enough to date Prince Orm?”

He raises his eyebrows, “I don’t know. I don’t really know how to qualify that.”

She laughs, laying down on the cushion across from him and staring up at the white ceilings, “Orm, darling, you really need to set up some standards for yourself. Like, what do you want out of a relationship? What kind of person could you see yourself living the rest of your life with? Do they need to know how to ride a shark, for instance? Do they need to respect Atlantean customs? On the off chance that you don’t have to have an arranged marriage and do end up dating, these kinds of details are important.”

“I do have standards,” he says as she sits up, “But I also figured I’d introduce her to you and see how you got along with her. Because if you don’t like her, then there must be something I’m too love blind to see.”

She had just taken a sip of water and now she chokes, clearing her throat, “Orm Marius, I am not going to pick your future wife for you!”

“Come on, Al. You’re the only one I’d trust to do it well.”

“Look at the hole I’ve just dug myself into,” she sighs, “We’ll talk about this in the future. The far future, I hope. Though, ‘never’ would be nice, too.”

He blushes, looking out the window. Then, “Would you marry someone I didn’t like?”

“Honestly, Orm, I don’t think I’m the marrying type.”

“Really? Why not?”

They fall silent as Clara and the handsome guy from before, who introduces himself as Walt, bring them their meal. Althera thanks them and they leave.

“Do you think they can hear us back there?” she muses.

Orm blinks, “Is that a possibility?”

“I’d assume not since we have to push a button to get their attention.”

Orm looks warily over his shoulder at the doors they disappeared behind and then turns back to her, “Why aren’t you the marrying type?”

“Because I have commitment issues and am terrible at sharing a blanket.”

He laughs in surprise, “You appear to have thought this through.”

“I’m going to start ignoring you, Orm.”

“I just want to know what I’m getting into since you proposed to me and all.”

“And I’m never going to live that down,” she sighs, then, “Wait, I broke off our engagement after you called me a barnacle.”

He laughs, “I’m not marriage material because I give bad pet names and write horrible poetry.”

She grins, taking a pleasant sip of water this time before they enjoy dinner. After they eat, Walt brings out two large duffel bags, Clara coming in behind him.

“Miss Althera, Mr. Wayne requests you come with me to retrieve your attire for dinner tomorrow night. Mr. Orm, if you could follow Walt for the same reason.”

They walk into the back room where they keep disappearing to and find it looks like a hallway with two separate cabins. Walt leads Orm to one and Clara leads Althera to the other.

“He said he thinks you’ll find this dress suitable, but if not there are other options,” Clara explains.

“Oh, goodness,” she breathes, reaching out and touching the fabric. The dress is long, black, and down the skirt are hundreds of tiny diamonds. The skirt flares out, with a slit up the leg, and, if she were to turn quickly, the dress would move with her creating the perfect dramatic effect she already knows this character she is going to be playing needs. The back of the dress is nearly completely bare, in a long v-shape. She laughs in disbelief, “I think this dress will do fine.”

Chapter Text

She walks off the jet with open arms and Bruce shakes his head, laughing at her and accepting her hug.

“I half expected you to walk out with that gown on.”

“I still have a few hours flight to get ready,” she laughs, “Should I be excited?”

“I think you should be, but that’s just me.”

Orm stifles a yawn as he steps off the jet, walking up behind her and shaking hands with Bruce.

“Well, then,” she says, “Tell me what you’ve got for us, Mr. Wayne.”

“Mauricio Villanueva,” Alfred explains, “He’s an upstart millionaire from Spain and his company is currently under contract with Wayne Enterprises. This ends in four months, but we’ve been watching the past year and have reason to believe he has been shipping inventory to a certain rival. Since Althera works on a strict ‘need to know’ basis, I’ll warn that this rival company is a whole different story.”

“I appreciate it. You know I get bored easily.”

Bruce steps in, “Though we have reason to believe, we don’t have any solid evidence. That’s where you come in.”

“Who am I today?”

Bruce turns and looks at the screen behind him for a moment, then turns, “This is a serious undertaking, Althera. One that I know you’ll be able to pull off."

"Okay, now I'm seriously starting to doubt that," she frowns, "Look, Bruce--"

"You are going to be the face of Sofia Di Salvo.”

She stares at him for a moment, then drops her hands on the table, “Bruce, Sofia is your passion project. She has been faceless for years now. I don’t think I should--”

“No, it needs to be you, Althera. You are the only person who can accurately portray her as I’ve imagined her.”

“What about Mama Di?”

“Diana has had her face plastered all over the news for the past two years. Sofia Di Salvo is a mystery.”

She sighs, pulling her hair back and looking up at him as he walks around to sit at the head of the table. She taps her fingers on the table, then sighs, “And where does this put Orm?”

“I’ve given this a lot of thought since yesterday," Bruce says, excited, "He’ll be Sofia’s current husband. He can be named whatever you like.”

“I don’t like this, Bruce,” she shakes her head, “This is a huge persona.”

“Yes, it is. Half of my underground operations rely on Sofia’s business success.”

“So why would you put me, a wishy-washy traveler from a different realm, and Orm, a former terrorist, on the job?”

He gives her a long look, then stands, walking around the table to stand next to her. Lowering his voice, he asks, “How many times have you saved my life, now?”

“Just, like, three.”

“And how many missions have we done together?”

“Seven or so.”

“You know this routine inside and out. You’ve never disappointed me. Therefore, I trust that you can do this. And I trust Orm because it seems like you trust him. If it turns out we can’t trust him, Sofia can find another husband.”

She looks over at Orm, who pushes a pencil across the table, looking bored. Looking back up at Bruce, she sighs, “So what? I’m striking up a business proposition with Villanueva and Di Salvo?”

“Exactly,” he nods, “Villanueva will approach you, he will find you in an argument with another man. This man you and Orm will have identified even before meeting with Villanueva. He’s our only obstacle to getting you and our target together. After he hears this argument with this other man, you must seem unbothered. Because…?”

“Because I’m Sofia Di Salvo,” she rolls her eyes.

“Exactly!” Bruce beams, “You’re already a natural.

“So this guy I’m going to be arguing with has a hand in the game, too?”

“A pretty large hand,” Alfred frowns, “As much as we hate breaking ties with him, his business has gone bad. That’s why Villanueva needs to see how powerful you are, as most people would be disconcerted after losing such a large investor.”

She sighs, “And you said you’ve given Orm’s character a lot of thought. What’ll he have to do?”

Orm looks up, now interested.

“He is your husband, yes? But also your bodyguard. You are an important woman, Sofia. That is why you married someone so powerful.”

Alfred puts extra special emphasis on the word and Althera looks over at Orm, who frowns, “You want me to casually display my… superior abilities? To intimidate?”

“Madame Sofia is a woman with enough willpower and determination to continue the business her father built before her. However, she is just a human woman. No superpowers, no super strength, no desire to become a late-night vigilante,” Bruce smiles, almost sheepishly, “Althera could just do a few magic tricks and pretend like it’s Orm doing it. Or Orm could just lift a couch with his pinky to retrieve a piece of paper or something. It doesn’t have to be anything dramatic.”

“This man, Villanueva, is being blackmailed, isn’t he?”

Orm asks the question and she looks over at him, surprised.

“We think so,” Alfred nods, “Someone is holding something over his head, and if he thinks he can make a deal with someone with more influence and power than who he is currently working for, he is going to do his best to make this deal reality. When he sees what Di Salvo is capable of, he already has a strong case. When he sees what Di Salvo and her current husband have as a team, having you two as allies will make him feel like he has the same protection. Of course, this is just the first meeting between the three of you. Which is why you’re going to need these.”

Alfred brings out two new phones and places one in front of them both.

“It has all the information you need as well as the contacts you’ll give him. I have people who will act as your secretary, personal assistant, and bloody chauffeur if you need it. That phone, right there, is your personal business card.”

“After this meeting,” Bruce says, “He will try to contact one of you. He’ll climb his way through Alfred’s ladder to get through to you. When he finally does make it to you or Orm, he will be calling these phones. Then you call me and we’ll work out the next plan.”

“Sounds like a lot of steps,” she sighs. “But I’ve already signed up. So, let’s get going.”

He stares into the mirror as she walks around him, putting her earrings on.

“Don’t start fussing with it, that’ll be out of character.”

“I come from Atlantean royalty, Althera. I don’t fuss about the way I look,” he grunts, “Though I happen to look exceptionally like a Surface Dweller at the moment. Why do you get to look like a literal goddess?”

She grins and admires her work on Orm’s hair. He already looks perfect, so that was basically all she needed to work on. That combined with the Italian suit and shoes Bruce sent, she thinks he looks splendid; the exact kind of rich Bruce had in mind.

“Aw,” she grins, reaching up and tugging gently on his collar, “My wittle Surface Dweller.”

“Althera, do not start. I am already annoyed with this situation. And I swear, if a man so much as looks at you the wrong way when you’re wearing that dress, I might have to kill them.”

She winks and turns, “Behave. If you ruin Bruce’s mission it’ll be on my head.”

“Honestly,” he sighs, “It’ll be worth it to me.”

She snorts, “Honestly, I think the hardest part will be having to act like you’re in love with me.”

He chuckles, grabbing her hand and spinning her back around to face him. She blinks as he draws her close to him, his arm around her waist and his chest to hers. She raises an eyebrow and hopes she does well at hiding how unbelievably attracted she is to him at the moment.

“I think we can trick them,” he says, then smiles that cocky little smile that makes her knees weak. Rolling her eyes, she wiggles out of his grasp and leans over the sink to peer into the mirror.

“Very well. I just need to finish up this makeup and we’re good to go. And with 20 minutes to spare.”

“What about this?” he asks, pulling a tube of lipstick out from the makeup bag.

“I was going to use this one,” she says, handing him the other tube, “It’s a slightly darker version of that.”

“Le Rouge Allure,” he reads, “Sounds enticing.”

She looks back at him and he shrugs, dropping them both into the bag. She sighs, holding her hand out and he laughs, pressing his choice tube into her palm.

“I won’t always take your makeup advice, Orm. I hope you know tonight is a special occasion.”

Chapter Text

Having gone over everything in the jet twice, they know exactly where they’re headed when the limousine drops them off and they are escorted through a grand lobby.

“You must be Ms. and Mr. Di Salvo!” The man at the front desk says, quickly gesturing to the workers to take them around to the room they’ll be camped out in. It seems this guy truly thinks he’s serving the true Di Salvo’s, not just one of Bruce's pawns, so Althera and Orm keep the personas on. After they are delivered to their suite, the service people leave so they may settle in, and in time they are escorted to the dining area. They sit through a grandiloquent speech made to bolster up the man they’ve all gathered around to celebrate today. When she and Orm are brought up to the table to make nice with the man, she shakes his hand and feels a chill roll down her spine.

So that is what Alfred meant when he said the man Villanueva is being bullied by is a whole other story. His lingering gaze makes her uneasy, but luckily Sofia Di Salvo's reputation is established; that nobody bothers Sofia Di Salvo when she is on a trip for pleasure. And she knows her discomfort isn't completely unfounded, Orm’s arm around her waist as he guides her back to their table much tenser than usual.

It is while she and Orm pick at their tiny meal that she finally sees him.

Villanueva watches the two of them, a small champagne flute in his large hand, his eyes curious. She turns her head away, to demure, then places her hand over Orm’s forearm. He leans his ear down to her lips and she whispers, “I’ve spotted him. I’ll go to the room. See if you can spot Alrich Jameson.”

He nods and they separate. As Orm disappears into the crowd, she looks back at Villanueva and winks. He sets his champagne aside and starts to walk toward her, but six other men instantaneously appear around her and he stands in the back, dejected.

“You’ve heard how it is,” she informs them, referring to the rumor Bruce sent around, before their arrival, “I am not here for business, only pleasure.”

The men are all disappointed about one thing, becoming more disappointed when they realize that the man she’d been sitting with happened to be her husband. One man remains persistent, though, and he escorts her back to her suite when she asks him to, having lost Orm to the crowd.

She finally shakes loose of him and enters the office of the suite. Blinking, she turns on the lights in the room, the dimness brightening.

A white-haired man of average height and a less-than-extraordinary face sits reclined in the chair behind the desk. He looks up at her, his thin lips in a smile as his eyes scan her from head to toe.

“Sofia Di Salvo.”

“Mr. Jameson. I did not expect you would be waiting here for me.”

This man is beyond irritating. Even her father would be uncomfortable with his several attempts at jokes and innuendo. And he is completely incapable of respecting or keeping boundaries.

She would have ended this conversation long ago if she had heard from Orm. So far she has been unable to inform him that Jameson is with her. And, because she is playing an ordinary woman, she supposes that if ordinary Mortal women can put up with men like this all their lives, she can suffer the time with him and be happy when she never has to see him ever again.

Though he keeps playing some kind of game. He has continually tried to hover over her and she makes a point of walking away when he starts to posture like a peacock.

“It’s as I said, Mr. Jameson. We no longer want your most gracious donation.”

“And again, I’m telling you you are making a big mistake. Let me explain--”

“There’s nothing to explain. I have done the research necessary and it is clear you and your people are making yourselves obsolete.”

“So you would erase a near century’s worth of tradition?”

“I don’t enjoy breaking down your traditions, Jameson. Yet ever since that storm a year ago, people have started demanding changes. Changes that you and your people have yet to implement. In time, the people who buy from you will notice this. So, until you’ve decided to get in the program, your priorities are too taboo for anyone from my team to get involved with.”

“You really buy into all that phony bologna Wayne Enterprises is trying to sell?”

“I’ve seen Wayne’s numbers and I’ve seen yours.”

She sees a shift in his eyes and feels the cells in her body begin to react in defense. She takes a moment to ground herself, leaning against the desk. Now would be the worst time to lose control. She feels confident in his inability to actually harm her, though she knows that, if push comes to shove, she may have to compromise Bruce’s plans.

“You know, Ms. Di Salvo, you’ve got a lot of confidence for such a small little lady,” he says, his eyes tracing the shape of her.

The difference between the way he says it and the way Orm says it makes her stomach squirm. She does her best to mask the distaste in her mouth.

“I have been head of my father’s company for years now and nearly every endeavor I’ve had has been successful. I am allowed my confidence.”

He chuckles, “This must be a little game for you, tugging me along like this.”

“I’ve found Villanueva again. Are you back at the suite?”

She feels a surge of relief hearing Orm’s voice through the comms.

“Not at all,” she says to Jameson.

“Althera?”

Pushing her hair behind her ear, she presses the button on the back of her earring to acknowledge Orm’s question.

“No, this is not a game,” she smiles up at Jameson. “Because when I play a game it’s for my pleasure. And there has been no pleasure having this conversation with you, Mr. Jameson.”

She begins to turn and he grabs her arm. Though he cannot physically grip her enough to actually hurt her, she can tell he is trying his best to do so casually, as if it were merely an accident.

“Now, Miss Di Salvo--”

The door opens and Orm walks in. When he takes in the scene, she can see the look in his eyes as it shifts between the character he’s supposed to be portraying and her best friend.

Jameson quickly releases her arm and smiles at her pretend husband at the door as if expecting some grand camaraderie.

“You must be the husband, Erik! I must say, I expected you to be much older. A man more of my own age, if you understand me,” he jokes. Not receiving the applause he’d been waiting for, he continues, “I was just trying to convince your very ambitious wife here on certain matters of business. Come join us. Maybe you can help me convince her.”

Erik turns and closes the door behind him, “I have no desire to discuss the choices my wife makes with her business.”

“On, come on. Man to man, you must understand that she is making some pretty risky decisions. Though I’m sure it’s extremely tempting to give in to Miss Sofia’s little businesswoman façade.”

Orm walks up to the two of them. Coming around the edge of the table, he leans into her, speaking quietly but not so quietly that Jameson cannot hear.

“Do you want him gone, Sofia?”

“I wanted him out ages ago, Darling.”

“I’m sorry I was delayed. I was intercepted by someone who’d like to speak to you. I told him you’d be free soon.”

“Ah?” she says, looking up at him. He nods and she reaches up and touches his cheek, “Well, we shan’t keep him waiting. Jameson, could you excuse us?”

“Now wait a minute--”

Orm grabs the front of the man’s shirt, crinkling up the starchy, crisp collar in his fingers. His movement had triggered her own, and she holds the gun they had earlier placed inside the desk in the direction of the older man’s head.

Jameson stares at the two of them with wild eyes brimming with fear. Orm holds him a good meter above the ground, his expression calm and bored and absolutely terrifying. She would swoon if she were in a better mood.

“She said no deal.”

Trusting Orm’s grip on him and that the man is as big of a coward as she suspects he is, she returns the unloaded gun to the desk drawer, “If you can meet the requirements we talked about within the frame we specified, I may reconsider. But if I ever hear you remained as desperately persistent as you were with me today with any of your other ‘helpless’ clients, I will schedule a nice, private appointment for you and my husband. Then you can have that little talk you wanted. Yes?”

“Yes,” he wheezes, and he goes clattering to the floor.

He scrambles onto his feet, looking over his shoulder as he runs to the door and exits.

She closes her eyes and sits on the desk, her hair falling into her face.

“That total piece of shit,” she hisses, “This is why I don’t like these missions. You have to act sweet and civilized. Even towards the world's grimiest assholes.”

“Are you okay?” Orm asks, his voice extremely quiet as he pushes a strand of hair out of her face. She looks up at him and wants to bury herself in his arms. And, by the look on his face, he would eagerly comply. However, she resists.

“I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. But Villanueva is outside right now and I told him to let himself in when Jameson left.

“Shit, I’m not ready. I need to calm down, Orm,” she grunts, “I need to look calm. He can’t see me like this.”

“I have an idea. Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” she says, blinking in surprise when he releases his tie, unbuttons the top of his shirt, and slides his jacket off his shoulders.

“I’m going to warn you that I’m going to grab your waist and thigh.”

“You’re going to what now?”

“Do you want to try something else?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at the door.

Nothing immediately comes to mind, so she leans into him as he does as he said he was going to. One hand on his shoulder, the other at the back of his neck, she can’t help but giggle at the absurdity of it all when he tips her over the desk, the two chest to chest.

“This is ridiculous,” he chuckles, so close now that they are nose to nose.

“Yes. Very much so,” she giggles, avoiding looking straight into his eyes.

The door opens and Orm straightens out, guiding her up with the hand around her waist.

In the doorway, Villanueva backs up, finding them in their lover’s embrace, “Oh, I’m so sorry! I was told to come in, I thought…”

She leans back into Orm, her lips to his ear, “I owe you something big.”

He smiles, not his usual smile, but a smile belonging to Erik, his character. Slipping out of her grasp, he fixes his appearance and she does the same, gently pressing her hair into place and standing so the slit in the dress isn’t so revealing. Villanueva moves to close the door behind him and she clears her throat to get his attention.

“Where are you going?”

“I--Well, Ms. Di Salvo, I thought I should maybe come back at a better time.”

“No better time than now! My husband and I were just… talking,” she looks up at her husband through her eyelashes, “Though we hadn’t gotten around to discussing who you are. What do you need?”

“Oh, I don’t need anything, Ma’am. As a matter of fact, I happened to hear your conversation with Mr. Jameson. That you don’t have time to consider any new propositions.”

She walks up to him, lithely sliding her arm through his and guiding him deeper into the room as Orm closes the door behind him, “Jameson is a vile little man. I told him what I did so he would leave. But if you were brought here by my Erik, I’m sure you have something you want to discuss with me.”

“Um, yes. Or… I thought meeting Ms. Di Salvo would be good if I got the opportunity. You have a lot of influence over many people here, though most of them seem to know you only through rumors. It was fortunate that I met with your husband.”

“Incredibly fortunate,” she says, walking to the desk she and Erik were just draped over. She sits on the corner and looks up at him, the parallel working as his cheeks turn red under his dark beard. “Tell me, what is your name?”

“Villanueva, Señora. Mauricio Villanueva.”

“Ah! I’ve heard about you. They call you new money,” she smiles, then peers over her shoulder, “Erik, darling, would you mind pouring us all a drink?”

Villanueva turns as the glasses clink behind him and seem to pour themselves. Erik walks up beside his wife and, when the glasses drift toward him, he plucks them from the air and hands them out.

“Mr. Villanueva,” she says, “Do you have something on your mind?”

“I… Well,” he says, recovering himself, “I wasn’t listening in, but it was hard for me not to overhear what happened with Mr. Jameson just then.”

“Oh, so you heard my husband in action?”

“In action?”

“A woman of my position needs a bodyguard for many reasons, as you might have guessed from what you heard. Erik was one of many trials,” she reaches back and her hand finds the side of his face. She grins, feeling him grab her hand and kiss her knuckles and wrist, “I thought he was just beautiful. Not to mention, he has plenty of other positive attributes, which I got to witness when he protected me the first time. We fell in love immediately.”

She tilts her head back and his fingers trace her jaw down to her chin. His blue eyes are intense and she giggles, pulling away teasingly.

“It sounds like a wonderful love story.”

She smiles, “Oh, it was. Maybe I’ll share the details some other time.”

“I would be happy to hear,” Villanueva says, doing well at flattery, “By positive attributes, you mean…”

“I suppose you mean superpowers, as they call them on the news. How childish,” she says, sitting up straight. Erik walks around the two of them and Villanueva looks over his shoulder at him. “Had he had the same sense of justice, my Darling Erik could keep up with Superman’s save count. And no, I’m not just saying that. But you don’t need to worry about him. Only those who get on my bad side should. And you’d never get on my bad side, would you Mr. Villanueva?”

“No,” he says instantly, “Absolutely not.”

“Good,” she smiles, “Well then, let’s talk.”

Chapter Text

The door closes and she stands completely still. After a moment, she breathes out a heavy sigh, looking back at Orm. He grins and she laughs, running up to him and grabbing his hands.

“By the Gods, we did it!” she whispers, squeezing his hands. “I would have been in trouble tonight if it weren’t for you.”

“You did beautifully, Ms. Di Salvo,” he chuckles.

“Well,” she says, trying to compose herself, letting his hands go, “We still need to make our way out of here in a little while. So let’s not get too cocky. And keep your eyes out for Jameson.”

“You could have let me crush his head in,” he purrs, grabbing her face in his hands and looking her straight in the eye. Something squirms in her belly in a good way, but she shakes her head.

“No, that’s not quite the attention we need at the moment. But thank you for offering.”

Despite how drawn she is to her partner right now, she manages to slip out of his grasp. It pains her to do so, but she manages valiantly.

“Bruce was right. You’re a natural at this,” he compliments her. “It was an absolute pleasure watching you work. For a moment, I even believed you were The Sofia Di Salvo.”

“You did well yourself, Erik,” she says, looking in the mirror and flattening the curves in her dress. He walks up behind her and she sees the both of them completely put together for the first time. She blinks in surprise and he cocks his head to the side.

“Honestly,” he murmurs, further straightening his posture and adjusting his tie, “We look quite powerful side by side like this.”

She is saved a response when her phone rings and Bruce’s name appears on the screen.

“Hello?”

“How’d it go?”

“Perfect,” she chirps, stepping away from the mirror, “Orm was the perfect partner, too, it was amazing! As for Villanueva… Well, he got a demonstration a little different than we had originally planned. The man, Jameson was a dick, Bruce. Not to mention, if he had pushed me a little further it would have blown my cover. Luckily, Orm came in just in time. We continued with the little tricks when Villanueva was around, but it was kinda unnecessary after he’d already witnessed the bulk of Orm’s demonstration on Jameson.”

“Jameson was that bad? I’m sorry, Al.”

“It’s not your fault he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Besides, I can handle myself. And Sofia is eternally safe with Erik at her side,” she chuckles, Orm looking over and winking at her as he loosens his tie, “I may have threatened that if I hear his name mentioned by any of his clients in the future that I’d set up an appointment for him and Erik to have a little talk.”

“That’s fine. More than fine. It’s a total Di Salvo line. Please tell me Orm had him against the wall when you delivered it.”

She watches as Orm sits on the couch sipping on a glass of wine, “Not against the wall, no. He had him a good meter off the floor just dangling in the air. All the while, Mr. Erik Nameless didn’t bat an eyelash. Orm was so good.“

“I’m glad it all worked out.”

“Yeah. So am I. I'm glad we could help.”

Deciding it’s a bit late to return home, Bruce insists they stay in an almost as nice hotel as the one they conducted business in. When Orm retires to bed, she stays up, sitting on the edge of her bed. The TV is on, but she doesn’t pay much attention to what’s being said. There is a lot on her mind, but more than anything, she is thinking about these characters, Sofia and Erik.

Erik is a new character to her, yet Orm played him in a way that made him real. The calculating look Orm usually wears was immediately replaced by the blank, unfaltering stare of a bodyguard. Observant, protective, yet lacking the usual depth she can find in Orm’s eyes.

It’s that depth that attracts her to him, as Orm as Erik had held her against him, nearly kissed her, but it was only after he transformed back into Orm that she got bashful. Prince Orm Marius, bold and direct.

Erik is probably how Orm would have been if he’d been Surface Dweller rich. More akin to Arthur with a bad headache.

She looks up when the door connecting their rooms opens.

“You’re up?”

Looking at her phone, she sees that two hours have passed since they separated, “Yeah, come in.”

She moves over and he sits down beside her. They sit in silence, staring at the quiet TV. Then he speaks.

“How do you channel her?”

“Di Salvo?” she asks, “I just pretend to be the daughter my father actually wanted.”

He looks down at her and she smiles up at him, leaning into his side. He hugs her against him and, on second thought, he gently grabs her arm and peers at it. She knows what he’s looking for. She’d looked for it, too, though she knew it was next to impossible it would appear.

“There’s no bruise, Orm.”

He grunts, then rubs her arm as if trying to make it better. And it helps. Instead of holding onto the sensation of Jameson’s pathetic grip, she now enjoys the feel of Orm being so lovely.

“I know I could have taken care of him myself, Orm, but I didn’t want to compromise Bruce’s mission. So I truly thank you for handling Jameson the way you did.”

He looks down at her, frowning. He looks tired from all the travel and she figures she must look extremely tired, too.

“The best way to thank me would be allowing me to hunt him down and throw him to Arthur’s Karathen for a snack.”

She giggles, “That’s why you’re my soulmate, Orm. Though it’s good we met each other after our villainous ways. Because you and I would have been one nasty alliance back in the day.”

He raises her arm, placing a kiss on her wrist, and sighs, “Honestly, though. The way he was holding onto you--”

“Orm.”

“We could turn him into chum,” he insists.

She drops her head to his chest, “No. Besides, I think he almost peed his pants anyway. Oh, the look on his face when you didn’t even blink while carrying his weight. I think he knows how close he was to death then and there. And I love you for it.”

He chuckles, squeezing her tight. He exhales deeply and the two of them relax into each other.

“Will we be seeing Wayne anytime soon?” he asks, his voice echoing in her ear.

“He might visit later. Why?”

“I’d like to thank him,” he says, “He didn’t have to let me in on his mission. We barely know each other, yet he’s trusted me with his business. And this is the second time he’s trusted me to take care of you. I appreciate it.”

She smiles, “I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear it.”

Though their conversation is pretty much over, neither of them makes a move. She enjoys the rise and fall of his chest beneath her and, without her prompting, he reaches out and drapes the blanket over the two of them.

“Mind if I change the channel? That man’s voice is getting on my nerves,” he murmurs. She laughs and hands him the remote.

Chapter Text

Frowning, she wakes up to him sliding out from underneath her. She falls back asleep, only to wake again a little later to the sound of him moving around in her room.

“What was the point of Bruce getting us such a large room if we were only going to use one half of it?” she grunts, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. He laughs once and she’s glad she had that recent talk with herself. He stands at the edge of her bed with only a towel around his waist and his toothbrush in his mouth.

He raises his eyebrows to acknowledge her question, then disappears into the bathroom. When he returns, he has no toothbrush, though he is still in his towel. She wonders briefly when they became so comfortable with each other.

Now he sits at the edge of her bed, his back to her as he looks down at his phone.

Insistent that she’s stronger than her fleshly desires, she crawls over and wraps her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder. Placing his hand over hers, he continues staring at his phone.

“What’s up?” she murmurs.

“Just thinking,” he says.

“I can see that. I’ve just never seen you look so intently at your phone before.”

“It’s been over two weeks since I told you about my worry. About the problem in Atlantis. I’m anxious because it feels like we have made no progress,” he says, turning the screen off. She catches a glimpse of his lock screen photo; a picture of the two of them with the Alaskan sunset behind them, “And that's not fair because you say things are happening. That we just aren't needed at this point in time."

"For a man of action like you, sitting and waiting for results must be difficult," she sympathizes.

"Yes," he frowns, "I just find myself thinking everything over again.”

“And after doing all this thinking, have you come to a conclusion?”

He sighs, patting her hand under his, “My conclusion is that I think too much.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” she laughs, kissing his cheek and standing. “Don’t worry, Darling. You’re supposed to be the calm, collected one between the two of us.”

He shakes his head at her and leaves the room to change. She bites her finger, concerned about how worried he looked, and then decides to leave him alone and take a shower.

Stepping out of the water, she realizes she left the fuzzy hotel bathrobe in the bedroom along with her change of clothes. Grimacing, she looks around. Finding Orm’s shirt hanging on the towel rack she curses softly, pulling it over her head.

Walking out of the bathroom, Orm is fully dressed and looks up at her, his eyebrows raising, his eyes inquiring.

“I’m just borrowing it for a second,” she says, self-consciously tugging at the fabric.

“Be my guest,” he shrugs.

She rolls her eyes, opening the drawer and pulling out some clothes. She turns around and he looks at her again, sitting on the edge of the bed where she’d left him.

“I was thinking we could walk around the city a little bit while we’re here,” she says.

“Sure.”

“Orm…”

“I don’t mean to be terse,” he says, after taking a deep breath, "I obviously want to be around you, since I keep coming back to your room. I just..."

Setting her change of clothes down, she walks up to him, “I know you’re worried. And there’s not much I can say or do to change that at the moment--”

“That’s not your responsibility,” he says, taking her hand.

“I know. I know, but I hate to see you worried like this,” she drapes her arms around him and he hugs her around the waist, “I can’t predict how this is going to play out. But be assured, if something does happen I will do everything in my power to protect your mother; with my life, if I have to. She’s a very nice lady.”

He looks up at her and his eyes soften. He doesn’t speak for a long moment before he nods, “Thank you.”

She takes his face between her hands and leans down, kissing the top of his head.

Their temporary stay extends to a few days in hopes that Villanueva will contact them. They go sightseeing and Orm is pretty quiet about what he thinks about the city. Additionally, he remains quiet due to the situation in Atlantis.

She tries to remain positive, yet realistic, for both their sakes. Today, however, she could feel him getting irritated with the crowd despite her attempts. Knowing how quickly claustrophobia can accelerate into panic, she quickly sent him back to the hotel. Meanwhile, she stopped at many different gas stations to purchase many little bottles of liquor so she could taste all of them and pick a favorite. They spend the evening ordering room service from her bed and, after dinner, Orm looks at her shiny collection with calculated interest.

"You're a goddess, right? And a princess no matter which side of your family, correct?"

"Sure."

"Then what the hell is all this?"

He surprises her with his bluntness and she laughs so hard she almost busts a rib, "Oh, I'm sorry Prince Orm. I didn't mean to offend you with the presentation."

"I forgive you," he smiles.

She has just started sampling when his phone rings. He drops the little bottles he had been scrutinizing and digs around in the blankets to locate his phone.

“Hello?” he answers without looking at the caller ID. Then he suddenly grows serious, “We aren’t doing anything important. Why?”

Althera leans forward on the bed and he presses her back down, gesturing to keep quiet.

“Arthur?” she mouths.

He nods, standing, “What do you mean?”

Silence, then, “We’ve been working for Wayne the last few days. And before that, we were in Alaska.

“I forgot about Alaska!” she hears Arthur’s booming voice through the phone. Orm makes a face and she contains another giggle. There is more silence as Arthur talks.

“Not since what they did to Althera. Why?” he frowns. She wiggles excitedly on the bed and Orm holds his hand out. She takes it in both of hers as he continues, “We haven’t been home for over two weeks. Arthur, why are you calling? Did something happen at the house?”

Though his voice sounds irritated, the expression he gives her is almost enough to send her into a giggle fit.

“Confidential…? If there is any chance of Althera being put in another dangerous situation, I trust you’d be a little more lenient on the whole ‘confidentiality’ thing?”

Silence, then, “Thank you. Goodbye, Arthur.”

He hangs up and drops the phone on the bed. His eyes thoughtful for a long moment, Althera slowly crawls toward him, “Did… Did they get the warning?”

He looks at her, a sudden smile spreading on his face, “I don’t know how you did it, Althera. But whatever you did, it worked.”

“It worked? It really worked?”

He drops onto the bed beside her and she leans over to look down at him, “It worked, you crazy girl. It definitely worked. He kept saying that someone with high clearance in Atlantis, most likely someone pretty high up on the military branch, kept setting off suspicious signals. He said that the Council of Atlantis wanted him to check in with me to confirm that I am where I’m supposed to be. When I reminded him that you and I were in Alaska and that we have Wayne to vouch for us, he was relieved.”

She grins, “I told you your brother doesn’t want you locked up.”

He chuckles, looking up at her, “I don’t know how you did it. How did you get someone of noble blood to rig those signals?”

She grins, leaning towards him, “You don’t get to have an uncle like Poseidon and not meet a few nereids and nymphs along the way. Find one who has a little dirt on a high born and Orm Marius gets off scot-free while still being able to alert the Kingdom.”

“Poseidon still has ties to Atlantis?”

“Darling, Poseidon has a vacation home in Atlantis he’s been visiting for the past millennia, at least. Long before I was born,” she shrugs, “He wants to meet you, by the way.”

“Poseidon?”

“Yeah. He thinks he’s your biggest fan,” she says, then she glares, “You had better not make this habit! I refuse to be in my family’s debt and, if you weren’t so worried about your mother… well, I might have been hurt enough to let them take you away from me and throw you back into the slammer.”

He looks up at her with a pout on his lips. She folds her arms across her chest and turns her face away.

From the corner of her eye, she watches him sit up, still pouting. Then he grins that wide, irritating smile that gets under her skin and makes her want to do all sorts of things to him.

Crawling towards her, he wiggles her arms out of their crossed position and puts her hands on his shoulders, looking up at her.

“You wouldn’t let them take me, would you Althera?”

“Yes I would.”

He pouts again and slides his arms around her torso, causing an electric sensation to shoot from her belly to her toes.

“But Darling, you’re my lucky barnacle.”

She bites down on her lip, cursing herself for finding any humor in what he’s saying.

He must feel her resisting laughter, as he sits up and starts imitating her drunk clinginess, grabbing her and hugging her so tight she starts giggling against her own will.

She pushes him away and he looks up at her, settling back down. His eyes are still smiling, but they grow serious as he speaks.

“I don’t want to lie to you. I don’t want to hurt you as I hurt you when I spoke to them behind your back and kept it a secret. And I won’t. From here on out, I promise to be as truthful and kind as you have been to me.”

A pang of guilt nearly crushes the elated feeling she is enjoying and she quickly stifles it, giving him a squeeze.

“Thank you, Orm.”

They sit in silence for a moment, then he sighs, looking down at the bed, “Should we sample these?”

Her guilt is old news in an instant, “Are you asking to get drunk with me?”

He rolls his eyes and grabs her, pulling her into his lap, “People are going to think you’re developing a drinking problem.”

She giggles maniacally, breaking the seal on one of the bottles of the cheap stuff, “It’s not a drinking problem if you’re still having fun.”

“Althera, that is a horrible thing to say,” he scolds, but accepts the tiny bottle when she passes it to him.

Chapter Text

It is too early. Much too early. So early that the room is pitch black and, surely, not a soul could be awake in the whole hotel.

Why the hell, then, is Orm Marius taking a loud ass shower when the rest of the world is trying to sleep?

Rolling over, she buries her face into her pillow and throws the blanket over her head. A few moments later, the water stops. A few minutes more and the bathroom door opens.

“Good morning, Althera,” he says, his voice chipper.

“It’s 9:30 am, go back to sleep.”

He laughs and she hears him pull the thick curtains away from the window. She refuses to move from under the blanket.

“This isn’t even a bloody hangover, I’m just tired as hell because you kept me up all night performing that Atlantean epic of which I so desperately needed to hear the full two hours of at 3 AM!”

He laughs and the bed dips beside her.

“I thought we were having fun?” he chuckles, and she can feel him lay down beside her, “My lucky little barnacle is grumpy. Our roles have reversed and now I understand why you like me so much. There’s a sort of charm to your prickly attitude.”

She snorts and flips over, peeking one eye out of the blanket. The light is blinding and she groans, throwing the blanket over his head as well.

“You’re trying to drag me back into the warmth of your lazy little den, little bear,” he accuses, “You’re trying to put me to sleep so I’ll shut up.”

“Orm!” she yells, her frustration breaking into a laugh as she throws the blanket aside and jumps on top of him, “Have we really reversed roles? Do you really want to smother me with a pillow every morning?”

He grins wide, “Well, not every morning.”

She giggles and rolls off of him, “Fine, I’m up. What are we doing today?”

“Actually, I planned something for you today. Not anything monumental. I just sent a message to Barry telling him we were having dinner somewhere tonight if he wanted to tag along. I also told him that you wanted to go out tonight and I’m a bad companion for that kind of scene. He said he’s in as long as I’m fine with being the designated babysitter.”

She stares at him with wide eyes until he sits up awkwardly, “Unless you don’t want me to have done this…?”

“You got in contact with Barry, Barry Allen, so the three of us can go out tonight? And you’re fine being our babysitter?” she asks, her heart swelling.

“I did,” he says, then, “By the Gods, Althera, you had me worried I did something terrible there for a sec--”

She jumps on him so suddenly that he is taken by complete surprise and when he catches her, they both go rolling. He laughs hard, bent over her, the both of them spread inelegantly across the mattress. Grabbing her hand, he pushes up and pulls her with him. They laugh hard as she hugs him, “Thank you, Orm. You’re the sweetest. You’re the loveliest!”

“You’ve spoiled me by pandering to my desire to isolate myself up to this point. I want you to know it hasn’t gone unnoticed. And you’re my best friend. And I love you. And I want you to be happy as much as you want me to be.”

“Oh Orm,” she says, patting his cheek, “I’d never let them take you to Atlantis without making them take me, too. And I’d never turn you in over a dumb argument, I just want you to know that. That’s just petty.”

“I knew you were joking,” he reassures, squeezing her softly, “You’re so different from the people who used to call me their friend. So different.”

She smiles, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is one. It’s a big one.”

Her heart expands to fill her entire chest and she takes his face in both her hands, looking into his eyes, “You are one of a kind, Orm Marius.”

“Thank you. But I think you need to raise your standards a little, Ms. Prince.”

“No. No, I don’t think I do.”

He chuckles awkwardly and looks down, clearing his throat, “You should get ready. Our breakfast is getting later and I might return to my grumpy ways if I don’t eat soon.”

They end up getting brunch in a nearby coffeehouse. She sits, enjoying the strong smell of coffee beans and cinnamon as she swings her legs in her chair, sketching on a napkin. Orm’s attitude is much different now that he’s heard about some progress being made in Atlantis and he was in a chipper mood when he told her to sit down and get comfy.

Looking out the window she watches the busy sidewalk and takes a deep breath. It’s been a lovely day so far. On their way over she did some window shopping, pet a dog that had slipped away from its owner and ran up to her, and, goodness, Orm had thrown his jacket over her shoulders despite it only being a teeny bit breezy.

She drops her pen when arms wrap around her from behind.

“What are you drawing?” he asks.

“By Hades, Orm, you scared me,” she breathes.

“Who did you think it was?” he chuckles, reaching out and grabbing at the napkin under her wrist, “Hm. What a handsome sketch.”

She looks down at the napkin and blushes, snatching it from his hand, “That’s my best friend in his Atlantean armor.”

“Do you miss Atlantis?” he wonders.

“It’s a very beautiful place. And I now have pleasant memories there because of you. And I guess you’re right, you do look pretty dang handsome in that armor.”

He chuckles, then says he’ll be right back, returning to the counter. He walks back elegantly, despite balancing their dishes. She takes the load off of him and he smiles graciously. Sinking into the chair across from her, he tilts his head and gazes at her.

“What?”

“Those men over there mentioned you amongst themselves. They think you’re ‘slamming’ or something like that. The way they were speaking, I assume that means they find you physically attractive?”

“That is what ‘slamming’ means in this context, but it isn’t exactly the compliment that would usually get my attention.”

“No? It does sound a little crude.”

She takes a sip of her coffee and he tilts his head, “You’ve been quiet today.”

She blinks, “Have I? I guess I’m just tired. We’ve been away from the house for a while.”

He nods, taking a bite of his muffin, “There has been a lot of travel recently, hasn’t there? A long time away from home base.”

They eat and chitchat a little, until Orm drops a big conversation surprise on her, “I want to make my own money, Althera. I don’t want to rely on Wayne’s allowances.”

She blinks, “You want to get a Surface Dweller job?”

He winces slightly, his shoulders going rigid as he turns his head, “Well when you put it like that…”

“No, Orm! Don’t let me discourage you!”

He gives her a sideways look, then smiles slowly, “Alright then. Do you think it’s a good or bad idea?”

“I think if that’s what you want to do, I support you,” she beams, “I guess I could get a job, too, so I don’t have to rely on Bruce’s missions. I do need to keep a certain level of flexibility, though, if I want to continue being helpful to him. But yeah, it’d be an interesting experience for you if you did.”

“Do you have any advice for me?”

“Advice? Hm…if I’m being honest, the last official job I had in the Mortal Realm was when I first met Clark.”

“In Canada, right?”

“Yup. Logging. Sadly, we don’t live in much of a logging area, so all that expertise goes out the window. Before that, I took all kinds of jobs here and there. I was a transporter for a little while, which was interesting. Was on a pretty huge construction site at one point. Sometimes I got money from my uncle. And Diana would send me away with a little something sometimes. I know you’re avoiding asking Arthur or your mother for assistance. That makes sense to me.”

“Yes. I do have my own assets in Atlantis. It’s just that they don’t translate well on the Surface. I’m sure every Surface Dweller is dying for a piece of underwater real estate.”

She raises her eyebrows at him over the edge of her mug as he chuckles at his own joke.

“Well, give me a little while to think about it and I’ll have better input. Besides, we shouldn’t start anything new until we finish up this Villanueva issue for Brucie.”

“Villanueva,” he repeats, “He seemed amiable enough. Though a bit naïve.”

“He’s still new to the world of money, not yet tarnished. Must be why Bruce thinks he must be protected.”

Orm nods, taking a bite of his cookie. They eat in silence until he looks up, making eye contact with her. When he chuckles, she grimaces.

“What’s so funny?”

“He has a big crush on you.”

She shrugs, “He’s a doll.”

“But for you to be with any Surface Dweller would be demeaning.”

Her mouth falls open, “Orm!”

He shrugs and takes a drink.

“I’m not going to ‘be with’ Villanueva, first of all, because that could complicate Bruce’s business with him. Second of all, what the hell brought you to that conclusion?”

“First of all, I apologize. I don’t know much about your dating history, but I do know you pretty well. And when I think about your potential future, I just know that anyone from the place you call the ‘Mortal Realm’ is only going to weigh you down. You’re a goddess, Althera.”

“I am a demigoddess, Orm, there is a distinct difference in the hierarchy of Olympus,” she says, then straightens up her posture, “So, in your opinion, my ideal man is…?”

“Not from the Mortal Realm,” he says simply, “Or, if he is, you’ll have to find another Superman.”

“Ah,” she laughs, “That’s funny you mention that because guess who the love of Clark Kent’s life is? Lois Lane, a born and raised Surface Dweller.”

He laughs and shrugs, “Well, what do I know?”

“You know a lot, Orm. You’re very intelligent,” she says, “Don’t worry, darling, I thought about it the last few days and I promise I will not marry a man who you cannot tolerate. Just like you promised me.”

“Well, I’ll try to remain open-minded, then. Though I expect that I’d always conclude that no man is good enough for you, anyway.”

“You’re doing wonders for my ego, Orm.”

“I shouldn’t concern myself so much. You know your self-worth. And you know that if any man does you wrong in any way all you have to do is say the word and I’ll be there to run my trident straight through him.”

Where has this suddenly possessive and protective Orm Marius come from? Even before the incident with Jameson, he was irritated with the thought of men with ‘overly curious’ eyes. He must be more comfortable since they have discussed this topic before, which she regrets, as it only reminds her of the conversation she's avoiding with the Surface Dwelling man whose texts she still hasn't returned.

“My goodness, I hope you never have a daughter.”

“I can’t wait to have a daughter,” he beams. He finishes his coffee and sets his mug aside, “I like talking to you, Althera.”

She rolls her eyes and resists the urge to strangle him, “I hope you’re aware that I am not your little sister.”

“Yet you wear the face of someone with an agitating older brother. I know it well.”

At home, she would tackle him. Now, she glares at him over her mug, draining what’s left of her coffee before finishing up the last of her brunch.

“I should have had you drink more last night. Then you might have had a hangover this morning and I wouldn’t have to deal with this conversation.”

He gives her an innocent smile, “Come on, while I’m still spending Bruce’s money, I want to buy you that outfit in that store we passed. The one with that rainbow display.”

She perks up, “The black, sparkly romper?”

“That’s the one you were looking at, isn’t it?”

She jumps out of the chair and grabs his hand, “Let’s go!”

Chapter Text

“You’re looking sparkly as hell,” Barry says over the sound of the music, grabbing her and hugging her.

“Orm bought it for me! I also convinced him to get that shirt,” she says, gesturing to Orm who is across the room looking a little lost as he makes his way through the crowd. The shirt she is referring to is a simple, loose, black button-up made of a soft, very nearly silky fabric.

Barry raises his eyebrows at her, “Did it not come with the top two buttons, or did you convince him to make that decision, too?”

“Mind your business, Mr. Allen,” she giggles, continuing to watch Orm struggle through the crowd. Looking back at Barry, she sighs, “Guess what I learned today?”

“What’s that?”

“Our dear friend is quite opinionated on what kind of man I’m allowed to date. Guess who’s an option?”

He frowns, shaking his head, “Who?”

“Absolutely no one. He thinks he is my big brother, Barry!”

“That’s horrible news, isn’t it?” Barry frowns and she nods, “And we’re still not allowed to just tell him that you have sexy thoughts about him?”

“No!” she says, looking around horrified, “Especially not like that.”

“Well… have you… you know… with anyone since Orm’s been around?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she teases.

“I mean,” he laughs, “I know you well. You’re a big meanie when you haven’t gotten any.”

She bursts into laughter and nods, “I actually snuck out of the house a few weeks ago. That was incredibly embarrassing, though, because Orm caught me sneaking back in.”

Barry’s mouth falls open, “What did he do?”

“Laughed. Patted my head. Went to bed.”

“Oh, Al...”

“Yeah it was pretty tender for a while. But look at it this way, at least I know for certain where we stand.”

“Yeah…” he says, then he frowns, “How was Alaska, anyway?”

“Beautiful. Cold. I saw a bear.”

“Oooo a bear,” he teases, “Have you talked to Arthur lately?”

She shakes her head, feigning nonchalance, “No. He called Orm yesterday while we were at the hotel. Why?”

He frowns and bites his finger, “I’m technically not supposed to tell you this, but there was a signal tripped in your house. There was a high-ranking Atlantean in your home doing things Orm isn’t really allowed to be doing.”

“Barry, Orm has been with me for the majority of his stay here on the Surface. And we haven’t been home in over two weeks.”

“Yeah, that’s what they’re saying.”

“Orm’s trident it at the house. Is it safe?”

“When Arthur brought it up to Bruce, he sent someone there to look around. They reported that it looks like everything is untouched. By the sound of it, someone is looking for the two of you again.”

She sighs, trying to look worried.

“These people keep trying to interfere with Orm. I’m worried what he might do.”

“That he might go with them?”

“To protect his mother? Maybe.”

Barry blinks as if just realizing Atlanna’s safety might be a priority, “That’s why Arthur was freaking out.”

She nods, “The two of them basically just got their mother back from the grave. She is a wonderful woman and if anything happened to her because I didn’t take the proper precautions, I’d feel like pure shit. Everything is alright, though, right?”

“Arthur thinks there’s someone inside Atlantis pulling strings. That they might be trying to contact Orm, thinking he might help them.”

“I’ll tell you right now, if someone is looking for Orm, it’s not because he wants them to.”

He nods, frowning, “I wasn’t supposed to tell you any of that, but I just didn’t like the thought of someone having been in your house without you knowing about it.”

“I really appreciate it,” she says, squeezing him. Then she looks around, “Ah, and now I think we should try to fish Orm out of this crowd.”

The door swings open a little too hard and Barry laughs, “Whoops.”

“Toss me onto the bed,” she laughs, clinging to his back, “Just drop me.”

He does as she says and she yanks him down beside her. The two of them laugh so hard that their stomachs hurt. When she looks up, Orm stares down at the two of them. She grabs him and pulls him down to her other side.

“I don’t think you’re drunk enough, Ormie.”

“I’m not drunk at all,” he snorts.

“See, that’s your problem,” she grunts, then rolls over, kneeling on the bed. Looking down at him, then Barry. Then a bright smile covers her face, “Wow. Look at my two best friends! They’re so handsome! So smart. Such good babies.”

“I am no one’s baby but yours,” Barry laughs, grabbing her and drunkenly trying to straighten the pins in her hair.

Orm isn’t amused and he sits up.

“Babies,” she giggles, “Geez… when’s the last time you held a baby?”

Barry raises his eyebrows, “I’m scared of babies. Maybe not if it were my baby, but other people’s babies are so loud and unpredictable.”

“I haven’t held a baby for 53 years. That baby is 53 years old now. How fucked is that?”

“Pretty fucked,” Barry agrees.

“What about you, Orm?”

“Me?” he asks, “Uh… well, as King of Atlantis, some people kinda just shove their babies into your hands. So… I guess it’s been a little over a year since I held a baby.”

“I guess Orm wins.”

“I’m honored,” he murmurs, looking down at his phone.

“He’s so sarcastic,” she giggles and stands. Walking to the dresser, she starts digging through his clothes.

“Althera, what are you doing?” he sighs, watching her toss his clothes over her shoulders.

“Looking.”

“For what?”

“That shirt. The shirt you look sexy in. The blue one.”

“You’re making a mess.”

“Ah ha!” she grins, pulling it out of the dresser, “Found it.”

“Okay. Now what?”

She slips the straps of her sparkly romper down and wiggles out of it. Barry is quiet on the bed and she figures he’s already fallen asleep. She laughs when Orm reaches up and snatches the clothing out of the air before it can hit Barry in the face.

“Why are you taking your clothes off?”

She grins, “This is your soft shirt. It’s my favorite shirt for hugs. You give the best hugs.”

He chuckles and sighs, “I’d let you keep it, but it’s the only dress shirt I packed for Alaska.”

She drapes it around her shoulders and buttons it up. When she looks up at him, her hair falls forward and out of her hairpins. He reaches up and pushes it out of her face, “Come here.”

She listens and follows him to the edge of the bed. He pulls all the pins out of her hair and uses his fingers to brush her hair out of her face. Finding one of her abandoned hair ties on the nightstand, he ties her hair back.

“I’m getting my hair done tomorrow. It could take several hours,” she says.

“I’ll make sure my phone is charged or I'll hang out with Barry,” he reassures, then, “Do you want your bonnet?”

“I’ll get claustrophobic tonight,” she grimaces. He tilts his head, looking up at her as she stands and looks down at him.

“Alright. Here, switch places with me.”

She does as he says, suddenly feeling very drowsy. He reaches down and slips off her high heels, then goes into the tiny fridge under the bed and gives her a sip of water, “You going to sleep alright tonight?”

She nods, “How ‘bout you?”

“Probably not, but that’s alright. I’m used to it.”

She pouts and looks up at him, “Thank you for fixing my hair.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re going to be a good daddy someday.”

A small frown appears on his lips but she is so overwhelmed with sleepiness that she doesn’t check on him. She lays down and drapes her arms around Barry, who snores softly beneath her.

Burying her face into Barry’s side, the blanket rises over her, and then the light turns off. The door closes between the two rooms and she feels so sad, but also so tired.

Chapter Text

Rolling over, she finds a bottle of aspirin, sunglasses, and two large, glass bottles of water on the nightstand. She considers putting the sunglasses on, staring at the ceiling.

It’s been a while since the last hangover. Last night was fun, then it was a blur. But she’s had worse nights before.

Barry will be fine with a little more sleep and a bottle of water. His body works more in his favor than hers does.

The muffled sound of the shower lets her know Orm is up. She sits up, grabbing the aspirin and one of the bottles of water. She leans against the headboard and looks over at Barry. He buries his nose in his elbow, his eyes scrunched closed. Then he sighs and relaxes and she smiles.

Looking down at herself, a flash of heat hits her face.

She’s wearing Orm’s dress shirt and no pants. Wondering where her pants went, she leans over the bed to look around, but her head resents the movement and she leans back.

Pulling the shirt down over her knees, she bites down on her lip. This wasn’t the shirt Orm was wearing last night, so that is reassuring. She doesn’t remember doing anything extremely stupid. Or saying anything extremely stupid.

She squeezes her temples and wonders if she should quit drinking.

The water turns off in the bathroom and a few moments later, Orm walks out. He looks at her and she waits for his reaction, to follow his lead. Both dread and a strange giddiness fill her belly when he starts walking toward her, holding the top of his towel around his waist. Nothing like that would have happened, as she doesn't have any memory of Orm drinking anything and he wouldn't be a creep. But there is the off chance that drunk Al might have been a little more truthful than sober Al. And Orm's expression is giving her nothing to work with.

“Good morning,” he says, sitting down beside her.

“Good morning,” she responds.

“Are you alright?” he asks. Her concern must be written on her face.

“Where are my pants?”

He grins and reaches out, grabbing her hand, “They’re in the laundry. You wanted to wear my shirt because, apparently, it’s your favorite shirt of mine.”

Relief and, admittedly, a bit of disappointment spill through her. Flipping their hands over, she looks at Orm’s knuckles.

“I feel weird.”

“How so?”

She shrugs, “Just weird.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“No, I don’t think it’s my… my head or anything.”

He frowns and takes his hand out of hers to touch the side of her face. Then he nods, “I’ll take my stuff out of the shower so you can go in. Maybe you’ll feel less weird once you get out.”

“Did I say something rude to you last night?”

He seems surprised by the sudden question. Frowning, he looks like he’s trying to remember the whole night and finally shakes his head, “No. You were your usual self, just magnified by one hundred.”

“Okay,” she nods, “I just felt like I said something I maybe shouldn’t have. If I did, I apologize.”

“But you didn’t. So it’s fine.”

He stands and she does as well. Still holding his towel in place, he looks down at her for such a long time that she starts to think he remembered something.

“Orm?”

“Sorry. I just… this is the second time you’ve worn one of my shirts. And you always look so tiny in them, Althera. I forget, sometimes, that you aren’t actually seven feet tall. That it’s just your personality that makes you seem so,” he chuckles. She smiles and he shakes his head, “I should get dressed. Did you actually schedule a hair appointment today?”

She frowns, grabbing her phone and scrolling through it. Blinking, she sees that there’s a reminder on the calendar and everything, “A three-hundred dollar hair appointment? Orm, I could have done these braids at home by myself! It just would have taken a bit longer.”

“I guess drunk Althera thought it was important you got it done professionally,” he teases. She sighs when he disappears into the other bedroom to change.

For three hundred dollars, she better look cute as hell.

She feels cute as hell walking out of the beauty shop and finding Orm and Barry waiting for her in the parking lot. Orm holds his hand out and spins her around to get a full look and she finds herself growing bashful when he compliments her.

“Do you need a new outfit today, Althera, now that you have a new look?” Orm asks.

“Darling, I just spent more money than I intended to. I don’t need to be spoiled,” she laughs.

He scoffs, “Well then, you’d hate it if our roles were reversed and we spent all this time in Atlantis. I’d be buying you a new Atlantean gown every month, and several suits, likely whenever one caught my eye. You’d be extremely spoiled.”

She laughs, “Just your offering makes me feel spoiled enough.”

Barry starts telling her about the place he and Orm had lunch at and how delicious the sliders were. They walk around the city, enjoying the sights before returning to the hotel right at checkout. They say their goodbyes while in the lobby.

“Once you get home, you’ll call me, right?” Barry frowns, his hands on her shoulders as he looks straight into her eyes.

“Yes, I’ll call immediately,” she insists. Barry grimaces, looking over at Orm. “You’ll make sure she calls me? She’s always like ‘duh I won’t forget I’m not stupid’, then completely blows me off.”

“I’ll remind her once we land,” Orm reassures.

Her phone rings and she makes a funny face at Barry before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Alteenie.”

“Hey Arthur,” she says, receiving a look from Orm. Barry raises his eyebrows in surprise, “What’s up? What’s going on?”

“Look, I hate to interrupt your field trip or whatever, but I have a shit ton of people breathing down my neck right now. My head is pounding. And Vulko is on my ass. I think I’m going to explode.”

“Take a deep breath, Arthur, and tell me what’s up.”

He does as she suggests and his voice sounds a lot less tense when he continues, “Orm probably told you, but there has been evidence of strange Atlantean activity going on for the last couple of weeks. And, the other night, there was someone of noble Atlantean blood wandering around in the house you and Orm share. I already know your location and you two have a solid alibi thanks to Wayne. But unless you make a quick visit, I don’t think I can get these people to leave me alone.”

“You need us to go to Atlantis?”

Orm steps toward her and she holds her hand up.

“Please, Al. I’d owe you one.”

“Of course, Arthur, it’s no problem.”

“I could kiss you! Where are you two so I can send someone to pick you up?”

“No need. Bruce was going to send us home today, so just the beach near the house. Probably the less public part.”

“Great. Thank you a million times, Teenie.”

Hanging up, Barry and Orm look at her expectantly.

“I guess there are some people who aren’t so quick to believe Orm’s alibi. We have to pay them a visit.”

Orm’s frown is deep, his eyes growing dark, “I don’t want you getting involved in this.”

“Orm, I put myself in the middle of this, not you,” she says, shoving her phone into her pocket, “Besides, you didn’t do anything wrong. We’ll be fine.”

Chapter Text

A small ship rises out of the water and Orm climbs in, offering his hand and assisting her. Once inside, she is handed some Atlantean attire and is told where to change. When she returns, she groans dramatically.

“Oh, what the hell? I leave for five minutes and you already have him handcuffed?”

“Althera,” Orm says softly, giving her one of his stern looks. She sighs, sitting down beside him.

Looking around her, she tries to see any of the faces of the guards beneath their strange, white helmets. One of the guards looks at her and she frowns, scooting closer to Orm on the bench. Orm looks down at her curiously and she smiles up at him.

“Do those helmets ever freak you out?”

Orm looks up at the guard who had looked at her and the guard turns away, “Not really.”

She grimaces, then asks, “Do you have an idea of who all is going to be there?”

“Besides Arthur and Vulko? Possibly my mother. The rest are sure to be the Council, which consists of many meddling, self-important, gossips searching to relieve the chronic boredom of their own lives by nosing into the business of others. That’s the only reason I can see for making this trip.”

She wiggles on her seat excitedly, “I guess we should humor them, then.”

He looks at her, maintaining that trained expression on his face. His eyes betray him, though, “We’re not going to humor them too much, though.”

“Of course not, Prince Orm. What am I, a comedian?”

He shakes his head slightly, then leans toward her. She rests her head on his shoulder.

“Are they going to separate us?”

“Most likely.”

She pouts, “Don’t let them walk all over you.”

“Althera, by the new court’s definition, I am a tyrant. They’re not exactly going to be easy-going."

The cuffs around his wrists have an electric sensation of some sort, which must be to keep anyone who doesn’t have access to its controls from touching it. The sensation is only slightly unpleasant to her as she places her hands over his.

“Okay,” she says. Then, “I’ll have a talk with Arthur.”

“About what?”

“I’m going to tell him to make sure they’re not too disrespectful.”

“You absolutely will not be doing that.”

She grimaces, slumping into herself and releasing her hold on him, “Fine.”

They drop the subject and Orm looks over at her, "Sorry about your hair. If it was done in Atlantis they would have conditioned it specifically for surviving the saltwater."

She smiles, "It's fine. My stepmother is Hera. When I turned ten, she blessed me so I'll never have a bad hair day. So it's still money spent well."

He looks at her, trying very hard not to lose his composure.

"What?"

"That is the most hilarious thing I've ever heard in my life."

She giggles as she had never really thought about it and how many of her other gifts from the dieties he might find funny.

They chit-chat quietly for the rest of the journey. When the guards start talking amongst themselves, she figures they must be close. And soon, the ship stops, and the doors open up. She stands and waves as Arthur comes in and laughs, rushing up to her and giving her a hug.

“How are you doing, tuahine?”

“I’m all good. Kinda annoyed about the handcuff situation, but otherwise, all fine.”

He frowns, “What do you mean?”

She gestures to Orm, who is too busy speaking to Vulko to notice. Arthur looks over and sighs, looking at the guards, “Jesus, take the cuffs off of him, he’s doing me a favor.”

She beams and Arthur swims up to Orm and Vulko with her on his tail. They release the cuffs and Orm rubs his wrists. Looking at Arthur, he suddenly looks all business.

“I want to help. But Althera and I have received very little information about what’s been going on, though we’ve somewhat pieced together a picture.”

“I promise I’ll fill you guys in.”

“But must you involve her at all?”

She resists the urge to stamp her foot and glares up at him, “Orm.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur asks.

“He means he doesn’t want me involved in any Atlantean drama,” she rolls her eyes, “Which is funny since he kinda is the drama.”

Orm gives her a look and she shrugs.

“We need Ms. Prince to be present unless you plan on going in there with no alibi,” Vulko says, “We’ll try to keep the conversation brief.”

“Just a few questions about where I was and Althera can get out of here?”

“Orm!”

“Yeah. I promise,” Arthur says.

She sits and broods as Arthur fills them in, though they already have the majority of the information from Barry. And now that Orm knows her connections and how they worked, he seems less worried that any information could come out about his mistake. Once they’re caught up, Arthur and Vulko leave, and Orm stands across from her seat on the bench. Kneeling down in front of her, he waits until she looks at his face.

“My darling little pebble, I trust you more than anyone in this world. And I know you are more than capable of taking care of yourself. But if anything happened to you while you were in my element, I would be shattered.”

She frowns, looking into his eyes, “And you’re not at all embarrassed by me?”

He blinks, his hand on her knee, “Embarrassed? Absolutely not.”

“By the Gods, I feel kinda silly. But here in Atlantis you are Prince Orm. Prince Orm is different from my Orm,” she murmurs.

“He is not. And, if he were, he’d be less, not greater than your Orm. You are my dear friend, and if anyone has a problem with that, Prince Orm is more than happy to put them in their place,” he says, reaching out and touching her cheek. She chuckles softly and he continues, “My hesitancy to get you involved in the affairs of Atlantis is because of the bitterness I have known and recognized in the people I once ruled. It was once inside myself, Althera. They hold their grudges and are not quick to let anything go. And if anyone holds a grudge against you because of your involvement with me, it will be my heavy burden. I’ve told you, I am still not used to this lesser rank. And I still expect any friend of mine to be treated like near-royalty. You should be treated like royalty, Althera.”

She frowns, shaking her head, “I guess I’m just impatient for the day I may be able to swim freely beside you in Atlantis. No cuffs, no guards watching our every movement.”

“As am I,” he says, his eyes searching hers.

“But I understand that may not be any time soon.”

The door opens and Arthur comes in with many more guards than were here before. Orm kisses her forehead and stands, “No. Probably not.”

Chapter Text

She pushes a shell back and forth across her plate, growing more and more anxious by the second.

They took Orm first. She supposes they’re going to listen to what he says and then see how well their stories match. She will not be seeing him for a few more hours, at least, which is kinda dumb considering how much time they actually had to come up with a story.

In the meantime, she was escorted to a large dining area. Though she hasn’t eaten since the ship picked them up, she only pokes at the Atlantean salad she’d normally have shoveled down.

She wonders if she has developed some dependency on Orm. Some kind of reverse Stockholm Syndrome. Because she was only supposed to be supervising him, but now he worries about her and she frets when he’s not around.

Weird shit.

She abandons her salad at the table when a small group bustles into the dining room. They are quite the colorful group, half looking more akin to mermaids than humans. They have large tails in blue, purple, and green and they wear their own kind of fascinating attire. They look important, but not King of Atlantis important.

Two of them bicker amongst themselves and, when they notice her presence, their voices grow softer. One of the smaller women with more ornate clothing stares at her a little longer before turning back to the group.

She keeps to herself, turning to look out the expansive window that covers nearly the entire wall. She watches the swaying of the buildings in the distance as the sea life swims through and around them. She feels herself sway along with it, hypnotized by the beauty of it all for a few short moments before her discomfort kicks in again.

She has made the right decision. It isn't the decision Diana might have made, but that's not important. Had Orm confessed what he did in the very beginning, they would have been quick to say he had malicious intent. They didn’t see the way he confessed to her, the worry in his eyes when he admitted his fear.

She will be telling the truth. For the last few weeks, Prince Orm Marius was with her.

“You came with the former King of Atlantis, didn’t you?”

Althera sways in surprise, and turns, embarrassed that she was so deep in thought that she didn’t hear this girl approach her. She is one of the group that came in earlier, the one with the fancy clothes. She looks much younger up close. Her round face is soft green and she looks up at Althera expectantly.

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

“I heard you’re a warrior, though you’re kinda more like a babysitter?”

She smiles, then looks back out the window, “I wouldn’t say I’m a babysitter. He’s a big boy and he’s even learned to cook and clean for himself, which is a lot more than some of the other royalty I know.”

“You meet a lot of royalty?”

“You could say that,” she says, then explains, “My father is a king.”

“Oh? I would have been more formal if I had known!”

“Really, darling, don’t worry. I reject my father and his titles. I’m perfectly fine having nothing to do with them.“

The young girl looks up at her, curious, “What does King-- What does Prince Orm think about being in a foreign Kingdom? He and your father, do they get along?”

Althera frowns, trying to answer her questions without lying too much or giving too much away, “Prince Orm is pretty well behaved. It’s usually just the two of us, and we are pretty well bonded in the ‘bad dad’ department. Though his father was much worse than mine in some aspects.”

“That’s a shame. I guess I assume… Well, I only ever heard him speak favorably of his father.”

"Yes. It's kinda sad, isn't it," she hums, then adds, “I’m not sure how much access you have to other resources, but I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that King Nereus of Xebel always had his suspicions of King Orvax’s… personal habits. And that there have been whispers through Atlantis’s own Council. Of course, no one wanted to get on the King of Atlantis’s bad side, so they never looked into the rumors. But at the very least, I’m sure you’ve heard he sent Prince Orm’s mother out to the Trench? It’s no wonder we’re here now knowing that he had a father like that.”

They fall quiet. Althera breathes in deeply, feeling the water against her gills. It feels good, not having to cover up for the first time in a while. However, her head is starting to hurt from the stress and from not eating.

“I’ve been affected by Prince Orm’s anger before,” she blurts. Althera looks over at her, but she avoids her gaze by staring out the window very hard.

Frowning, she nods, “It'll be hard to get over that, I'm sure.”

“You've been confronted about this before?”

“Yes. The last time I came to Atlantis, I was pretty much called a cheap slut through people’s actions," she says, then frowns, "I apologize for the language.”

She gasps, looking up at her with wide eyes, “I would never! I just… well, you seem nice enough. How can you stand to spend all your time watching over him?”

Althera wraps her arms around herself, looking down at her feet. Clearing her throat, she decides to tell the truth, “Just like Orm, I have done things I am not proud of to people who did not deserve it. Things that keep me up at night or wake me with tears. And I had friends, people in my life, who helped me become a better person. I wanted to give him a chance to have the same.”

“Do you consider him a friend?”

She nods once, “He says I’m his very first.”

“But you know what he’s done?”

“He is far from home because of what he has done. He cannot return unless he is on some errand to help his brother. I don’t know if he’ll ever be allowed to move freely through Atlantis without being escorted by a whole military unit. And I’ll tell you right now, it’s more of an actual punishment than I was ever given,” she admits, then tightens her shawl around her shoulders, “The man who wanted to destroy the Surface is now one of its residents. The irony isn’t lost on him, I assure you.”

The young girl chuckles and looks down. Looking at her, she feels her heart tighten in her chest and her throat does the same. Swallowing hard, she pushes the thoughts out of her head. When the tight lump in her throat softens, she continues.

“Like me, he has regrets. We’ve talked and he goes to therapy now. And he once told me that he is afraid of who he used to be. Terrified that that person could very well be inside him still," she clears her throat, blinking hard, "I can see how hard he is trying to become better. And I wish that could be an assurance to you. I wish that his regret could rewrite every bad thing he's ever done and that you could be free of whatever trauma he's caused you. But I also know that's impossible.”

“But I wish I could have the same kind of forgiveness and understanding as you," she says, and her voice sounds as if she's gone through this struggle before, "But right this moment, I still don’t think forgiveness is in my heart.”

“No. No, I don’t expect it to be. Especially not so soon. Everything you are feeling is absolutely valid,” Althera turns and the young girl looks up at her in surprise, looking her straight in the eyes, “I just don't want you to let it turn you into someone like us. Don't let the anger be who you become. Because that's what anger does. It consumes.”

The little princess quivers with sadness and Althera's heart feels torn and ragged as she softly touches the girl’s cheek.

“Althera Prince?”

The voice calls from the door and she knows this is her summons.

“I am sorry,” she breathes, turning to look at her one last time. Their tears being stolen by the water that surrounds them, she reiterates, “I am so sorry.”

Chapter Text

“As we understand, you are acquainted with Prince Orm Marius due to an understanding made between you and the reigning King Arthur. Is this correct?”

“Yes.”

“And he has been in your custody while sentenced on the Surface. Is this true?”

“Yes.”

A quiet murmur rolls through the council and she keeps a straight face, looking over at Vulko who looks very interested in the whole situation. She sits at the front of a large room that does look very much like a courtroom, though the seats and walls are all the familiar sterile white of almost every other room she’s been in while in Atlantis. After a few moments of their discussion, they settle back into silence.

“Ms. Prince, I am sure you are well aware of the difference in stature between you and his Highness. That is why we are eager to hear how it is that you are able to keep him in line.”

She nods, acknowledging their eagerness and responding, “It’s simple. He does not step out of line, therefore I am able to keep him within it. I treat him with respect, therefore he has the same respect for me.”

A few murmurs, then, “We find this hard to believe, Ms. Prince. Your physical size alone cannot be enough for a man, let alone a man of his rank and ability, to be intimidated by.”

“That’s because there is no intimidation in play. Besides, my physical size does not represent what I, myself, am capable of.”

“Can you explain?”

She inhales deep, looking around the room. To be perfectly fair, she warned Orm that she was going to have a little fun.

She rises out of her seat, but once standing, she continues growing. All eyes in the room watch her, widening as she grows taller than Orm, taller than Arthur. Then she continues to grow until she is about as tall as the Atlantean statue that stands across from her at the moment. She is about as tall as her cousin Polyphemus when someone finally manages to recover from their surprise and insists, “Thank you, Ms. Prince, your point has been made.”

Shrinking back down, she smiles softly and takes her seat.

“As you can see, size is not an issue.”

Their stunned silence turns back into murmurs as the crowd discusses what they just saw, and she can still feel their stares. Growing antsy, she rubs her palms together and swings her legs a little. Then the attention is returned to the man asking the questions.

“Ms. Prince, you’ve said that you have to do very little to keep Prince Orm in control. Do you mean to imply that he is a fully reformed man?”

“No, not fully. Look, all that I’ve observed is that he now has hints of regret about actions he had been passive about before.”

“Do you think he has the same mindset he had at the time he attempted to start a war with the Surface?”

“I think he has acknowledged that there were better methods to bring about the change he wanted.”

“So you remain firm in the belief that he is not currently planning to cause more trouble for the Kingdom of Atlantis by remaining in contact with those who would like to see him back on the throne?”

“I do,” she says, “Council, the majority of our days are spent together. Even a few of our nights are spent awake and in discussion. So there would be very little time for him to be part of any large-scale problems for Atlantis without me knowing about it.”

“And if you had been suspicious of His Highness’ actions, what would your plan of action be?”

“I would give an immediate report to King Arthur, Queen Atlanna, or Councilor Vulko,” she lies confidently, “Who I am also acquainted with.”

More murmurs fill the room and she waits patiently. Looking over at Vulko again, he gives her a look. She almost smiles, but resists, quickly turning away.

“Ms. Prince, I’m sure you are aware, but four nights ago there was evidence of illegal activity happening inside the residence you and His Highness occupy together. Is there anything you would like to say about that?”

“Only that it wasn’t Prince Orm.”

“And you’re sure of this?”

“Four days ago the two of us were doing business for a friend of mine. We were leagues away from the house at the time. I believe King Arthur can confirm this.”

Silence. The sound of people settling in, then, “Thank you for your time, Ms. Prince.”

Chapter Text

Seeing Orm across the way, she swallows hard. He smiles and holds his hands out to her. She accepts them and looks up at him.

“Orm, I--”

The door slides open and Arthur swims with Vulko and Queen Atlanna. Atlanna swiftly swims past both men to reach her and Orm.

“Darlings. Let me look at you. The both of you,” she says, her voice breathy as she kisses Orm’s forehead, then turns and does the same to Althera. Althera blushes and wonders what it is about her that screams ‘I need the comfort of a mommy’ so loudly all the time. She appreciates Atlanna, however, and allows her to do the full check-up, “I am so sorry you had to waste your time with something so silly.”

“It’s fine, really,” she says, glancing up at Orm. Atlanna notices something, frowning deeply.

“Are you okay, Dear?” she asks

Orm and his mother look at her and she nods, adding, “Yes. Just a little flustered. I’m not great at public speaking.”

Arthur nods, “Well, you really saved my ass. And I’m definitely going to figure out who has been harassing you two. I mean, they already put Atlhera in the hospital once. If anything happens again, I’ll feel like such a jerk.”

Orm continues looking at her, sensing something is wrong. She avoids looking him straight in the eyes. She has a hard time imagining them so angry, so unlike the soft, patient way he has taken to looking at her. The tightness in her chest feels like a fist.

Frowning, he turns to Arthur and holds out his hand. Arthur, surprised, takes it.

“Thank you for believing me, Arthur. You had every reason not to. I am grateful.”

Arthur chuckles awkwardly, “It’s all good.”

She looks up as Vulko swims up to her, stopping directly in front of her. She feels embarrassed, suddenly, remembering the look he gave her after her stunt during the interview.

“I have to admit, Ms. Prince, that your performance was one the council isn’t likely to forget any time soon.”

“Why?” Orm asks, intrigued, “What happened?”

“It is nothing, your Highness. The questioner was giving her a bit of a hard time, but she shut him right up,” Vulko chuckles and nods, “You two take care of yourselves.”

Vulko leaves and, as much as she adores them, she wishes Arthur and Atlanna would leave for a second, too. But it’s getting late in the afternoon, almost dinner, and Atlanna insists they all dine together.

Still with Arthur and Atlanna, Orm tries to communicate that he knows something is wrong. She feels his glances and, when he passes her, he touches her extra gently, as if she might shatter. But the ache in her chest remains just as tight and she doesn’t think it will be any better until they can talk about today’s events.

After dinner, Arthur says he can get them some rooms in the palace and she is surprised when Orm rejects his offer, insisting that they should return to the House. And it’s only an hour and a half later that they find themselves back on their familiar beach.

She plays with the handle on her luggage, the silence between the two of them extremely loud. Still wearing their wetsuits, she sighs and sinks into the sand. She reaches up and slips her braids into a ponytail. Slowly, he sits in the sand beside her.

Leaning his head against her shoulder, he asks, “Did I hurt you somehow?”

Her eyes start to fill with tears and she quickly blinks them away. The tightness has returned to her throat and she cannot speak. Instead, she shakes her head.

“No? Did someone else hurt you?” he asks, his voice growing dangerous.

She shakes her head again and he pulls away, looking up at her face. He must see her shiny eyes, as he suddenly looks panicked.

“Althera, Darling, what’s wrong?” he breathes, “We were separated for much of today and I can’t possibly guess what happened.”

She swallows hard and takes a deep breath.

“I met her today, Orm. At least, I am fairly certain it was her.”

He frowns, “You met who?”

“The little princess. From the Fisherman Kingdom.”

The worry fades from his face instantly, his expression going blank. His entire body stiffens beside her and he suddenly feels miles away from her. Looking up at him, she feels as if her heart has been torn from her chest and she cannot help but reach out to him. Her hands find the sides of his face and she guides his eyes back to hers.

“Don’t, Orm.”

“What?”

“You’re distancing yourself from me. Don’t do that.”

“If you spoke to her and looked at her face, I can only imagine what you see when you look at mine,” he says, his voice monotone, though his eyes grow wet with tears.

“I have never claimed you were untarnished, Orm. I have known since the beginning that you have done things that others cannot imagine. I recognized in you what I saw in myself.”

“You are untarnished.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“I have told you what I’ve done. How can you say that?”

Tears slip from her eyes and she guides his head down, burying her face in his neck. Sobbing, she wraps her arms around his tense body. He remains still for a few moments before she feels his entire being shake around her, then collapses into her completely.

A good amount of time passes as the sky deepens and darkens around them. Though she knows she would be perfectly fine not moving from this position for a year or more, she knows how Mortals are with their time.

Sniffing, she leans back and looks at him. His eyes have soft pink rings around them and he raises his head to look out at the water. She cannot take her eyes off of him. She cannot fathom this man with whom she has had very few real arguments with doing something so bad. She is undoubtedly a monster. But him?

“I love you no less than I did before, Orm.”

He inhales a shaky breath and tears his eyes off the water, rubbing his palms against his legs, “Why?”

“You’ve been nothing but good to me and those I love.”

“I killed him, Althera. I killed him in front of his daughter and I forced her to follow me into the war I created for my own benefit. No matter what I do, no matter how I turn my life around, I can never make up for that. No matter what I do, she will always look at me and see everything I hate about myself.”

“Yes, she will. And every time you look at her, you will see the same. And, unless you allow yourself to heal, you will continue this spiral over and over again.”

He scoffs, then sighs, “You couldn’t even look at me during dinner, Althera. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

She frowns, “I was afraid. Afraid that if I looked at you too long, I would burst into tears. Because I know how this affects a person. I know because I’ve gone through it all myself. And I know that, if I returned to that place, I would relive every second all over again. I am not an untarnished soul, Orm. I am not good. I am not.”

He sighs and she wipes the tears from her eyes. He slips his hand under her chin and tilts her head to look up at him. He laughs once, nothing more than a soft scoff, then drops his hand, looking away.

Suddenly indignant, she stands, “I need to show you something.”

He looks up at her, then rises. When she lifts them off the ground, he looks uncertain at first. But she squeezes his hand and he looks not at the ground, but straight into her eyes. And he grows steady.

They move so quickly that the landmarks they pass that should be recognizable are just a blur. He looks at her in awe and she tries to stay focused on their destination.

It is only a few minutes to get to their location and she slows down, gently dropping her and Orm back to the surface.

Orm gazes around him, his eyes thoughtful.

“They can’t see us,” she says, “I thought it best. Though, maybe it’s self-preservation.”

He walks toward the village, examining the people who walk with no knowledge of his being beside them. The majority of them have skin that isn’t as dark as Atlhera’s but is still a deep brown from years in the sun. He examines the houses that are built into the unstable, hard ground. He examines the strange grain that remains their only staple despite the land once being so plentiful.

“You said you brought famine to this land. Why don’t they leave?” he asks.

“The government here is young and unreliable. Most enter it for their own gain, rather than for the benefit of their people. This land belongs to these villagers, and before them, their ancestors. If they were to leave it behind, the government would snatch it up and do unholy things to it.”

She walks up to him and gently taps his temple. The view changes. There is lush green grass under their feet and the soil is deep and dark. The air smells of fruit and flowers and a gentle breeze drifts around them.

Her eyes fill with tears and she ignores them, blinking them away, “This is what it was like when I first arrived.”

He looks around him, his eyes lifting to the skies where bright-colored birds soar overhead. Where there were hollowed-out stumps are tall, gorgeous trees. All the while, small pollinators buzz past them lazily, with no fear of missing their daily quota.

The images melt away and he looks at the flat brown landscape in front of him. He turns and she hears the familiar pain in his voice when he asks, “If you can take it away, can’t you return it?”

“Truthfully, with a little help from my family, I could get the forest back to how it once was in less than a couple of decades. However,” her voice breaks and she swallows down the sob that chokes her, “my father wanted to make sure I received proper punishment. A reminder of what I’ve done. So no, I’m not allowed to fix it. I can multiply what they already have, but that isn’t much at all.”

She raises her hand and the field of the ragged grain becomes visibly thicker. A few of the people look up and the two men nearest to them speak in a language he isn’t familiar with.

Althera translates, “The first man says, ‘Princess Althera gifts us out of pity again’. The second man says something like, ‘This is good. May we resent her forever to continue to accept her gifts.’”

Orm looks at her and she looks away.

“The government blames the people. Says they caused near desertification in just three years because of overgrazing. Some of them believe in my influence on all of this. Most do not. They refuse to be of any help, as they say, that, no matter what truth, the villagers brought it upon themselves. That is not the truth. The truth is… the truth is that a spoiled rotten princess thought her comfort was more important than the lives of the people she viewed as below her. The truth is that they were kind when they took her in and she was cruel and took advantage of their goodness.”

She angrily wipes the tears from her eyes and walks past Orm, into one of the houses. Inside, there is an old man in his 80’s. When the door opens, he looks up and shakes his head, speaking out loud. Orm looks at her and she translates.

“No winds like this but the shameless Princess. You are not welcome here. Nor are your gifts of pity. No, I will not eat the thickened grain, either.”

Orm’s eyes are on her as she kneels before the old man.

“Who is he?” he asks.

She tilts her head and watches as the white-haired grandfather continues to clumsily sew the two pieces of fabric he’s working with together. She resists the urge to assist, per his wishes.

“You have the Fisherman Princess. I have Enu,” she murmurs, and Orm kneels down beside her, “I killed his father and a few others when they had the courage to go against me. His mother later died from heat exhaustion because of the drought I caused. He was 15 years old.”

She reaches out and touches the old man’s cheek. He closes his eyes and his sewing falls from his hands. A few tears slip through his eyes and, though he cannot see her, he knows.

Orm closes his eyes and, when he opens them again, he and Althera stand at the very outskirts of the village.

“Am I so untarnished now?” she asks, her voice hollow.

He shakes his head, then turns and takes her face in his hands, “No. And I won’t take that from you again.”

Chapter Text

She is startled awake by the sound of a gull overhead. Blinking, she shifts a little and the sensation of sand stuck to her palm confuses her. Then Orm’s hip bumps into her belly and she remembers being so drained when they returned to the beach that she dropped to the sand and stared into the sea. Orm had sat beside her and she had fallen asleep in his arms.

They spent the whole night on the beach.

Closing her eyes again, she listens to the soft waves and the birds. She syncs her breathing to the water and, beneath her, Orm does the same.

Finally, he speaks.

“Good morning.”

She squeezes him in response and he kisses the top of her head.

She wakes this morning with puffy eyes, the sensation that comes with crying all night. Sitting up, she looks down at Orm and, though his eyes look normal, he rubs them in the same manner she does. Then he sits up beside her, takes the deepest breath she’s ever witnessed in her life, and sighs.

“I think we should head home. Yeah?” She nods and he puts his arm around her, “Yeah, let’s go home.”

They lounge on the couch, not doing much but looking lazily at their books and phones. They’ve snacked, but not eaten a substantial meal, and their suitcases remain next to the door, still packed.

Her head in his lap, sometimes he’ll look down at her and bring his finger to the bridge of her nose, softly tracing a line up to her forehead. Her nose is a swoop whereas his is a slope. She says she admires his precise features. He says he enjoys her softer, rounded edges.

And there is an overwhelming desire to stay close, capitalized by a strange looming sensation that hides just below their company.

“I feel lethargic today,” she admits, reaching out and interlacing their fingers. He watches as she swings their hands around and nods.

“I agree. Like this is some dream.”

“Like wading through honey and cream.”

He looks down at her as she looks up at him. They both smile. Then he nods, “Such a strange dream, though I can’t help but think this is the calm before the storm.”

She gasps softly sitting up and looking at him with wide eyes, “You feel it too?”

He nods, “I thought it was my own anxiety, but it must be something else. Althera, if anyone asks us to leave the house today, maybe we should reject their offer.”

She frowns and means to respond. But then her phone rings and Orm raises his eyebrows expectantly. She lets go of his hand and answers.

“Hi Diana.”

“Hey, you’re not too busy right now, are you?”

“Nope. Just lounging with Orm.”

“Ah?”

“Yes…” she says, hearing a tone in Diana’s voice, “Did you need something, Mama Di?”

“Barry filled me in on what the two of you have been up to since you left. Are you being safe?”

“How ever do you mean?” she asks. There is a clattering sound on Diana’s end of the call making Althera pull the phone from her ear, “What was that?”

“Nothing important,” she says, her voice sounding further away, “What I mean is that you and Orm aren’t doing anything too reckless. I know you, Althera, and Barry says you were out partying.”

“Well, where I’m irresponsible, Orm is very responsible. He’s a little saint, honestly,” she grimaces, draping her legs over his. He turns the page of his book and smiles without looking up at her.

“Well, did you know he asked Barry if drunk Althera was always extra flirty?”

Heat springs into her face and she clears her throat, “No I didn’t. But he’s asked me something similar. And I’m sure he got the same response. Yes. Yes she is.”

“Althera, stop flirting with the Prince of Atlantis.”

She grimaces, sinking into the cushion. “Fine.”

“Anyway, the reason I was calling was because I was wondering if you ever got around to reading those files I left you.”

“Well…” she starts. There is a loud clattering sound and she moves the phone away from her ear again, “Seriously, what are you doing?”

“Nothing important. Why?”

She puts the phone back on her ear and explains, “Diana, it sounds like you’ve broken into a heavily guarded place from this side of the call.”

“Well it’s nothing like that.”

She physically yanks her head away from the phone suddenly when rapid shooting sounds go off in her ear. Orm hears it too, his eyebrows raised.

She stands up and starts pacing, “Were those gunshots?”

“No, of course not.”

She points to the TV and Orm gets the hint, turning it on and flipping through the channels until he finds the news. There Superman is transporting a few arms full of sobbing citizens from a building. The reporter announces that many gunshots were heard inside the building and that Wonder Woman has yet to reemerge.

Althera rolls her eyes and asks, “Have you seen Kal lately?”

“Kal-el? No.”

“How are you doing today, Al?” Kal responds. She laughs when the live footage shows him responding to her with a bit of a lag.

“I’m fine, thanks, dear Kal!” she shakes her head, accepting the remote from Orm and turning the TV off, “I’ve been connected to your guys’ comms this entire time?”

“Pretty much,” Kal confirms, “And yes, Al does get very flirty when she drinks a little.”

“Hush up, I’m salty with Diana, don’t make me turn on you, too.”

He chuckles, but hushes up.

“Anyway, Althera, about those files…”

“I’m gonna start dinner, alright?” Orm says, giving her a little nudge.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” she smiles over her shoulder.

“You’re not headed this way, are you?” Kal asks, sounding concerned.

“What? No, I was talking to Orm.”

“Hm. Interesting.”

She frowns, “What do you mean?”

“I am trying to have a conversation,” Diana says, getting frustrated.

“Sorry,” Kal says, and falls quiet. But Althera pushes it.

“No, he has to explain himself now, Diana.”

Diana sighs and Kal explains, “Do you usually use that voice when you talk to him?”

“What voice?”

“It’s like drunk Althera is talking, but you’re not drunk at all. Just flirty. Ridiculously sweet.”

She stares at the carpet and regrets every decision she has ever made in her life. Feeling her annoyance fill her up from head to toe, she snaps, “That is not true. My tone is deep and thunderous all the time, like a cyclops or a giant.”

Kal’s laughter only makes her more annoyed.

“Anyway,” Diana says, “I’m glad we’ve sorted that out. Now, those files, Althera?”

“Eh, no I haven’t read them yet. Orm and I,” she says, looking over at Orm who stares into the fridge, “We’ve been really busy. Speaking of which, I have to go now.”

“Go where? You just said the two of you were lounging--”

“Love you, guys! Talk to you later!”

She hangs up and tosses her phone to the couch. The calm before the storm, alright. She is staying far away from those files and she is going to make sure Orm never hears what Clark has to say about this ‘sweet voice’ thing he just made up to annoy her.

Of course, it is possible she has been spending a little too much time alone with Orm Marius.

She bounds into the kitchen and Orm looks up, turning and leaning his back against the counter, “That was a brisk ending to a conversation.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It sounded like you didn’t want to talk to them.”

“Them? You heard who all was there? And here I thought I was having a one-on-one conversation with my good friend, but apparently there were two others involved!”

He frowns and walks up to her. She pouts up at him and he wraps his arms around her, “I’m sorry for eavesdropping, my squishy little squid.”

She giggles and squeezes him back, “I think that’s only a smidgen better than the barnacle one, Orm.”

“I’ll keep brainstorming. I only ever call you Althera, anyway.”

“Unless you’re scolding me. In which case, it’s Althera. Your tone speaks wonders.”

“My tone? Is my tone much like yours? Deep and thunderous?”

She snorts, reaching up and taking his face in her hands, “You need a hobby that isn’t listening to my conversations.”

He places his hands over hers, leaning down to her eye level, “To be fair, you were talking quite loud.”

She stares at him and he stares back. Then she grimaces, “You get to call me ‘squishy squid’ but I don’t get to call you Ormie.”

His face cracks into a wide smile, “You can always return to calling me Ocean Master.”

“What about Erik?”

“And what would I call you, Ms. Di Salvo?” he purrs, putting on his Erik airs. Then he chuckles, “That’s venturing into troubling waters, Ms. Prince.”

“I agree. Alright, we’ll workshop this some more,” she nods. They get to making dinner, chit-chatting about random things and, after eating, she brings the topic up again, “I didn’t mind being your pebble, though.”

“Have I called you a pebble?” he asks.

She nods, “I find it sweet. I enjoy a good pebble on the beach.”

“I’m glad, then. You truly are a perfect little pebble.”

She is moronically delighted to hear him say so.

Her legs crossed, she opens her laptop and leans into Orm’s shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking at the reason for my brisk end to a conversation earlier,” she murmurs.

He takes the hint and returns to his book, “Ah, I see.”

She sighs and stares at the name on the folder. Then she pouts, “I don’t mean to be snappy, Orm. I shouldn’t have sat so close to you if I didn’t want to talk about it. But, to be honest, I sat next to you as a form of silent moral support. Y’know?”

“I understand. And it’s perfectly alright.

“You’re so sweet.”

“Aren’t I?” he teases. Sometimes she can’t help but think of the Orm she arrived here with and how different he is from this Orm. Sure, she gets glimpses of the old Orm while they are in public or in front of people he doesn’t feel comfortable with. But he never feels exactly the same as when they first arrived.

Looking back down at the list of docs, she reminds herself that she has changed, too. That reading some dumb file isn’t going to make her revert back.

She inhales deeply and starts reading.

Chapter Text

“Hi Elena, is something wrong?” she asks, balancing the phone against her ear as she floats up until eye-level with the top of the bookshelf, wiping the dust away and feeling accomplished. Landing on the floor, she frowns at the dust now on the lower shelves.

“Oh, no, everything is fine. It’s just been so long since we’ve heard from you and Orm last. I wanted to see how you two were doing. How was Alaska?”

“Oh, it was beautiful! We would have been home sooner, but we got called off for a meeting elsewhere, so we got home a week later than we expected. Sorry, I should have let you know,” she frowns, wiping the second shelf, then grimacing at the third and fourth.

“Oh, that’s okay! The main reason I was calling you was because two of our grandkids have been visiting for the last couple weeks and I thought it’d be nice for them to meet some of the new people in town, since their old friends have mostly moved away. And you and Orm are around their age, so I was wondering if you’d like to come over to dinner tonight.”

Orm walks into the room and sneezes.

“That sounds lovely. I’ll talk to Orm about it and see if he’s doing anything. Then I’ll get back to you.”

Orm looks at her, shaking his head. She gives him a look and says goodbye to Elena.

“They have family in town and she wants us to meet them,” Althera explains.

“Didn’t I predict something like this happening? You should have kindly rejected the invite.”

“Orm,” she pouts, “These are our friends. Should I tell them we’re free?”

He grimaces and then nods, “Fine.”

“Alright. Remember, we work for Wayne Enterprises, the clean up division. We’ll pretend that we’re the reason the beach got cleaned up. Right?”

“Ironically, yes,” he says, looking down at her while she smooths down his collar. She snickers, her head falling against his chest, and he laughs as well. When they compose themselves, Orm asks, “Do you think they’ll like the gelatin?”

“Everybody likes gelatin.”

“I don’t.”

“Yes, but you’re out of this world, Darling.”

He smiles and pulls a leaf out of her hair. It’s been pretty windy lately. Luckily for her, Orm finds yard work relaxing. He hands her the leaf just as the door opens.

“Oh?”

Althera turns at the sound of a man’s voice and her stomach drops below her knees.

Knowing how well Orm knows her, she quickly plays it off, “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. Um, we’re Elena and John’s friends, the neighbors just down the road. I’m Althera, this is Orm. You must be their grandson.”

Tall and blond, Ben from the bar continues to stare at Althera in surprise. Clearing his throat, he nods, “Uh, yeah, hey, come on in.”

His slight Texas drawl fills her belly with knots.

She looks at Orm, waiting to see his inquiring look. However, he seems too busy focusing on something over their heads. Quite literally, he is staring up at the roof.

She takes a deep breath and resists a sigh. She really should listen to Orm more often.

Ben’s sister, Nina, is pregnant. She is absolutely funny and lovely. And she looks much more like her grandmother than Ben does. She wonders if he had looked more like this side of the family if all this could have been avoided.

She tried to avoid it, but after he and Orm put the new leaf on the table for Elena the food was brought out and Ben sat directly across from her. Everything about his face is exactly as she remembers. No sign of John or Elena in the shape of his deep brown eyes. But when Orm passes Elena the bottle of wine they brought, his eyes brighten and he smiles directly at her.

“I figured you to be more of a whiskey drinker,” he says. And with that mischievous smile he could be Elena’s child instead of her grandchild.

Nina gives her brother a look, “That’s a weird thing to say. Why not both?”

Althera laughs and Elena saves her from a response by calling her into the kitchen. Orm is walking out of the kitchen when he stops her, his head tilted.

“Are you alright? You look a little blue,” he murmurs, tilting her head up so she’s looking him right in the eyes, “Like, in color.”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” she says, taking his hand from off her face and squeezing it reassuringly.

“If you find yourself feeling off, tell me so we can go home. I don’t want you making anything worse by trying to push through it.”

She smiles up at him to prove just how fine she feels. He shakes his head disapprovingly, but allows her to pass. Somehow, she does feel much better after talking to him.

Chapter Text

“You work for Wayne Enterprises, but you’ve never actually met Bruce Wayne?” Ben asks, looking back and forth from Althera to Orm.

“To be fair, that company is extremely versatile,” Nina says, and Althera nods in agreement.

“He’s a very busy man and we’re just one division of several projects. And a relatively new one, at that,” she adds.

“And thank goodness for him or our beach would have been swamped for ages,” Elena says, passing Orm another tortilla when she sees him finish his previous one. He doesn’t exactly want it, she’s given him at least five now, but he accepts it politely.

“So, you two have known each other since before all this?” Ben asks. Elena’s head pops up and John shifts in his seat. Orm and Althera have never mentioned how or when they met before, nor have they ever clarified what their relationship is, and it appears there is some curiosity. She's glad they had the sense to rehearse their story beforehand.

“Um, no, actually. We met because of work,” she says, putting her hand on Orm’s arm. He nods in agreement. “Work led us this way from two separate states and life situations. I was looking for something new and so was he. One day we noticed that we were at quite a few of the same open houses in the area. This was about a year before we moved in?”

Orm takes her lead, “Yes. She and I met more than a few times afterward and got to know each other. Soon, we were good friends. Of course, Althera isn’t hard to get along with. Me, on the other hand…”

She rolls her eyes and continues, “We found the house next door and I wasn’t sure about it even though it is in the perfect location. But Orm was in love with the place. He was going to buy it no matter what, so I stepped back and let him work his magic. And then, to my surprise, he offered to let me move in. Probably not the best idea to work with your roommate, I thought, but it's been great. He’s my best friend. Really.”

He smiles down at Althera, “Now here we all are.”

John gives Elena a little look and she steers the conversation in another direction. Althera silently wonders who made the bet that they were dating.

“Althera and Orm recently went on a trip to Alaska,” Elena says, “Did that have anything to do with work, or was that just for fun?”

“That was strictly for pleasure,” Orm says, his face so lovely.

Noticing how lovely Orm's face is, she realizes that her own face is being watched at the moment, as she can feel Ben’s eyes on her from across the table. She notices that everyone’s plates are pretty much empty and she stands, “Orm, why don’t you tell them about the trip while I clean up a little?”

“Of course,” he says, though she feels his eyes on her as she collects the plates and walks into the kitchen. As expected, someone comes in behind her a moment later.

“You do have a tendency to appear and disappear at will, don’t you?”

“Ben,” she says, glaring down at the plate in her hand, “Did nothing strike you odd when your grandma brought up her neighbor to you?”

“How was I supposed to know Al was short for Althera? I was looking around for an Allie or an Allison!” he says, stepping closer to her.

“Do I look like an Allie or an Allison?” she wants to yell, but she contains herself. Instead, it comes out as a desperate sounding whisper. His eyes widen, the corners of his mouth turn up slightly and she bites her bottom lip, turning her head away quickly. “This isn’t funny, Ben. This is a predicament.”

“Because you kinda ghosted me?”

“I went to Alaska,” she groans, clutching a plate to her chest.

“And you left your phone at home? I get it.”

She sighs, “All this could have been avoided if you had told me your last name.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed we would’ve had more time to talk after everything. I didn’t know you had a man at home waiting for you.”

She turns suddenly, glaring, “It’s not like that.”

“He’s absolutely smitten with you, you know?” he says, leaning against the counter, “And those looks he gives you?”

“He is not smitten. He’s a very protective soul and we’re all each other has around here,” she explains, “Orm and I are not whatever you’re implying. Besides, when I got home he joked and told me I had no reason to sneak out, so he caught me in the act anyway. There are no secrets in our house.”

He stares at her and she turns, going back to the dishes. He sighs and walks up beside her, “Here, let me help. If my grandma found out I let you do it all, she’d be furious.”

They work in silence and she is hyper-aware of how different he is from Orm. He whistles quietly to himself as he works and, though he is big like Orm, he is absolutely clumsy. His brown eyes carry a constant loud smile, whereas Orm’s blue eyes are usually soft and thoughtful. They have about as many similarities as a golden retriever and a baby shark.

Orm is the baby shark.

“You know,” he says, breaking their silence, “I would have liked to have had breakfast with you. But since you’ve clarified that your friend Orm wasn’t the problem, I guess I should assume I did something wrong?”

“No! It's just that I'm not,” she pauses, then sighs, “I'm not looking for anything serious. And when you said you were from out of town, well…”

“It was the perfect opportunity,” he finishes.

“Ben.”

“No, it’s alright. I mean, I’m no saint, I’ve had my fair share of flings. It's kinda funny how sometimes one person can really just stick on your mind for a little while. That’s all,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, “I’m sorry, I should just drop it.”

She feels bad. She feels really bad. And she’d normally feel bad in this situation. However, the fact that this is John and Elena’s grandson just amplifies how truly bad she feels. And, although her head screams no, she decides to give him a bit of the truth.

“You know, I kinda lied when I said there were no secrets in our house. That Orm is fine with me sneaking out and isn’t jealous at all. That doesn’t necessarily mean that the reverse is true. If our, mine and Orm’s, roles were reversed… I would be in pieces.”

Tears spring into her eyes when she realizes just how true that statement is and she nearly panics, because she is not supposed to have any possessiveness over Orm. Ben sees her tears and frowns, drying his hands off and handing her a napkin. She wipes her eyes and feels so stupid and silly that she is getting emotional in her neighbor’s kitchen. But it’s true. She is more enamored by Orm Marius than she had let herself admit.

“He doesn’t know?” Ben asks when she looks up at him again.

“No. And you can’t say a thing, Ben! Our dynamic is already a little skewed and I don’t want anyone to think I’m taking advantage of him.”

“He’s a grown man, Al.”

She can’t explain the real situation to him, that she basically made herself Orm’s parole officer, so she quickly explains based on the fake story of how they met, “Yes, but I am living in his home practically rent free. And some of his family members already think ill of me. Please, Ben, don’t say a thing.”

Ben frowns, looking at the kitchen door like he wants to burst through and share this juicy new information. Then he sinks against the counter and nods, “Of course. My lips are sealed.”

Chapter Text

Elena insists they must do this again and John thanks Orm for noticing the leak in the gutter that apparently ‘would have been hell to deal with later’.

They say their goodbyes and then Orm and Althera are walking back home.

A distance away from the house, Orm pauses, squinting down at her, “You don’t look blue anymore.”

“I told you I was fine.”

“Yes, but you looked like you were turning blue. So how could I trust your word over my very own eyes?”

She doesn’t respond, her thoughts running wild inside her head. They continue in silence and Althera thinks about her baby shark thought. She wonders why she had to catch feelings for a shark when there is a whole golden retriever who seems to really like her. Why she can’t even consider this golden retriever as a valid option because of this stupid, clueless, shark. This dumb, stupid, annoying, jerk of a shark.

What is so special about Orm fucking Marius?

“You already knew Ben, didn’t you?”

She looks up at him, “I guess.”

“You guess?”

“It was… that one night before we left for Alaska.”

Orm snorts, “That’s actually pretty funny.”

“More like humiliating.”

“You don’t plan on seeing him again?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” she says, feeling defensive, “I’m not the Prince of Atlantis. I’m not betrothed to anybody. I can do whatever I like.”

“Absolutely,” he says, his cheeks turning pink, “I guess I was just wondering because you two acted like you’d never seen each other before. We were all adults.”

“I love John and Elena. And I'd much rather avoid that conversation.”

Silence. Then, “He’s fine with never seeing you in that way again?”

“What’s with the sudden onslaught of questions?” she asks, trying to sound humored.

“I’m sorry if it’s impolite. I’m just trying to understand the way you date. This is a whole different dynamic from all the planned marriages and sordid scandals I’m used to hearing about from the Atlantean royal families. You and all your exes seem friendly still.”

“Maybe Atlantis was right. Maybe I should have my uncle arrange a marriage for me,” she grunts.

“I’m only accepting an arranged marriage because it’s my duty, Al,” he explains.

She looks up at him and he looks down at her. Then she looks away, “What do you think would happen if the King of Atlantis was allowed to date freely?”

He grimaces, “I don’t think we’ll have to deal with the repercussions of that any time soon.”

“Why?”

“At the moment, the Xebellian princess is still betrothed to the King of Atlantis. Meaning that Arthur and Mera are to be married. And I don’t see either of them having too much of a problem with that.”

She looks over at him and asks, “Are you okay with that?”

He shrugs slightly, “It’s just another thing I’ll have to get over.”

She looks at the sun which sinks below the buildings in the far distance. She looks towards their house and she longs for the sofa.

“So you’re not in love with Ben?”

The question is so surprising that she genuinely laughs, “No. No, I’m not. Besides, I think love is something that takes a little time to tend to. To grow into. I think when people say it was love at first sight, they were probably just really hor-- um… infatuated.”

“Were you in love with Kent?”

Her cheeks grow hot and she clears her throat, “Yeah. I was. We were crazy in love in the beginning. But we were two very different people then. And our relationship highly reflected our differences as he was trying to figure out who he was and I was trying to figure out who I was. We supported each other and he was, and still is, one of my very best friends. Ultimately, though, we were also two different people who wanted different things. It just wasn’t meant to be.”

Orm thinks this over and she looks up at him as they near the house. Then she sighs.

“Mera loves you, Orm,” she says, her voice casual. He looks at her and she continues, “She cares for you a lot, at least. I can see in her eyes how much she worries. It’s just that her love of what she believed to be best for Atlantis was bigger. And… well, you did attempt to kill her.”

“What you’re trying to tell me is that love is an extremely complicated thing? And I suppose the love I still have for my father is stronger proof to that point than anything,” he breathes, then nods, “I have love for her as well. I suppose she and I are alike in that aspect. Althera, I have another personal question.”

“By all means, we’ve already pushed the boundaries this far.”

“Have you ever been in love with someone other than Kent?”

They walk up the front steps of the house and she unlocks the door. Walking inside, the warm air greets them and she softens up when she sees the couch.

“I dunno.”

“Wouldn't you know if you were?”

She looks up at him, hanging her jacket up in the closet. He does the same.

“I’m not too great at relationship stuff, Orm. I've told you that.”

He looks at her evenly, his eyes calm and thoughtful, “That's hard for me to believe.”

She laughs, pushing the closet door closed and then looking up at him, “Well, you’re biased.”

He smiles, grabbing her hands and pulling her towards the couch. She allows him to press her into the cushion, “Biased because you're my savior?”

“Sure,” she says, trying not to roll her eyes. She doesn't mean to be irritated with him, but this subject feels a little touchy today, “Why all these questions all of a sudden?”

He shrugs, “I like hearing your thoughts. Your perspective on the world.”

She shouldn't take out her frustration on him. Especially if she isn't ready to talk about the truth. She leans back and lays her head in his lap. He pushes her hair out of her face and looks down at her. Frowning, she says, “I appreciate having you to talk to.”

He chuckles, “You have many people to talk to. I just have you.”

“That’s the second time you’ve talked down on yourself today, Orm. Besides, Barry thinks you’re a very interesting guy. I got a lot of texts about how he liked hanging out with you this weekend, I just didn’t tell you about them.”

“Barry’s great,” he chuckles.

She raises her eyebrows, “What was that?”

He blushes slightly, “You heard me.”

“But can you say it again one more time so I can record it and send it to him?”

“No,” he says, looking down at her with playfully stern eyes.

“Come on, he’ll die if he hears it!”

“Yes, then he’ll try to hug me. Did Arthur tell you about the time Barry tried to hug him?”

“Right. I forgot only your mama and I are allowed in your personal space.”

“It is true. Besides, the moment Barry stops being afraid of me is the minute he’ll become not-so-great. I can feel it in my bones.”

“I wouldn’t know since he’s absolutely terrified of me,” she laughs.

He grins and brushes her face with the side of his hand. The motion is slower the second time around and she is hit with a wave of emotion. Sitting up, she crawls into his lap, and puts her arms around his neck, burying herself in his chest. He puts his arms around her, his voice confused and concerned when he asks, “Hey, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she murmurs.

“Are you sure?”

She nods, happy when his phone rings. He hesitates for a moment, then digs it out of his pocket. Answering it, she tenses up at the sudden change in his tone.

“Villanueva?" Silence, then, "Yes, my wife has been waiting for your call.”

She beams, lifting her head to look at Orm’s face, then returning to the warmth of his chest.

The two of them have a brief conversation before the phone is passed to her.

“Hello, Ma’am, I hope I am not interrupting something.”

“Nothing drastically important. It is late, though. I expected your call a week ago.”

“I apologize, Ma’am. But I had some difficult decisions to make.”

“Not too difficult, I hope,” she purrs, letting him interpret that as he may. He falls silent and she lets the silence hang for a moment before she speaks again, “When we spoke, I did not completely believe you were at that little dinner just to ‘make connections’ as you would have everyone believe. Maybe you felt you couldn’t trust me at the time, but have now made up your mind?”

There is a nervous chuckle on the other end of the line and she unwraps herself from Orm, staying seated on his lap. Looking down at him, he watches her with a steady expression.

“It is no wonder you are so well known, Ma’am.”

“Dearest Villanueva, what is it you need?”

“I’d like to meet with you. To talk. As soon as possible.”

“Is it that urgent?”

“Yes. I spoke to your secretary this morning and they said you had plans tonight. But I can be there anytime soon.”

“My husband and I are free tonight, as you’ve already disrupted our date night. And before you say no, it’d be a little rude not to accept.”

“I-- Of course! Tonight would be great, Ma’am.”

“Good,” she says, then “You wouldn’t happen to be using your own phone at the moment, would you?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Good boy! We’ll send you the location and we’ll meet there. After our meeting, you’ll discard the phone you're using, won’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Thank you very much.”

She hangs up and looks down at Orm, who looks up at her curiously.

“Speaking of love, Sofia and Erik are needed tonight,” she says, falling off his lap and onto the cushion. He chuckles, leaning over her and smiling.

“Should I call Wayne?”

“Could you, Darling? We need a meeting place, ASAP.”

Chapter Text

Orm walks into the hotel bedroom, the sleeves to the white shirt rolled up to his elbows, his tie loose, and a small frown on his lips. She ignores him, focusing on the soft, smoky look she adds to her eyes. She told Villanueva he’d interrupted their date night, so she should look the part.

“You should get rid of the tie. And open up a few buttons. It’s our date night, remember?”

He looks up at her and grins, pulling the tie off and walking up to her, “Maybe Sofia likes the tie?”

She rolls her eyes and he looks inquiringly at her wig, “Orm, stop looking at it! Is it crooked?”

“No, you look great, I promise. I just prefer Atlhera’s hair, no offense to Sofia,” he says. She gives him a look and he continues, “Is Wayne already listening in?”

“No, he won’t until he sees Villanueva enter.”

He tosses his tie into the bag beside her.

“What will you be wearing?”

She giggles excitedly, “Brucie left me this.”

Grabbing a comb from the dresser, she hops up and goes to the closet, pulling out another black dress. This one has a sheer back, ¾ sleeves which are also sheer, and the chest is cut out in a diamond shape. Orm sighs.

“You’ll look stunning, of course.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed!”

“Villanueva is already attracted to you. Do you think poor Erik doesn’t notice?”

“Erik is used to it. And he’s a big boy. He trusts Sofia, doesn’t he?” she pouts, stepping toward Orm and pulling on his collar teasingly, “Besides, Villanueva could never compare to her Erik.”

Orm makes a low, growling noise in his throat, catching her off guard and making her giggle like crazy. He grabs her around the waist and hugs her close to him.

“This is all so surreal,” he breathes.

“What is?”

“We are playing dress-up, Althera. And I enjoy every second of it with you. Barely a year ago, I would have sneered at myself.”

“Don’t forget the little bit of house sprinkled in,” she adds.

“Playing house with you is the easy part,” he chuckles. A thought pops into her head and she can’t help but smile. He notices and asks, “What?”

“It’s silly, but it reminded me of my Aunt and Uncle. When I would visit, my uncle used to buy my aunt and I matching dresses and he’d buy he and I matching suits. And she would put flowers in our hair. And… we really felt like a real family at those times.”

She reaches up and brushes through the front of his hair with the comb. He looks down at her and asks, “Do you ever wonder how different you might have been if you did stay with your uncle after the incident?”

Her fingers freeze for a moment and she looks down at him and he catches her eyes, “Of course I do, silly.”

“I sometimes wonder if I could have ran away with Mera when I was younger. But we would never have done it when we were that young. And by the time we were older, I was already too far gone,” he frowns, “Why didn’t you stay with Hades. Other than being a nuisance?”

“You have so many questions today,” she grins. He looks apologetic and she shakes her head, “It’s okay. I… I love my family very much. But being related to any of them means there is a pretty big spotlight on you the moment you’re born, practically. And it’s not just the mortals who expect something great from you, but the Gods as well. Oh, she’s a daughter of Zeus so she must be destined for something great. And, most of the time, I was just fumbling through life. And yes, Hades’ home could very well have been a safe haven for me. But one can only stay inside a safe haven for so long before being known as a recluse. A hermit. So I talked my uncle and my dad into letting me… explore. And, eventually, that led me to the Mortal Realm, much to my uncle’s displeasure.”

“Your uncle didn’t want you here?”

“To be fair, he doesn’t have a great relationship with mortals,” she laughs, “Then Diana found me about 60 years ago.”

“Sixty years? In the grand scheme of things, Althera, we are a small chapter of your life. I, alone, am a mere blip.”

“One of the most significant blips to date,” she says, finishing playing with his hair and setting the comb aside, admiring her work.

“You flatter me.”

“Oh, no. I really mean it when I say that,” she insists, stepping out of his arms, “I was getting weary, Orm. I was going to go back to my family and admit defeat.”

“That is understandable.. Why waste time on people who shackled you into an induced coma for two years?”

She shakes her head, “Before that, love. When I was flying over Atlantis? I had been trying to talk myself out of returning home, and failing. I told myself I was going to see what Diana needed help with, then I was going to leave. Suddenly, it’s two years later and I wake up to the sound of you in the cell next to mine. Oh, Orm, if you were a blip you’d truly be one of the most significant blips to date. I think of you more as a hill. Some days… some days you’re a mountain.”

She slips behind the changing screen, asking, “Can you hand me my dress, please?”

Slipping out of her robe, she dresses quickly, stepping out to find him waiting. He has such a concerned look in his eyes that her stomach flips, growing extremely nervous.

“Are you saying that I kept you here? That I’ve stunted your growth?”

“No!” she reassures him, “No, Darling. If I had thought my family needed me, I would have gone home whether I thought you were interesting or not. But they didn’t. And you were a brand new adventure! Orm, had I gone home, I would have had to face everyone and tell them I was wrong. That there is nothing for me in the mortal realm and that I was foolish for thinking so. But now… well, you’ve inspired me to keep looking for that purpose.”

The concern in his eyes fades and he smiles sheepishly, “You make it sound as if the Universe has some big plan for us.”

“She does for me. I think it’s up to you whether or not you’re part of it,” she says, suddenly feeling extremely uneasy, “That’s kinda strange. I’ve said the exact same thing before.”

She looks up at him and anxiety prickles her skin. He sees this and walks up to her, grabbing her hands, “What’s wrong, Althera?”

“It’s like… really palpable deja vu,” she breathes. Looking down at her arms, she sees the hairs standing and she takes her hands from Orm’s to rub against her forearms, “It’s those damn files Diana wanted me to read. They’re messing with my head.”

“The files?” he asks.

She steps away from him, walking up to her duffel bag and starting to shove everything inside it. She forces herself to take a deep breath and tries to slow her hands down. But if she slows her hands, then her mind will be able to focus on what she doesn’t want to focus on.

Orm walks up beside her and silently starts packing his own bag. He follows her to the closet and she tosses her bag in and he does the same. When everything is hidden, he grabs her hands and leads her to the window.

“Althera?”

“I’m fine.”

“No you are not,” he says, grabbing a pad of paper and fanning her face, “Look me in the eyes, Althera.”

And she does. And he looks a little relieved.

“I’m okay, Orm.”

He still has a frown on his lips when he asks softly, “What was that all about?”

She bites her lip and the deja vu which was actually a memory makes her voice catch when she speaks, “Diana and those damn files. I’m just going to have to tell her that I can’t help her with this one.”

“Truly, if it is affecting you like this,” he says, bringing his hand to the side of her face and looking at her as if searching to find anything unusual.

“You think?”

“Althera, your skin went very pale just a moment ago. Not blue, not green, not even light brown. You were gray, Althera. And as cold as stone.”

She swallows hard, knowing that he’s described a lapse in her ability to control her powers, “But Diana…”

“I know she is family to you,” he says, his eyes so very soft as he speaks, “And I don’t know what the situation is or what is in those files. But you have to promise me that if you do get involved, you are going to be careful. Because I have… Althera, the look in your eyes terrified me just then.”

She composes herself, trying to regain some of Sofia Di Salvo’s confidence. She nods, looking at him, “I promise I’ll explain after we close up this mission.”

“You don’t owe me any explanation,” he frowns.

“No. No, but I want you to know. Actually, it would make me feel more comfortable if you knew. Yes?”

He nods, watching her as she continues to try to grab hold of the character she’s supposed to be playing tonight. After a moment, he speaks, “I won't ever let anyone hurt you, Althera.”

She smiles, “You could be manipulated.”

“I refuse to be so easily influenced,” he frowns, pulling his phone out of his pocket when it chimes, “Wayne says Villanueva is here.”

“I must have left my phone on the table,” she breathes. She begins to turn, but he tightens his grip on her arm and pulls her toward his chest, holding her against him. It’s nothing huge, this hug. But because of it she feels all her confidence come spilling back into her. She feels calm and resolute.

Leaning back, he looks her straight in the eyes, “You are Althera Prince.”

He speaks her name as if it were a title itself.

“Yes,” she says, touching his cheek, “Thank you for reminding me.”

Maybe it’s because the earlier parts of the night had been so eventful, but she is absolutely bored sitting here with Villanueva. Of course, it doesn’t help that he refuses to get to the point and walks around what he actually wants in very large circles.

As he avoids the topic at hand, she thinks about what Orm said. Villanueva is very handsome, but off limits since he’s done business with Bruce. She adds him to her mental collection; Baby shark, golden retriever, handsome steed.

Orm, in the guise of Erik, sits beside her. One hand on her thigh, his other hand propping his head up as he tries hard to not fall asleep. Business is not Erik’s strong suit, she had explained.

Seeing the rising impatience of the Di Salvo’s, Villanueva tries to clarify, “I must have you understand, Señora, that I value you and your husband far above these other two companies. I do have loyalty to one, but it has been you who has helped me more than you can imagine.”

“I think I have an idea, dear.”

He blinks, “Well, then, you must know that you happen to have business with one of the companies…”

“I have investments of all sorts around the globe. London, Berlin, New York, Metropolis, Tokyo, Hong Kong, you name it and I own a piece of it,” she insists, leaning forward in her seat and looking Villanueva dead in the eye, “You are not going to hurt my feelings. And I truly have no motivation to sell you out.”

He lowers his eyes, thinking something over. She resists an impatient groan, as she thought she’d had him for a second. Sensing it’s going to be a while, she looks up at Erik, who looks down at her. In an extremely Orm-like fashion, he questions her with his eyes. She lifts her hand and draws his head toward her slightly, her nails soft against his cheek.

He gets the hint, Villanueva watching the two of them now, and Erik’s eyes trace her entire body as he stands.

The two of them watch as Erik walks to the hidden refrigerator on the wall. He attempts to open the door, but it does not budge.

She sighs, looking away. There are sounds of more struggling, then a sudden loud cracking noise.

“Erik!” she breathes, jumping out of her seat. Villanueva looks perplexed as she reaches her husband, “Darling, have patience. See, now you’ve broken it.”

He blinks at the torn door in his hand and sets it apologetically at her feet. She sighs and reaches out, taking his forearms and guiding them around her waist. He squeezes her against him and she pouts.

“We will resume our date night soon, if that’s what you’re so mad about,” she murmurs, just loud enough for their guest to hear if he’s trying to.

He tilts his head, “I had the night planned for you. But it’s always business with you.”

“That is not true,” she frowns, “Besides, a little business can’t stop us, can it?”

She reaches up and slides her fingers under the collar of his shirt. He draws her even closer, the sturdiness of him against her feeling extremely grounding.

“I am tired.”

“That isn’t an excuse to rip doors off their frames, dear.” she frowns. He lifts one hand up and tilts her head up, leaning down to place a soft kiss against her neck. She chuckles, then slips away, returning to the couch, “Fix that door, my love.”

Grimacing, he lifts the door up and smashes it in place. Then he reaches up, pulls his jacket off, tossing it to the couch and disappearing into the bedroom.

She stares at the bedroom door, sighs, then turns back to Villanueva. Smiling, she asks, “So. Where were we?”

Chapter Text

Pushing the door open, she giggles and tries to shove past him. But he stays firm, dragging in every piece of luggage they own. She cackles as he drops everything and regains his balance, looking at her with wide eyes.

“I win.”

“I guess you did,” she snorts.

“I expect the whole spinach lasagna by tomorrow evening.”

“Anything you want to drink in particular, Your Highness?”

“Did we finish that bottle of wine we were working on?”

“Sadly, yes.”

“Hm,” he frowns, lowering himself down so she can peel his jacket off his shoulders, “Then it doesn’t matter. Where did we get that one, anyway?”

“I think I smuggled that one out of the party Bruce made me go to.”

“Ooo, the one with Monsieur Géraud Léandre?” he teases, leaning toward her.

She rolls her eyes, pushing him away, “Oui.”

“Have you returned his call?”

“Ugh… my French isn’t all that great. Besides, he was wearing a tan suit, Orm.”

“What’s wrong with a tan suit?”

“Nothing. If you can pull it off.”

He laughs and grabs his bags. She grabs his hands, stopping him, “No, you brought them in. I can take it from here.”

“You can just throw them on the bed,” he says, “Thank you.”

Scooping up the bag, she walks into Orm’s bedroom. She places everything on the bed, then hesitates. She isn't in Orm’s room often at all, so this is the first time she notices the picture frame on his dresser. It’s a photo of his mother and she can’t help but smile to herself. For a war criminal, he surprisingly lacks spice.

Closing the door behind her, she finds Orm on the couch. Walking up to him, she smiles down at him as he looks at her warily, “I can’t believe you hung up on Alfred.”

“Unintentionally,” he says, giving her a look that makes her laugh even harder.

She sinks down beside him, “What did you think of Rome?”

“It was pleasant. There were quite a few people in some areas, but the old architecture was familiar. I enjoyed that.”

“There were lots of tourists. Next time, I’ll take you to some of my hidden places, yeah?”

“Sounds mysterious,” he chuckles as she lays her head in his lap, “And what about this weekend?”

She looks up at him, chewing on her bottom lip, “I suppose we could have that talk I’ve been avoiding.”

“About Katerina?”

“Yeah…” she frowns, then, “You know… I just don’t want it to turn into a whole thing.”

He chuckles, “Althera, I told you you don’t owe me an explanation.”

“Yeah…” she says, then nods, “Oh, have you and your mother decided what day will be best to visit her? Because you have to help me pick out what to wear!”

He chuckles, but his voice is hesitant. He’s supposed to meet Tom during this visit. And he’s not extremely enthusiastic about it, “You could show up in a plastic trash bag and my mother would still think you’re precious.”

She blushes, “Your mom is great.”

“I know.”

They fall quiet and then she nods, “I should wear my sea silk, shouldn’t I? I want her to know I appreciate her gift.”

He chuckles, “That sounds like a good idea. You should wear that big white floppy hat you bought, too.”

“I hope it’s not too windy or I might fly away.”

He laughs and she sits up, sinking into his side, “Well, at least you’ll look fashionable while spiraling through the air.”

She giggles, “I’ll look real good.”

“And tomorrow?”

“Stay in with me and watch movies? Maybe we’ll go to the beach if there’s a bit of warmth. Then I’ll work on your lasagna.”

“Sounds good to me,” he sighs contentedly.

Chapter Text

He walks in front of her as she keeps pace, her hands on his shoulders as he attempts to speed up to get away from her.

“I’m fine.”

“That’s what all you boys say when you want to be tough. Acting like your skin is actually stronger than the sun! Then, the very next day I’ll find you brighter than a boiled lobster. Stay still.”

He stops abruptly and she crashes into his back. He turns and looks at her, “It’s unnecessary.”

“I have some on, too, Orm. Stop whining.”

“I’m not whining. I’m trying to communicate with you and tell you that I don’t want it.”

“Fine,” she says, wiping her hands off on her towel, “I’m just wondering when the last time I forced you to do something bad for you.”

“Althera,” he frowns, chasing after her as she starts stomping through the sand.

There are a few others out on the beach today. Most of them don’t pay attention to the pair as they make their way. One young boy with a woman watches the two of them intently, though, as he pats a large pile of sand.

Althera tosses her blanket down elegantly and drops herself on it, contemplating chucking Orm’s into the water before deciding against it. She sets it down on the sand beside her like a good adult.

Orm is still frowning as he unfolds it and lays it out beside her, handing her her bag. She accepts it and pulls her sunglasses over her eyes.

He pouts a little, brushes some sand off his leg, then lays on his side, looking up at her.

“You look like a lovely ladybug in this bikini.”

“Thank you.”

Looking over, he observes, “That child is staring at us.”

“He is. I noticed.”

“Do you think he can tell you’re mad at me?”

She looks down at him, “I’m not mad, Orm.”

“Althera, I appreciate that you’re trying to take care of me. But this one time, I don’t want to be slathered in that stuff. Okay?”

Pushing her sunglasses up her nose, she sighs, “Fine.”

“Your feelings aren’t hurt?”

“No,” she says, “Because I know I’m right.”

“It’s literally the only sun we’ve had all month,” he says, “I truly doubt it’s going to be as strong as you say it will be.”

She shrugs, then gestures, “What do you think that kid is thinking?”

He turns and looks over and the kid doesn’t stop staring despite now knowing they know he’s staring.

“He probably thinks you look like a ladybug, too.”

Looking back at him, Althera waves. The kid squints his eyes and then waves back. Then he looks over at the woman with him. She is looking intently at her phone and he stands and walks toward them.

“She’s not even paying attention to the child,” Orm says, his voice annoyed.

“Don't judge. She looks nice enough.”

“She’s staring at her phone.”

“So what? That doesn’t make her a bad person,” she says, “Hush, he’s right there.”

“Hi,” he says, standing directly in front of them.

“Hi,” she says. Orm smiles.

“I’m working on a sandcastle, but you can’t tell what it is because some kids smashed it earlier.”

“Oh? That’s kinda rude.”

“Yeah. But my Mom said it wasn’t a permanent sandcastle anyway.”

“Still no reason to stomp on people’s stuff,” Althera frowns, adjusting her sunglasses again.

“You should tell them that,” he says, burying both his feet in the sand. “My name is Ori. My mom is over there. My dad has some issues he needs to resolve, so he isn’t in my life much.”

Taking a deep breath to keep from laughing, Althera places her hand over Orm’s and he squeezes her fingertips.

“That’s too bad,” she says, then, “I’m Althera. This is my friend, Orm. Our dads had some issues to resolve, too.”

He squints at the two of them again and then nods, “Are you going in the water?”

“I plan to.”

“I like your swimsuit. It looks like a ladybug.”

“Thanks. That’s what Orm said, too,” she says, then gestures to the leg of his suit, “Who’s on your trunks?”

“Superman. He’s my favorite hero. He’s, like, everyone’s favorite. My mom likes Aquaman, though. She thinks he’s cute.”

“Eh, Aquaman’s alright,” she says, giving Orm a sideways look.

Looking around Ori, she sees his mother look up from her phone and look around. Seeing her immediate panic, she gestures, “You better go back to your mom. I think she’s looking for you.”

He turns and whispers, “Shoot.”

Running to her, she watches as Ori stops his mom’s panic. She grabs him and kneels down in front of him, speaking to him earnestly.

“She seemed disproportionately worried,” Orm observes.

“What do you think of Ori?”

“He has character. Why?”

She smiles, “He doesn’t remind you of anyone?”

He frowns, but is distracted when Ori starts dragging his mom toward them, her pink cheeks turning dark red.

“This is my Mom!” he says, breathing hard, “Mom, they’re nice. You should make friends with them.”

“Ori,” she breathes, continuing to look very flustered. Now that she's closer, Althera admires the freckles on the mom’s naturally tanned skin, “Hi, I’m sorry if we’re bugging you.”

“It’s no problem,” Althera smiles, “Ori was just talking about how cute you think Aquaman is.”

“Was he?” she laughs, “Well, I guess he kinda remembered some of our conversation starters.”

“Have you seen him in person?” Althera asks.

“Aquaman? No, we just watch the heroes on the TV, don’t we?”

Ori nods, “Yeah. We saw Superman and Batman fighting on the TV a long time ago. But now we see them working together to get the bad guys.”

“I must have missed that,” she laughs.

“It was right before Superman died,” Ori says, “Didn’t you see it on the news?”

“I don’t watch the news a lot,” she admits.

“Oh. Then you probably didn’t see me, either.”

Althera tilts her head and his mom looks down at him, “Anyway, we should leave these nice people alone, shouldn’t we?”

“But mom, you said we need friends,” he insists, “You guys are nice, right?”

“Sometimes,” Althera says and Ori’s face scrunches up.

“Well… they’re honest,” he says.

“Actually,” Althera says, letting go of Orm’s hand, “We live off the main road, the second to last house you probably drove past. We moved in just a few months ago and are getting a feel of the area, too. If you want, maybe we can schedule some time to look around together?”

The boy’s mother straightens up and looks at her, “Really?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind. We’ve been traveling a lot lately, but I think I have a few free days soon.”

“Really?” she repeats, then blinks, “Oh, I mean, do you travel a lot for work?”

“Sometimes work, sometimes pleasure. I take off whenever time allows it and he follows me around.”

“She’s a good tour guide,” Orm explains, “Name any place and she’s been there.”

“Well, not everywhere,” she chuckles.

“I’d like to have a job like that. I haven’t seen much of the world.”

“What do you do now?”

“Right now I am unemployed,” she sighs, “The decision to move was pretty abrupt and I’ve been constantly filling out applications on my phone. Which… oh, shoot. Where is my phone?”

“I’ll get it.” Ori says, racing back to the abandoned towels and sandcastle lump.

“I’m Althera, by the way,” she says, “Your son is a sweetheart.”

“Wren,” she blushes again, smiling, “And he is definitely his own person, isn’t he?”

“Don’t be so apologetic. He’s genuine,” Orm says, and the blush in her face spreads to her neck as he introduces himself.

Althera offers to keep an eye on Ori while Wren works on her applications. Wren looks like she’s going to burst into tears, insisting she doesn’t want to be a nuisance.

Ori drops their stuff off beside his mom, laying her blanket beside Althera’s. Walking around, he lays his small blanket out beside Orm’s. Wren manages to look a little less flustered when she laughs, “Well, it looks like he’s decided for me.”

“How come you’re so quiet?”

Her eyes mostly closed, she peeks up at the two boys who sit beside her. They’re both dripping wet from just returning from the water and Ori sips on a juice box, squinting up at Orm.

“I guess I just think more than I speak.”

“Oh. My mom says I should learn to do that more often.”

Wren makes a humming noise on Althera’s other side without interrupting her application process.

“Can you help me make a new sandcastle?”

“Sure. You instruct me on what you want me to do and I’ll get to work.”

“Okay,” he sets his juice box aside, “First, I’ll get a bucket of water to make this sand sticky.”

He runs off with his bucket and Orm looks down at her. He speaks softly so Wren doesn’t overhear.

“Did he really tire you out that much?”

“No, but I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,” she murmurs.

He frowns, “You weren’t rereading those files, were you?”

She inhales deeply and buries her face in her arms, “Just for a little while. But I couldn’t sleep before that.”

She feels his disapproval, but Ori arrives and distracts him.

“Okay, the bottom has to be really big or it will all fall over.”

“This big?” Orm gestures with his arms.

“Yeah. I’ll get more water.”

He runs off and Orm turns, “I thought you decided you weren’t going to be involved in this case.”

“I’m not. I just… skimmed through some things. It’s no big deal.”

“I think it’s a big deal if it’s keeping you up at night,” he frowns, “Can you look at me for a second.”

She rolls over and pushes herself up, looking at him, “The reason I’m having negative reactions to it is because I had pushed all this to the back of my mind and now it’s resurfacing again. I’m working on it, Orm. This is nothing new. But if you want, I’ll stop looking at the files. Alright?”

He gives her a look and Ori walks up and dumps his bucket.

“Althera! Can you help?

“Heck yeah, what do you need me to do?” she asks, moving onto Orm’s towel.

He directs them and Orm puts his arm around her waist. She feels a little hypocritical. She should appreciate that Orm is trying to take care of her. He kisses her temple and releases her, using both hands to shove the sand Ori had been referring to into a big pile.

Ori laughs in excitement, “It’s like a bulldozer!”

Chapter Text

“Shit,” he breathes, and she softens her touch.

“Sorry. I’m trying to be gentle. It’s just super tender,” she frowns, squeezing more aloe onto her fingers and dabbing his cheeks.

“Just say it.”

“What?

“‘I told you so.’”

“Ah,” she nods, “It may surprise you, but this isn’t actually something I’m enthused to be correct about.”

She must accidentally bump a tender spot of sunburn, as he grabs both her wrists in his one hand with an instinctive kind of speed. She raises her eyebrows at him and he turns brighter red.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, giving her a weary look and letting her go.

“Are you going to be able to handle wearing a shirt?”

“I have to.”

“Not really. We’re visiting your Mom, I’m sure she’d understand.”

“I have to look semi-put-together for her,” he says, cursing as he pulls the button-up shirt over his shoulders, “It’s 60 degrees out there today, yet I have a sunburn. It’s ridiculous.”

She steps around him to grab her dress, hanging her robe on the door, “The sun can be vicious. Do you think this will look good with sea silk?”

He looks away from the mirror and examines the dress she holds in front of her, “Yes. It’s perfect.”

“Awe, we’re kinda matching!” she says, reaching up and kissing the side of his jaw, one of the few places the sun didn’t burn.

“You’ll look wonderful,” he pouts, turning back to the mirror, “And I look like a clown.”

He curses quietly as she skips out of the bathroom.

His hold on her hand is tighter than a vice as they walk up to the lighthouse. She is glad she is half immortal, or she might have lost feeling in her fingers a few hours ago.

Pressing her hat to her head with the other hand, she feels the breeze whip around her ankles, causing her dress to brush against his legs. He looks down, startled by the touch, and then up at her.

“I hope I don’t fly away,” she jokes. He smiles and his grip on her loosens a fraction.

The front door of the house opens up and Atlanna beams, “Oh, you two look so darling! Come in.”

She ushers them into the room and they are greeted by an extremely normal-looking house. Althera looks around in surprise.

“It’s so good to see you two,” Atlanna says, kissing Orm’s cheeks. He grimaces, then smiles, enduring the pain of his sunburn, “Come, sit down.”

Orm doesn’t let go of Althera’s hand, so she one-handedly slips her large day bag off her arm. Setting it on the head of the couch.

“We brought this. It’s a vegan chocolate cake loaf thing. Orm’s getting better than me at baking it,” she admits.

“Are you really?” Atlanna smiles, accepting the loaf from Althera and smiling up at Orm, “Thank you, that’s so sweet.”

“So this is where Arthur grew up?” she asks, looking at the pictures on the shelf beside her, “It’s a lot neater than I imagined. He doesn’t exactly exude prim and proper to me.”

“Tom kept everything the same, really,” Atlanna says, her voice dreamy, then, “He’s out at the moment, but he’ll be back soon. Please, sit down.”

Orm leads her around the couch and Atlanna sits down on the chair beside them.

“I heard you two have been busy since I saw you last.”

“We’ve mostly been having fun,” Althera says, “We’ve been undercover a few times and your son is so good at it.”

“I mostly follow her lead,” he says modestly, “She was born to do such work.”

She shrugs, “Orm told me he wanted to start working a normal Surface Dweller job. So our friend Bruce has been working with us. He has a construction project about to start soon, and it’s pretty close to the house. He hasn’t decided what he wants us to do yet, but he wants us to be part of the project.”

“Is that so? Do you know what’s being built?”

She looks up at Orm. By now, she usually drifts off so he and his mother can have alone time. This time, however, Orm does not let go of her hand and doesn’t seem to be planning to any time soon.

“It’s still technically in the planning stages,” Orm explains, “but Althera and I actually know the two men who designed the whole thing, the software and the physical structure. To put it simply, for the sake of brevity, it’s a device that is capable of testing the water quality more accurately than any other Surface Dweller technology has been able to before. Althera and I think it has a lot of promise. Wayne promises the effect will be drastic.”

Althera agrees.

The front door opens again and Orm’s grip suddenly tightens. She resists a yelp of surprise and stands as he does.

“Sorry I’m late, the stores opened up later because of last night’s storm,” Tom says, turning and looking at all of them. He has a pleasant face, familiar to her because of her acquaintance with his son. She has the weird desire to squish his cheeks like an adoring aunt, but resists because the air in the room is already awkward as hell.

Atlanna walks to him, “Tom, they're here. Orm and Althera. Orm, this is my… Tom.”

Tom closes the door behind him and walks into the room. He offers his hand and Orm shakes it. She tugs on Orm’s hand in hers before he finally releases his hold, allowing her to shake Tom’s hand.

“You’re definitely Arthur’s daddy,” she smiles. He grins.

“And you! You’re this Althera I hear so much about? My wife said you were gorgeous, but I didn’t expect a downright supermodel.”

The heat rises in her face and she leans into Orm, grabbing his hand on her own now. She thinks it’s cute that Tom thought that their compliments were equal.

Tom’s smiling eyes don’t change the slightest when he looks at Orm. She softly rubs Orm’s forearm and he loosens up a little.

“And you. You look just like your mother,” Tom says, his voice sounding full of emotion.

Orm looks down at her hand on his arm and then nods, “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

“That’s vegan?” Tom asks, his voice disbelieving, “These recipes are getting better and better. I remember the last time I had a vegan cake, it was just some raw tofu with powdered sugar sprinkled on top.”

“No it was not! You have to be exaggerating!” Althera laughs.

“Tofu is what was in our hot pot last time, right?” Orm asks her quietly. She nods and he faintly smiles.

“Well, maybe it wasn’t tofu. But it sure tasted like it. But this? This is good.”

She leans against Orm and he presses his cheek to her head. She is proud of him and she hopes he can tell. He’s stopped gripping her so tight, though he continues to grab for her hand off and on, and he’s been a pleasant conversationalist all dinner.

“If you think that’s good, you should try anything Althera makes someday. Not all of it is vegan, but you can’t control your mouth from watering from the aroma alone,” Orm says, hyping her up.

“Is that so?” Tom asks, “Atlanna, weren’t you just saying you wanted to learn to cook more Surface food? Maybe Miss Althera might be able to teach you a few things? I’ve taught you everything I know already, but nothing fancy like vegan cake.”

“I would be happy to,” Althera practically purrs, “Also, Orm can teach you some of the things he’s learned, too.”

“That would be delightful,” Atlanna says, reaching out and squeezing Althera’s hand, “I really don’t want to take up any of your time and be a nuisance, though.”

“You’re my mother. And definitely not a nuisance,” Orm says, using that soft scolding tone that always quells Althera’s own doubts.

“You’re going to have to start emailing your schedule to people so they can make appointments with you.”

She looks over at Orm and smiles, “I guess. I just don’t like sitting still right now.”

“You don’t like spending time with me?” he pouts.

“No! I love spending time with you,” she says, taking her eyes off the road to look at him. He sinks into the passenger seat, looking out the window at the dark scenery they drive past, “I promise I haven’t grown tired of you.”

They pass under a bridge and the inside of the car lights up. She sees him beside her, his large hands fidgeting with the seatbelt across his chest. Then they are plunged back into darkness.

“I feel a little overwhelmed sometimes. I suppose I had gotten used to being needed as a King. Here, our interactions with people are more casual, yet they demand more emotional labor than I've ever exerted before. I feel I need a break sometimes. But I think that… if I ask you to stay home with me, I’m holding you back. You have no need for me because you socialize with people easily. And I think I could be guilty of trying to keep you to myself.”

She frowns, “But you’re different from everyone else, Orm, in the sense that you’re kinda the easiest person to spend time with. For me, personally. Therefore, all these other little social obligations and whatnot don’t apply to you. You’re home base.”

He falls silent. She waits a bit, wondering if he'll mention anything about his first meeting with Tom and the promise she made about the four of them meeting again. He doesn't, though he reaches out and slides his hand between her back and the seat. She had been getting a little sore and she appreciates it as he kneads into her muscle as best as he can with one hand.

“I’m glad to hear I can be that for you.”

He falls quiet. She drives, trying hard to focus when her mind races a million miles an hour. Finally, she grimaces and clears her throat, “I think I should tell you a little about Katerina now. And I know you said I don’t have to, but I do want to.”

His hand still moving against her back, he answers, “Alright.”

She takes a deep breath and begins.

“Katerina was a friend of mine. The first friend I made after I was ‘rehabilitated’. She was a shapeshifter and the two of us got into all kinds of shenanigans together. And she is the reason Diana was so hard on you when she first met you. She took advantage of the newfound kindness Diana had loaned me. Katerina was powerful, yes, but I had abilities she found helpful. She disguised some of the things we did as ‘having fun’. And we did have fun for a while. Until we didn’t.”

Orm’s hand slides out from between her shoulder blades and he shifts in his seat, “She hurt you?”

“Not physically, no. She manipulated the fuck out of me, though. She probably would still be manipulating me to this day if she hadn’t gone as far as she did as soon as she did,” she swallows, gripping the steering wheel a little harder. Suddenly, Orm’s too-tight hand holding makes perfect sense, “What I mean is… she went too far when she tried to get me to hurt Di.”

“Oh, Althera,” he breathes. Then he adds, “When I was angry with you after what Diana did to me you told me that if it had been anyone other than Diana you wouldn’t have allowed it. Is this why you said that?”

She nods, taking a hand off the wheel to rub her eyes.

“So this Katerina. She’s coming back?”

“I think so. But there isn’t much she can do,” she sniffs, trying to shake off her emotions, “Besides, we have backup now. Diana has the entire Justice League on her side, and they all adore her. It’s going to be so much harder for Katerina to cause any problems for either of us because of that.”

They fall quiet and she keeps her eyes on the lines on the dark road.

“I promised you I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you, Althera.”

She sniffs, “Yeah. I know. And I thank you.”

She drives in silence for a few miles before she speaks again, “Let’s stay in tomorrow, just you and me.”

“That sounds nice,” he hums.

Chapter Text

“Tomorrow is our last day of being alone,” Althera whines, staring down at him beneath her. He’d taken up the whole couch and had refused to make space for her, so she had planted herself on top of him and has remained there for a solid ten minutes now.

“You are the one who told everyone we are free,” he teases, not pulling the book he is reading away from his face, “If it were up to me, we’d visit my mother, go on an ‘adventure’ every two months, and stay home the rest of the time. Maybe help John a bit, if I absolutely must.”

“Quality living?” she asks.

“To me? Now? Apparently, yes.”

She looks down at him and he continues to read his book. Looking around, she doesn’t find much else she wants to do. So she decides to keep bothering him.

Sliding under his book and between his arms, he stares up at her face before breaking into a grin, “May I help you?”

“Do you have the time, good sir?”

He sets the book down and reaches behind him to grab his phone, “It’s nearly eleven.”

She groans and sits up on his stomach, “I guess I’ll go to bed.”

“Yeah?” he asks, his arms coming around her waist. She nods, a little suspicious, and she feels as he braces himself. He pushes up off the couch in one strong, fluid movement and stands and she squeals in surprise. Giggling hard, she trusts his arms behind her back to keep her from falling, though she hangs backward and perpendicular to the floor.

He walks toward her bedroom and she reaches back to open the door. He turns the light on with his shoulder and then fully tosses her onto the bed, making her giggle twice as hard as she lands.

“Good night!” she beams, her ribs hurting from laughing so hard.

“Get some sleep,” he chuckles, pretty proud of himself for getting such a loud reaction out of her.

He turns the light off and she smiles up at the dark ceiling like a dork. After a few moments, she hears his bedroom door close and she sighs.

She honestly feels so happy lately. Happy to be alive and happy to know the people she knows. Happy to be in a house that Bruce so lovingly gifted to her. Happy to have the support she has.

Rolling over, she sits up and lifts her blanket. Underneath is her laptop and she realizes she narrowly avoided landing on top of it. She’d made her bed quickly this morning and must have thrown the blanket over it.

She means to put it aside, but her curiosity gets the best of her. She hasn’t taken a peek at the file ever since Orm had asked her not to. But just one look won’t hurt.

Frowning, she scolds herself. Orm is right. And to ignore his concern would be unkind.

Setting the laptop on her dresser, she rolls over and falls asleep.

“Althera? Althera!?”

She sits up and a dark shape jumps back in surprise. She grasps her chest and the dark shape moves back to her side. A familiar shape. Orm’s shape.

“Althera? Are you alright?”

Swallowing hard, she feels her racing heart in her chest and takes a shaky inhale, “Yeah. Why?”

Her voice comes out hoarse and she feels like she needs a sip of water. The dim light of her bedside lamp turns on and Orm stares down at her with an extremely concerned look on his face.

“You were screaming. I woke up to the sound of you screaming. You were saying--”

He interrupts himself, leaning in closer. He reaches out and pushes the hair out of her face and she frowns, wondering where her bonnet ended up.

“I was screaming something?” she asks slowly, seeing how strange he is reacting.

“I thought you were being tortured, Althera,” he says, his voice full of emotion, “And you were screaming for me. My name. I thought something horrible…”

His voice cracks and she suddenly understands the look and the water in his eyes. She wasn’t the only one having a nightmare. He genuinely thought she was in danger.

Could her screaming really have been that bad?

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice tiny in her throat as tears well up in her eyes.

“No! Don’t be sorry,” he breathes, reaching out and taking her face between his hands, “No. It was a bad dream. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“But I scared you, Orm,” she sniffs.

He shakes his head, “But I’m beyond happy it was just a dream.”

She inhales deeply and closes her eyes, her rapid heartbeat slowing down.

“You are okay, aren’t you?” he asks. She nods and he drops his hands, asking, “Can you remember what you were dreaming about? Will you be able to go back to sleep or are we staying up tonight?”

Her heart tightens in her chest and she grabs his hand, holding it tight. Digging through her brain, she tries to remember anything, but all she recalls is the feeling of fear she had when she first woke up.

She tells him this and then adds, “I was scared. Something horrible had happened.”

“To me?”

“No…”

Why had she been screaming his name? She can’t recall him being in her dream at all. If anything, she had been trying to find him. She was scared. She was so scared.

“I think maybe I was so scared that all I could do was call you. And… And I guess you came.”

She blinks hard and feels the tears fall from her eyes. He sits on the bed beside her and reaches out, pulling her into his chest, “You’re right. I’m here. Everything is just fine, okay?”

She nods, burying herself deeper into his arms.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he chuckles, kissing the top of her head. “It’s alright.”

He leans back slowly, grabbing her blanket and covering them both. She appreciates not having to ask, as he draws her in close. His hands continue to caress her, her cheek, her shoulder, her back. His fingertips are impossibly soft, reassuring, and gentle as they trail over her skin, lulling her back to sleep.

Chapter Text

Waking up, she keeps her eyes closed, feeling the sensations.

Her palm is against the skin of his stomach, the other against her shoulder. Her cheek is against his chest and she enjoys the deep, rhythmic thumps of his heart beneath her. She rises when he breathes in. She is lowered gently when he breathes out.

She decides she wants to stay here all day. Guess it’s a good day for the lucky barnacle.

Reaching out, she slides her arm around his torso, hugging him against her.

He inhales deeper than before, his hand sliding down her back and resting at the small of it.

Finally opening her eyes, she blinks for a moment. Once her eyes adjust, she catches sight of his mosaiced trident against her wall behind him.

It’s a sobering sight and all at once she is reminded of everything from last night.

“Did I really sound that bad last night?” she murmurs softly.

He inhales deeply, reaching up and rubbing his face, and murmurs, “You scared me. I genuinely thought someone was trying to kill you. But don’t apologize.”

She squeezes him tighter, “I remember a little more now. It was about Katerina. The dream. She was different, but it was definitely her.”

“Althera,” he says softly, his hand caressing her again. How is it that such large, war-scarred hands can be so soft and gentle? So perfectly shaped for grabbing her and holding her. She desperately wants to ignore her fear of Katerina. She doesn’t want to have another anxiety attack. So she goes back to admiring him and his physicality.

She raises her hand and, with her index finger, traces the line from the center of his chest down to his belly button.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice humored.

“Admiring your big manly muscles to keep my mind off of everything I don’t want to think about.”

He snorts and she giggles, causing him to laugh harder. She pushes up and flops onto her back. Staring at the ceiling, he exhales deeply. They lay still for a long moment before he rolls onto his side. When he lowers his face into her line of sight, she grins, reaching up and touching his cheek.

“My protector,” she hums.

“My defender,” he teases and she giggles, dropping her hand.

There’s static in her fingers, an electric sensation she sometimes gets when a little too stimulated. She ignores it as she usually does. But then he surprises her by lowering himself down further, his ear coming in contact with her chest. His one hand gently tightening on her waist, she can’t help when her face flushes with heat, the static in her fingers spreading to her toes.

“Your heartbeat is so fast,” he acknowledges and frowns, “It’s beating like you've been exercising. Are you sure you’re ok--”

Her body starts to react on its own accord and the sensation of losing control pulls her under. She grasps for control, but it’s already too late. One second she is underneath him, the next she is solidifying from her watery state two feet off the ground beside the bed.

He tips into the mattress and looks up at her, his face bewildered and amused.

“Welp, no more time to dwell on nightmares. Carpe diem!” she squeaks and turns on her heel.

“You just turned into literal rain in your bedroom and you’re acting like nothing happened?” he laughs, jumping off the bed and chasing her into the living room, “Althera, I’ve never seen you do that before. I didn’t even know you could do that!”

“It’s just a thing that happens sometimes. It’s nothing.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, taking longer strides and crossing in front of her, “Are you hiding something?”

“Hiding… something?”

“About your dream?”

Her breathing goes back to normal, glad he is clueless as to why she really lost control back there.

“You said it was about Katerina,” he says, that humored look softening and becoming serious, “I know it’s a sensitive topic for you.”

“It’s nothing, Orm. I’m no prophetess. If that were the case, I’d be much more afraid. But I’m not and never have been,” she says, “It’s fine, Orm.”

He nods and she kisses his cheek. He looks down at her and frowns, “Fine. But can I at least make you breakfast?”

“Come in!”

She holds her laughter as Barry comes in, Diana trailing behind him. They walk to the edge of the living room and Althera almost collapses from a giggle fit. Orm looks up and composes himself immediately, reaching down and swinging Althera up into a seated position. He stands next to her as if called to attention.

“Hello Diana,” he says cordially.

“I was teaching Orm yoga,” Althera says, casually ignoring her mentor’s look.

“I see,” she says, looking over at Barry, who bites on his knuckle to keep from laughing, “Can I speak with you for a minute, Althera?”

She hops to her feet and Orm pats her head before she follows Diana onto the patio.

“Bruce mentioned you read the report.”

She nods, “I did.”

They stand in awkward silence before Diana continues, “And?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Di,” she sighs.

“I understand that it’s an uncomfortable topic--”

“It’s not a problem. No problem at all! Ever since I read that damned report, everyone’s been looking at me like I might spontaneously combust. Even Orm.”

“We worry about you.”

“But I’m not worried,” she says, floating off the ground, “I’m not.”

“Alright, Althera. I hear you,” Diana says, her voice soothing as she reaches up and grabs Althera’s forearms, anchoring her back to the earth. Althera feels the heat rise to her face. She hasn’t scolded Diana like that for years now. It’s all this damn Katerina talk that’s starting to drive her insane. Her heels return to the ground and she takes a deep breath, sighing.

“She isn’t a threat to me anymore, Diana,” she murmurs, “She doesn’t have the same control over me.”

“She could reappear at any time, Al.”

“She could,” she nods, “You’re absolutely right. But I’ll be ready for her if she does.”

“Althera?” Orm stands at the back door, a small frown on his face, “Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, but my mother is calling you.”

She looks at Diana, who nods for her to leave. Rushing to Orm, she takes her phone from him and answers, “Good morning Queen Atlanna.”

“Good morning. Is something wrong? You sound… stressed.”

“No, everything is fine,” she says, trying to sound more chipper. “I’m speaking quietly because we have company over. Mama Di and my friend Barry.”

“Oh? Then what I have to say isn’t that important…” she says quickly.

“No, please. It’s a treat to hear from you,” she says, pushing Barry’s feet off the couch as she walks past him on the way to her room.

“Well, if you insist. It’s just… Arthur mentioned that late last night… Orm’s trident had been activated. Now, this might have been a mistake, as the tracking isn’t very reliable. I just worried--”

Atlanna continues speaking as Althera stares at the trident propped up against her wall. Walking toward it, she reaches out and touches a fingertip to the metal. It vibrates at her touch, like a live thing recognizing her caress. Taking a deep breath, she feels her chest tighten.

“Queen Atlanna, I don’t mean to sound imprudent. But I can’t help but wonder… how long exactly will they be tracking Orm’s every move?”

Atlanna sighs softly and Althera reaches out, lifting the trident into her hand. She presses her head against the long handle, feeling the soft vibration in her chest.

“I don’t know, dear. I really don’t.”

She inhales and her eyes fill with tears of frustration with herself. Swallowing hard, she props the trident back up against the wall and turns away from it.

“It’s my fault, Ma’am,” she says, trying to control the tremble in her voice, “I had a nightmare last night. Apparently it was a really bad one, because Orm heard me screaming. He thought something or someone was trying to hurt me, so he ran into my room with his trident in hand. It was nothing but my own dreams. I’m sorry for any trouble I might have caused.”

“No! Althera, none of this is your fault,” she says, her voice starting soft, then becoming resolute, “I’m going to speak to Vulko. I’ve had enough of this.”

“Ma’am?”

“At what point does supervision of Orm become an invasion of your privacy?” she says, her voice rising slightly, “You’re doing Atlantis a favor, yet they’re treating you like you’re one of their prisoners. I cannot allow this.”

“I really don’t mean to fuss--” Althera sniffs, suddenly feeling bad.

“It’s not a fuss. It’s a completely rational reaction. To have personal moments broadcasted to all those men in their uniforms! If someone recorded every time I woke up in a cold sweat, I would be… I would be livid!”

She can’t help it when a sob suddenly leaves her lips. Covering her mouth, she sinks into her bed, softly biting into her palm to stifle more sobs.

“Oh…” Atlanna breathes, her voice becoming soft again, “Oh, Althera, I’m so sorry. I’ve become so… impassioned, I…”

She sniffs, taking a shaky breath before removing her hand from her mouth, “It’s alright. I'm just being… so embarrassing today.”

“No, never, Althera. Oh, Dear, I want to see you soon, is that alright?” she says softly, “I know it hasn’t been that long, but I do want to see you.”

“Atlanna, this is Orm’s home just as it is mine. Please, never feel like your visits are a bother to me,” she says, sniffing and wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. She grabs the blanket and drapes it around her.

“Thank you. And thank you for being honest about what happened last night.”

“Of course.”

They say their goodbyes and Althera hangs up, staring at the bedroom door from her bed.

Is it too much to ask to be left alone?

Standing and looking in the mirror, she sees the streaks of tears on her face and her slightly pink eyes. Fishing for a makeup wipe from her drawers, she rubs the tears from her face and attempts to cool the heat in her nose. When she looks slightly composed, she decides she must return to the living room eventually.

Taking a deep breath, she tosses the blanket away and leaves her room.

Orm stands just outside, his chest in her line of sight. Without looking at his face, she steps into him, wrapping her arms around him. He hesitates for a minute, then wraps his arms around her.

“Having a rough day, huh?”

She nods and he pushes her hair out of her face.

“Let’s have a cup of tea. Does that sound sufficient?”

She nods again and he starts to turn. She stops him and gestures for him to lower himself down. He does as she wishes and she whispers, ”Please don’t let Diana weigh on you too much. I call her Mama Di because of when she took me and a few other girls in, but she’s still technically my sister and I don't have to do everything she tells me to do.”

He frowns and looks at her, studying her face before whispering back, “You mean you want me to act the way I would act if it were just you, Barry, and I?”

She nods. He ponders it for a moment, then nods, clapping his hands together. He turns, straightens up, and gestures to his back, “Climb on.”

Her heart lights up and she looks up at him. He looks over his shoulder and, seeing her face, rolls his eyes, “Hurry up.”

She climbs up and curls her legs around his waist. He walks past Barry in the living room, who looks up at them for a second before pretty much ignoring them, and enters the kitchen.

Diana sits at the dining room table looking down at her phone. When she looks up, she stares in disapproval as Orm places the kettle on the heat with Althera still firmly attached to his back.

“Mama Di, I have decided that anything you want to say to me, Orm can hear as well,” Althera says, Orm continuing with his business.

“Can I make you anything specific, Diana. Althera has a capuccino maker if you’d prefer. Otherwise, we’re making tea,” Orm says. Diana rejects his offer and he calls into the living room, “Barry, do you want anything?”

“Do you have hot cocoa?” Barry calls over the couch.

“We have chocolate almond milk,” Althera says.

“That is not the same at all, but I’ll take it.”

“Should we start lunch?” she asks Orm, then looks at Diana, “Will you be staying for lunch?”

“Most likely.”

“Oh, Barry, I think we have some leftover vegan chocolate chip cake if you want it,” Althera says, as Orm reaches into the cupboards, grabbing three mugs and a glass.

Barry appears at Orm’s side, “Did you or Orm make it?”

Althera glares and Orm hands Barry the glass, “I did.”

“How are you going to let Orm make a better vegan cake loaf than you even though it’s your recipe?” Barry snorts.

“No, Althera’s is much better,” Orm says to appease Althera. She softly swats his shoulder when he raises his eyebrows at Barry.

Releasing her arms from his neck, he squats a little so she can get down. Barry takes the seat across from Diana, so she sits next to her. When Orm comes to the table, he places everyone’s tea in front of them. Barry grins as Orm sits beside him.

“Thank you, Darling,” she hums, lifting the mug to her lips.

He raises his eyebrows and shakes his head ever so slightly, “You're welcome.”

They sip their drinks in silence, Barry eating his cake while looking enthusiastically from one person to another. Althera could break the silence, but she doesn’t really feel like it.

Finally, Diana begins, “So, Orm. I hear Althera has spoken to you about Katerina.”

“Yes she has.”

“How much do you know?”

“I figure, as much as she wanted to tell me.”

“He knows pretty much everything. I told him she tried to get me to hurt you. I didn’t get much deeper than that, though.”

“I see.”

“And that’s none of my business,” he says, reaching out and touching the top of her hand, “Althera, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just want you to know that, if you ever need to talk, I am always happy to listen.”

“I know. But I like this openness between us. It’s… nice.”

“Well, then, you know much more about what she’s thinking than I do at the moment,” Diana says, her voice clipped.

Orm draws his hand in and gives Althera a look. She sighs and puts her hands on her face, “Orm knows I had a bad history with this woman and I’d prefer to stay far away from her for the rest of history. Additionally, I really don’t want to talk about her to anyone. And I do my best not to think about her, too.”

“You shouldn’t run away from the truth, Althera. Especially now that these threats of her reemergence are becoming more than speculation.”

“She hasn’t targeted me yet. She seems to be on a completely different path than before. And you and the League can handle it. You really don’t need to involve me.”

“You are part of the League.”

“No! No, I am not,” she laughs, “Bruce has respected my decision to stay separate. He gives me files, I read them and decide if I want part. If I say no, he leaves me alone.”

“You sound like a child,” Diana scoffs, “Ever since you’ve returned from Atlantis we have had argument after argument--”

“Because you’ve been hooked on those damn files and this mission that I want nothing to do with.”

“Well, I have every right to be concerned about this specific mission, don’t I?”

“I’m going to call timeout right there, because we’re about to dive into some very dangerous territory,” Althera says. They fall silent and Orm awkwardly takes a sip of his tea. When Diana sighs, Althera sees his shoulders tense.

“But are you sure this is the reason for avoiding the League?”

“Don’t make this about Kal. He and I are fine.”

“Fine, what about this? Whatever this is?”

Althera looks at her, extremely puzzled, “This?”

“This fictional world you’ve created here. This bubble you’ve built around you--”

“Fictional world? This is my reality, Diana. This is my life. Orm is my friend. I’m happy here, doing odd jobs for Bruce and living a relatively normal life.”

“And when you grow bored of Orm, you’ll get up and fly away like you always do. It’s the same routine, Althera. Everyone knows you hate commitment.”

The words are like a blow to her stomach and tears burn in her eyes as she looks down at the mug in her hands. Diana immediately knows she went too far, sighing, “Look, Al--”

“Just because I don’t have the desire to tether myself to something in this realm does not mean I don’t care.”

“I know--”

“You are angry because I don’t want any part of this operation because you believe I am the only person who can get through to Katerina. I asked you kindly to leave me out of it, since this woman did nothing but lie, deceive, and hurt me. I have not recovered from that experience--”

“This is a step toward--”

“I am not ready!”

“When will you be ready?”

“Never!” she yells. The room grows dark as the light through the windows deepens. Then the back door lights up suddenly with a loud cracking sound of thunder, so loud it had to have been just outside the house.

She stands and turns, running for her room and slamming the door shut. Crying hard, she buries her face into the pillow feeling weak, humiliated, and absolutely exhausted.

Chapter Text

Waking up, she feels someone sitting on the bed beside her. Rolling over, she rubs her swollen eyes and looks up at Barry.

“Hey,” he says, turning to face her, “You alright?”

She sniffs, pressing her cheek to his thigh, “Yeah.”

“Orm said you had a rough night.”

“It was one dumb nightmare.”

Barry frowns, “Really? Cause Orm said you were talking in your sleep all night.”

She sits up, very confused, “I thought it was just the one. I only remember the one.”

Barry opens his arms and she flops into him, hugging him tight. He returns the hug and sighs, “I'm sure he just was trying to get your mind off of it. Anyway, I think you’re lucky he’s here. I wouldn't have had the nerve to argue with Diana.”

She leans back, “Argue with her? What did he do?”

“Well he got agitated after you ran off and kept staring out at the rain, which you kinda had pouring for a while. There’s like, three inches of unpredicted precipitation out there. Anyway, Diana was getting ready to leave when Orm stopped her at the front door. He was like, ‘why are you bugging her about this?’ and Diana was annoyed like ‘this is none of your business’. And Orm got really agitated and was like ‘you made it my business when you picked a fight at the dinner table’. Then he started talking a lot and I left and came in here to talk to you, but the rain had already been dying down and you were knocked out. It’s been, like, an hour and a half, but luckily Orm gave us the wifi password.”

“That doesn’t really sound like Orm.”

“Well, I paraphrased.”

“No, not that. It’s just, Orm rarely ever gets noticeably agitated. He usually just shuts himself off. But he wouldn't usually confront Diana like that.”

“I don’t think he did it solely to pick a fight. I think he was truly trying to help,” he defends Orm. She nods, reaching up to pull her hair out of her face. He gestures for her to turn and he helps tie it back, “I’m gonna be honest, Al, you look a bit like a mop right now.”

“I feel so freaking drained. And, if what Orm told you about last night is true, that makes sense,” she sighs, “I’ve lost control of my powers twice today, Barry. Twice a month makes sense, I’ll even give room for twice a week. But twice in one day just makes me feel so unstable.”

“Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

The image of Katerina floods her mind and she shakes her head, “No.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” he sighs. She nods and turns around so she’s facing him again. “Look at you, all composed for round two.”

“Round two of what?”

“Diana is still out there and you two are gonna talk, right?”

“She’s still here?”

“Well, yeah, Orm wanted her to stay and talk to you. When you woke up, he was texting me telling me to bring you out once you were feeling better.”

“By the Gods, Barry, I don’t know what to say to her.”

“Come on, she’s your family. You’ll figure it out.”

She grimaces, “Well… before I go, can you tell Orm to come in here? Please?”

He stands, making a face, “Sure, I’ll just sit with Diana in awkward silence while you two talk. No problem.”

“You’re so sweet.”

“I was being sarcastic, but whatever.”

He leaves the room and she stares at the sheets. She honestly hasn’t felt so exhausted in ages, it truly feels like she stayed up for a full 24 hours, at the very least. She would love to plop back down and fall asleep, but if Orm is trying to help smooth things over with Diana, maybe she should let him try and be on her best behavior.

Ugh, this is dumb.

The door opens and Orm stands across from her. She looks up and he looks down at her. Finally, he asks, “Are you mad at me?”

“I’m fucking tired. Is it too much to ask you to send Diana and Barry off so I can take another nap?” she says, then smiles so he knows she's joking.

He chuckles softly, closing the door behind him and walking to the bed, “Come on, Althera. You’re the most understanding person I know. I know you don’t want to argue with Diana.”

She glares, “How do you know?”

“Because I know you.”

She groans, reaching out. He offers his hand and she takes it, looking down at his palm, “I already acted like a brat out there. I can’t imagine it going much better.”

“If it’s any consolation, I think your reaction was perfectly acceptable, if not mildly dramatic,” he says, “There are some instances where you need to make yourself heard loud and clear for people to understand you. And that’s exactly what you did, with lightning, thunder, and a rainstorm.”

“I was embarrassing,” she mumbles.

“If you had made the same arguement to someone you felt actually deserved your anger, would you feel the same?”

She sighs, kneading her fingers into his palm, “Of course not.”

“You told her you had a strong emotional reaction to this topic. You tried to set up boundaries, boundaries you had made her aware of even before today. She continued to push them. If she truly is the same person you have loved and cared about over the years, the person who loved and cared for you, she’ll understand. Even if you were able to be convinced, she had a huge error in her approach.”

“Huge,” she reiterates. Orm smiles softly.

“Judging by what you’ve told me about Diana, I think there are layers to this. Don’t you want to understand why she’s pushing this so hard?”

“Cause she’s a jerk.”

“Al.”

She heaves a big sigh and nods, “I mean, of course you’re right. But… you and I have a good thing going on here. And then she went and took my past mistakes and threw them in my face like that, using you as some kind of weapon? That was a total low blow. You’re probably right, that there are layers to all this. Otherwise, I’m at a complete loss.”

“Come on,” he says, standing and pulling her up with him, “Let’s go. You won’t figure anything out sitting here.”

He guides her through the living room and presses her into the dining room chair. Smiling, she pats his hand and he smiles back before joining Barry in the living room. When she looks at Diana, she feels a pang of guilt in her stomach.

“I’ve been out of my head, Althera.”

Althera clears her throat before asking, “How do you mean?”

“I’ve been acting impulsively about this whole situation.”

Looking down at her fingers, she sighs, “I’ve never seen you double down on something like this, Di. Not if I said it made me uncomfortable.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. And seeing you react the way you did made me realize that I haven’t been coping with this myself, either. You chose to ignore it and I chose to throw myself straight into it, even though my head hasn’t been straight. I didn’t care that I was being reckless and that I was trying to drag you into it with me. I was being hypocritical. And I am very sorry, Al.”

Shifting in her seat, she nods, “I know that ignoring something isn’t the best coping strategy around. But not every situation ends with closure, Diana. That’s just something I’ve grown used to in my life.”

Diana nods, encouraging her to continue, so she does, “I don’t think there is anything good I can gain from ever interacting with Katerina again. Not peace of mind, not closure, and I’ll likely gain more heartbreak. I’m so sorry I exploded on you, Di. But my self-preservation combined with the very little sleep I got last night wasn’t exactly working in your favor. But you know you are one of the last people I ever want to fight with.”

Diana grabs her hands and holds them in hers. She is on a roll now, so she decides to keep talking, “It’s just that every single time I open those files and start reading, it’s like I’m there all over again. And I miss her. I actually miss her, despite everything she did. And, at the same time, I hate her with a burning passion. And that is so confusing. So confusing, I just--”

Her eyes well with tears and Diana stands and walks around the table, sitting directly beside her. She puts her arms around her and Althera inhales deep.

“I’m sorry I’ve been pressing this on you. I promise you, I will only discuss this with you when it is absolutely necessary. And I’ll stop insisting you read everything,” she says, squeezing her tight, “Orm told me you haven’t been sleeping well and if I had known that this topic would literally keep you up at night, I would have been more considerate.”

Althera sighs, hugging Diana back, “It’s just so stupid. I really do wish I could be more helpful. It’s just so stupid.”

Diana leans away and shakes her head, “None of this is stupid. And I’m glad we had this conversation. And I’m glad that your friend made me stay in order to have this conversation.”

“You’re not mad at Orm?” she asks, looking over her shoulder at him. He sits on the couch with Barry and Barry is showing him how to play some colorful mobile game.

“I can’t be mad that he wanted us to stop fighting. I know I haven’t been the kindest person to him in the past, but, at the very least, I can tell he really does wish the best for you.”

Althera laughs softly, “He’s loyal to me in the way that I was loyal to you. As I always will be.”

Chapter Text

Days later, Althera stands to greet Atlanna when she arrives, Orm and Ori ignoring her when she excuses herself and continuing to draw intently on the patio with colored chalk.

“How are you, Darling?” Atlanna asks, giving her a hug.

“Much better than when you heard from me last,” she chuckles awkwardly. Atlanna smiles softly and then looks over Althera’s shoulder in confusion. She quickly explains, “That’s Ori. His mom is a friend and we volunteered to watch him today. She should be picking him up soon.”

“You know… he almost resembles Orm at that age.”

“You think so?” she laughs, “I kinda imagined that. Orm doesn’t see any resemblance between the two of them, though.”

Althera leads her to the patio. Orm looks up for a second, pauses, and then smiles, “Hi Mom. I’d give you a hug, but I’m covered in chalk.”

“Don’t let me ruin your concentration!”

Ori looks up at Atlanna, blinks the sun out of his eyes, then turns to Orm, “That’s your mom?”

“Yes.”

“She’s pretty,” he says, returning to his drawing of a small Superman emblem.

“Yeah, she is,” he says, then, “Is that where you want me to draw him?”

“Yeah. I can’t draw people right.”

“Just keep practicing. You’ll get better before you know it.”

“That’s what my mom said.”

“Your mom is intelligent,” Orm says.

“I know. I think she’s smarter than my teacher, but she said not to tell the teacher that again because it’s mean.”

Atlanna looks at Althera, who stifles a laugh.

“He and Ori get along so well,” Althera laughs when they walk into the house, “I honestly don’t know how he doesn’t burst into laughter when he says things like that. I’d be a horrible mother.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. At the very least, you’ll have had practice now,” she chuckles, looking out the window, “They look like they’re enjoying themselves.’

“You’re lucky you came at a downtime. Before Ori brought out the chalk he was climbing all over me like I was a sentient jungle gym. Orm is somehow able to get him to chill out. Oh my gosh, and at one point, the two of them got a hold of my phone. Look at these.”

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and she and Atlanna laugh at the pictures. One is quite clearly the inside of Ori’s nose accidentally taken when he was trying to flip the camera around. There are some funny angles of Orm, too, until they finally find a normal selfie with the two of them. In addition, there are dozens of their chalk drawings that Althera is supposed to send to Wren later. Ori made sure she knew she could not forget to send them.

“They do really enjoy each other,” Atlanna laughs, “I wonder if Orm plans on having children someday.”

“I think he does,” she says, “But you’ll have to talk to him about that.”

“You two have talked about it?”

“I mean, we haven't had, like, a discussion about it or anything. There’s been a few instances where he’s talked as if a future version of him has children. I think he’s a little wary, though, since he’s still certain Atlantis is going to marry him off if he’s allowed to return.”

“Oh?”

Heat springs into Althera’s face and she backpedals, “Not that that is a bad thing. I mean, he says it’s his duty and I trust that he knows what’s best for him in the long run. And he insists he’s not going to make the same mistakes that would, you know, prevent him from being the best father and... husband. Golly, it’s kinda warm in here.”

Atlanna smiles, “It’s alright. He told me ages ago he's very open with you. I appreciate that he feels safe enough to talk to you.”

“Oh? Good.”

“And what about you?”

“Me, Ma’am?”

“Do you want children?”

“Uh,” she ponders for a minute, feeling slightly dumbfounded. Just because she's had bad luck with relationships doesn’t exactly mean she doesn’t want to be a mom one day, just that she hasn't had an opportunity to consider it in sincerity, “I think so. I like kids. I’ll definitely like my own more than someone else's. I think for me the questions are more ‘have you grown up enough?’ and ‘is there a man you love and trust enough to be the father of your child?’. And so far, I think both answers have always been ‘no’.”

Atlanna smiles, her eyes straying back to the window, “Well, I think if it's meant to be, you’ll get there one day. And then you’ll find him. And you can make those big decisions. Yes?”

When she imagines having her own version of an Ori, she wants to laugh. Maybe they’ll resemble her uncle when he was little. It wouldn’t be impossible, especially if they inherited her own shapeshifting abilities.

She imagines carrying a tiny, shapeshifting version of Hades on her hip and her heart does a weird little dance in her chest, “Yeah. Maybe someday.”

She sits with crossed legs on the couch, Ori’s head in her lap, his thumb not quite in his mouth. Wren had called, apologizing at a hundred miles an hour for being late.

“But how did you do at the interview?”

“Good! I think I did really well.”

And Althera tried to imagine what a cool and composed Wren was like.

Having been trying to wear him out by the time Wren came to pick him up, her tardiness resulted in his falling asleep while watching TV with Althera. Some strange cartoon where everyone is made of foam and sings happy songs. Orm walks over and leans against the head of the couch beside her.

“Do they intentionally make these songs so they get caught in your head?”

“I’m absolutely certain that is exactly their goal,” she agrees, watching the blue foam do some bizarre dance.

He chuckles and, looking down at Ori, takes a deep breath, “Spending today with Ori has my mother wondering if I’m going to give her grandchildren.”

“She asked me the same thing,” she says, then reiterates, “Not if I was going to give her grandchildren, but if I wanted kids someday. I told her that it depends.”

He nods, “That’s what I said, too. Having them because I want them or because I have to have them are two different things.”

“For me, it depends on how my relationship is with their would-be father. And since I’m not currently in a relationship, I can’t exactly make that decision now, anyway.”

“That makes perfect sense.”

“However, if I was promised that the kid would be just like Ori, I might make an exception,” she chuckles, “I’ll just send him off to you once and a while if he says too many weird things to his teacher.”

He grins, “I’ll take care of a tiny Althera anytime. Even if they are a bit of a drama queen.”

She beams up at him and Atlanna walks out of the bathroom. Orm straightens up behind the couch and she slips her hand out from underneath Ori, stretching her fingers.

“I love that soap. I’m going to buy that soap for Tom. He always uses the same scent all the time. He needs more excitement in his bathroom,” she says quietly, following Orm into the kitchen.

Chapter Text

“Bye,” he waves, “Remember to send the pictures to my mom.”

“Orm has my phone and is doing it right now.”

Wren’s phone chirps multiple times in a row and she raises her eyebrows at Ori, who giggles mischievously, “Say thank you, Ori.”

“Thank you,” he cheeses.

Althera laughs and they begin their walk home. Wren denied her offer to drive them even though it’s kinda a long, though straight, walk to their apartment. She also denied their invitation to stay for dinner, saying she didn’t want to be any more of a nuisance. Watching them get further from the house, she wonders about the mystery surrounding this little family.

Orm walks up behind her and lowers his chin to her shoulder, “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m wondering why Ori says he was on the news once. I could easily find out, but I don’t want to snoop.

“You’re sweet for worrying,” he murmurs.

Still deep in thought, she continues, “Wren seems so nice, yet she’s so jumpy. And even when I told her she could video call you or me at any time, she was still hesitant to leave Ori with us. I wonder if that is all connected in some way.”

Orm tilts his head, his cheek now pressed to her shoulder as he inquires, “So you are going to snoop?”

“I think I’ll wait it out,” she hums after a moment of thought. Orm chuckles and she smiles as she reaches up and pats his cheek. When the timer goes off in the kitchen, they both turn, “You better go help your mama.”

“Come on,” he says, grabbing her hands and dragging her into the kitchen and then pressing her into a chair at the table, “You stay right there.”

“I can help if you want,” she offers as he walks to the stove, his mom pulling something delicious smelling from the oven.

“No,” Atlanna says over her shoulder, “You stay seated. It’s our turn to spoil you.”

“Spoil me?” she laughs, “What do you mean?”

“Orm and I planned everything over text messages. So you sit down and do as we say.”

She lets out a surprised giggle, “Alright, I’ll behave.”

Orm walks up and sets a super cute, peach-colored, sugar-rimmed cocktail in front of her, quickly closing a tab on his phone, “Honestly, I had to ask Elena for advice, as well.”

“I appreciate your willingness to do research,” she smiles, picking up the glass and taking a sip. She whoops and giggles, “Orm, that’s so strong!”

“Just how you like it,” he winks, stepping back as his mom places a plate in front of her.

“Orm said this was one of your favorite recipes, but that you hardly ever get the ingredients to make it. I had to have Tom help me find some of the stuff like the fancy cheese and the right kind of cooking wine,” Atlanna explains, “But I hope we did it justice.”

When she insists they eat with her, they finally settle down at the table and she takes a bite. Though they try their best to conceal it, they wait eagerly for her reaction.

“This is absolutely delicious,” she honestly critiques, “I can tell it was made with love.”

Both their cheeks turn soft pink from the compliment and they dine happily.

After dinner, Atlanna directs her to the bathroom and takes over. She had gotten up toward the end of their meal and must have filled the tub, as the water is still heated when she sits and she can smell the salts in the water. Atlanna leaves her to settle in and she does. She knew she’s been tense lately, but hadn’t realized exactly how tense until she felt herself loosen up completely in the water.

Atlanna reappears with Orm’s phone playing soft music and Althera has to keep herself from giggling as she sets the phone down and lights a candle. She leaves the room again for a brief second, returning with a brand new, fuzzy bathrobe that she hangs on the door.

“Orm also picked out a pair of new pajamas for you,” she says, “I put them on your bed.”

“Thank you, Atlanna,” she smiles, sinking deeper into the water. She smiles and leaves the bathroom again, letting her bathe in peace. This whole situation is adorable, honestly. And the fact that Orm recruited Atlanna and Elena to make it possible is even better.

When she figures she’s been in the bath long enough, she dries herself off and wraps herself up in her new bathrobe, which is extremely plush. Interested in what kind of pajamas Orm would have picked for her, she giggles when she finds white PJ’s covered in pink and white pandas. The bigger surprise is that it has a matching bonnet. She changes into the pajamas, sans bonnet for now, and models them for her friends when she enters the living room.

“Aw, so cute!” Atlanna laughs, then returns to business, “Now you sit your bum on the couch and I’ll be right back.”

She does as she’s told yet again and Atlanna disappears into Orm’s room.

Orm walks up beside her and she swings her legs across his lap. His hands on her shins, he leans his head on the cushion to look over at her.

“I really appreciate this, Orm,” she says.

“You’ve had a pretty shitty week and I wanted to do something to make you feel good,” he says, his voice so sincere she can’t even crack a joke about it, “You deserve a lot more, but this is the best I could do with my time frame and our Surface Dweller budget.”

“Well, it has worked wonders. I feel very spoiled,” she assures.

His hands slide down her shins and around her calves and she is glad she wears the long pajama pants or she might have had another indoor rain cloud accident. He doesn’t seem to notice the movement of his own hands, because when he speaks, he sounds just as thoughtful as he had before.

“I think you’ve made me a more well-rounded person, Althera. At the very least, you’ve made me a better person, someone my mother can be proud of. I really wish I had met you sooner,” he says, then blushes, looking down, “Is that embarrassing?”

She frowns, swinging her legs off his lap and scooting closer to him on the couch, “No, it’s not embarrassing. Sometimes I honestly can’t help but thank the Gods for sending you to me. And maybe that doesn’t make sense, considering the situation of our first meeting. But I like to think that the Fates have seen all of the years we have ahead of us and are celebrating now that we’ve found each other.”

He continues to look down and she thinks that’s the end of it. Flopping back down on the couch, she is taken aback when Orm leans over with her, laying across her and burying his face in her neck. Confused, she suddenly understands what's happening when she feels him blink against her skin and his eyelashes are wet.

Wrapping her arms around him, she holds him against her and his arms slide around her waist so he can squeeze her tighter.

After a few long moments, he sniffs and pulls away slowly. Clearing his throat, he averts his eyes and chuckles at himself, “I’m going to see what’s taking my mother so long. She should have been out by now.”

“Alright,” she breathes, but he’s already standing and walking away.

She sits up and rubs her eyes. She thought that what she said was just silly Althera thoughts. But that hug, the way his cheek was pressed to hers, the way he squeezed her so tight, and how he was comfortable enough to lay his whole weight on top of her, nearly broke her heart but in a good way. In less than a year, Orm Marius has become a truly wonderful friend. He has made her feel really happy and warm and needed. And not in a weird way where he can’t do anything without her. But in a sweet way where they mutually seem to make each other a better person and enjoy hanging out together.

His bedroom door opens suddenly and he follows his mother out in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“You two seemed to be deep in conversation. I didn’t want to interrupt,” she says, “I know we’re off schedule now, but I think you can handle the rest of this without me.”

“I thought you were staying the night,” he frowns, reaching out to grab her hand, “That’s what we planned.”

“Oh, I don’t want to impose on you two.”

“You are never imposing yourself on us,” he says, then turns to Althera for support, “Right, Althera?”

“Of course not! We love having you around,” she says, receiving an appreciative look from Orm.

“That’s perfectly sweet of you to say,” Atlanna says, sliding her hand out of his, grabbing her bag, and looking back at him, “But I’m going to let you two be. You can resume the conversation you two were having. It looked very serious.”

“We have literally spent months together, Mother,” Orm laughs, “At this point, we have had more conversations than I can count.”

Althera watches as Atlanna blows her and Orm a kiss before running out the front door. Orm follows her, still extremely confused. Yet all Althera wonders about is what part of their conversation Atlanna would have seen that would make her run off. Her cheeks warm, she wonders if she might have misinterpreted their conversation. Especially if she witnessed their strange, intimate moment.

“I have absolutely no idea what got into her,” Orm breathes, closing the door behind him. She turns on the couch to look at him, “We literally planned to have her stay in my room for the night. I was prepared to sleep on the couch. But when I went into the bedroom, she was packing. That was so bizarre.”

“That was a little weird,” she laughs, standing up and stretching, “But it’s alright. You two have done more than enough, anyway.”

Orm rushes over to her, “Now hold on. She may have left, but I’m not going anywhere. Sit your butt back down. Wait, actually, don’t sit yet. Follow me.”

He drags her into the bathroom once again. He leaves and returns with a bunch of sheet face masks, “These are for you, we didn’t know which one you’d like more.”

“Oh? Are you going to do one with me?”

He raises his eyebrows, “I hadn’t planned on it.”

“Come on,” she beams, plucking two masks out from his hand and reading them, “This one is mine. And I think you should use this one.”

He squints at her a little, then sighs, “If you were anyone but yourself, Althera Prince, I would have fled this house ages ago.”

“But you love me!” she grins and he rolls his eyes. She then demonstrates how to put the mask on, though she winds up having to help him anyway, pressing the soft sheet against his cheekbones and across the planes of his face.

He sits on the couch and she sits as close to him as possible while still being able to see his reactions to the show she put on. She is delighted that he ends up enjoying it, disappointed when they have to pause at an exciting part to take the face masks off.

At the end of the show, he grabs her hand and pulls her off the couch while the end credits music plays. Spinning her around in several circles, she giggles like crazy.

He stops and her hands fall on his forearms as she steadies herself. Her entire body is flushed with energy and she can’t remember ever feeling so good. Still giggling, she looks up at him as he grins down at her.

“Dizzy?”

“A little,” she laughs, “I must have been a little girl the last time I spun like that.”

“Tiny Althera spinning circles with her little curls,” he chuckles, “What was that little girl like?”

She snorts, “You’d have to ask my uncle about that.”

“I bet he has some good stories.”

“He was my first dance partner. He’d tell me it was very important that I step on the toes of all my future dance partners,” she says, looking up at Orm. He tilts his head asking a silent question and she nods once in response. He puts his hands on her waist and she raises her hands to his shoulders.

“Feel free to step on me at any time,” he says.

She laughs, pretty sure he’s unaware of the connotation of what he just said and absolutely certain he would blush if he knew. They sway in silence for a while and she looks down at her toes.

“This is nice. The last man I danced with like this--”

She pauses. He leans back to look down at her and frowns.

“Althera?”

She clears her throat, “Sorry. Our acquaintance-ship ended when I broke most of the bones in his left arm.”

There is a long silence and she wonders briefly if she said too much. Then he leans back, “Do you want me to find him and do the same to his right arm?”

“Orm.”

He touches her cheek softly, “I’m being serious.”

“I think he got the message the first time around,” she chuckles, then she presses her forehead to his chest, squeezing her eyes shut, “Ugh, I am so not excited to start dating again.”

He nods, then, “I know it’s kinda a weird subject, but Ben seemed nice. And before you yell at me, I’m not telling you to date Ben. All I’m saying is that maybe your luck is turning for the better.”

She frowns, then shrugs, “I hope so.”

He sighs, then squeezes her in a super tight hug. She buries her face in his chest and suddenly feels silly in her pink panda pajamas. She really is a child. She hasn’t changed, she is just the same as when she arrived. Still needs to be comforted, still needs attention and validation from other people. She’s never going to grow up.

“I can’t imagine the kind of man you’re going to end up with and you hate that I’ve even tried,” he says, and she leans back to look up at him, “But whoever he is, you’re going to make him very happy. And if he doesn’t make you just as happy, he doesn’t deserve you.”

She smiles. Then she says, “I can’t date Ben, though. Ben’s a cop. Bruce says cops make our job difficult.”

“I imagine they would,” he says, then blinks, “He would probably try to have me arrested if he knew who I was, wouldn’t he?”

She nods, “That is extremely likely.”

“Surface Dweller prison,” he hums, “Please don’t date Ben.”

She giggles, dropping her head back against his chest. When he starts to slowly sway, she follows his lead. His hand in hers, she listens to the deep, slow thump of his heart in his chest.

She is perfectly fine never dating again. She is happy right here, slow dancing with her best friend to the sound of the TV playing.

He is comfort. She should never beat herself up for needing a friend, it’s a simple desire to have at least one person who understands and cares about you, never a weakness.

She has changed. She has grown. And she is proud of who she is becoming. And she’s happy to have some good friends helping her on the way.

He chuckles softly and she looks up at him, confused. His head is much closer to the ceiling than she remembered and, looking down, she blushes to find that their feet no longer touch the floor.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re a magical and unique dance partner. I love it.”

What is a cop to a born leader and warrior, who looks at her with such warmth in his eyes?

Chapter Text

She opens the door and steps back as Arthur immediately walks past her and into the house.

“Where’s Orm?”

“He’s in the bath, why? What’s wrong?”

Closing the front door, she watches him as starts pacing, his hands on his hips. When he doesn’t respond to her or even acknowledge her existence, she frowns, as even he usually has better manners than this.

“Uh, stay here. I’ll try to get him to hurry,” she says, walking to the bathroom door and slipping inside when Arthur still doesn’t respond.

When he hears his brother is here, he isn't too excited about it and it takes a little bit of bickering to get him to hurry up. When she finally convinces him that she thinks Arthur’s come to say something extremely important, he surprises her by wrapping one towel around his waist, throwing another towel over his shoulder, and following her out immediately, without so much as drying his feet off.

“Orm, hey, we need to talk,” Arthur says, turning and then looking just as surprised as Althera to find him in his towel, still dripping wet.

“What is it?”

Arthur looks from Orm to Althera and then grins, his entire demeanor changing in an instant. After her tiny argument with Orm, she really wants to punch Arthur really hard, but resists, “I mean, unless you’re too busy.”

Althera glowers up at him and he drops himself on the couch, grinning up at her in particular.

“I told Orm to take a relaxing bath while I take care of breakfast. Then your ass burst in here and freaked me out. Now you’re acting like a child.”

“Geez, Teenie, you sound just like him.”

“If this isn’t actually urgent, I’m going to go put on some clothes,” Orm grunts, pulling the towel off his shoulder and drying his hair. He gives her a sideways look and she raises her eyebrows. He smiles and walks off. When he closes the door behind him, she turns back to Arthur, crossing her arms across her chest.

He grins and she rolls her eyes, “I was talking to you and it was like you didn’t even know I was there. I thought it was an emergency.”

“Yeah, sorry,” he frowns, reaching up and pulling his hair back into a bun, “There's a lot going on.”

She frowns, seeing that he does look a bit more tired than usual, “Well, you never thought being King of Atlantis would be an easy job.”

“Unbelievable. If it were up to me, I’d have let Orm have his job back after one apology, that’s how much of a pain in my ass this is,” he heaves an enormous sigh, rubbing his face with his hands, “I seriously think I’m going to lose my shit, Al.”

“Hey, I’m sure Atlantis appreciates your effort. Some of the greatest Kings in all of history were tough on themselves,” she says turning and raising her hand over the puddle Orm created on the carpet. The water rises up off the floor and evaporates. Arthur rants a little more, watching her putter around the living room. However, when Orm returns, her ability to help Arthur feel better decreases instantly as her thoughts stray.

Orm looks absolutely massive in a dark blue shirt that looks a little too tight around his biceps and across his chest. His hair is still damp and she just knows that if she were to step in for a hug that he would smell so nice and clean.

“I think my shirt shrunk in the wash, Althera.”

“Did you look at the label before you put it in the dryer?”

“You know, I genuinely thought I had. But I suppose not,” he frowns, pulling at the collar and then looking at Arthur, “Anyway, what do we need to talk about?”

Arthur gives her a sideways look before speaking to Orm, “Maybe we should go elsewhere?”

“Anything you tell me, you can tell her.”

“Technically, I”m not even supposed to be telling you. This is kinda confidential and could put both of you in danger.”

At the mention of danger, Orm tenses up. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she smiles up at him, “I’ll get back to making breakfast. You two talk without me.”

“Are you sure?”

“You and I can catch up later if we need to,” she says quietly. His frown doesn’t go away, but he nods, pulling her into a side hug (he smells wonderfully like soap and fabric softener) and placing a kiss on the top of her head before she walks away.

While she is in the kitchen, Orm leads Arthur out to the patio. As she cooks, she steals small glances out the back door, watching Arthur’s posture as he slumps over the patio table, making a bunch of gestures with his hands. Orm starts out slumped in his chair, but by the end of the conversation he is pole straight and focused. When she calls them in to eat, he excuses himself for a moment.

Arthur walks into the kitchen and stops at the fridge, leaning against it and looking at her.

“You and my brother seem real comfy with each other.”

She wipes her hands and looks up at him, “Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s a good friend.”

Arthur looks dubious when Orm walks in. He looks at Arthur, who is still leaning toward Althera. Frowning, he walks up to the fridge, making Arthur take a step back so he can open the door.

“What are you two talking about? Arthur looks like he’s overexerted his brain.”

“He thinks you and I are hiding some secret romantic and-slash-or sexual relationship.”

Orm’s grip on the creamer slips only slightly and he continues as if nothing happened, “Of course not. Besides, Althera seems to be seeing someone else. I’ve caught her sneaking in a few times before.”

Surprise and horror cause her arms to go numb for a second before she turns on her heel, “Excuse me, Orm Marius?”

“Oo, lil sis is sneaking out to see a boy? Who is he? Do we know him?”

“There’s no ‘boy’ I’m exclusively sneaking out to see. And I’m not sneaking, Orm. I’ve been trying to be sympathetic to your trash sleeping schedule.”

“You’re getting, like, super defensive right now,” Arthur laughs.

“Do we really have to discuss my sex life this early in the morning?” she sighs, rubbing her eyes, “I haven’t even had my orange juice yet.”

“I’m sorry, Althera,” Orm says, putting the carton away, “I won’t tease you about it anymore.”

She grimaces, “It’s fine. It's not like I even talk to Diana about this stuff. Just Barry. But you both were just teasing, I know.”

She laughs and pushes Orm away when he puts his arm around her waist to kiss her forehead. Then he chuckles, grabbing the coffee pot.

“Are you staying for breakfast, Arthur?” she asks, hoping she sounds like her usual self.

He ends up spending the whole morning with them, and Orm handles it well. The entire time, Althera can feel the waves of stress radiating off of both of them, but neither bring it up to her, so she remains patient.

When Arthur leaves, she finds Orm in the dining room, his face in his hands. When he hears her come in, he straightens up.

“That was a pleasant visit, wasn’t it?”

“It was palatable,” he agrees. She snickers.

Wiping the counter down, she looks at him as he looks at her.

“I think I’m going to leave for Atlantis here in a week,” he says, his voice stilted.

“Oh?”

“Your plan to out the man working from the inside worked. However, things are becoming more complicated. I need to be there in person to sort this out.”

She wrings the towel out in the sink and finds a dry one, mopping up the wet granite.

“You can’t tell me more?”

“Althera…”

“I get it. I mean, at the beginning of all this, I did say I didn’t want anything to do with Atlantean drama. I just…”

She looks down at the rag, her voice fading out. He walks around the island to her side.

“I’ll do the dishes. Go relax.”

“Orm…”

“Althera, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Doing the dishes?” she asks. Looking up at him and seeing the extreme worry on his face, she realizes he wasn’t referring to the pots and pans.

“All this in Atlantis is my fault. I told you that I once paid for work from that pirate from the Surface, right?” he asks. She nods and he continues, “I didn’t see him as a threat at the time, he was Surface Dweller with a relatively small group of men. But, because of me, he ran into Arthur. Now he has a vendetta against him. This vengeance puts anyone or anything Arthur cares for in danger, which is why he was trying to decide on getting me involved to assist. If I become involved, you would be an enormous target if someone needed to get to me. Because of you, we have a chance to end this before it becomes a bigger problem, but I can't put you right in the middle of it.”

His eyes are wide and earnest and they swallow her up. She knows he’s being absolutely honest when he says he thinks this is for the best.

“Orm, if I can help, I want to.”

“This isn’t your problem. It’s mine and Arthur’s choices that lead us to this.”

“If it involves you putting yourself in danger, then it kinda is my problem,” she says, then feels childish when she insists, “You say you couldn’t bear it if something happened to me because I was helping you. But how do you think I would feel if something I could have prevented happened to you, but I’m just here sitting on the couch, watching TV?”

“Althera, there are only three people on this planet who I’ve vowed to protect no matter what and you are one of them.”

“But you said it yourself, Orm, I’m your defender. We’re a team, right?”

He doesn’t respond immediately and embarrassment hits her in the face. Maybe she has overestimated how much he trusts her abilities. These last few weeks her control over her abilities has been pretty unpredictable. And after all this Katerina talk maybe he has seen her in a new light and doesn’t trust that she can take care of herself anymore.

She hangs up the rag and sighs. After what is the most excruciating moment of silence in all her life, he takes her hands in his and looks her directly in the eyes, “You know I am your most loyal ally, your loudest and greatest supporter. But just this once, I need to do this alone. Please?”

His thumbs brush the backs of her hands and she grimaces, “You say ‘please’ like you’re asking permission. What’ll you do if I say no?”

He continues making slow, wide circles across her skin and she feels her guard going down. She wonders if he does this intentionally, knowing that it weakens her.

“I suppose I’d have to start packing for two,” he says, his eyes and brow worried.

She sighs, leaning forward and dropping her head against his chest.

“You have to be safe,” she murmurs.

“Of course.”

“No fighting with Arthur. No bickering.”

He makes a low sound in his chest, then smiles reassuringly, “Okay, Althera.”

“You’re a grown man, you know how to behave,” she sighs, “I just worry about you.”

“I promise I’ll take care of myself. You and I still have more adventures to go on, right?”

She nods and he allows her to slip her hands from his. He takes a step back and she turns and walks toward the couch, “Good luck doing the dishes.”

Chapter Text

A week later Arthur shows up again. Althera putters around in the kitchen, busying herself by making a big breakfast to send them off. Sensing her gloomy mood, Orm urges her to rest, but she gives him a pat on the cheek and tells him that she’s fine.

He is bad at packing, even when it’s just his trident and a few other things he’s taking. When he disappears into his room again, she gives herself a silent pep talk. She can’t let him leave with her in a bad mood. After she checks herself, her smiles start feeling a little more genuine.

After breakfast, Arthur dismisses himself for a moment and Orm sinks down on the couch beside her.

“I feel a little weird sending my friend to fight some guy who wants to kill him.”

“Luckily he wants to kill Arthur. Not me,” he teases. She gives him a look and he chuckles, “You’re going to be so depressed without me, aren’t you?”

“Oh my goodness, yes. I had absolutely no meaning to my life before I met you, Orm Marius,” she says dramatically. He grins and she rolls her eyes.

“Even if I happen to be gone for just two days, I’ll miss you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Letting go of one of her hands, he reaches into his pocket, “I asked Arthur to bring this to make our lives a little easier.”

He pulls out a thin white band and puts it around her wrist, tying it in place. She watches curiously as he does, wondering how a bracelet is going to make their lives easier. She means to ask, but Arthur suddenly barrels into the room, asking Orm if he’s ready to go.

Her stomach does a nervous flip and Orm releases her, standing and retrieving his trident and small bag of belongings. She follows them out the door and pauses at the end of the driveway.

Orm crosses the road and stops as Arthur keeps walking. Looking across at her, he calls out, “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

“Alright.”

“If you need me, you contact me immediately.”

“I’m not going to contact you when you’re on important Atlantis business, Orm,” she scoffs.

“Nevertheless, keep your eyes out for any danger. I'd even suggest you visit your family for a little while. I just hate the thought of you being alone right now.”

“Alright. I’ll do that.”

He looks relieved to hear her say so, “Good!”

“You take care of yourself.”

“Of course. Otherwise, I’d never get to see you again.”

Those words are like a blow to the heart and she nods because she knows that if she had tried to speak, she would start crying. Then he might never leave.

He takes a few steps away from the road and then turns again, “I’ll see you later, then.”

“I’ll see you,” she says, “And you, too, Arthur Curry! You better stay safe. And watch over your little brother.”

“Geez, Mom, I will,” he laughs, “I’ll see you later, Teenie. Be good.”

“I’ll try.”

This week of all weeks, Wren and Ori have left the state to go to some smart kid learning summit for his elementary school. Wren says they’ll be gone for a few days.

Elena and John are home, but Ben also being there puts a damper on that plan.

She may as well keep her promise to Orm. But who out of her family will be the least annoying to deal with these days? She sprawls out on the floor and makes a list.

Hades? He’ll try to guilt trip her into staying longer than she wants.

Auntie Persephone is off limits because she’s married to the man and is sure to rat her out to him.

She is avoiding her dad because she hasn’t made it to his last couple of “birthday bashes” due to being in a coma, and Athena for the same reason, as Athena is associated with Hestia and they will for sure try to get her on the planning committee for his next one.

Artemis is cool, but they tend to get on each other’s nerves quickly. She’s not really in the mood to figure out why, though.

Hephaestus is probably working on some uber-important project. There’s always an important project with Hephaestus.

Fuck no to Ares and she refuses to explain herself, as her big brother is a pain in the ass on a good day.

Eros is fun, but she’d probably end up having information about Orm wormed out of her and that is the last thing she wants to think about when he’s out there on a potentially dangerous mission, putting his life on the line to keep his home of Atlantis safe. He’s so brave. And strong. And sexy. And... talking to Eros right now is a horrible idea, actually.

She’s still hiding from Poseidon after promising to make him some food.

Hebe is still too close to Zeus for comfort. And she doesn’t know if Hera and Zeus are in another honeymoon phase right now or not, as Hera would definitely snitch her out to Zeus if they are.

She’s already filled out four sheets of paper of the pros and cons of meeting with anybody and she groans in frustration, balling the papers up, standing, and stomping into the kitchen to throw them in the trash.

That wasn’t even her whole family and she is already getting an ulcer just thinking about meeting with any of them. Why did she tell Orm she would do this?

Irritated, she grabs the papers back out of the trash, throws them in the sink, and sets them on fire. She lets it burn as she goes to her room to take a nap.

Chapter Text

“Never do that again. I thought you were Ares and I almost let the security system shoot you.”

Sprawled on her back, she breathes heavily, trying to regain her breath. She swallows, her throat dry from panting, and then pushes up onto her butt, “That was way too stealthy to be Ares.”

”Uh-huh,” Hephaestus stares down at her, his golden eyes peering at her from behind his glasses, and then turns, walking down the corridor, “You both are stupidly reckless.”

Grumbling, she pushes herself off the floor and returns the cover over the vent. Her hands on her hips, she stares at the hole in the wall, surprised by how small it looks from this side of it.

“Are you coming? That door is on a countdown to lock then disintegrate anything that's inside, and I can’t stop it,” he calls over his shoulder. She scoops up her backpack and quickly darts after him.

“I figure, if I can beat your security,” she breathes, “I can beat anyone’s.”

“Thank you for the flattery,” he says, continuing to walk ahead of her, “I’d wish you better luck next time, but I really don’t want you breaking into my warehouse again.”

“Are you happy to see me?”

“Relatively, I suppose.”

She grins, “It’s been a while. Wanna go watch a movie?”

“I’m working on a--”

“Project?” she suggests. He looks at her and then looks her up and down. She does the same, then, “You look good.”

“You look sweaty. If you’re staying a while, you should take a shower. “

She gestures to her backpack, “I brought a different outfit and snacks. I figured you probably wouldn’t be able to go out to watch a movie, but I could watch one sitting next to you while you work on your project. It’s called parallel play.”

He nods, “Alright. But don’t turn the volume up too high, I need to focus.”

“Okay.”

“Is your cell phone on?”

“Yes?” she looks up at him in confusion.

“If I were you, I’d turn it off for an hour. Hermes was here a few months ago and he was trying to smuggle out information on a program I was working on. I set my office up so that it completely wipes the data of any cell phones it doesn’t recognize. I’ll add yours to the list of safe devices in a minute, but it’s best to just turn it off in the meantime.”

“Ooo, cool,” she says, slipping it out of her back pocket. She turns it off and he gestures to her arm.

“What’s that?”

Looking at her arm, she remembers the bracelet Orm gave her before he left, “Ah, actually I don’t know.”

He lifts her arm up to his line of sight and she dangles in the air. If it had been Ares to grab her like this, she would have kicked him in the stomach. But Hephaestus stares at her bracelet with such intense curiosity that she becomes curious herself.

She frowns when he squints at her distrustfully.

“This is a communication device. Are you working with Hermes and his employer?”

“It’s been years since I worked for Hermes. Since the incident,” she says, wiggling out of his grasp and dropping to the floor.

“This device is too advanced for the majority of Mortals in this era.”

“What about Atlanteans?” she suggests sheepishly.

Hephaestus blinks, then. “Oh. Your Atlantean boyfriend. Poseidon said something about him.”

Her entire body flushes with heat and she stamps her foot, “He what? That gossiping little jerk! Orm is not my boyfriend, he’s a friend of mine. And if you don’t believe me, ask yourself, would Althera really let Uncle Poseidon be the first to know about her latest relationship? By the Titans, absolutely not.”

Hephaestus gives her a look for less than a second before he yawns and rubs his eyes, “Sorry. It’s not like I’m bored of you or anything, I was just up late last night. So this guy isn’t your boyfriend?”

“No,” she says, then looks down at the bracelet on her wrist, “He gave me this as he was leaving to go back to Atlantis to help his brother on a potentially dangerous mission. I didn’t get the chance to ask him about it. You said it’s a communication device?”

“Uh-huh,” he says, “Looks like it’s hologram based, like Aetna, except it is still undeveloped enough that it requires physical matter to assemble. I assume water, in your case, if it’s Atlantean tech.”

She blinks, then gasps, “Oh! I know what this is! He and I used one before with his brother, except it was on a disc thing.”

“A disc would be pretty rudimentary. I’d say you got the latest tech upgrade on your wrist.”

“Fancy,” she says, looking down at it.

He chuckles and pushes the door to his office open. She is greeted by the soft buzz of a room filled with technology. Looking around, she spots a few newer devices she’s never seen before in the corner and lets her eyes wander around about fifty computer monitors. She blinks in fascination as he sits down in the swiveling chair behind the grand desk. Holding his hand out, he asks, “Want me to log your phone?”

She gives him her phone and he plugs it into something, does what he needs to do, then hands it back to her. He gestures, “There’s a beanbag over there, you can watch your movie on those screens.”

“The microwave is still across the hall, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I think I’m gonna take that shower, first, if it’s all the same. I don’t want to stick to your beanbag.”

“You know where everything is. Nothing’s changed much.”

Chapter Text

Sitting in the tub, she splashes her feet in the water, watching her blue toes with interest. It’s been a minute and she has to readjust to seeing herself this way. Though her skin color has changed, her gills remain in place at the base of her throat and she wonders if they’ll ever go away. If it were up to her, she’d keep them forever, if only to remember her time in Atlantis.

Stepping out of the bath, she dries herself off with a big fluffy towel she brought from home. She is about to leave the room when her wrist lights up. Frowning down at the communication device, she gasps, shutting the door behind her. Turning the bathtub faucet back on, she tries to remember the swiping gesture Orm showed her what feels like ages ago.

The water swirls and his shape forms in front of her.

“Orm!”

“You figured it out,” he says, sounding relieved, “I just realized I didn’t explain myself when I gave it to you.”

She giggles, “I was kinda confused at first, but yeah. Ugh, not being able to hug you right now is torture.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he says, then, “But I am very happy to see you.”

She smiles, “I’ve been pathetically fidgety since you’ve left and it’s not even been a full 48 hours. But, I did as I promised and I’m visiting family.”

“Really?” he asks, sounding intrigued, “Have I heard of this family?”

She chuckles, clasping her hands behind her back, “Most likely. But I won’t tell you who until the next time I see you. In person.”

“Ah, an incentive,” he nods and smiles. It’s a tired smile and she frowns.

“You’re taking care of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Of course. But we’ve been traveling more than I expected. You know how I get a little travel-worn.”

She tilts her head, “You’re still certain you don’t want to pick me up?”

“Yes, I’m certain,” he says, then, “Everything is under control… Princess Althera.”

She beams, feeling flushed all over, “I miss you so much.”

His smile spreads wider, “I miss you, too.”

“You better be back as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he teases, “I’ll be home as soon as I can be.”

Home. The word echoes through her and she takes a step closer, dropping her eyes. She can’t see his face, but she can hear his tone when he lowers his voice, “Althera, please don’t worry.”

She sniffs and quickly composes herself. Standing up straight, she looks up at him, “I have a little bit of free time. Distract me from worrying, then.”

He smiles, looks around him as if he is in a room where he might not be alone, and then sits. It’s fascinating, seeing him hover over the bathtub like this. She sits on the floor across from him.

They talk for a while, Orm tells her a little bit of what’s been going on in Atlantis since the last time they were there. He pays Arthur a backhanded compliment when he says that the palace hasn’t crumbled yet. He also tries to get more information about what family member she is visiting from her, but she is resolute to hold her tongue. Instead, she talks about the plans she and Barry have made for the weekend. They talk about several little things and, though all the topics are pretty tame, she knows by the way his voice sounds, that he is affected by everything that’s going on where he is.

She wants to keep him there talking for as long as she possibly can, but eventually realizes that she’s been in the bathroom far too long and Orm says he should be going anyway.

There is a small hesitation before she heaves a sigh, standing up and stretching her legs. Orm stands and does the same.

They look at each other and she clears her throat, “Well, I’ll see you later, then.”

The corner of his lips rises in a small smile and he nods, “Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

The water loses its form and she stands in her brother’s bathroom all alone. She takes a few deep breaths before pushing the door open.

If something happens to him...

No. Nothing is going to happen. He is so strong, so intelligent, he’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.

Chapter Text

Her legs stretched out in front of her, she leans back, staring at the large screens that she’s been watching her movie on. Though Hephaestus had insisted that his project was of utmost importance, he soon found himself peeking off and on at the movie. Until, finally, he ended up on the floor beside her, the two of them munching on the snacks she brought with her.

When the movie ends, she stretches out on the floor and he grabs his phone, scrolling a little before looking over at her.

“You knew I’d get distracted by a movie about Artificial Intelligence,” he says, rolling his eyes at her grin, “I guess it wasn’t a total waste of time. It was pretty funny.”

“Funny?”

“Yes. The writer’s grasp of the limits and capabilities of AI was laughable. But it was overall enjoyable, in a fantastical sense.”

She snorts and giggles, “I guess so. I know two guys who would absolutely geek if they met you.”

“What do you mean?”

“These two, they have a lot of brain power between the two of them. They were trying to explain some overly technical processes of a prototype they were working on to me and Orm, that’s my Atlantean friend, and I felt so bad that I had no idea what they were talking about.”

“I haven’t done any hands-on construction for a while now,” he frowns, “I’ve mainly been working on software.”

“Worried you've lost connection to your roots?” she teases.

He ignores her, asking, “What are they building?”

“Actually, Orm and I are going to help with the very first installation!”

She explains the process as best as she can without Hawke, Bean, Bruce or Orm’s help and Hephaestus listens intently. After she’s finished explaining the concept of the filtration system, she falls quiet. He stares at her with an even expression before he nods, “You’re really interested in making something like this?”

“Of course. The benefits are enormous if it turns out well. The biggest con is that the unit it’s housed in is going to take up some beach space and is a bit of an eyesore. Mortals are weird, that they worry about things like that when their beaches would otherwise be… well, swamped with garbage all over again.”

She blushes, wondering if she might sound too radical for her big brother, but Hephaestus hardly notices.

“If it really means a lot to you, maybe I can come down once and a while to see how things are progressing once it’s started. This seems like the perfect hybrid project for me, as there is going to be a lot of software that’s going to have to be looked over along with the construction site. I’m sure your friends know what they’re doing, but it couldn’t hurt to have a…”

He hesitates and she continues, “A god? A god on their side?”

He is quiet for a long moment before he sighs, “Yeah. A god.”

They fall quiet and she frowns, “You are a god, Hephaestus. You know that, right?”

He frowns, “It’s a title I’m not very comfortable with all the time.”

She nods, “I hear ya.”

More silence, then, “I know that I am one. It’s just hard to hold myself to as high of an esteem as… well…”

“As high as dad holds himself?”

He nods, then adds, “Which is ridiculous, since Zeus would be absolutely pitiful if he had to do any of the jobs that I do.”

“You’re extremely skilled and talented at what you do,” she encourages.

“Maybe I should get out more,” he says. She lets him work that one out on his own.

“Well, whatever you do, I’ll be happy to know that my big brother was interested in the project I’m going to be working on in the future.”

“Is this part of your goddess duties?”

She blinks in surprise and shakes her head, “No. I don’t… I don’t have any goddess duties. I’m not actually… I’m not actually a qualified goddess. Just… just a demigoddess.”

Hephaestus stares at her, then looks away, “Oh.”

Though the situation is a little awkward, she can't help but giggle, “What do you mean, 'oh'?”

“I just would have figured you would have been qualified as a goddess by now.”

She smiles to show him she isn't offended and then shrugs, “Well, you weren’t around for any of my accidents. A god or goddess doesn’t have accidents.”

“Says who?” he blinks.

He genuinely looks so confused that Althera can’t help but laugh. After seeing her laugh so hard, he chuckles a little, “What I mean to say is, you don’t think Zeus or Ares haven’t had a few fuck ups here and there? Athena? Seriously, our family needs to be knocked off their pedestals every so often to have a hard look at themselves. You’re just as much a part of this family as the rest of us. And, yes, that is meant as an insult.”

She rolls her eyes and he stands.

“I’m going to be staying up late tonight, doing some debugging on Aetna’s latest update. You’ll be here for a couple of days?”

“Unless you’re busy.”

He looks up at the glowing monitors in the dark room. She can see him thinking behind those golden eyes that are so familiar, yet sometimes feel like they belong to a stranger. Today, though, she is happy to joke around with her brother.

“No, I’m not too busy,” he says, snapping her out of her thoughts, “It’s nice spending time with you, Al.”

She beams, extremely happy with this compliment, “I knew I was your favorite sibling!”

“Favorite sibling? You’re all weird.”

“That may be so, but you know you aren’t an exception.”

Though it’s from the corner of her eye, she thinks she sees him smile.

Chapter Text

“And be sure to tell them that Monty sent you.”

“Who’s Monty?”

Hephaestus stands at the microwave, warming up a cup of oatmeal. She floats off the floor behind him, hovering over him as he makes his squishy meal, “I used a pseudonym when I visited. My actual name brings too much attention.”

She giggles, “So you decided to call yourself Monty?”

“It’s a nice name.”

She looks down at him and he rolls his eyes without looking at her.

“Alrighty, Monty it is!”

“Thank you, Al. It really means a lot that you’re running this errand for me.”

“It’s no problem. It’s not too far out of the way I was already heading. I’ll just be a little later than I’d expected.”

She also happens to be in a good mood after talking to Orm two more times in the two days she spent with her brother. Their conversation remained about nothing important. And, again, she could hear the stress in his voice when he spoke. He still looks strong and sturdy, though, so her worry isn’t enough to paralyze her or make her snappy. Nope. She is going to make sure she has fun today, no matter what.

“Hi Mama Demeter!”

Demeter looks up, her eyes growing wide. The last time she saw her, Al had been in Ares’s care, having been kidnapped by him in his attempt to turn her into a War Deity. He had been showing her some moves he said that all warriors needed to know and, in her attempt to imitate them, she had accidentally flooded a small town project of Demeter’s. Ares was really chill about it and the Goddess of the Harvest forgave her, if only because Aunt Persephone had been able to bring everything back to how it had been the very next year.

As far as Al can tell, Demeter sees her as half Zeus’ responsibility, half Hades’ and a whole pain in the butt.

Landing on the gravel in front of the goddess, Althera beams up at her. Even though they have their issues, she can’t help but look up to the woman who raised her Aunt.

“Althera, dear,” Demeter says, her voice high and tense, “What are you doing here?”

“I was delivering something for Hephaestus and heard you were in the area. And, you know, we’re kinda sorta family and I haven’t seen you in, like, 100 years. So I thought I’d pop in and see what you’re up to,” she says, looking around. They stand on a hill that overlooks a yellow plain, and on the plain below is a small town, “This place is pretty drab, so I wouldn’t say you’ve been particularly busy.”

Demeter sighs and looks around, “I haven’t had the chance to get started. I just set up shop a week ago.”

“Althera?”

Althera looks around Demeter’s shoulder at the sound of the voice. Although Demeter has disguised her as a mortal, Althera recognizes the nymph and flies up to her, reaching down and scooping her into the air in a big hug, “Melite!”

“What are you doing here, Al?” she giggles in excitement as Althera sets her down again.

“I was just passing through,” Althera explains, “It has been so long! What are you doing so far from home?”

“Well, while you are off exploring the world, some of us have had to take up internships and jobs and settle down,” she teases, then looks to see if Demeter is paying attention before she whispers, “I heard Demeter’s gigs can be pretty rough, but if I can handle a year or two with her my boss promised a big promotion.”

She and Althera giggle and Demeter grimaces, walking ahead of them, “Are you girls coming, or are you going to be giggling all day instead?”

Melite runs to Demeter’s side and Althera flies up beside her.

“What are you doing today, Mama Demeter?”

“Please plant your feet on the ground. I don’t plan on revealing myself to these Mortals.” Althera does as she’s told and Demeter continues, “Have your hands grown more steady over the years, Althera?”

She extends her arms, stretching out her palms as they walk, “Yup. I was able to dig and fill one of Aunt Persephone’s irrigation systems a few decades ago without flooding the fields. Since then, I’ve had great control.”

“That’s right, she did mention that,” Demeter says, tapping her chin, “Very well. If you can help me today, I’ll mention your helpfulness to Zeus the next time I see him and I’ll pay you in… well, I haven’t got much on me today, but I’ll pay you with the granola I baked this morning in the meantime.”

“Fresh granola,” Althera muses, thinking the deal over and then nodding, “Alrighty, I’ll make myself useful.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Demeter says, and Althera pretends not to notice the sideways look she gives her. She doesn’t seem too worried about everything, so Aunt Persephone must have really sold how well their last project together went.

Melite bumps her shoulder and Al looks over. Now that Althera’s feet are planted on the ground, she is the shortest of the women, Melite being just an inch shorter than Demeter, “You have to give me your phone number before you leave today.”

“Of course. We have a lot to catch up on.”

“Absolutely. You also have some explaining to do.”

“About what?”

“Well, there’s some Oceanid gossip going around that you are dating the ex-King of Atlantis,” Melite says, giving her a look, “Do you know how many nymphs had been crushing on that Atlantean? Of course, nobody condones his despicable, violent actions toward the humans, blah blah blah, but he is pretty cute.”

Althera flushes with embarrassment, “No, I’m not dating anyone, Mel. Orm is just a friend.”

Melite grabs her arm, bringing her to a stop, “What do you mean ‘just a friend’? The Althera I know would not have passed up an opportunity. Do you think he’s ugly? Does he have scales in a weird spot or something?”

“Mel!” she scolds, “No, he doesn’t, as far as I know. And he’s far from ugly. He’s very handsome and charming and lovely. But he’s a friend, that’s all.”

Melite’s expression does all the work for her when she says, “I’m confused.”

“Not everything has to be sexual,” Al whispers and Demeter sighs, her steps becoming brisker as she tries to walk further ahead.

“You’re literally the one who taught me otherwise,” Melite snorts, then gives her a face so she knows she’s just teasing, “What’s happened to you? You used to be a daughter of Zeus in more ways than one. The last time we talked, you had three boyfriends. Simultaneously.”

“Maybe I grew up.”

She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow, “And became boring?”

“This isn’t a fun conversation anymore, Mel.”

“Let me simplify this,” she says, “Do you think Prince Orm is sexually attractive?”

“He is handsome, yes.”

“Okay. And is he gay or asexual or anything that would imply he has little to no sexual interest in you as a woman?”

“Ehh, not that I’ve noticed.”

“And you still haven’t taken that trident for a spin?” Althera covers her face, blushing and giggling like a maniac, but Mel is able to keep a straight face when she continues to tease by asking, “Have you tried therapy?”

Still laughing, Althera grabs Melite’s hands in hers, “I’m perfectly alright, Mel, I promise. I’m just not ready to date like I used to date. My last few relationships didn’t go well. And the very last guy was so sweet and I was so… so me and I messed that up so bad. Like, I didn’t know if he and I were destined to be together forever or anything, but I wasn’t happy with how I handled that breakup at all.”

They fall quiet, continuing to follow Demeter as the dry grass of the hill crunches under their feet, the poor, dry soil crumbling away. It is saved from being a somber atmosphere, if only because she knows that the plain is going to be almost unrecognizable after Demeter is done with it. It is kinda interesting, that if she continues with this ocean filtering project thing, she’ll kinda be doing similar work to what Aunt Persephone and Mama Demeter do.

When Melite talks again, she’s still hung up on the same subject, “So, it’s not that you don’t want the man, but that you’re afraid of losing him?”

There’s really no use in lying. Besides, she and Melite used to be pretty close. She bites the skin of her lip, and nods, “Deathly.”

“So…” Mel says, then pauses, “So, you’re in love with him?”

“How is that the only explanation? No, I'm not in love with him. He's my friend, that's all!” she groans, “Can we talk about something else? Literally anything else?”

Demeter stops and turns a few yards ahead of them, gesturing excitedly to the enormous tractor in front of her, “Alright, who's willing to be the first I teach to drive this big boy?”

Melite and Althera look at each other in surprise. Melite laughs hard when Althera’s hand shoots into the air as the first volunteer.

Chapter Text

“I hadn’t seen her in so long, since I dropped out of college the second time, so it was so nice catching up with her.”

“It sounds like you two had a great time,” Orm smiles, “And I still can’t believe I didn’t get to watch you drive a tractor.”

“I looked like a real farmer, Orm. Auntie P would be so proud of me.”

“Oh, absolutely,” he teases. She grins and lays back on the sand, looking out at the ocean. Somewhere out there, Orm is solid and real and talking to a holographic version of herself. It makes her feel funny, looking back up at him standing in front of her in his watery state, “What are you thinking about, Althera?”

“Oh, nothing. I had a lot of fun today and I’m just reflecting on that.”

“I’m glad one of us had a good day today,” he says, smiling warily, “I miss you.”

She smiles, “I miss you, too.”

“Someone mentioned that our ship was collecting barnacles today and I felt a wave of sadness wash over me. How bizarre is that?”

She laughs, grabbing a pebble and throwing it at his shape, “I’m not a barnacle, Orm!”

“My lucky little barnacle,” he chuckles, then his eyes widen as if struck with an epiphany, “Eden! Are they already scraping off the barnacles?”

She watches curiously when his tone changes as he converses with someone she can’t see on his end of the call.

“Tell them to leave one attached.” Silence, then Orm nods, “Yes, just a single barnacle. Thank you.”

“See,” he says, turning back to her, “Now you’re here with me.”

Just this once, she’s fine with being a barnacle.

She met with Barry in his apartment. It’s different from the place he used to have, but apparently, he uses that as his secret headquarters now. She liked the aesthetic of that place a lot more but supposes he can’t display all his cool gadgets and whatnot in his normal civilian living space.

Chewing slowly, she sits across the table from Barry’s friend Victor, apparently also known as Cyborg of the Justice League. Because she arrived later than expected, Barry has already eaten and she now snacks on the granola Demeter paid her with. Whenever she crunches too loud, Victor winces. And, as funny as it is to get such a reaction out of the Cyborg, she feels that it isn’t a great first impression.

Closing her little satchel of granola, she strings it onto her hip and folds her hands in her lap.

“So, Barry says you two basically saved the world all on your own one time,” she says, trying to start a friendly conversation.

“Why are you involved with the Atlantean fugitive?”

Her first instinct is to laugh at such immediate hostility, but she resists. Again, not a great first impression. Instead, she sinks into her chair and swings her feet over the floor, “Because… I believe in second chances?”

She looks over at Barry, who smiles awkwardly and gives her a thumbs-up. Victor continues, “Even for a murderer?”

“Yes?”

“You seem uncertain,” he continues to glower and Barry interjects.

“You know, the first time I met Orm, he really seemed much more murder-y. But he’s really nice now. Still scary, but nice. And, you know, it’s almost been a year since he last murdered someone.”

Victor pretty much ignores him, still looking at Al, “You know I can’t trust you.”

“Well, luckily I haven’t asked you to,” she says, raising her eyebrows, then leans forward, “Is it hard?”

He blinks and she sees all his thoughts scatter in several different directions as he tries to figure out what she’s talking about, “Is what hard?”

“Living as a robotic Black man.”

He bites his bottom lip and then turns his head. She could almost swear that it was a restrained smile, but she is not gonna push her luck by calling it out.

“Althera,” Barry groans, looking embarrassed.

“I'm just asking. I think it's a pretty valid question and I’m just trying to get to know him a little bit better,” she shrugs, “I know that my abilities work in my favor often. Especially at, like, clubs and bars. People see a short Black girl on the dance floor and think they can mess around and get away with shit then bam. They get a rock-hard fist to the face.”

Barry’s eyes light up as she displays her fist, now literally composed of stone. He laughs, “You forget that I have witnessed the fist of stone in action?”

“‘The fist of stone,” she repeats, rolling her eyes, “I thought we retired that name. It’s not even clever. And no, I didn’t forget. I was just showing off a little.”

She winks at Victor, who continues glowering, then asks, “So what are you up to today?”

“We’re gonna meet with Mr. Wayne tomorrow,” Barry answers, “Wanna join?”

“Oh, sure. I’ve got nothing else on the schedule.”

“How’s Orm doing, anyway?”

“He’s alright. He’s not telling me everything, but I know he’s pretty stressed about what’s going on. He asked me to go visit friends and family before he left because he is worried about the small probability that someone might target me to get to him. I only listened because I didn’t want the possibility of being poisoned by sea urchins again.”

"Poisoned by sea urchins?” Victor asks.

She displays her arms and shows him the scars, “Atlanteans have some pretty fascinating means of distributing pain.”

He stares at the star-shaped scar for a moment, then looks away again without saying a thing. She snorts and he frowns, looking her straight in the eyes, “What?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that you kinda remind me of someone.”

“I can’t imagine there are many people like me.”

“Maybe not exactly like you. But you still can have a similar personality, can’t you?” she says.

The question makes his glowering turn into a straight frown and he pushes his chair back, standing and walking to the window. She frowns, wondering what she did to make him angry, and then looks at Barry.

“So, are you gonna bunk here tonight?” he asks, “It’ll be like a sleepover.”

Chapter Text

“What in the name of all of Atlantis are you wearing?”

She giggles so hard that she nearly doubles over, and he grins, though he still looks very concerned about the whole situation.

“It’s prototype armor. Bruce is working on making it for me,” she explains after catching her breath.

“No. Take it off right now. I can’t take you seriously in that,” he says, still half serious, even though he laughs.

“Orm, I do need armor if I’m gonna be any help to Bruce.”

“When this is over, I will bring some home for you. I’ll have Mera pick you up and take you to Atlantis so you can pick out your own. I’ll do anything if I never have to see you wearing that idiotic armor ever again.”

“Be nice!”

“Althera, you are dressed like a bat. You have little bat ears on the top of your head.”

She wheezes, reaching up and taking the mask off, “I thought it didn’t look too bad.”

“Yeah? Well, you look best in your Atlantean attire.”

“Uh-huh. And Kal would prefer I wear something blue and red, Barry wants to slap a lightning bolt on my chest, Diana still insists that I should spend a few years in Themyscira and earn my armor, and Bruce thinks I look best as a bat. There’s no winning.”

Orm looks up at something on his end of the call and then smiles, “Arthur says he votes Atlantean. So that’s two votes against one each.”

She rolls her eyes, “Fine. You bring me something Atlantean and I’ll wear it. But I have to wear what Bruce gives me in the meantime,” she says. He raises his eyebrows, probably to start teasing again, and she quickly changes the subject, “You look tired.”

“I feel fine.”

“You need to go to sleep.”

“I will,” he says, then sighs, “I had to solve a sort of puzzle today. Took me longer to solve than I’d like to admit. You would have figured it out sooner.”

“I doubt it. Not if you couldn’t figure it out.”

He falls quiet and she sheds the rest of the armor. As she sits down on the rug, he says quite suddenly, “You were right. We’re a team and we function much like one, even when we’re separate. I’m here missing things you would normally catch. When did we become so in tune with each other?”

“Spending very near 24/7 with someone will do that. Even when we spend the day in our respective rooms, we’re still in the same house bending to each other’s routines and habits.”

“Well, I need to remember how to function without you.”

“I imagine you’re still miles ahead of everyone else on your team,” she says and he grins.

“I would say I am still the most observant, yes,” he says, then tilts his head, “You’re helping Bruce right now?”

“Yeah. There were some really creepy creatures coming out of the water the other day. Apparently it was on the news, but you know me. Hold on, I took a picture of one on my phone, I’ll show you.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket and scrolls for a second, then shows him, “See. Really freaking creepy.”

The look on his face makes her stomach twist as he answers, “Althera... by the Gods, I need to send you some Atlantean armor ASAP.”

“Wait, did those things have something to do with you?”

“Those are literally creatures from the Trench,” he sighs, “Look I’m going to have something sent to the Surface. Where can I send it so that Bruce will be able to track it?”

They figure out a location and she is to wait a day or two for it to arrive. It eventually does and she opens up a box to find two complete suits of armor, one in deep silver and the other a deep bronze. Inside are also several pairs of wet suits in several different neutral colors. She decides to model the armor for him the next time he calls.

“Oh my…”

“Do you like it?” she asks, then rolls her eyes before he can answer, “Of course you do. All you wanted was me in Atlantean armor. And there was a note about the gloves, but honestly, I think I can do without them. Or maybe Bruce can figure something--”

“You look perfect, Althera,” he interjects.

Her cheeks grow hot and she suddenly feels self-conscious in the armor, ironically, “Thanks, Orm.”

They fall quiet for a moment before Orm speaks again, “Now if any other weird occurrences come from the ocean, you might be a bit better equipped.”

She waits for his call, but it doesn’t come. She tells herself everything is fine. He has skipped a few days before.

Three more days pass and she calls Bruce to ask for a mission. Anything to take her mind off things. She delves into any task he gives her completely, leaving no space for error. She meets new people on the team and even finds herself working behind the scenes with Alfred a little. It’s amazing how much Bruce’s world has changed since the League became a thing. She had always seen him as more of a lone worker, but he’s expanded his facilities into other cities a little. He’s met more people with more abilities than she can count and the vast majority of them know him only as Batman.

These new people and these interesting tasks take her mind off things for a while, but when a week passes with no communication from either Orm or his brother, she starts feeling a little stressed. Every morning she wakes surrounded by all kinds of luxuries that Bruce sends to distract her, yet all day her focus is pulled to the white band on her wrist.

He’s fine. He’s a busy man on a mission that likely demands a lot of his attention. She shouldn’t worry. There is no reason to worry. Worrying is only going to put her in a state of misery over something that is completely out of her control.

When another week goes by, she is downright irate. She doesn’t do it intentionally, but the others are careful to steer clear of her, except for Barry, who has been with her through some of the worst hangovers.

Still, she remains as optimistic as she can be. Orm is just busy. Everything is fine.

Chapter Text

They were in the middle of a ceremony when the band around her wrist buzzed again. It was a different pattern than usual, and she frowned when making eye contact with Bruce for a split second before he nodded at her to go.

The pattern was different because it was Arthur she found herself talking to instead of Orm. He looked exhausted, sounded tired and quiet, though just as warm as he usually is toward her. Neither of them mentioned his brother and he didn’t give her much information to go with. He did, however, give her when and where he was going to surface and she flew there instantly.

That was four hours ago.

She grips her high heels tight in her hands as she looks over the water. Behind her, Barry, Bruce, and Victor talk, having met up with her after the first two hours of waiting alone. Neither Barry nor Bruce changed, their suit jackets tossed over the lawn chair Victor sits in, looking disgruntled.

In four hours, she has hardly taken her eyes off the water. She worries silently. Arthur specifically said the nearest inlet to their home. She is in the right location. She is anxious, yet she remains still in the sand, registering every wave, every ripple in the water.

Suddenly, shapes begin to emerge from the water before her.

Her heart sinks to her stomach as Arthur leads the way up the beach, followed by Mera. Behind them are the silhouettes of two soldiers. No Orm.

She walks forward and meets them halfway. Reaching out, she takes Arthur in a quick hug. Swallowing hard, she leans back and smiles, “You’re alright, Arthur?”

He smiles back, “Yeah, sorry we’re late.”

Clenching her jaw, she shakes her head, trying to stay composed, “It’s fine. Besides, you said we needed to talk and I didn’t know if it was urgent or not.”

Behind Arthur, two other shapes emerge from the water, one in a less fluid way than the Atlanteans.

“Mama Di? Queen Atlanna,” she breathes.

Diana grins from behind the Atlantean mask made for breathing underwater, rushing up to Althera and squeezing her, “I think I understand the appeal you have for Atlantis, now. It is a beautiful place.”

She nods, “It is, but what in the world were you doing in Atlantis?”

Everyone looks so worn out that she hates the thought of grilling them for answers, but one question burns in her throat and she's going to have to ask eventually unless someone offers up the info on their own.

“I was passing over the area and heard their distress call. Kal-el was with me. They were both very surprised to see us,” she smiles, reaching up and releasing the mask, then pulling her hair out of her face, “Kal said he was going to come to see you before he left.”

“Both?”

“Arthur and Orm. Who else?” she chuckles, “Though I guess you haven’t had time to convene. Have you heard anything yet?”

“No, Arthur and I haven’t talked yet. We were just going--”

“Not from Arthur, from Orm.”

It takes everything to stay composed when she answers, “No. Why?”

“What? I assumed he had already contacted you,” Arthur says, confused.

“Wait, you told me he did contact her,” Mera says, frowning.

“He did. I heard him talking to someone right before I called her,” Arthur says, rubbing his face and yawning.

“When was that?” Mera asks, tilting her head with her hands on her hips.

“I don’t remember. Like, four hours ago.”

“He called me,” Atlanna says, “Could it be possible you misinterpreted the call?”

“No way,” Arthur says, his attitude resolute, then frowns, “I mean, I guess it could be possible.”

Her voice feels small in her throat when she says, “I haven’t heard from him at all.”

“Then what is taking him so long?” Mera says, looking back out at the water.

“He was being extremely thorough with the report. He said he didn’t want to have to return to do any follow-up,” Diana says.

Bruce walks over, looking concerned, “Things sound a little messy over here. What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“Althera, I swear I thought you two had already talked. I probably sounded so cryptic on the call,” Arthur says.

There is a minute more of back-and-forth conversations that Althera tries her hardest to grasp sense of before her irritability spikes and she stamps her foot in the sand, the energy of the movement causing the sand to rise and scatter.

“Everyone please pipe down for five seconds and then tell me where Orm is!”

They turn and look at her in surprise, sand still falling, and everyone dead silent, per her wishes. Behind her, someone clears his throat.

She turns and stares. He stands alone a few feet away from everyone else. He drips water, like the others. Unlike them, though, he has taken his boots off and carries them under his arm.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, his voice sheepish.

She lets out a gust of air and straightens her posture, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly, “You had better be sorry. For this entire situation.”

He doesn’t break eye contact when he nods, “I wanted to wrap everything up. Less messes later on if I do it when it’s still fresh. Also, I wanted the whole thing to be done with so I could sleep in without interruption for the next week or so.”

“Of course. Makes sense.”

They fall silent and, after a few moments, he smiles sideways and tears his eyes away from hers, looking down at the sand, “You weren’t too worried about me, were you?”

She scoffs, her arms falling to her sides, “Me? Worried about you?”

Though she tries to keep her tough façade up, her heart fails her and her throat tightens up on her. She bites down on her lip, her eyes filling with tears, and when he looks up again, he sees this and takes a step toward her.

“Althera, I--”

She flies at him, slamming into him. He stumbles back a few steps, his boots falling out of his arms and into the sand, his arms coming around her and hugging her as close to him as his armor will allow.

She sobs silently into his chest, the cool metal soothing the heat in her face.

“I’m alright, Atlhera,” he says quietly, “I’m just fine.”

“I thought… the miscommunication… it… and Arthur said, ‘we need to talk, Althera’ and I thought for sure that he was going to tell me… and then you weren’t there… you didn’t call or anything for two weeks, Orm.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he says, leaning down and pressing his cheek to hers. The water runs off of him and soaks into her clothes, but she hardly feels it.

“If our roles were reversed, you’d be furious with me,” she says, her voice a whisper.

“I would be incredibly frustrated with you right now. I know, Althera. I should have been better. I should have contacted you sooner.”

“You… idiot…” she murmurs, her voice hollow-sounding against his armor. He shakes softly with laughter and she closes her eyes, feeling him kiss the top of her head.

“I deserve that.”

“Yes you do.”

“I missed you.”

“Did you really?” she asks, a little too sarcastically.

“Althera…”

“I missed you, too. Not a word for two weeks, Orm?”

“I know. I know. But next time you’re going with me, right?”

She leans back slowly, his arms unraveling from around her. He looks down at her, his blond hair catching the setting sunlight, the muted silver armor looking molten under her fingertips.

“I decided that we both are much more focused when we’re together. We’re a team, right?”

She nods and then smiles, wiping her tears on the sleeve of her dress, “I mean, that’s what I said in the first place, isn’t it?”

He lets out a single chuckle, “Yeah, I suppose so.”

She stares straight up at him and she grows elated despite herself. Despite still being angry that he allowed her to think he was dead or badly injured. Despite allowing her to stew in her imagination for too long, she still finds herself in complete bliss at the sight of his eyes worriedly searching her face.

“I’m sorry, Althera,” he says, his voice final.

She can’t help that she has a big ol’ soft spot for the idiot. She sniffs and nods, “I know.”

Clearing his throat, he heaves a big sigh and looks around, drawing her back to reality.

Everyone watches them curiously, even Kal, who must have appeared in the middle of everything. Arthur, Mera, Kal, and Barry all have their brows raised as if waiting for something interesting to happen. Diana and Bruce look wary, squinting at the two of them as if waiting for something dangerous to play out. Victor looks confused. And Atlanna stares with her head slightly tilted, a soft smile on her lips.

Althera clears her throat, taking a step away from him.

“Well, I feel like a complete dork,” she laughs, playfully punching Orm’s arm, “Such a drama queen, amirite?”

He looks over at her and then nods, “Yeah. We all know you’re a drama queen.”

She snickers, leaning down and plucking her heels from the sand, “Hey, everyone’s invited to our place. I conveniently put in an enormous lasagna this morning and was wondering who was going to help me finish it.”

“Really?” Barry says, jogging behind her, “Cause I’ve worked up quite the appetite.”

“You didn’t do anything today,” she rolls her eyes.

He rambles on as he defends himself and she glances behind her, watching the others decide to follow her up the hill and to the house. Only one person continues watching her.

Orm has collected his discarded boots and his eyes follow her, a soft smile on his face. She smiles back and turns.

She’s so happy he’s home.

Chapter Text

Orm is safe. His arrival is like a weight has been freed from her very soul. And she has received another gift with his arrival. Their impromptu dinner party is something she didn't know her soul needed until this very moment. It's been so long since she has been with a group that creates such a lively, comforting atmosphere, yet today her home is warm and loud with voices and laughter while outside grows colder as the seasons begin to change.

Even Victor seems to be enjoying himself as he talks with Diana and Queen Atlanna. Orm and Bruce are in discussion, leaning over the coffee table, the date of the construction project creeping closer and closer. Arthur sits on the couch drinking a beer and he and Barry interrupt them off and on. She, Mera and Kal drift in and out of conversations with everyone.

"Is your place always like this?"

She blinks in surprise, looking up at Victor who walks up behind her as she does a few of the dishes. He grabs a towel and dries the plates she already washed.

"No, it's usually just Orm and I. But this is great, isn't it?"

"It's nice," he agrees. He asks Althera where to put the plates away, and then returns to the table with Diana.

When she walks to the table herself, she enjoys a conversation with Queen Atlanna, who has loved spending the evening watching her sons have a meal together and chat as if they've always been this comfortable with each other. As Arthur sits on the couch next to Orm, his legs slung across Orm's lap, Althera is also in awe at how much their relationship has grown just over the last month.

"Could you imagine if I had two boys of my own?" Althera says casually to Atlanna, because Atlanna is someone she can comfortably talk to about that aspect of her life. Diana, on the other hand, interrupts Kal mid-sentence to stare at her.

"Excuse me?"

Blushing, Althera dismisses her, "I was talking to Atlanna, nosey."

"Are you planning on having children, Althera?"

"No! Not any time soon."

"She wants to have a happy and healthy relationship with the future child's father, first," Atlanna reassures, which only makes Althera blush more.

"I think you'd be a great mom, Al," Kal says, trying to be supportive, "And you could always adopt. Or, if it's important to you to carry, doctors have everything you need to be artificially inse--"

She moves around the table in an instant, her arms draped around his neck with much love, but also a very tight grip.

"I'm not having baby fever, Kal-el," she purrs, "But I appreciate your suggestions and may heed your advice in the far future."

He chuckles, knowing very well that she's shutting him up and he squeezes her forearm to let her know he got the message. She kisses the top of his head before releasing him and returns to her conversation with Queen Atlanna, Mera now watching her with a different kind of curiosity.

"Althera, may I ask you something that may be a little personal?" she asks.

"I'm clearly an open book tonight, so feel free," she laughs awkwardly, "Though I may choose to be coy."

Mera smiles and nods, asking, "What, personally, is your biggest goal right now?"

Althera blinks, completely unprepared to get so existential.

"Oh?" she says, to buy herself a little time, "I suppose it was Atlantis that helped me come to this conclusion, but right now my goal is to slow down."

Mera tilts her head, "What do you mean?"

"I'm sure everyone here knows in one way or another that life can sometimes build up so much speed. And you just keep moving and pushing through whatever it throws at you and then, one day, you find yourself up against a wall. I feel like my entire life has been like that. Ever since I was tiny, I was bumped around and made to move, move, move. And when I was in that coma in Atlantis, I was forced to a halt. An abrupt pause. A complete stop. At first, I hated every moment of it. Over time, though, I was able to accept it. And it became a little therapeutic, being forced into a kind of meditation. When I met Orm, it was like he needed the exact same thing. Since we've come to the Surface together, we've been taking each day a day at a time. Some days pile up on us a little, but since I no longer feel so detached from myself, I'm able to deal with the struggles with a clearer mind. I'm starting to understand myself more. What I want, what I need, what I value, that kind of stuff. I mean, the fact that I've even considered a future where I might have kids is proof of that. A few years ago, I would have insisted I'd never be a mother! Now, I think it's a possibility I don't hate thinking about. So... yeah, this has been my goal for the last few years. The only thing that hasn't really slowed down is my overactive imagination."

Mera falls quiet again, as she has much of the evening, and Atlanna nods, "An imagination is a good thing."

"Not when your best friend is called to a potentially life-threatening mission," she laughs, "At one point, I convinced myself he was hit in the head, got amnesia, and forgot everything about me."

"Oh, darling, that's horrible!" Atlanna gasps.

She giggles at Atlanna's reaction, "Exactly! But I'm very glad that didn't happen. I dunno what I would do without him, at this point. He's kinda the one who anchors me to reality, lately. Keeps me from running down the path of worst-case scenarios."

Some more time passes, and suddenly it is silently decided that it has grown late. Slowly, everyone starts to get up and move around the house, until, eventually, the front door closes and she finds herself staring out the front window, a melancholy feeling in her chest.

As if sensing the wave of emotion wash over her, warm arms wrap around her waist and she places her hands over his forearms.

“What are you thinking, Miss Prince?”

A little frown on her lips, she answers, “I was just wondering when the next time they all might visit like that again might be. It’d have to be an important occasion.”

“Was my homecoming a special occasion?”

Heat rises in her face. Her worry about his safety had made her forget exactly how big of a crush she has on this Atlantean prince. Since they’ve returned home, it’s all come rushing back.

“Absolutely,” she says, turning in his grasp and sliding her arms under his, hugging him close. She squeezes him and, feeling how tight the muscles in his back are, she frowns deeper, “Geez, you’re tense, Orm. Was it really that stressful?”

He grimaces as she looks up at him, “I’ll fill you in tomorrow. Right now, I just want to rest.”

“Where’d you put your armor?”

“It’s in a pile in my room.”

“I put mine in there,” she nods to the living room closet door and he laughs, “What?”

“Can you imagine what Ori might do if he opens that door and finds mine and your armor in there?”

She giggles, “Can you imagine if he’d walked into the house just an hour ago?”

Orm laughs and she slips out of his grasp. Walking over to the couch, she gestures, “Look, Mr. Marius, this is a limited-time offer. Take your shirt off and lay down on your belly.”

“Quite the aggressive offer,” he teases, giving her a funny look as he walks over to the couch and does what she says. She sits down, with a leg on each side of his waist, and begins kneading into his back. The quiet is a little awkward, but she really does want him to rest. However, she is relieved when he starts a conversation, “So, what fun things did you do without me?”

She goes into the abridged version of what she, Barry, and Victor were up to, trying to explain Victor in the best way possible, as all Orm really got out of him today was a handshake. She’s sure Victor would love to have begun the “murderer interrogation” he did with her, however probably felt a little outnumbered with Orm, his mother, his brother, and Althera in the same house. Or maybe he was just being polite.

“You can send him to me whenever, Althera. I’ll answer honestly, you know I will.”

“I wouldn't worry about it. I don’t even know if he likes me or not. And I’m sure that as long as we don’t kill anyone, he’ll act like we don’t exist.”

She presses on a spot at his ribs and he inhales sharply. She apologizes, then asks, “Did you get looked at?”

“It’s just a few bruised ribs. I’ll be fine in a week or two.”

She grunts in response and starts looking closer at the scars across his broad back. When she is satisfied that she doesn’t see any she doesn’t recognize, she feels better.

They fall into silence again, and she finds herself enjoying the thoughtless movement as she loosens his back up. His shoulders are stubbornly tight, though, and she finds she has to press a little harder to find any relief. As she works, the deeper the silence she gets, and she assumes she has succeeded in putting him to sleep. However, when she presses on a particularly tight spot in his traps muscles, he surprises her by making an incredibly relaxed, almost sexual noise that makes the heat spread, not just to her cheeks, but through her entire body.

He starts to shake underneath her and she knows he is laughing at himself. She can’t help it when she covers her mouth and starts laughing, too. He pushes himself up onto his hands and knees and she is lifted into the air on his back. She laughs harder when he drops her onto the couch, turning and revealing that his face, ears, and chest are bright red with embarrassment.

“I am far too comfortable with you,” he says eyes averted as he grabs his shirt off the floor and wrings it between his hands. She stops giggling long enough to compose herself, then crawls over, taking his face in her hands.

“I don’t mind,” she says, “It means you feel safe with me.”

Still bashful, he takes her hand and places a kiss on her knuckle, “I really do.”

Chapter Text

They plan to stay in for the day, lounging and catching up. Orm is amazed to hear she visited her big brother Hephaestus, and even more amazed to hear that the god has an interest in their project.

She is stunned and amazed to hear about his and Arthur’s adventure. Apparently, his fortnight of silence had been because of their ship being blown up. He admits he also hated not having any means of contacting her.

“But things turned out fine, didn't they?”

She rolls her eyes and he chuckles nervously before changing the subject, “But tell me about your encounter with the creatures of the Trench.”

“There’s nothing crazy to tell. You know how Bruce and I do business. He tosses me a few details and if it sounds boring, I won’t go. But this one was interesting enough.”

While they catch up, they enjoy their tea, Orm having steeped orange spice for her without knowing she was craving it and despite her usual cup of plain green tea like him. Somehow, despite him being gone for weeks, they are still in tune.

They settle into a comfy silence and, finishing her tea, she grabs a pile of kitchen towels, still warm from the laundry cycle, and dumps them on the table.

“Althera?”

He says her name with a slight tone after a small stretch of towel-folding, piquing her curiosity, “Yes?”

“Have you ever healed someone’s injuries before?”

She blinks, then shivers when the unpleasant texture of a microfiber towel catches her by surprise, “Umm no. No, only very select deities have that ability. And Apollo could help speed up healing, but not flat-out heal. Why do you ask?”

He takes a drink of his tea and twists a little in his chair before answering, “I told you I took a pretty bad hit to the ribs and bruised them, right? And you saw how I flinched when you accidentally pressed against them last night? In Atlantis, I went to the doctor because my breathing hurt. They said I should be fine after a week or so, yet I woke this morning and there is no pain at all. I just wondered if you had something to do with it. If your back massage last night was magical or something.”

“No, that isn’t my doing. Maybe you acquired super healing in my absence,” she jokes, setting the stack of small towels aside, “Although, a week of bruised ribs already is a miracle. My brother Ares bruised himself up real bad one time and refused to relax and he was out for a few months. I need to learn more about Atlantean biology so I know whether or not you should be resting.”

He is quiet for a moment, setting aside his own pile of towels and then looking up at her as she looks up at him.

“I can help you get familiar with Atlantean biology, if you'd like. All for the sake of education, of course.”

She raises her eyebrows. If she didn’t know better, she’d assume that was innuendo. And, by the slow smile that plays on his lips, she finds herself giggling at the realization that he knew exactly what he was saying.

“Hmm, you’re my professor, now, huh?” she teases right back, “What else can you teach me, Sir?”

He looks surprised by this equally flirty response. She roars in laughter when he answers, “Poetry?”

“They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and I have put a lot of distance between me and your poetry,” she teases when she recovers.

He beams, a soft flush in his cheeks, and then puts on a very serious expression, “Which reminds me that I wrote a poem for you while on my work trip.”

She places her elbows on the table, propping her head up on her hands, leaning in to look up at him, “I’m eager to hear it.”

“Don't get your hopes up, the main rhyme is anything that even slightly rhymes with 'barnacle'.”

He is such a dork. He makes her laugh and smile like a dork, herself. She is so happy he is home.

Orm left an hour ago to stretch himself out and recover his Surface legs by going on a jog. She stayed in, did a bit of stretching herself, and now lies on her back, staring hard at a small blemish in the ceiling’s cream-colored paint.

Hearing the front door open and close, she raises her eyebrows when, a little while later, a face appears in her line of sight.

“Ah. So this is how you spent your days the entire time I was gone?”

She bites back a smile, ignoring him and focusing on the ceiling above his head. He scootches forward more and fills her entire line of sight, asking, “What on earth are you doing?”

“I was reflecting. Now I’m staring at your face.”

He flashes a wide grin, “Like what you see?”

She giggles, reaching up and covering his eyes so he can’t see how much of a liar she is, “No.”

He laughs and lays down beside her. After what must have been a moment of decision-making, he rolls over and plops down on top of her.

The ‘oof’ sound that leaves her lips tells her that he had landed on her with his full weight. Recovering from the surprise, she giggles hard. He lifts his head and looks down at her.

“Orm, get off!”

“Wow. You are so strong. I thought that would kill you.”

“Yet you did it anyway?”

“I didn’t think it would be an immediate death,” he says, dropping back down and burying his face in her neck, “I was going to get off of you, but since you’re fine, I’ll stay here. Keep doing your reflecting or whatever.”

“Orm, darling, in the best way possible, you are quite a large distraction.”

He nestles closer and ignores her.

“Orm!”

Nothing. Though she could physically shove him off and show off more of her strength, she lets her hands flop down beside her, faking a rattling breath as if she died. Still no movement.

“Who’s the barnacle now?” she hollers and she feels him shake with silent laughter.

He pushes up onto his elbows, in a plank as he hovers over her, “You’re right, that is a horrible nickname.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!”

“It is horrible. However, I think I’m going to stick to it. No pun intended.”

She grimaces, then places her hands on his shoulders, preparing to push him off. She draws her hands back quickly, “Ew, Orm, you’re all sweaty.”

“Do you like that, Ms. Prince?”

“No, go take a shower.”

She groans dramatically as he lowers himself down on top of her again, this time squeezing her so tight that her giggle turns into a full peal of laughter.

“Orm, stop! Ew,” she laughs, pushing his shoulders away, “You’re so gross! You’re hanging out with your brother too much.”

He fake gasps, “Take it back!”

“No!”

“Take it back right now or I’ll shake like a dog.”

“Leave me alone!” she laughs.

“Take it back, Althera, or you’ll be mopping sweat off the ceiling.”

“You are disgusting!” she insists, and he squeezes her again.

“Take it back, Althera…” he says, his tone mock warning and she feels him tense up. Though he mostly plays, she knows he isn’t bluffing about shaking his sweat everywhere.

“Fine! Let me breathe,” she says, and he lifts himself back up again, grinning down at her, “I guess I take it back. You’re not quite as gross as your brother.”

“I don’t know if I accept that.”

“Isn’t it bad for you Atlanteans to sweat?” she asks, trying to be serious.

“Not if I’m properly hydrated. Don’t change the subject, Ms. Prince.”

She glowers, “You’re icky and sticky.”

“That’s it, I have no choice.”

“No! Orm, leave me alone,” she screams and he braces himself again.

“Al!”

She and Orm both tense up in surprise at the sound of a third person in the house.

She pushes Orm off of her with ease and sits up, Orm casually sitting at her side. Kal stares from behind the couch, a deep frown of concern on his face, and the front door of the house still wide open.

Chapter Text

“Hey,” she breathes, feeling the heat spread through her face.

”Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah, everything is fine.”

Kal blinks, seeming to realize the situation isn't as dire as he first expected, his cheeks turning a rare shade of pink, “I apologize for letting myself in. I just…”

“We were just messing around. Playing. Being dumb,” she says, feeling admonished. Then she grimaces. She’s done nothing wrong. There's nothing to feel guilty about.

He looks down and she wonders if he is embarrassed. Hoping to change the subject, she looks at Orm who had sat quietly while she was talking to Kal. He doesn’t look too affected by the situation. He raises his eyebrows, a smidgeon of mischief in his eyes, and she shakes her head very slightly.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Orm announces. She sighs.

“Good. Thanks to you, I now smell like a sweaty man and have to change.”

He grins as he walks away and she glares back.

Then she and Kal are alone.

She wonders briefly what might have gone through Kal’s head once he opened the door. She doubts the pink in his cheeks is from too much exercise. He looks at her and frowns deeper.

“I promise I won’t burst into your house again. I just… I heard you scream, Al. I assumed the worst.”

“You thought Orm was, what? Hurting me?”

“To be fair, I don’t know him very well. I spoke to him very little when Diana and I helped with their problem. And what I do know about him doesn’t make him seem any less capable of hurting you,” he says, then adds quickly before she can respond, “Because you trust him, I have given him the benefit of the doubt. But I think it was a fair assumption, hearing you scream, and I quote, ‘No. Orm, leave me alone.’”

She sighs, stands, and walks around him and the couch, to the front door. Inspecting it, she makes sure he didn’t break the lock or anything and finds the structure intact, “Well, it’s over. We were just playing around, I promise.”

He doesn’t seem to be completely satisfied by this explanation, “A bizarre game.”

“Not with context.”

“Enlighten me?”

“By the Gods,” she breathes, walking through the living room, to her room. He follows her, “Why are you acting like you need to protect me from something? Orm and I have been living together for practically a year now.”

“But even you have to admit that some of the men you’ve been with before have been--”

“Wait just one second, Clark, because you first should acknowledge that you are included in that category of men, are you not?” She asks and he frowns, leaning against the doorframe, “Second of all, Orm and I are friends. He’s honestly my best friend at the moment. We were messing around and having fun. You can look me over with your fancy eyeballs and check if I’m healthy or if my heart is racing because I’m lying to you and you will see that that is the extent of what you walked in on. Okay?”

They fall silent and she feels annoyed as she reaches into her closet and pulls out a new top. He sits on the bed with his back to her as she changes and when she walks up to him, he looks up at her.

“I guess I’m not used to seeing you like this with anyone, except…”

He falls quiet and she tilts her head, “Except you?”

He frowns deeply, “I assure you, Al, I’m not jealous. I am beyond happy in my relationship with Lois. And you and I both know whatever we had was over ages ago. But I can’t help feeling like I need to protect you. You were, and are, someone who means a lot to me. And seeing the look on your face yesterday when you saw him… If he were to hurt you, in any way, Althera…”

She takes his face in her hands and he allows her to guide his eyes up to hers as she admires him for the millionth time since meeting him. Clark Kent. The most genuine and kind-hearted man she knows, both in words and action. She understands the feeling he’s talking about because she knows that if she ever thought someone was trying to hurt him, she’d be the exact same way.

She can’t help it when she cracks a smile, “You are too sweet.”

He sighs, giving her that disappointed look he wears so well, “I’m trying to be serious.”

“So am I. You’re a good person, Clark. One of the best,” she says, dropping her hands from his face and sitting beside him, “Thank you for allowing me to be one of the people you care about.”

One of his eyebrows raises slightly when he asks, “You’re not mad at me?”

“No. And I was embarrassed more than anything. I thought that you were gonna think that he and I were… y’know. When he and I aren’t even… yeah.”

When he doesn’t immediately say something, she looks up at him to see his head tilted and a dubious look on his face, “You’re not?”

“No. Why?”

“You kinda seem like you are.”

“Nope.”

“Interesting.”

“Not really.”

He looks down at her and then laughs, putting an arm around her and squeezing her in a side hug. She can’t help it when she smiles, pressing her face to his shoulder.

“You know, maybe I should try to get to know him a little better. Diana had some relatively nice things to say about him. And Bruce thinks he’s a good enough guy to align himself with. And, well, you seem to like him. A lot.”

“I know I overreacted when Orm arrived on that beach yesterday… But we’ve been through some weird shit together. The reason Bruce has come to trust him, as much as Bruce’ll trust anyone, is because he’s witnessed some of it. And I know in the past I haven’t always been careful, but honestly, my friendship with Orm doesn’t feel like a mistake at all. Not once have I had to question whether I made the right decision in bringing him to the Surface with me. He feels like… like someone who is always going to matter to me, even if we part ways in the future. Someone like you.”

He nods, then asks, “He doesn’t know how you feel about him?”

She clicks her tongue, tilting her head back to look up at him, “How do I feel about him, Clark?”

He twists around to get a better look at her face, “Al.”

She sighs. It’s a gift and a curse that he knows her so well.

“Why make everything messy when he’s just going to return to Atlantis anyway?”

“He said he’s going to leave for Atlantis?” he asks.

“No. He didn't outright say it. But why would he stay behind if he can return? You’ve never heard the way he speaks about Atlantis. That’s his home. That’s the place he belongs.“

“Okay? So then what’s stopping you from going with him? I saw you still had your gills yesterday.”

“Because then I would be dragging myself along,” she breathes, exasperated, “He has never so much as looked at me in a romantic context. Why would he? He’s an Atlantean Prince and he is the perfect embodiment of that. And here I am. A rejected demigod. One of many as a child of Zeus. I’ve blundered over myself far too many times to count, made mistakes that would make any normal human implode with embarrassment. Even if, by some miracle, he decided he’d take a chance on me, would a relationship with me really be worthwhile?”

Silence. Then, “You talk down on yourself so much, Althera.”

“I call it as I see it, Clark.”

“Well…” he starts, “As someone who does care about you I’m going to tell you something, and I mean it with pure respect. If that’s you calling it as you see it… you’re absolutely blind.”

“Kal…”

“Hell, even if Orm doesn’t think of you as a romantic interest, as one of your best friends I’m sure he’d have some strong words to tell you if he heard you talking like this.”

“I’m sure he would,” she sighs, “How did we get from 'is this guy bothering you' to 'I'm going to snitch to him'? My friends are so wishy-washy.”

Kal smiles, grabbing her and squeezing her so tight she feels like she’s going to pop. Giggling hard, she manages to wiggle out of his grasp and lands on her butt on the floor. He stands and holds his hands out, pulling her to her feet, “Don’t talk about my friend like that again, alright? Our past arguments aside, any man, Prince of Atlantis included, would be lucky to have you. And I really mean it.”

“Thanks, Clark. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Their conversation pretty much over, she figures she should get him out of her bedroom before he starts going through her stuff. His hands still in hers, she pulls him into the living room. Orm is in the kitchen, now, squeaky clean and dressed. Looking over his shoulder, he asks, “Will you be staying for dinner?”

“I really don’t think I can. I already created a commotion with my arrival.”

“So does my brother, yet he tends to stay for the whole day,” Orm jokes, with a slight grimace. Then he adds, “You’re welcome to stay if you’d like.”

Kal looks down at her as if for permission and she shrugs. He seems to think it over before he nods, “In that case, sure. I can stick around a little while.”

She knows it’s his curiosity about Orm that gets him to stay. She doesn’t mind, though.

She asks Orm if he needs help making dinner and he rejects her offer, encouraging her to catch up with her friend. Even so, she drags Orm into the conversation whenever she can, hoping he makes a good impression on Kal.

Luckily, he’s in a very good mood, and he hums quietly to himself as he works. She loves when he's in these moods. It reminds her of her uncle, who would drink a glass of wine, offer her a cup of grape juice, and hum while making them a meal. Her uncle’s hums always sounded more like lullabies, though, whereas Orm’s sound more like something heard at sunrise.

The topic of Kal’s arrival pops up again and something occurs to her, “Why were you coming over in the first place?”

“Ah, actually I was retracing my steps. I left something kinda important somewhere. But Arthur texted me when you were changing and told me he found it on his ship. Whoops,” he chuckles, “I guess Orm wasn’t the only one in a rush to get home.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“You know, because Orm left his trident back on the ship, too. Everyone knew he was in such a hurry to get back.”

She blinks and Orm curses, his cooking spoon falling into the pot he was stirring, “I knew you were missing something! You didn’t even mention it.”

Orm looks over and nods, “Yeah, I knew Arthur would get around to bringing it back. I wasn’t too worried.”

Kal’s phone makes a noise and he stands and dismisses himself, pulling his phone out of his pocket and walking onto the back patio. Rinsing the spoon in the sink, Orm has his back to her and she stands, raises herself a few inches off the ground, and plants herself on his back.

“What are you doing?”

“Living up to the barnacle name,” she grins, then gestures to the pot of chili, “That smells very good.”

“Thank you.”

“I get the biggest serving,” she says.

“I think that makes complete and total sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” she grins, kissing his cheek, “Thanks for inviting Kal to dinner. That was nice.”

“Darling, the only person I never willingly invite to eat here is my brother,” he sighs, then he gives her a smile, “Besides, it’s not every day that one of your exes comes around.”

Her mouth falls open, “You invited him just to try to make me awkward!”

“No, never.”

She rubs his cheek with the sleeve of her shirt, “I take my kiss back.”

“Really, Althera, I promise. I know you said the two of you are still friends and I thought it would be nice to talk to an old friend. Besides, I told you I feel like I’m stingy with your company, sometimes.”

“Aw, I’m stingy with your company, too. If Vulko came in right now and was like ‘I need to talk to Prince Orm’, I’d be sitting here on your back just like this saying, ‘go ahead’.”

He laughs and turns his head just as she was about to kiss his cheek, her lips brushing his. She blushes and his cheek turns warm against hers. Laughing, she wraps her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck.

Seeing Kal hang up the phone outside, she clambers down from Orm’s back but keeps her arms around his waist as he walks. He continues to move just fine with her swinging around his hip as he sets the table. When Kal comes in, Orm lovingly detaches her from his side and pulls her chair out for her.

“Sorry. Lois worries when I’m away sometimes. Which makes complete sense considering I have, you know, died.”

“You should bring Lois around sometime. She’s much more interesting than you,” she teases, and he grins, proud of his fiancée, “Oh, also, you and Bruce should really try not to do anything crazy without me.”

“I did try to reach you beforehand. I texted you.”

“Yeah, you know how visits with Hades go,” she says, swinging her feet, “If I’d been with father, that would have been a different story. I could have taken off and he wouldn’t have thought anything about it. Anyway, you can tell Lois that if Althera Prince and Superman have to deal with a problem, Althera won’t let her down.”

“That sounds like I’m making you do all the work,” he frowns, then looks annoyed, “Or that you’re implying that you do all the work.”

She shrugs and then reaches across the table to pat Orm’s hand, “What do you think?”

“Oh? Well, you certainly carry my dead weight, at the very least.”

She grins, propping her head in her hands and gazing lovingly at Orm in a teasing manner, “Isn’t he the sweetest, Kal?”

“I can definitely see why you enjoy his company,” he teases back.

“That being said, what am I compared to Superman?” Orm adds, standing and then placing the hot pot in the center of the table, “Althera and I take care of a kid sometimes. I often have to hear about everything you’ve done on the news because he’s just in love with you. Isn’t he?”

“He really is,” Althera smiles, shifting her chin to one hand and looking up at Orm as he serves her, “Ori is a sweetheart. But don’t forget that his mom prefers Aquaman.”

Orm shakes his head, finishing serving everyone and then sitting down beside her, “Her one downfall.”

“That, and the whole deep, dark secret thing she’s hiding,” she frowns, then waves her hand flippantly, “But that is none of my business.”

“Deep, dark secret?” Kal asks, lifting his spoon.

“She just has this little anxious cloud around her all the time, but not in the normal anxiety kinda way. I swear, I sometimes catch her looking over her shoulder when we’re in public,” Al explains.

“And Ori has said some things in passing,” Orm says, taking a bite and then trying to put a more casual look on his face, “We figure if it is something important, we’ll be dragged into it eventually. Until then, we try not to pry.”

“That sounds intriguing,” he says, and his thoughts seem to carry him away for a moment. Then he asks, “Does this kid know you have direct contact with Superman and Aquaman, or has that not been brought up?”

“No, not yet,” Althera laughs.

“He’d want proof, then,” Orm says, “And we’d either have to inconvenience you or invite my brother into our house again.”

“We considered leaving our armor out for him to discover, but maybe at a later date. To be fair, we only really met them a few months ago,” she says, “I had to make my contacts secure by changing everyone's names to emojis.”

“Are they really?” Orm asks, and she nods, taking her phone out and sliding it to him. He unlocks it and opens the contacts and Kal leans toward him.

“What’s mine?”

“I don’t even know what mine would be,” Orm frowns, continuing to scroll.

They’re quiet for a second before Kal laughs, “I swear, if I am the empanada--”

She starts laughing before he can finish, answering his question and making him shake his head.

“I had honestly almost forgotten about that incident. Gosh, that poor man probably lost his taste buds for good.”

“That wasn’t our fault, we told them they were hot, he didn’t listen,” she laughs, taking a sip of water, “Orm, Darling, yours should be right on top of the ‘recent’ page since you were the last person I called. Yeah, right there. The two blue hearts.”

“Oh? That’s the only one with two.”

“Is it? I thought I gave Diana two. Oh, no, my aunt and uncle have two. His is one blue and one pink. Hers is one pink and one blue. Yours is two blue,” she explains, then laughs, “I swear, it all makes sense in my head!”

“I still cannot believe I’d almost forgotten the empanada man,” Kal chuckles, “I have never seen such an intense look of confusion and betrayal on anyone’s face in my life…”

They talk some more about things going on in their lives, people they’ve met up with recently, old stories of things she and Kal did together when they used to have adventures of their own. Orm listens with a polite ear and she finds it hard to look away from him at times, the way he nods and smiles at the right times in the stories.

After dinner, as Kal is walking out the door to leave, he calls over his shoulder, “You should call me when that kid is around. Ori, right? Maybe we can surprise him one day.”

Orm responds and, eventually, she finds herself alone with Orm and with the thoughts that Kal put in her head. She is confident her feelings for Orm were obvious to Kal only because he knew her in that way before. He knows what signs to look for and he came in with the intention of looking for them, nothing more, nothing less. Despite this reassurance, she feels like Orm sees right through her when he turns and looks down at her.

Hoping to keep the atmosphere light, she smiles, “You brought up Ori on purpose.”

“He’s a good kid.”

“And you’re a sweetheart,” she smiles, reaching out and squeezing his hand. She had intended to let go but doesn’t resist when he thoughtlessly takes hers between both of his.

“It’s not every day a boy gets to meet his hero and he turns out to be everything he expects him to be. Kent doesn’t seem like he’d disappoint. If he did, I never would have suggested it.”

She is happy that Orm put that much care into evaluating Clark’s character, glad that he came to such a nice conclusion. That’s what she adores about Orm Marius. He has a way of taking himself out of his own head and putting himself in the shoes of others. Before, he used this skill to stay several steps ahead of his enemies. Now he does it to make sure Ori has a role model worth looking up to.

She smiles, raising his hand and draping his arm around her shoulder as she walks into the living room, “Ori has two men he looks up to, Darling. Superman just seems like the more magical one to him because he sees him on TV.”

Orm is quiet for a beat before she looks up at him.

“You’re too good to me, Althera.”

“For telling you the truth?”

“For helping me become more aware of it.”

Chapter Text

Darling Althera,

I was told it might be beneficial to write you yet another letter you won’t read to help sort out my thoughts. So, I begin…

I have recently returned from Atlantis, from a mission that could very easily have resulted in my death, but that I have made sound less thrilling than it actually was because I don’t want to alarm you. There is no reason to worry you. It’s over. I’m home.

There have been a couple of changes I need to acknowledge after my return. The first being in myself. The fact that I have so effortlessly let slip the word ‘home’ from my mouth when referring to a location on the Surface. Nobody really knows me like you do, Althera. Therefore, there are people who might make a big deal out of something like this. More specifically, I need to watch myself and make sure I don’t make such a slip in front of Mera or Vulko.

That being said, I hope you never feel offended by how careful I’m being with the word. Because if it’s just you and I talking, I know without hesitation that this is Home.

The second change is the change in Atlantis. I felt it, though my time spent in the city was brief. And, having felt the stagnation in the kingdom before, the rumble of this growing, new Atlantis was… thrilling. And bittersweet. I hope to be around to witness whatever the future brings for my birthplace, even if I cannot be there now.

And the last change would be… you.

You’re different, Princess Althera. And, though I’ve tried to pinpoint what about you has changed, I find myself at a loss. Your physical appearance is exactly how I remember, but far more impressionable. Your playfulness is no more or less frequent, but more contagious. Your ideas, words, and opinions are not any more or less profound, yet they replay in my head at nearly all hours of the day. I perform small, mundane tasks and think, “how might SHE have done this differently?”

I obviously valued you before and I haven’t been quiet about how important you are to me. But you have changed something about yourself that has completely blindsided me. And I cannot, for the life of me, figure out what.

I don’t know. Maybe I am the one who has changed. Near-death experiences do tend to have that effect on people. But if that were so, why are you the only person I’ve come to see differently?

This isn’t too worrying to me, though. I have always revered you as my own, personal goddess, my deity, and I feel this only amplifies and exalts you further. Why you continue to waste time on us mortal men is beyond my understanding. But I am very happy you do.

Other than what I’ve mentioned, I feel like the same person I have been. I continue to question my place, whether it be in Atlantis or on the Surface. There are still days when I find myself overwhelmed with frustration due to the cluelessness of the Surface Dwellers. But, because I have had you as a companion, I think it has made it easier to see the beauty in the complexities of the Surface. And, although I still believe most Surface Dwellers are incompetent, lazy, and soft, we have met a handful who make existence on the Surface… less monotonous and mildly tolerable.

This letter was supposed to help me, yet I feel no better. The first two changes are things I can speak to you about. But the third… I don’t know how it might come across. What if you feel scrutinized? What if I inadvertently make you feel self-conscious because I tell you how different you are? What if the change is something I should have noticed (a haircut, for example) and I sound like a fool trying to explain how I overanalyzed it?

Maybe I will try to look at it from a different perspective. Maybe there is something I’m not taking into consideration. I think I will take time to reflect on this. If I come to a conclusion, I’ll either speak to you about it or I’ll end up writing you another letter. Yes, that’s what I will do.

That’s fascinating. Even the hypothetical Althera reading this letter was helpful to me. Maybe the doctor really does know what he’s been doing all along. Ha.

Your friend,

Orm

Chapter Text

“Get down!”

He turns and dives, hooking his arms around her waist, the two of them crashing to the ground. He falls underneath her and she smiles down at him, the sound of an explosion going off where they were standing less than a second ago.

“Having a good afternoon, Mr. Marius?” she breathes.

“I have had better,” he says, his head falling to the ground. Then he grunts, “Your knee is in my kidney.”

She snickers and rolls off of him. Kal-el lands in front of them, the cannon-like contraption that had been firing at them now in two separate pieces in his hands. He tosses it aside, looking down at the two of them with a frown.

“Need a hand?”

“Nah, we’re just resting our legs a little,” Althera grunts.

Orm laughs, pulling his gloves off, and lifts the helmet designed for anonymity to rub his face. Rolling onto his side, he sticks his hand out and Kal pulls him onto his feet. She pushes herself off the ground, rising a few meters above the leveled building and the rubble that surrounds them.

It’s a sobering sight. The apartment building was old, but it still housed over 15 separate families. She is glad she and Orm were around to help get the people out, but she wishes she could have done a little more for them.

“Thank you for your help,” Kal says, his voice directly at her side, “It would have been difficult without the two of you.”

“It’s too bad we were too late to save to the building,” she frowns, watching as people begin to appear from the entrances of the other buildings to examine the damage. One woman looks up, pointing at the two of them.

If Kal notices, he doesn’t say anything, “We managed to minimize the damage. And, more importantly, we got every civilian out and to safety.”

She reaches up and touches her mask, making sure it is still in place. Swallowing hard, she nods, “This is the first time I’ve done work that involved actually, physically saving people since...”

“Has it?” Kal frowns, looking concerned. She nods, avoiding his gaze and watching the growing crowd below. Then, “Well, you handled it great. Do you think you’ll ever take off the mask, Al?”

She laughs, “Hell no. No. I haven’t earned it. Let’s just say that you’d deserve the recognition of being Superman, if you wanted it.”

They fall quiet. Kal sighs and she tries not to read into it. A few moments later she is brought out of her thoughts by Orm’s voice down below.

“I would love to join you two, but I’m not quite capable of doing so.”

Grinning, her heart swells as she turns and dives back to the ground where she had unintentionally left him. She drapes her arms around him and he squeezes her tight as she lifts him off the ground.

“You look tired.”

“It’s been an emotional day.”

He hums in agreement and then tugs free a few strands of her hair which had gotten stuck between her face and the mask, “Let’s go home, yeah?”

“I have no desire to go out at all, Althera. Just this once, let me stay in.”

“Just this once? Orm, the last two get-togethers Elena has invited us to I’ve had to turn down because you wanted to stay in. I even went to one by myself because Elena practically begged me to. I didn’t know anyone there except for her! So don’t act like I’ve been forcing you to do all kinds of horrible things!”

“Alright, fine. You’re right,” he says, sitting on the couch. Though he doesn't turn his back to her, his body language basically conveys the same message.

Exasperated, she uses all her control to keep her feet planted firmly on the ground, “You want me to shut up? Alright, I’ll shut up. It’s not like you’ve been listening for the past week anyway. Might as well shut up, then.”

“You are infuriating.”

“By the Gods, Orm, I don’t even know how this argument started.”

“When you said Elena invited us, you asked ‘are we going or are we staying here like usual?’. And your tone when you said it made me feel like shit.”

“Well, I never intended to make you feel like shit! I was only asking.”

“Okay. Fine.”

“By Zeus,” she breathes, “Fine what?”

“Forget it, I’ll go to this ridiculous lunch.”

“Orm, that isn’t the point…”

“Can we drop it? Please?”

She doesn’t want to drop it. She wants to keep prodding him because he has her feeling all kinds of frustration and it’s unfair that he thinks he gets to end the argument this way. But she takes a deep breath and sits on the opposite end of the couch, staring down at her arm until it starts to burn with the heat of her stare.

She can’t help it when her sight starts to blur from her tears and her nose starts to prickle. But she refuses to start crying. She’s just so frustrated with him. He’s been giving her half-answers to all her questions for the past week and it’s starting to feel like he has a personal problem with her.

He stares at his phone when she peeks over at him. His expression is blank, but his movements are agitated. She wonders what she did to make him so mad at her and if he’ll ever care for her again. What if he’s tired of their situation? What if he’s ready to leave and she’ll never see him again? What if they part on bad terms?

The thought sends a wave of sadness through her and she can’t help the urge to sniff.

At the sound of her sniffle, his shoulders tense up, but he continues staring at his phone.

Mad at herself for letting him hear that he got to her, she starts messing with her own phone.

Bedtime comes and she is amazed that they’re really going to go to bed angry. She stands and walks to her room, closing the door behind her and then flopping herself onto the bed.

Her body hurts from all the pent-up frustration and she resists the desire to scream into the pillow. She wants to be comforted and soothed and the worst part of it all is that she only wants him to do the comforting and soothing.

Closing her eyes, she falls asleep.

She wakes in the middle of the night, unsure of how long she’s actually slept. Kicking out of the mess of blankets, she hopes he doesn’t get even angrier with her if she knocks on his door. If he does, she has no choice but to assume their friendship has a rift in it.

Into the pitch black hall walks another figure. It reaches out at the same time she does and she buries her face in Orm’s chest as he squeezes her into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” she murmurs and he squeezes her even tighter. He leads her to the couch where he turns on the reading lamp next to the couch, the light revealing both of their tired faces, “I thought about it, Orm, and I guess I was being a bit of a smart-ass. But I truly, honestly didn’t want you to feel like shit about not wanting to go.”

“I know you didn’t,” he frowns, “I just… It’s been a sensitive topic for me lately, so I might have been on edge.”

“A sensitive topic? Why? What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been feeling like I’m back in the state I was in before I met you. Like I’m trapped and under surveillance and that I have nothing to look forward to. And then I start to feel guilty for not being grateful for what I do have. You, this project Wayne is giving us. Hell, even time spent with Wren and Ori lately. But something in the back of my mind lately has just been eating at me.”

She frowns, grabbing his hands in hers and squeezing them so he knows it’s safe to keep talking. And he does, “I get frustrated because I know this is all in my head. And I thought I was over these kinds of thoughts. But they’re still here. They’re still nagging at me. And I hate that I feel like I don’t have control over them. Because I do want to go out with you and have picnics on the beach with our friends. And I am grateful to have a woman like you as my very best friend. But this dense cloud keeps trying to fog up my mind and I’m the only one I can blame for it.”

“Haven’t you been talking to Dr. Deluna lately?”

He sighs, “He’s been on vacation since we got back from the city with Kent. He told me that, if I needed to, I could contact him. I thought I would be fine, though. I thought I was handling everything well.”

“You are, though, Orm,” she reassures him and he doesn’t look convinced, “Darling, the fact that you are able to recognize where your irritation is stemming from is a big deal. Let’s look at the times you got frustrated before and weren’t able to properly vent. What happened?”

He doesn’t answer, so she continues, “You built up a bunch of anger and decided to start a war on the Surface. You nearly killed your brother and your childhood friend. And you wiped out a few coastal cities with a trash tsunami. Is this the same kind of anger that is in you right now?”

He shakes his head slightly.

“Then there was the more recent instance, our first day in this house. You were frustrated because you hated the Surface and you hated that our move to the Surface was your only option for freedom. You were pissed at Diana because she broke into your deepest thoughts. And you hated the fact that I was the one who, seemingly, had control of the entire situation. So you created an argument with me which we then ended up fighting out in the backyard. Do you feel the same desire to overpower me?”

“No, Althera,” he breathes.

“See!” she smiles, lowering her head into his line of sight and beaming up at him, “My beautiful Atlantean man, you have made progress. You’re recognizing your anger and you’re becoming a more self-aware person and that is growth!”

He chuckles and nods, “Sure.”

“Sure,” she giggles, “Yeah, I’m sure, too. I think when all is said and done, you’re going to be a leader again. And I think you’re going to be the kindest, most understanding leader because you’ve been through a lot and have put the work in to become a wiser person. And people are going to want to hear what you have to say because you have shown them what’s possible. And you will be four, five times the man you ever were before because so many people will follow you not out of fear, but of love and loyalty. That’s what I’m sure of.”

He grabs her and gently pulls her into his lap. Looking up at her, he clears his throat, “I thought you said you are no prophetess.”

“I’m not,” she giggles, “But I know you. And it just makes sense.”

He looks up at her for a long moment. Now that she knows he doesn’t hate her guts, the weight of sleep falls so heavy on her shoulders that she wants nothing more than to curl into his arms and not wake up until the morning. But he looks like he has something else on his mind, so she resists.

“What if I don’t want another kingdom or another army? Even one that trusts and is loyal to me? What if I just want one friend to stick around and continue to let me see the world through her eyes? What then?”

She looks down at him, taking in the wide-eyed, earnest expression on his face and stores it in her memories, “Maybe just ask her?”

A soft, slow smile spreads on his lips as he responds, “Maybe I will.”

It takes a lot of effort to tear her eyes from his own. When she does look away, she feels the airiness that had risen in her chest sink a little, and she frowns, “I shouldn’t have raised my voice like I did, Orm.”

“And I shouldn’t have been so stubborn,” he says softly into the dark, “I immediately regretted my behavior, but I told myself to remain angry. I wanted to apologize immediately, but my stupidity wouldn’t allow me to.”

They apologize again and, eventually, wander back to their rooms and into a peaceful sleep.

Chapter Text

“This is hideous.”

His hand in hers, he leans down and murmurs softly, “Be nice.”

“But Darling--” she starts, and he reaches up with his hand to trace her bottom lip with his finger before kissing her once on the lips. She falls silent and then she looks up at the other woman in the room.

“I apologize, Ms. Di Salvo. If the drapery is too garish, we can replace them immediately,” she says, gesturing to one of the workers.

“Oh, no need. My husband seems to think I’ll get used to them eventually.”

“Really, it will only take a few moments to change them,” the woman insists. She likely works for a big tip. And Sofia Di Salvo will leave her one, eventually.

“It will only take a moment, Darling,” she purrs up at Sofia’s Erik, and he quirks an eyebrow up at her, “In that case, take them out of here. Don’t look at me like that, my love. They were hideous and you know it.”

She struts around the room, looking over everything with an inquisitive eye, when the woman speaks up again, “How long do you think your stay will be, Ms. Di Salvo?”

“However long it takes Mr. Wayne to decide he needs me more than I need him,” she murmurs theatrically, inspecting the decorative candelabras. “Hopefully he doesn’t arrive until after the new drapes are brought in? It looks dreadfully bare without them.”

“Of course, Ma’am,” she says, nodding and rushing out of the room to check on what is taking her staff so long. Alone, Althera looks up at Orm and grins.

“Were the drapes really that bad?” he asks, giving her a look.

“I don’t hate them. But Di Salvo has very specific tastes, don’t you think?” He rolls his eyes and she gestures to the bedroom, “Let’s lock ourselves up in there before she comes back. And put the little sign on the door so she knows what we’re up to.”

He heaves a big sigh and does as she says as she giggles, running into the room and dropping herself down on the largest bed she has ever seen in her life. He comes over and drops down on the other end. She reaches out and he does the same and their fingertips don’t even touch.

“Come here,” he says dramatically.

She giggles, rolling over on top of the gold comforter, “Let me rent a bike, first! You’re so far away.”

“I want to talk to you,” he says. She starts crawling toward him and she slides against the silky fabric of the sheets and bedding. He laughs, “You’re going to mess up your makeup.”

“Erik, Darling, Sofia wants kisses!” she giggles, finally reaching him and flopping down on top of him.

He chuckles, looking up at her, “I suppose it’s alright if we leave the room looking a little disheveled.”

“We’re getting into the role, dear,” she says, kissing his cheek. She frowns when her lipstick doesn’t leave a mark on him, “Next time I’m going to buy a cheaper lipstick. That way I can put kiss marks on you.”

He raises his eyebrows as he looks up at her and smiles that cocky smile that drives her wild, “Oh yeah? And where exactly would you place those kiss marks?”

Heat springs into her face and chest and she laughs, rolling off of him, “Erik and Sofia are so passionate! All these rich folk come and go with their unhappy and fake marriages and affairs. They hide their passion because they are ashamed of it or because they have none. But not the Di Salvo’s. The Di Salvo’s image is their passion. They love each other, they need each other. At least thrice a day, I’m sure.”

He looks over at her and she pulls the blankets up to her chest.

“That sounds tiring,” he says, his voice so deadpan she bursts into laughter.

She tosses the blankets aside and begins to crawl toward him again when her phone rings on the other side of the bed, “Our summons, my love. It is time for Sofia to meet Mr. Bruce Wayne in public for the very first time.”

Sitting at the patio table in the backyard, she plays with the calculator on her phone while Orm pours over the blueprints she had just been looking at herself. She and Bruce chit-chat in the meantime.

“Are you sure you’re fine with this house?” he asks, “Your needs haven’t changed at all? You don’t need to be relocated?”

“Oh, Bruce, I don’t see myself moving out of here any time soon. Probably not until Orm returns to Atlantis,” she says, and Orm looks up from the blueprints for a second with a befuddled look on his face before blinking and returning to his work, “What are you thinking, darling? I thought it looked exciting. How many tons on average did you say, once the entire project is finished?”

“About 800 tons a year. It’s not much considering Ocean Master’s original filtering technique, but if this first unit’s construction goes well, it’s going to be a step in the right direction.”

“I guess I got lucky my cellmate and my brother happened to have connections to such a well-connected man,” Orm says, in that offhanded, indirect way that he and Bruce have come to compliment each other.

“Let’s not forget who launched the whole awareness campaign in the first place,” Bruce jokes. “But honestly, if this works, Gotham Harbor will thank you.”

Orm nods, taking note of something on the pad of paper beside him, the breeze ruffling the pages gently. Then, “Althera, would you mind getting my phone? I left it on my bed.”

“Yeah, just a minute.”

Leaving the patio, she walks into the house, down the hall to his room. Pushing open his bedroom door, she feels like she is being sneaky. She rarely ever goes into his room when he’s not already in it. Their two rooms are the only places in the house where they spend very little time together, so when she does walk in like she owns the place, it feels like she’s breaking some kind of boundary.

She admires the tidy, put-togetherness she has come to associate him with and locates his phone on the bed. She swipes it up and intends to leave just as quickly as she entered when he catches sight of something on his dresser.

There are very few items on his dresser. Among them are two picture frames. One is an image of his mother and it’s the one she’s seen here before. However, Queen Atlanna is no longer alone on the dresser top, and Althera scoops up the new picture frame.

Althera smiles back up at herself from the photo, her arms around Orm’s neck as he smiles with his eyes, since it had been a stranger who took the photo. His arm is loose around her waist and he wears his nice slacks and the soft blue shirt she loves him in best. She’s in her rainbow summer dress and floppy hat.

The event was something Elena invited them to a few months ago when the sun was still hot enough to warm her bare knees. At the time, she had been concerned that Orm wasn’t enjoying himself. The way he looks in this picture makes her think otherwise.

Setting it down, she rushes back outside.

Orm looks up when she hands his phone to him and grins, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she smiles, and she resists the urge to kiss his face in front of Bruce.

Laying back on one of the patio chairs, she scrolls through her phone and finds the exact picture. It’s such a happy photo. Her dress of many colors swishes in the breeze and the sun evened up her complexion. The blue of his shirt does wonders for his eyes and the way he has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows is just lovely.

She changes her phone wallpaper to the image and jumps up when Bruce gets her attention, wanting to look over one last detail before night comes and he has to go.

When he does leave, she sits back on her patio chair, looking out at the sunset. The sky is cheery pink, with fringes of peachy orange at the edges. When Orm comes out of the house again, he hands her a glass of rosé. Instead of sitting in his own chair, he sets his glass down and pushes her over, sitting down beside her before pulling her legs into his lap.

“You’ve been quiet today,” he says, looking at her with that soft look he sometimes gives her that tends to turn her limbs to jelly.

“I’m just feeling reflective. It’s nearly the end of the year, Orm.”

“It is, isn’t it?” he hums.

The orange fades away and a deep blue swallows up the yard. By the time they turn in for the night, the stars and the moon are bright and dress the wet yard in shimmering silver.

Chapter Text

“You’re not going to tell me what you and Bruce were up to?”

“It was nothing,” he shrugs off her concern for the hundredth time. She grimaces.

“Nothing? Orm, a man once ran straight at you with a broadsword, swung it across your chest, and it shattered to a million pieces. I cannot imagine anything other than Atlantean metal or something alien cutting into you like this. This is pretty deep.”

He sits on the couch and she kneels in front of him as she examines the gash in his hand. When she looks up, he looks down at her with his head tilted ever so slightly. He’d been watching her for a little while, she guesses, and now he frowns, “I promise you, it isn’t anything serious. And it’s been taken care of.”

“I still think I should have gone with. Wren said she could reschedule,” she says, crinkling her nose, “I don’t know why I allowed you boys to convince me otherwise.”

“Althera,” he says with a tone as he begins to pull his hand away. She tightens her grip very slightly and he winces but allows her to place the already red cloth over it again. He raises his eyebrows and insists for the millionth time since he’s returned home, “I’m fine. There’s a salve in the cabinet in a small, light blue jar. It’s Atlantean medicine, made specifically for me. It will speed up the healing process.”

“I’ll get it,” she says, springing up and sprinting into the bathroom before he can retort. Opening the cabinet, she finds the light blue jar next to a darker blue one. Grabbing the light blue one and some bandages, she runs back to him.

“Thank you,” he says, holding out his good hand. She gently swats it away.

“I’ll do it, silly,” she murmurs, kneeling back down in front of him. He holds his hand out again and she removes the bloody rag, opens the jar, and is extremely gentle when she spreads the ointment across the wound. He winces and she can feel his eyes on her once again as she wraps his hand in clean bandages.

“Orm?”

“Hm?”

“This jar was next to another. Is it some other kind of Atlantean medicine?”

His cheeks turn pink and he looks down at his hand in hers as she takes the last couple of turns with the bandage.

“Um, no. It’s the same salve. It’s just that it was made for you. Specifically. Just in case.”

She blinks, her eyes focused on what she’s doing, “Oh?”

“You know, after the urchin incident, we already had your general medical information in Atlantis. And you’re not the only one who worries that something might go wrong in the kind of work we’ve been known to do,” he says, his voice a self-conscious murmur. “I wasn’t sure if you’d ever need it, you’re pretty well made, but it made me feel better knowing that it was an option.”

She sticks the bandage in place, raises his hand slightly, and places a soft kiss on his palm. When she looks up at him, he looks completely bewildered. Then his surprise simmers away, his eyes becoming unbelievably soft as he regards her.

Blushing, she releases her hold on him, “Sorry! I just… It’s what Auntie Persephone used to do when I got hurt. Probably still would, but she hasn’t been around to put bandages on me in a while.”

She giggles awkwardly and he smiles, “Thanks, Doc. I feel better already.”

She rolls her eyes and stands, grabbing the leftover bandages and jar of medicine. Walking back to the bathroom, she bends down to reach under the sink and he comes in behind her, leaning against the doorway.

After a minute of rummaging, she finds he’s still standing there. She looks up at him and squints at him, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“We should visit Venice.”

“Venice?”

“I hear it’s nice.”

“It’s uncomfortably close to home,” she murmurs, then leans back down. Finally locating the first aid kit at the back of the cupboard, she pulls it out and finds a clean roll of bandages and a new roll of medical tape. She grunts enthusiastically, then giggles at herself.

“We were just in Rome not too long ago. I looked on the map you gave me and Rome is much closer.”

She stands, “Yeah, but Rome has distractions.”

“Like Loreto?”

His tone surprises her. It’s nearly acidic. She picks at the end of the tape roll, trying to separate the sticky from the nonsticky, “Um. No? No, Loreto was a… He was a happy accident.”

She snorts and giggles at herself again, then finally gets the tape to work. Opening up the medicine cabinet, she puts these new items in place of the old ones.

Orm snorts as well, though with much less of a sense of humor.

Peeking around the cabinet, she looks at him, “I thought you liked Loreto?”

“I did like him. I like him a lot more now that he’s in Rome and we are here,” he says. She almost laughs but resists. Placing her hands on her hips, she closes the cabinet and gives him a long look. He remains sullen-faced until he looks down and away, appearing to be ashamed.

“Why are you acting weird? You sounded genuine when you said he was a nice guy. Now you sound like he was the one who cut your hand open.”

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, then looks up at her, “I apologize. Loreto was nothing but kind and generous to us during our stay. And, no, he’s not the one who cut me open.”

His apology seems sincere, but she’s still confused by why an apology was necessary. If she had been in a bad mood, she wouldn’t have found much humor in the way he was acting. But she had a pretty pleasant day before opening the door to find the Prince of Atlantis bleeding at their doorstep. Therefore, she’s in the right mood to tease him.

Dropping her hands from her hips, she smiles and stands directly in front of him. She reaches up and takes his face in her hands, “Did he hurt you, Ormie? Do you want me to beat him up?”

He pulls his face out of her hands and glares at the use of the name “Ormie”. Then he squints, “Would you beat up your boyfriend for me?”

Now it’s her turn to scowl, “He’s not my boyfriend. But otherwise, yes I would.”

He grins and wraps his arms around her waist, squeezing her until she laughs. The desire to continue the conversation melts away as he places a kiss on her forehead.

“Venice isn’t too close to where my Uncle might expect me. We can visit if you’d like,” she says. “But, we have to do it before we begin work on the construction site.”

“I don’t want you to go if you don’t want to,” he says, a tinge of concern in his voice.

She shrugs, “Nah, you’re right. It’ll be fun.”

Chapter Text

Something looks very wrong in this hotel mirror. At least, she desperately hopes it’s the mirror. She is used to the shape of her body. And, though she isn’t exactly one to look in the mirror to ogle at herself, she also isn’t one to spend time analyzing her imperfections. However, today as she walked past the mirror, she had to do a double take.

“Orm!”

She yells much louder than she probably should have and he comes rushing out of the bathroom in his pajama bottoms, his hair wet and back in a similar way to how he wears it in Atlantis. He skids to a halt and then trips over his foot as he sees her standing in front of the mirror.

“You’re in your underthings.”

She snorts, “Was it my underwear that made you trip over your feet, or did I accidentally scare you?”

His frown is deep as he walks to the bed, plopping down on the thick comforter. Then he grabs a pillow and sets it on his lap.

“Uh, neither? I've just been off balance since, y'know... I had a sad dream last night and I’ve been feeling a little off.”

His voice sounds a little off, too. It almost sounds as if he’s lying to her, but what reason would he have to lie about a dream? She frowns, walking up to him and looking him straight in the eyes, “Must have been some dream. I’ve never seen you trip over your own feet like that.”

He nods, then avoids her eyes when he says, “Yeah. It was pretty bad.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

He rearranges the pillow in his lap, “Maybe later.”

“Okay,” she frowns, then reaches out to give him a little hug, “If you’re sure you’re okay.”

He squeezes her against him and an embarrassing little chill covers her skin, feeling his warm hands against her bare back. She should scold herself! She’s supposed to be reassuring her friend. Instead, she’s getting self-gratuitous hugs while half-naked.

“Thanks, Al. I’m good,” he says, patting her back. She leans away and he asks, “But did you need something?”

“Oh, I’m just being silly,” she blushes, “I thought the mirrors here looked funny. I walked past and my hips looked… well, they just looked wonky. Do they look wonky to you?”

“Your hips?”

She nods, looking back at the mirror. That’s the only word she can use to describe the way they look. Absolutely wonky.

“No, Althera. Never in a million years would anyone ever describe your appearance as wonky.”

She chuckles, knowing her word choice was a little wonky itself. In the mirror’s reflection, she watches him as he lays flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. She feels her smile turn into a frown again as she leans over to peer down at him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

He heaves a big sigh, then nods slightly, “Yeah. I’m just trying to get out of my head a little. I’m just being… really stupid.”

“Being affected by a bad dream isn’t stupid, Orm,” she frowns, “You know you’ve helped me out with nightmares a few times and I want you to know that I’m here to do the same for you if you ever need me to.”

“I do know that. And I appreciate you more than anything,” he says, “But I’m okay right now. I promise.”

She looks at the pillow in his lap and tilts her head. She really doesn’t think there was a bad dream at all. Psychologically, he probably put the pillow between them to create an illusion of space between him and his lie. However, her mind is functioning a little too dirty right now to get to the root of the problem. And all she can really think about is how jealous she is of a goddamn pillow.

“Okay,” she says, then smiles, “Do you need another hug, though?”

He looks up at her, his face completely blank, before he nods, “Yes please.”

He sits up and she drapes her arms around him, the pillow still between them. She laughs mischievously as she jumps on him and kisses both of his cheeks. His face flushes and he laughs at the speed of the surprise attack, grabbing another pillow from behind him and gently smacking her in the back of her legs with it.

“No more feeling sad, Orm!”

“Alright, get off of me, woman!” he laughs. She doesn’t do so immediately, though, and hollers in surprise when he scoops her up and stands, the pillow falling away. She grabs the other pillow as he drags her away from the bed, then plops her down onto her feet in front of the mirror, “Look at that. You look perfect. This mirror does have a bit of a warp to it, though. Unless my legs have always looked like that and no one told me.”

She looks at Orm’s legs in the reflection and then bursts into laughter, “I knew there was a warp!”

“You’re ridiculous,” he chuckles.

“I’m your best friend, you love me!” she says as he turns back into the bathroom.

“Do I even know you? What’s your name again?” he teases. She smacks his butt with the pillow and he grins, closing the bathroom door behind him.

Chapter Text

Listening to the hurried voices on the comms, she tries her best to prepare for whatever the next move might be. And she is glad she does, as the next command the Batman gives requires her immediate attention.

“Handoff to the Atlanteans immediately!”

“But sir--”

“Now!”

The missile is forced out of its trajectory by an invisible beam and she flies up underneath it, forcing a strong surge of condensed air around it and making it turn over on itself.

Having planned for this exact scenario, she calls down to Orm and Arthur who wait below, both gripping their tridents with both hands as they wait for her signal, “Now!”

The two Atlantean men are perfectly in sync when they ground themselves and send two brilliant streams of light into the sky, coming into contact with the missile that continues to turn on itself over her head. The air around her brightens and surrounds her. She shuts her eyes tight and braces herself, throwing her arms up to cover her face. A jolt of fear surges through her when she feels the debris fly around her, smaller pieces breaking through her defenses and attempting to slice through her armor. Hearing Arthur’s shout below, she stiffens up, knowing deep down that her defense isn’t holding back as much of the debris as it should be. Turning her palms outward while still keeping her face covered, she forces the pieces that fall around her back into the sky, the heat of the air she forces into it sealing the metal together in a corrugated lump.

This wasn’t the plan. And all around her, more explosions go off. Below her, she hears Orm’s shout. One of the explosions goes off a little too close and a pulse she wasn’t expecting knocks the air out of her lungs as it throws her back through the sky hard and fast. Gasping for breath, she tucks herself in and prepares for the collision of her body against the asphalt, but then she finds herself intercepted as she falls sideways through the air, landing with a splash in the bay.

She inhales deeply and feels the water rush over her gills. She gasps and her entire body hurts from tensing up during her fall. As she regains herself, she presses her forehead to his armor as he slows their movement through the water.

When they finally come to a halt, he loosens his grip on her legs and she comes to drift in front of him. Orm stares at her for a long moment before reaching up and pulling his mask and helmet off, disconnecting from the comms so no one can hear their conversation.

The anger in his eyes causes her chest to tighten and she immediately feels guilty, “I’m sorry.”

“That wasn’t the plan.”

His voice is sharp. Dangerous. She has heard him use this tone a few times before, but never with her.

She peels her mask off and her comms cut off as well, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“I don’t know. I had a moment of… of panic. I thought…”

She shakes herself a little to resist the urge to cry. Orm’s anger falters, then he frowns, “Panic?”

“It was just for a second. I thought the debris was going to permeate my defense--”

“It was fine, Althera,” he breathes, “It was going exactly how we planned it.”

“I know, but I thought it wasn’t. I panicked and I knew I had to redirect it.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, “I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get so angry. But when I saw you fall like that, I thought--”

“Shit, they’re okay!” Arthur calls out through the water, the message seemingly to be for the people waiting for them on the surface.

She hesitates for a moment before reaching out. Orm sighs, then shakes his head, grabbing her and pulling her into a hug.

Orm replaces his helmet and she replaces her mask. Returning to the surface, they find a swarm of civilians who have come out of their hiding spots. She figures the excitement is pretty much over, but some of these people have their phones out, taking photos and videos of the scene around them.

She hesitates for a second, knowing she and Orm must pass by this group, already hearing their murmurs as they turn and see them through the dust.

“Are they part of the Justice League?”

“I heard that he is Aquaman’s brother.”

“Why do they hide their faces?”

Orm grabs her hand and very gently urges her forward. He walks slightly in front of her and she appreciates the way he shields her with his body. Therefore, she is quite surprised when someone has the gall to touch her empty hand so very slightly.

She pauses, Orm stopping beside her, and finds herself looking down at little Black girl with hair in the exact style of braids hers is in, only the girls are tied off with sparkly pink bands. Keeping Orm beside her, she drowns out all voices of the crowd as she kneels in front of the girl.

“Hi.”

“Hi. What’s your name?”

“Ciara. What’s yours?”

She and Bruce had discussed this possibility before. Now she answers with no hesitation, “Gaia Chthonia. But my friends just call me Gaia. Like the land. Like the earth.”

Althera reaches down and scoops up a palmful of crushed brick and soil. She instructs the little girl to do the same. They count to three and they toss the dirt into the air. Around them, more soil and rubble rise from the ground like reverse confetti and, when it rises high enough, comes down in a brief, misty rainfall.

Darling Ciara grins, looking up at the woman Althera assumes must be her mother. The mother looks back at Althera, slightly cautious, but grateful. Althera wonders if it's at all possible that this woman knows how hard a time Bruce had trying to convince her to come out here today. If she knows how little she identifies with the word ‘hero’. If this is why the woman grabs her daughter by the hand and swiftly urges her away.

Straightening up, she holds out her hand and Orm instantly captures it in his. Making their way past the crowd, the voice of a recruit who she doesn’t know very well speaks over the comms.

“The media wants a picture of all of us.”

Feeling a little queasy, she responds, “Ocean Master and I are leaving. We aren’t part of the League.”

“They don’t want a picture of the League, Gaia. They want a picture of the heroes who stopped today’s disaster,” Batman says, and the sound of his voice makes Althera grimace.

“Fine. But I’m not staying for any cutesy, superhero pizza parties afterward.”

“Your hesitancy to be seen as a hero is due to your history with your village?” he asks, offering her the mug of chai. She accepts it, curling up into his side.

“I suppose so,” she says, giving him a sideways glance. He chuckles and she smiles, taking a sip, then leaning her head against his chest. “I dunno. Maybe I’ll reveal myself a hundred years or so from now. But not anytime soon.”

He ponders this for a moment as she taps the side of her mug with a fingernail. Then he nods, “I suppose I’ll keep my mask on just as long as you.”

“You plan to stick around for a hundred years?” she inquires.

“Absolutely. We’re a team, right? A hundred years isn’t going to break us up.”

Bittersweet joy fills her up and she rolls her eyes, “Of course, how silly of me.”

Leaning her head back, she looks up at him. The warmth he gives off, as usual, makes her feel safe and comfortable. What she wouldn’t do to stay enveloped in that warmth day and night for a hundred years or more.

He takes a sip and notices her looking at him, smiling his less cocky, more dorky smile. Reaching up with his empty hand, he taps her forehead with his ring finger, traces the slope of her nose with his middle finger, and at the tip of her nose, he taps it gently with his pointer finger. She blinks when he suddenly hesitates.

Resisting a frown, she continues to look up at him as if she didn’t notice. He drops his hand and she feels something deflate in her ribcage.

Before she can piece together what she missed, he slips out from beside her, puts his mug down on the coffee table, and stands, “Hey, I have some things I need to look over before we head to the construction site tomorrow. I suggest you get a lot of sleep, that way at least one of us is in our right mind.”

“Yeah, I’ll be getting to bed soon, don’t worry about me.”

He walks into his bedroom and closes the door behind him.

She looks at her tea, which is still hot, and then at his mug, which he had left behind. The steam spirals lazily through the air and she feels like her thoughts are winding just as slowly.

Staying on her phone just long enough to finish her drink, she then finds herself in her own room. That man is hiding something from her. He has been for a while now. But the thought of calling him out is terrifying. Today has already been stressful enough, what with the fake hero antics Bruce talked her into thinking would be good for her. She’d rather not be put through some ‘it's not you, it's me’ talk with Orm tonight. She’s never had difficulty listening to a man deliver that line before. However, the mere thought of those words ever coming out of his mouth makes her heart ache.

She tucks herself in, falling into a fitful sleep.

Chapter Text

“I know we don't have to do much today. Still, I’m following your lead,” he says.

“I have a little bit of experience from a past construction site job I worked, plus the extremely brief internship I had with my uncle. You, however, are an Atlantean Prince. You know how to oversee all kinds of projects.”

“I wouldn’t rely on my specialty, though, as one big mistake slipped through the cracks when I was king. Still don’t understand how I didn’t know you were the cause of that explosion all those years ago.”

He teases and she raises her eyebrows, keeping her eyes on the road.

She drives and does her best to keep focused on her driving, however, she finds that her mind is running a million miles a second. Having been thinking so much, she doesn’t realize she’s been quiet until Orm looks over at her, and then nudges her knee with the back of his hand.

“Are you alright?”

“Brighter than an angler.”

“Hmm.”

She notices the silence this time. After a few moments, Orm continues, “You're practically silent today, Althera.”

“I’m fine, really. Just had a hard time sleeping last night.”

“Another nightmare?”

“No big deal.”

She sees his frown from the corner of her eye and she ignores it, quickly finding a parking space and releasing her seatbelt.

“Althera, wait a second? Please?”

She takes her hand off the door and sinks back into her chair.

“If it really were no big deal I don’t think it would be bothering you this much,” he says, taking off his seatbelt and turning toward her as best as he can.

“Orm.”

“Althera,” he says. His tone of voice surprises her. He sounds frustrated and disappointed. When she looks up and meets his eyes, it’s like her wall crashes down and she immediately feels the tears spring into her eyes. This, in turn, surprises him and he breathes, “By Atlan, Althera, what’s the matter?”

Leaning forward, he grabs her face in his hands, wiping her cheeks with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffs.

“Sorry for what, darling?” he says, his voice a soft rumble in his chest, “Don’t cry, beautiful.”

“I was being short with you,” she starts to feel silly, pouting like this. But his reassurance feels good after the way he ran off last night, “I had a really rough night.”

“Tell me,” he says, his voice still soft.

“I guess the nightmare part wasn’t even that bad. It was the anxiety that built up in me after it that kept me up. I was just laying in bed and so many scenarios kept playing in my head. And then… and then I had the thought… the thought that if someone hurt you and you… and I ended up losing you in an untimely manner… just how sad I would be. And that just made everything worse. And then I started thinking about a million other sad things, like losing Diana or Barry or my big siblings...”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asks, his eyes scanning her face, “I was probably just snoring away while you were having an anxiety attack.”

She shakes her head softly and he drops his hands, “I didn’t want to bother you. You had gone to your room in a rush and I just assumed that you wanted to be alone or something.”

He frowns deeper, his hand slapping his knee, “That? That was just me being stupid. So stupid. Althera, please, don’t worry about bothering me. Ever. Okay?”

She nods and he leans over the seat, hugging her. She leans closer and buries herself in his arms. That’s all she had wanted last night. To be reassured that he was there, that he was safe. To hear his heart beating loud and strong.

He leans back and strokes her cheek with his knuckles, “I’m alive. I’m here. And, as far as I know, I’m not going anywhere.”

She giggles and leans down, grabbing a tissue from her purse. She wipes her eyes and finds he is still watching her.

“Today is going to be a good day,” he says, “This is the project we’ve been preparing for since we sat in that cell together, though we didn’t know it just yet.”

She feels her heart lift in her chest and she nods, “Yeah.”

“I’m proud of us,” he smiles, “Aren’t you proud of us?”

She nods, smiling at the way he tries to cheer her up.

“Don’t let some stupid nightmare bring you down today. Okay?”

She nods and he leans forward to kiss her forehead. When he turns to open the door, she stops him, “Orm?”

“Hm?”

“You said not to worry about bothering you?”

He tilts his head, his eyes soft, “That’s exactly what I said.”

“I just wonder if you would be down to having a lil’ sleepover in the living room tonight? Just one night? I just… It was a really bad night last night.”

She watches his brows crease downward for a split second before he grins, “Of course we can. Now let’s go break some new ground.”

Losing Orm in the event crowd, she manages to charm herself into a group that Diana happens to be listening in on. Diana looks casually gorgeous and wears a pair of horn-rimmed glasses that make Althera valiantly contain a giggle.

Walking up beside her, she leans in, “Nice disguise.”

“Thank you. I worked very hard on it.”

“I can tell,” she grins. Diana gives her a little side-eye. Smoothing down the front of her dress, she asks, “Is anyone else here?”

“Kal is covering the event, I think, but I haven’t seen him yet.”

“Hm,” she nods, then “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“As much as I can be. Your project is getting started, though. How does that feel?”

She grins and opens her clutch, handing Diana her new business card, “Bruce is old-fashioned sometimes. But hey, it does look good with my name on it.”

“I bet Orm is happy?”

“He’s mildly optimistic,” she admits, “We don’t know how well this might turn out in the end. But we really want to believe it’ll be a big deal. And Bruce tried hyping it up as much as he could by telling us that it was gonna be ‘world-altering’.”

She laughs and Diana smiles up at her, “The way you must see the world. What do you and the Old Gods think of us silly creatures?”

She looks out at the water and smiles, “Uncle Poseidon would have done what Orm did ages ago, had father allowed it. Regulated Diety Intervention, remember?”

“Which loosely translates to ‘whatever Mighty Zeus allows?”

“Exactly,” she hums.

They fall quiet and, after a little bit, Diana asks, “How have you been doing lately?”

“I’m great, Di.”

“No nightmares?”

“Nope,” she lies.

“How much of your time do you plan on giving this project?”

“Whatever I need to, I guess. I know I’m not the best at deadlines, but Orm’s there to keep me in check. This seems like it’s mostly going to be paperwork, with visits to the site when necessary.”

“You think you’re going to be able to handle the guys on the construction site?”

“Diana, darling, I once convinced a group of rugged Canadian loggers that I was more capable than the boss they had for ten years. And then I convinced them that the system they had in place for even longer than that was less productive than the one I figured out in a few days. And guess what?”

“What’s that?”

“Kal says that a new batch of loggers are doing it my way to this very day.”

Diana laughs and shakes her head, “Forgive me for underestimating you! I wish I could be there to watch you put them straight. But I’m going to be gone on business for some time. Think you’ll need me while I’m gone?”

“I’ll find you if I do.”

“And don’t hesitate.”

“I won’t. Anyway, life has been pretty quiet lately. The most noteworthy thing all month was the argument Orm and I had.”

“I didn’t know you two argued,” Diana says, looking interested.

“Not often, but yeah,” she says, craning her neck to try to look over the heads of the crowd, “We both have pretty big personalities and opinions. But, honestly, most of the arguments are rarely about anything extremely important.”

Althera feels Diana’s eyes on her. Finally, she asks, “Are you ever going to be honest with me about you and Orm?”

“What about us?”

“Well, the main thing being that you look at him like he’s the only man in the world sometimes.”

She drops herself, her heels making a clicking sound against the concrete, and she frowns, “I think you’ve been reading far too many romantic novels, Diana. Neither of us is actively seeking out a romantic relationship right now. We’re working on ourselves, walking along as two parallel lines. Besides, those two lines are going to diverge when he inevitably returns to Atlantis, which is likely going to be much sooner than any of us realize.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Besides, you hate his guts.”

Her mouth opens in retort, but then she pauses. Finally, “I don’t hate him.”

“You glare at him a lot when he isn’t looking.”

“I do not glare at him, that is childish.”

“Glare, scrutinize. Same deal.”

She looks like she wants to argue, but then sighs, “I appreciate that he is a good friend to you. But I’m not over the fact that he tried to start a war against the entire human race.”

“Yeah, well, you can set your worries aside.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s been weird ever since he returned from Atlantis and I know it’s because he’s trying to think of how to lessen the blow when he does leave. And then you no longer have to deal with seeing him around.”

“He said that?” Diana asks, sounding shocked.

“No. But he and I know each other pretty well at this point. He’s changed and I can see he’s trying to act normal, but he’s not as good at lying to me as he is at lying to others.” Diana frowns and Althera shrugs, “It’s not that big of a deal, Di. I’ll get over it.”

Chapter Text

Mixed signals.

All she gets from Orm Marius are mixed signals as he rushes up behind her after the event and scoops her into a big hug.

“It’s official. Tomorrow's our first day on the job,” he says, squeezing her around the waist as they walk to the car.

“Yes it is,” she chuckles, then, “We probably shouldn’t be as touchy on-site as we are at home, though. Wouldn’t want to send the wrong idea.”

“Ah. Of course, my lady,” he laughs, releasing her, “How long exactly do you think we should stay? Because I don’t want them to think we’re micromanaging everything, but I also want to be there if any problems arise.”

“Tomorrow we really should just introduce ourselves, make sure they know that we’re available if they need anything or have any questions, make sure they have our contacts and then make ourselves scarce,” she says. Opening the car door, she pauses, looking over the car at him, “Honestly, with the guys that Bruce has put us in contact with, this job shouldn’t be too difficult. They’ve won a handful of awards for their past projects and have 55 years of experience between the two of them. The older one, Marvin, says he’s going to be on call so if either of us needs him at any time, he’ll answer.”

Orm nods thoughtfully and they slip into the car.

“And you still have Bean’s phone number?”

“Yup. He still texts me once a month to see if we're visiting Alaska soon and if I'll go out on a date with him.”

Orm rolls his eyes as he buckles up, “Well then, maybe you should give me his number and I can text him if we have a problem.”

She gives him a sideways look, pulling out of their parking spot, “I can handle Bean just fine. Besides, if he ever received a text from you, he'd probably go into hiding.”

Orm grumbles under his breath, then speaks louder when he says, “I was very nice to him and his godfather. If he thinks it's funny to harass you--”

“Whoa, there's no harassment, Orm! He's just goofing around. Besides, he still refers to you as ‘the boyfriend’, so I assume he’s joking most of the time anyway.”

Orm looks over at her and shifts in the seat, “I don’t mean to imply you can’t take care of yourself, Althera. I know that would be completely false.”

“I know you know better than that,” she says, then smiles. He looks reassured that he didn’t insult her and settles into his seat. She doesn’t want him to get too comfy, though, and says, “Diana and I were talking about you.”

He gives her a sideways look, “Did I do something?”

“You know, my dear, that it has always been your lack of doing something that has made her suspicious of you.”

“Hmm, not much I can do about that, now, is there?”

She chuckles, “Nah, I don’t think so. I think she’ll come around to you in about ten years or so?”

“Ah? Ten years? That’s all?”

She rolls her eyes and then Orm’s phone rings. It’s his mother and he answers it enthusiastically. They talk for the ride back and he hangs up as they enter the living room.

“She said, ‘Hi’.”

“Queen Atlanna is the sweetest.”

“She is pretty sweet,” Orm agrees, his voice thoughtful as he walks into the kitchen, “You should go rest. Take a nap or something.”

“No, I’m alright.”

He frowns and she remembers she told him about last night's anxiety. He continues looking at her and she laughs, “I’m fine, Orm!”

“Okay. Then can I make you something? A cup of cocoa, perhaps?”

She tilts her head, softly tapping her toe against the tile floor. Cocoa sounds nice, but it's a little gratuitous, “You know I drink that cocoa sparingly.”

He smiles, sensing her resolve is weak, “I do.”

“Only on special occasions...”

“Of course,” he nods, his expression conveying the utmost seriousness of the situation, “And, as you said, last night you were concerned about me and my demise. However, this morning you woke up and found me alive and as healthy as I can be. Therefore, don’t you think my being alive is reason enough to celebrate?”

She thinks about this for a second and then walks up to him, “You’re adorable, Mr. Marius.”

When he raises his eyebrows, his serious expression looks a little less teasing, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I am an Atlantean Warrior, born of royalty, descended directly from King Atlan himself.”

She stands on her toes and kisses his cheek, then reaches past him to grab the can of cocoa, “That you are! And does the Atlantean warrior want to pull out the hide-a-bed for our sleepover tonight while I prepare a cup of cocoa for the two of us?”

He inhales and she could swear she watches him go through every stage of grief as he compares his past identity to his new one. Once ‘acceptance’ hits, he grins and then nods, “Verily.”

She giggles as he rushes into the living room to do as she asked him to and then rushes back into the kitchen to relieve her of her duties. Having been kicked out of the kitchen, she plops down on the pullout couch and scrolls on her phone. When he walks around the couch with the two mugs of cocoa, she tosses her phone aside and grins up at him.

“You are adorable, you know.”

He gives her a small, disapproving look and she can’t help but laugh, “Not adorable.”

“Okay, maybe not adorable. Maybe you’re a sweetie pie?”

“Absolutely not.”

“None of these are insults, darling.”

He takes a sip from his mug, then sits down beside her. Swinging his legs up onto the bed, he grimaces, “I think I’d prefer adjectives like ‘assertive’, and ‘monumental’. I’d even accept ‘grand’ or ‘dashing’.”

“Dashing?” she laughs, setting her mug aside so she can turn toward him, “So you would prefer words like ‘handsome’ or ‘sexy’?”

Though his cheeks turn a slight shade of pink, he leans over with that cocky smile and purrs, “Only if you mean it.”

She giggles harder than she should, blushing as she pulls the blanket over her head. When she peeks out from under the blanket, he scrolls on his phone. The only sign he gives her that he knows she’s watching him is the extremely embarrassing eyebrow wiggle he does while he continues to scroll. She gently swats him with a decorative couch pillow, then grins, “Nope, Mr. Marius. If I’m a barnacle, you’re a sweetie pie.”

He rolls his eyes harder than he ever has before.

Chapter Text

Waking up on the pull-out couch, she rolls all the way over and swings her arm over him. He grunts, half-awake, and drags her a little closer.

The blankets are warm. He is warm. Her ear against his chest, she listens as his heart beats proudly in an incredibly soothing rhythm. Though she knows they have a job to do today, she feels herself getting lulled back to sleep by the comfort of him all around her. She’s gotta do something to fight it.

Containing a mischievous giggle, she slides her freezing cold hand up and under his shirt.

His stomach tenses and he shivers and groans, pushing her away as she laughs.

“How did I know I wouldn’t have any peace today?”

“What? I wuv you.”

His eyes still shut tight, he rolls over and murmurs, “And I wuv having peace of mind and not the crippling cold fingers of the Princess of the Living Dead inching across my ribcage.”

She lifts her head and looks down at him. Feeling her gaze, he slowly opens his eyes.

“That, Dearest Orm, is how you write poetry about me,” she praises. “You officially have my seal of approval.”

He frowns, then raises his eyebrows, a sleepy expression still on his face, “Really? I thought I was going to have to start apologizing.”

She laughs, taking his face in her hands that are now just as toasty warm as he is, “I don’t remember having any nightmares last night. Did I wake you at all?”

He shakes his head, “Slept right through the night, as far as I know. Maybe I’m your lucky barnacle.”

She rolls her eyes, “Eh, last time we had a sleepover, I still had nightmares, so maybe it’s conditional.”

He nods and she releases his face. Sitting up, she yawns and stretches, then readjusts her bonnet so it doesn’t feel so lumpy on her head. When she looks over, he’s looking up at her with a funny look on his face.

She giggles awkwardly, “What?”

He smiles, “Nothing. I’m just wondering what I might have been doing at this very hour if I’d never met the Princess of the Living Dead.”

She raises an eyebrow, “Having a much better time there?”

“No. Absolutely not,” he snorts, rolling onto his back and rubbing his face with his hands, “To be honest, most of my happy thoughts involve time spent locked up with you.”

She blinks in surprise, then squints at him, “You had better be careful. I might not ever let you go if you keep talking like that.”

He inhales deeply and yawns, then reaches out. He pins his wrists together and she is reminded of the times they spent in Atlantis and how they restrained Orm with those horrible handcuffs. It’s the handcuffs he’s alluding to when he does this, saying, “I’m all yours.”

The shock of his words sends what feels like a jolt of electricity through her body and face. She is far from being the inexperienced young woman she was in Olympus years and years ago. How, then, is it possible that he makes her feel like this?

By the Gods, does he never hear the things he says?

Accepting his hands, she opens his palms and gently pulls his wrists apart, “I free you, Orm Marius.”

He looks at their hands for a moment before looking up at her. When he smiles, it’s that slow smile that starts at one side of his mouth and spreads until his whole face is alight. She is glad she’s sitting down, as her knees might have given out at the sight of such a gorgeous expression. He turns his hands in hers and intertwines their fingers, placing a kiss on her knuckle.

She slips her hands out of his grasp, then gestures, “Come, Orm. We have work to do.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then I’ll be very angry.”

“Angry? I have yet to see you truly angry,” he realizes, sitting up and looking over at her. He grabs her around the waist and tugs her toward him, “Wait! I’ve seen you get mad, irritated, frustrated, agitated, and stressed out. But pure, unbridled anger doesn’t seem like something you are capable of.”

“That’s what I think about you, and probably for the same reason, don’t you think?” she asks. He frowns and she continues, “We aren’t the same people we used to be, but it’s good to keep our anger in check just in case.”

He seems deep in thought as he slides his arm around her torso, his hand resting against her stomach, “That’s true. We have grown.”

She nods, then asks, “What if we hadn’t?”

“If we hadn’t what?”

“Grown. What if Diana had never found me? What if we still happened to meet, before everything in Atlantis happened? And what if I found you boiling over with anger? And you met me, scarlet-eyed and all?”

He raises his eyebrows, “I’d forgotten you were the scarlet-eyed goddess. That is an intriguing thought, isn’t it?”

“No, not intriguing. Just bad.”

“And didn’t you tell me once that your skin turns to stone when you lose control? And that torches burn brighter, the tide rises, land begins to slide, and the wind whips around in terrible fury?”

She places her hand over his and leans back to look at him, “Yes.”

“Extremely intriguing.”

“Not intriguing. Scary.”

“I think I like scary Althera.”

“Orm!” she scolds.

“I’m just saying. If I had met this version of you, scarlet-eyed and a storm brewing and I were still the King of Atlantis, I might have tried to appease you. To gain your favor.”

She rolls her eyes, “Ah, you Kings think even storms can be bent to your will. But, I have never been easy to trick.”

He agrees, “It’s true. But I still would have wanted to try to catch and tame you.”

This response surprises her, and she turns to get a better look at him, “Catch and tame me? And how would you have done that?”

“With my charm and plenty of sweet talk. I’d have brought you the most luxurious gifts Atlantis can provide and fed you decadent treats. Anything to appease the fearsome goddess.”

She nods, “Ah, and that would have only been the beginning of your problems. Because, pre-Diana, I trusted no man’s motives. I would have seen straight through your honey-sweet charms.”

“I have no doubt,” he says, and smiles in a way that makes heat spread through her face.

“Then why would you have bothered?”

“Because being forced to become the servant of such a fearsome creature would have added some melodrama to my life when I so desperately needed it,” he laughs, then quickly adds, “Of course, that would depend on whether the dreadful goddess allowed me to keep my life, despite my trickery.”

All he has done for the past week is make her blush by teasing her with innuendos and cheeky smiles. She figures it’s time to get revenge by telling him the straight truth.

“To be honest, Orm, you are a very handsome, capable-looking man. I might have kept you around for one reason, only to discover later on that you were useful for others.”

“One reason?” he inquires. His eyes widen a fraction when he realizes what she’s hinting at and then his cheeks flush red with heat. She is allowed to feel victorious for a few moments before she sees a switch go off behind his eyes. She immediately regrets flirting back and grabs a pillow to cover her face with. Orm starts to lean toward her and continues to do so until she is flat underneath him. She feels the laughter in his chest as he does so and keeps the pillow planted to her face as best as she can as he asks, “Are you saying, Ms. Prince, that you would have kept me as your personal love slave? And that, right now, this conversation would be pillow talk?”

He yanks the pillow out of her grasp and she bursts out laughing, reaching up and pushing his shoulders away from her. His face is still pink, though his smile appears to be smug. He got a bigger rise out of her than she got out of him and she’ll allow him this victory for now.

If she weren’t so elated by his teasing, she’d be absolutely humiliated. Not only did she just admit to finding him to be attractive, but she also admitted that, given the right scenario, she finds him sexually attractive enough to allow him to satiate her... needs.

“This is a horrible start to our first day of work,” she pushes the blankets off of her and stands, “We really need to get moving.”

“Wait a minute. I think this has been a very interesting conversation. Maybe we should continue this discussion.”

“Oh, there’s really no need. We’ve said all there is to say. And more,” she grumbles, and he laughs that loud, soul-cleansing laughter.

He jumps up and gets ready for a day of work and she does the same, meandering about the house a little too blissful to feel even an ounce of shame.

Chapter Text

“Speaking of the news, have you had a look at that new super lady? That one with the Justice League and she has a weird name. It’s Gaia something or other--”

She resists a slight wince, then feels silly for even being affected by their gossip.

“It’s Gaia Chthonia,” One of the other guys corrects, “It’s supposed to mean she’s ‘of the Underworld’, if you believe in that kind of thing. And she’s not part of the Justice League, she just helps them out sometimes.”

She almost laughs out loud, surprised that this man knows so much about her and her methods.

“I forgot Joey has a six-year-old,” the first guy says, sounding a little annoyed, but still teasing, “He knows all the stats on the superheroes. It’s like when my kid made me memorize every single goddamn dinosaur in his favorite book. Anyway, what else d’you know about this Gaia from the Underworld?”

Joey looks awkward before he answers, “Well, the kid says she can ‘manipulate the elements’ or something like that. Also that she has a tight relationship with some of the Atlanteans.”

“Manipulate the elements? Like she plays with fire?” the first guy, whose name is Chet, asks. Joey nods and Chet claps his hands excitedly, “I don’t know about you, but the thought of that makes me feel a little hot, if you know what I mean?”

She would gag if she weren’t trying to act like she can’t hear them. Some of the guys he’s talking to laugh, some of them roll their eyes. Others sit silently, having come to do their work, get out, and get paid. She leans against the truck next to where they’ll be taking their lunch break and snaps the clip on her tin clipboard so loud that they all look up.

“Hey Ms. Prince.”

The guy who greets her is J, a skinny Black guy that everyone refers to by the first letter of his first and last name. He and Joey are twenty-five years old, look nearly polar opposite in appearance (if Joey’s ancestors were Scandinavian, she is certain they had thicc viking connections), yet have been inseparable for the past week she and Orm have been on site. They’re also the youngest of all the guys and, therefore, the most teasable. The Chet guy is a loud mouth, but irrelevant to the grand scheme of her life.

“Hey J,” she winks.

He grins and scoots over for her, shifting a bunch of the other guys down on the bench, and knocking one guy off the very end. She laughs when Orm swoops in from out of nowhere and takes the recently cleared seat. J is perplexed and, before he recovers, she turns and climbs into the truck, waving as she takes off.

She’d promised them something homemade for lunch and the house is close enough that she was also able to promise it’d be something fresh. Borrowing the superintendent’s truck, she gets home just as her phone’s alarm goes off to tell her that the 7 hours she’s had the pork cooking for is up. She is able to shred it quickly, slather it in another generous amount of barbeque sauce of her own concoction, pull out of the fridge a giant bowl of coleslaw (also her recipe) that Orm made earlier this morning, and barely remembers to grab the bags of sandwich buns before she’s out the door again.

There is a lively conversation going on at the table when she pulls up, and Orm, J, and Joey immediately jump up to help her unload the warm foil pans full of pulled pork to the tables. The big bowl of coleslaw is passed up and down the benches and, once everyone’s plates are full, the conversation dies down for a few minutes.

“Geez, how do I convince the company to keep you two on in the future? Nothing is good for morale like a homemade dish.”

She looks up in surprise to find it’s the superintendent, Mr. Ballard, who issues the compliment. Though Orm doesn’t look up, his head tilts in a way that suggests he’s listening.

“Really, Superintendent Ballard? I thought you weren’t too sure about Mr. Curry and I?”

If he feels embarrassed by her calling him out like this, he doesn’t show it. Being an older man who seems adamantly set on his ways, she hadn’t expected him to.

“Hey, when these uppity rich guys like Wayne start shifting things and inserting people into equations that we’ve never had before, I get suspicious. I’ve been doing these jobs long enough to have a healthy amount of skepticism.”

She continues, “If I recollect, you said that my bringing lunch today was a bribe.”

The corner of Orm’s lips go up in a smile before he uses a napkin to hide his expression.

“And I thought it was. Until I tasted it,” he says, in a self-assured voice that tells her he’s just that type of guy and that he thinks she should take this gesture of trust as a sign of respect, “That pork was marinated with love and care, not deceit and evildoing.”

She laughs and places a hand on his shoulder, “Ah, well I’m glad we’ve sorted out our differences. And I’ll try to bring you all something again next Friday.”

The next week, however, she and Orm are forced to put an inconvenient pause on the construction due to the monstrous torrent of rain and unanticipated thunderstorms that beat down on their progress. Monday morning, they rush out with the team to make sure that whatever preventative measures there are to keep the site safe are put in place. The rain is already bad and she and Orm provide rain ponchos for the guys to wear over their construction hats as they hurried through the bad weather together. By the time they get back to the car, she and Orm breathe heavily, soaking the car seats with about a gallon of rainwater each.

“There was a guy out there who I've never seen at the site before. He said we’ll probably be off for a week, due to this storm,” Orm says, wiping his face with a gas station napkin he found in the glove compartment.

“You didn't recognize him?”

“I’ve never seen him before, but he honestly felt a little familiar. He said his name was… Monty.”

“Monty?” she asks, and then roars with laughter, “Did he really say his name was Monty?”

Orm looks confused as he confirms that that was the man’s name and that’s what the man forecasted.

“Well, I guess we should make preparations for a week’s delay, because I trust Monty’s prediction,” she laughs, calming down long enough to explain to him that he just met her big brother Hephaestus.

Orm stares out the window in disbelief, peering out through the partially fogged-up windows, trying to get a glimpse of the volcanic god once more.

“Did you grab Tom’s cake?” she asks as they step out onto the porch in the front yard. The thrumming of rain beats down on the wood, making a relaxing pattering sound above them.

He turns back into the house and sighs, “That old man doesn’t need to be eating so much cake.”

“It’s vegan, so it’s healthy for him,” she beams as he walks back out with the loaf tucked safely under his arm.

“I truly don’t think that’s how it works, Darling,” he says.

She waves him off and gestures to the car, “No time to argue, we have a busy schedule today.”

He closes the door behind him and then curses loudly, “Ori’s boat! We forgot to drop it off.”

”Wren knows where the spare key is. I’ll text her and tell her that if Ori is still stressed about it that they can pick it up when we’re gone.”

They run through the front yard, mud splashing up around them, rain pouring down from above. Once inside the car, she takes a deep breath in the slightly humid vehicle and leans her head back on the chair. He does the same, turning to look at her.

“We’ve got everything under control,” he says, and it sounds like he’s reassuring the both of them.

“Hell yes we do.”

“We just have this one visit and then we’ll be on our way to our next adventure,” he says, sounding more confident, “We’ll deal with the mess of this storm later.”

Chapter Text

Darling Althera,

It has been months since I last was compelled to write. At home, the sun is long gone and the flowers have wilted away. The beach’s sand is cold to the touch and the ocean reflects a sky, frigid and gray. Sometimes, in little radiant bursts lasting mere moments, the sky opens up and we are allowed to feel the warmth of the sun.

Tonight, however, the night sky stays gray and the light of the moon is scrubbed out. But you, Althera… you light up the room.

We’ve recently returned from quite the trip and tonight I enjoy the sound of your humming nearby as I write this. There is much to process tonight.

After rereading my last letter I find that my feelings for you were in a stage of metamorphosis. I thought something about you had changed when, in truth, it was myself that had. You hadn't changed, but the way I saw you did.

Althera, I wish so desperately to hold you right now.

I feel like a fool even thinking such a thought. Of course I can hold you! You've been in my arms plenty of times before today. But lately, it hasn't felt the same. Lately, I have had the overwhelming desire to not let go.

Of course, in time, I do. And the sensation is maddening. Can you hear the sound of it tearing inside of me every time you step away? If you do, you are too good an actress. You never seem to notice.

I notice the nights you slip away. Not as if it’s often, but I have to admit I was curious in the beginning. You had your own life that I obviously couldn't be a part of and that didn’t really affect me. But these last few months, a thought burrowed into my head. That there is very little reason why I couldn't be that for you. We are two consenting adults. You have your desires and I have mine, so the very basics are all there. But the very next day, you always returned to me. No grief in your eyes, no pain from having to leave so soon. And I knew that I could never be that for you. That I could never instigate that kind relationship between the two of us. Because I know that I would never be able to leave you as you leave them. And if you left me in that way… it would break me.

And while pondering this, I came to the sudden realization that one day all of this will change. That it is very likely that, one day, you will move on. Or I will return to Atlantis. That we could remain friends, but be separated by so much time and distance that it wouldn't ever be quite the same as it is now. You might even find someone new to adventure with.

One thing is for certain. That one day you will decide that I no longer need you.

That will not be true.

Our little beach is tidy and cheery. The walls of this house are a shelter I appreciate. But it was YOU who made this little town on the Surface worthy enough to be my Home. You, Althera.

Some days you look at me and I think you can see right through me. I feel embarrassed or ashamed. I feel guilty because I feel like I’m lying to you.

I should be honest. I should spit it out. The reason I've been acting so strange is because I know you could have any man you want. And because it is a curse that I have only just realized that the only woman I could ever want is you. And, by the Gods, I hate the thought of being so weak as to become jealous; but how could I not when you are so magnificently you?

In my search for reason, I wondered for a moment if, perhaps, I am more shallow than I had always perceived myself to be. Perhaps it is your beauty or your power I admire. And I sat and watched you one day and concluded that your beauty is anything but superficial. You glow inside and out, day and night. And your power, though mesmerizing at times, is merely a crumb of what defines you.

I dug for reason, but my only conclusion is that I have come to adore you. Everything about the way you move, laugh, and live. I adore the way you tease me and the way you teach without condescension. I live for the moments you grab my hand and squeeze and the moments you catch my eye from across the room and smile that smile that is so bright it lights the dimmest corners of my soul. Your quips and your quirks and even the days you make me so frustrated I could pull my own hair out, I want you to know that I’m still there for you no matter what. I still want you. All of you.

Yet how can I bring this up in a way that doesn’t make me sound infatuated? And who is to say you could ever feel the same?

I know you care for me, Althera. You’ve made that abundantly clear. And, lately, when I’ve attempted to flirt, you always flirt right back. The two of us, we’ve blushed like idiots at some of the things we’ve said, but I don’t know whether to attribute that to your playful attitude, or to something more. You say I’m handsome, but even before I realized the extent of my feelings for you, I could easily have described you as beautiful. You say you love me, but we have used the word ‘love’ with sincerity since the beginning. You say you want me around, but for how long? Would the rest of my life be too much to ask?

Would you look at me with pity if I admit that this is what I want?

I never want you to accept me out of pity. I want you to feel the same way I do without any sense of obligation. This isn't our duty and I don't ever want it to be. I know, deep in my heart, that even if you were to reject me in this way, I would never care for you any less than I do now. I would relearn how to care for you in the way you need me to, Althera. Because the most important role I’ve ever played in my life is the role of your friend.

Althera, Althera, Althera.

As if you can read my thoughts, you’ve just looked up from reorganizing the bookshelf. I can feel your eyes on me now. Your hair is damp from your shower and you are in a pair of loose cotton pajamas. You look ethereal. You are walking to me now, saying something about the book in your hand. You spread the pages open and inside is a dried flower. I suppose this is where this letter will end.

Eternally your friend,

Orm

P.S. It was OUR flower. I’m going to take a chance. I want to take a chance, someday soon.

Chapter Text

He closes his notebook and sets down his pen as she walks up to him at their new desk, added to the living room so they don’t always have to work from the dining room table. His expression looks far away and she wonders if he even heard her. He confirms that he did not when he says, “Excuse me?”

She chuckles, “Still a little jet-lagged?”

He blushes slightly, “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“I was just saying I’d forgotten about the flower I put in this book to dry it out.”

“You dry flowers in books?” he asks, then smiles when she chuckles. “Well, why would you want to do that?”

“A bunch of reasons! For decorating, for keepsakes, for art. See?”

She hands him the open book and watches his face as he looks at the flower, thoughtlessly reaching out and putting his arm around her waist. She doesn't expect him to recognize it, but it’d be very sweet if he did.

As if reading her mind, he says in a slightly uncertain voice, “Poppy? From our brief stay out near Gaza? Right?”

Her heart feels like it does a cartwheel in her chest when he looks up at her. Biting back a smile, she nods, “Yes. We had argued about something that morning. I said it didn't hurt my feelings, but it had and you knew. I found you whispering to the guide. Moments later, one of the local kids arrived with a flower.”

“A single flower. The others were lost in translation,” he smiles, “I was grateful, though. And you seemed happy with your one flower. You even saved it. Why?”

She takes the book from his hands, slipping out of his grasp and walking back to the shelf, putting the book away, “Sentiment, I guess. My aunt has always left flowers for my uncle as a sign of love. But this flower… you went out of your way to find it for me as a sign of understanding. Between these pages is our flower. It symbolizes our friendship. Even if that's kinda silly.”

She turns around and leans against the bookshelf and he regards her from his position at the desk. After a beat, he nods, “In that case, we should frame it. Hang it up somewhere people can see it, right when they walk into the house.”

She snorts, “We don’t even have any pictures of people on the walls, Orm. Why would we hang up one flower?”

“We’ll hang up some pictures of people, too, if we must,” he says, “Though I worry your coincidental relation to several members of the Justice League and the Greek Pantheon makes that a little difficult.”

She giggles, “That’s true.”

Orm opens his notebook again and settles back into his writing as she finishes her impromptu organization frenzy. When she gets a text from Elena, she worries, as it is a little late. However, opening it up, she can't help but smile.

“Aw, look, Orm! Nina’s baby daddy proposed to her,” she says, running up to him and practically shoving the picture of Elena’s granddaughter in his face. He looks up and grabs the phone, regarding the picture for less than three seconds before he responds.

“He looks goofy.”

Swiping the phone back from him, she pouts, “Goofy or not, he seems nice. Did you see the rose petals on the cobblestones? And I guess he put a lot of thought into the proposal. Apparently, he waited to propose until Nina’s parents and some of his family members were able to join them on some big vacation or something.”

“And who is taking care of their months-old child in the meantime?”

She snorts and chuckles, “Orm.”

“I just don’t think that is very practical,” he laughs up at her. She pouts at him and he quickly adds, “But I’m happy for her.”

“I’ll tell Elena that we send our best wishes,” she says, walking away from the desk and to the couch. Orm shrugs and turns back around in his swivel chair.

She taps out a long text about how happy she and Orm are for the family and then presses send, sinking deep into the cushions.

“Althera?”

“Hm?”

“What do you think about that kind of proposal?”

“The grand gesture kind?” she asks, and he nods, “I think it’s cute. If someone wanted to put that much effort into proposing to me, I’d be flattered.”

He spins around to look at her, “You’re a goddess, shouldn’t that be the very least a man could do?”

She rolls her eyes, “Well, goddess or not, I can’t guarantee that something like that would work. Especially if there was no talk of engagement beforehand. Like, what if a guy were to bring our families out and asked in some big performative manner and I said ‘no’? That would be beyond awkward!”

He raises his eyebrows, “That does sound mortifying.”

“Better to be safe than sorry,” she says, rolling over on her belly to look over at him, “Why? Would you want trumpets and streamers and whatnot to announce your engagement?”

“After my experience in Atlantis? No thank you. I understand that making a huge deal out of it is exciting for some people. And I think Nina should get the proposal she deserves. But as someone whose entire life has felt like one big performance, I’d be just fine with a quiet dinner and some one-on-one conversation. Still romantic, but just between two people who care about each other.”

“Chance of humiliation goes down quite a bit,” she giggles and he agrees.

“The actual wedding, however... I’d spare no expense. I may no longer be a king, but I am still royalty and everyone will know it,” he grins and she giggles at the thought.

When he turns back around, he taps his pen on the table thoughtlessly. She has noticed he's been writing a lot lately and remembers that he told her once that his therapist suggested journaling as a good outlet during stressful times. She wonders what he writes, but would never be nosey enough to ask.

A little while later, she dismisses herself for bed. Alone in her room, she snuggles up in her blanket thinking about their recent adventures and of the big project she never would have expected herself to undertake. She thinks about their friends, both the old ones and the new ones. She wonders silently if Nina would describe her fiancé as the love of her life. And she wonders what that might someday feel like as she drifts off to sleep.

Chapter Text

She has to remind Ori to wait until the car comes to a complete stop before he hops out of it. He wiggles in the back seat with anticipation and, as soon as she puts it in park, drags his backpack toward him and pushes the car door open. Orm stands on the front patio and he looks up from his phone when he hears the car door close.

“Hey Orm!” he calls, running up the front steps to grab the Prince of Atlantis in a tight hug. Orm doesn't have time to say hello back before Ori continues, “You weren’t here last time Althera took care of me. She said you had a doctor’s appointment. I hate the doctor. I got a shot one time and my arm swelled up! And it was super itchy.”

Ori follows her inside, walking to the couch and dropping his backpack. Reaching into it, he pulls out a green paper folder, “Look, guys. I’m ahead in class so my teacher let me take home a practice sheet for advanced math. It’s not homework, though. It’s just for fun.”

“That’s awesome. Is it hard?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he says, pulling out the worksheet, “Look at this one. This has multiplication with three digits.”

“Dang. Three whole digits. You actually know how to figure that out?”

“Uh-huh. But there’s a girl in class who’s ahead of me. All her worksheets are like this. We’re also the only kids in my class who go to therapy.”

Orm, who is taking a drink of water at the sink, raises his eyebrows at Althera. She does her best to ignore the face he’s making at her and continues her conversation with Ori.

“That’s… interesting.”

“Yeah. I just like going because I get to look in the other classrooms. Mrs. Finch is a kindergarten teacher and she keeps an enormous jar of candy behind her desk,” he says gesturing with his hands exactly how enormous this jar is. “She let us do therapy in her class when she took her students out to recess one time. I didn’t get to take candy from the jar, though.”

“Oh my goodness, as if you don’t have enough candy at home,” she laughs.

“I need some more for my stash,” he shrugs, then smiles because he knows what she said is true.

“Well then,” she sighs, as Orm walks out of the kitchen, “Do you want something specific for dinner, babe? Because your mama isn’t picking you up until seven.”

“Can I help Orm cook?”

“How long is your homework today?”

“I just have to read for 20 minutes tonight.”

“Okay. Orm’ll be ready for you in 20 minutes.”

At 6:45, homework is done and they’re all well-fed. Althera lies on the floor and Ori sits on her stomach as he straightens the cape on his mini Superman. Orm sits on the couch, listening to the conversation.

“... but other than that, there’s no way. Unless you had some kryptonite,” she says.

“Yeah,” Ori agrees. Then he sets Superman aside and stares down at her, straight into her eyes. She maintains his gaze, but he almost appears to be looking for something specific. After a few long moments, he smiles, “You sure know a lot about Superman.”

She almost bursts into laughter and Orm saves her by responding, “Half the stuff we know is because you taught us.”

“Yeah yeah,” he giggles. When Althera yawns, he looks down at her, “Are you tired?”

“A little bit. Are you?”

“A little bit. But I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. My mom is worried I have insomnia because of the incident. She says my therapist is a ‘feel good’ therapist, so we might have to look for a new one soon.”

Althera covers her face with her hands and pretends she is yawning again to hide her actual reaction to this sudden information dump. Orm, who is more mature, says something to Ori that she misses.

In response, Ori comes back with, “I’ll tell you something about the incident if you or Althera tell me about your scars.”

“Our scars?” she asks, dropping her hands and looking up at him.

“Mom says it’s impolite to ask, but if I made a trade it shouldn’t be, right?”

“If we were willing to trade, maybe,” Orm says matter-of-factly. Ori frowns, but grabs Superman from off the floor. She looks at Orm from the corner of her eye and he shakes his head very slightly.

“There’s a kid at school who says Superman is stupid. He also said that the Outreach project is stupid.”

During dinner, Ori had caught them up on what the Outreach project was. They had heard both he and his mother mention it in passing before, but weren’t fully aware of what it entailed. Apparently, every Friday Ori, his mom, and a few other students and their parents go down to a nursing home/care center and spend time with the residents. Ori says he and his mom also tend to go on Thursday and Saturday, too, because the place needs as many helping hands as it can get.

Hearing that some dumb kid has insulted two things that are important to Ori, she grimaces.

“You know he’s wrong, though, right?”

He shrugs. Then, after a few moments, he says, “Yeah.”

“Superman can fly and can shoot a laser out of his eyes. How is that not cool?” she asks and he smiles. She then continues on a slightly more serious note, “And I’m proud of you and your mom. You literally spend your free time helping other people. I think that kinda qualifies you to be a type of superhero, doesn’t it?”

“A superhero?” he hollers with laughter, “How am I a superhero?”

“You said you helped that man, Mr. Stephens, get his cane that one time. You said Mr. Stephens can hardly walk at all without it. Isn’t that what a superhero would do?”

“I guess. But if I were a superhero, I’d have healing powers and make Mr. Stephens’ knees stronger.”

“That is extremely nice. And that’s what a superhero would say,” she insists. He looks bashful when he rolls off of her.

He’s quiet for a second before he says, “Can I borrow your phone?”

“It’s next to Orm on the couch.”

He jumps up and sinks into the cushion next to Orm, holding the screen up to Orm so he can unlock it. Most of the time when he borrows her phone, he either is sending a text to his mom or taking a selfie. He seems to send a text to Wren before he puts the phone aside and looks up at Orm.

“What if we don’t trade? What if I just tell you the thing about the incident?”

Orm frowns, “Ori, I feel like this incident is something your mother feels is very personal. And if she had wanted us to know about it, she already would have told us.”

“But she’s scared! She told her therapist last time that she’s too scared to bring it up to anybody, even her friends. And you guys are her only friends.”

Althera frowns, but doubles down, “Baby, your mom has to make her own decisions. That being said, she loves you more than anyone in the whole wide world, so your opinion is important to her. If you think it’s important that she tell us about the incident, you tell her so.”

Ori frowns deeply, grabbing her phone again. It hadn’t locked, so he rolls onto his back on the cushion and starts scrolling through the camera roll. He doesn’t seem happy with how this conversation has turned out. But they’re walking on a fine line of ‘concerned friend’ to ‘nosey neighbor’ that Althera doesn’t feel extremely comfortable with. Orm looks over at her and she frowns.

As if the weight of the secret were weighing on him, Ori says briskly and without looking at either of them, “Mom’s scared because Dad is in jail, but Uncle Reed isn’t.”

Althera sits up, her heart clenching in her chest as she processes those words. Orm makes a slight gesture toward her and she takes a deep breath, trying to calm the shock of what those words imply. When Orm continues, his voice is concerned, but casual.

“You don’t have to worry about either of them. You two moved here, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. But Uncle Reed is a cop. He can find us wherever we go.”

Althera takes another deep breath and stands, placing a hand on Ori’s head as she walks past, into the kitchen and pours herself a glass of water. The heat in her face is automatic and she needs to cool down. Though Ori may have hyperbolized Wren’s worry, she doesn’t find it completely inconceivable considering how jumpy she’s been since they’ve known her.

Orm is able to steer the conversation in a different direction and she returns to the living room when she’s calmed her racing mind down.

Though usually at least a few minutes late, today Wren shows up perfectly on time.

Before they leave, Althera kneels down and pulls her sleeve up.

“You see this big scar right here?” she says, gesturing to a scar that covers the length of her forearm. He nods and she continues, “It’s from a motorcycle accident. My brother crashed his bike and we both fell. I needed a cast and everything.”

“Was it on the news?”

“I dunno,” she shrugs, “If it was, it was before you were born, so you wouldn’t have seen it.”

Wren looks at her as she straightens up and looks are exchanged. Wren knows Ori’s told them something, but they’ll have to talk about it later. Wren frowns slightly, but makes Ori thank them as they leave like usual.

When they drive away, Orm walks up behind her and puts his arms around her.

“Try not to worry too much.”

“How could I not?” she frowns, squeezing his forearm distractedly.

“We’ll keep an eye on them. If someone comes along who looks like they could be a threat, we’ll deal with it.”

She turns and looks up at him. She chews on her words for a long moment before she is able to put a coherent thought together, “Orm… if something happens to either of them…”

“Nothing is going to happen,” he insists. His voice is so strong and assured that she knows he’ll have her back no matter what, “We won’t let anything happen.”

Chapter Text

She opens the door half a second before he can knock, smiling up at him, “Good morning, Arthur.”

“Morning, Alteenie,” he says, following her into the house and looking around, “My brother still lives here, right?”

“Yeah, he’s just slow to rise this morning. He was on the phone all last night, trying to fix the mess the weather made for work. I can try to get him up if you need him.”

He claps his hands together and grins, “Nah. I got this.”

He takes a step forward and she begins to warn him before he beelines through the living room, toward Orm’s bedroom door. Before she can stop him, he slides right in.

“By the Gods, he wants to die,” she murmurs, walking into the kitchen and starting to make brunch. By the looks of it, today seems like a good day for a mimosa.

The sound of Arthur’s laughter comes from the bedroom and she sighs. Today seems like a good day for two mimosas. She sips the first one while she cooks and admits she might have been a little heavy-handed with the pour. Arthur comes flying out of the room, holding his stomach from laughing so hard.

“Why do you test his patience?” she asks as he walks into the kitchen. He squeezes her once from behind and she pats his hand lovingly, “Oh, so salty! How long have you been in Atlantis?”

“Since I saw you last. They keep me busy with all this ‘King’ stuff,” he grimaces, then leans against the island and smiles, “The thing about Orm is that he seems to forget that I’m the older brother and I have to put him back in his place every so often.”

She laughs, “Well, he’ll be out soon, then. You gonna eat?”

“Yes!” he exhales, “Also, would it be alright if I took a quick shower? I don’t wanna stink up your table.”

“Yeah, you know where everything is?”

“I’ll figure it out. Thanks Teenie,” he says, going to the bathroom as Orm walks out of his bedroom. His hair is a tousled mess and he rubs his eyes, pausing and glaring at the bathroom door as if Arthur would be able to sense it on the other side. After a bit, he walks into the kitchen and stands there until she turns and looks at him.

“He was in my room,” he grunts.

“I tried to stop him, but he ran right past me,” she says. He pouts and she gestures to her drink, “Want a mimosa?”

“I’ll just have tea,” he says, and she hands him a mug, “I assume he’s staying for breakfast, then?”

“Brunch, actually,” she hums, and he looks at the clock incredulously. His sleepy expression makes her giggle and she grabs his hand, pulling him toward her, “Don’t be so grumpy, Ocean Master.”

“I’m not grumpy,” he says grumpily, then reaches around her to grab her orange beverage, taking a sip. “By Atlan, Althera, did you even put any juice in that?”

She giggles as she slips the glass away from him and gets back to work.

Sitting on the edge of the counter, she watches Orm while enjoying a spoonful of whipped cream. He’s in a better mood now, despite leaving her to drink her two mimosas by herself. When he takes another step toward her, she raises her eyebrows and warns, “You’d better back up, Orm Marius.”

He leans toward her, holding out a spoon covered in the honey he used for his tea.

“What are you going to do about it?” he teases. He takes yet another step closer, his stomach against the edge of the counter between her legs. His hand brings the spoon closer to her and she squeals in surprise, retaliating with a spoon of her own. He freezes, his eyes slightly crossed as he registers the whipped cream at the tip of his nose.

“By the Gods, you’ve hit me,” he gasps, as if it is the ultimate betrayal.

She laughs in surprise at her own action and reaches out to take his spoon away from him. He moves his hand just in time, causing her to lurch forward into his arms. He grabs her around the waist, his body shaking a little as he laughs at her.

When he suddenly clears his throat and pulls away from her, she turns and looks over her shoulder to find Arthur standing in his towel at the head of the couch, his eyebrows raised.

Instant heat spreads into her face and she chuckles a little before clearing her own throat, “We have some of the clothes you left here just above the washer. I can get them for you if you want them.”

“I’ll get them. Thanks again, Teenie,” he says, suddenly grinning devilishly wide.

Orm grabs a dishcloth off the counter and wipes his face. She giggles and hops off the counter. She’s not drunk, if anything she has a slight buzz, so she still has the capacity to feel embarrassed by Arthur walking in on them playing like that. Even if it was perfectly innocent.

She grabs the large plate of waffles and sets it on the table and Orm turns, setting the pitcher of juice on the table beside her. They make eye contact and Orm chuckles, bumping her softly. She grins and bumps him back.

“Waffles!” Arthur reappears loudly, dropping himself into a dining chair, “You know how long it’s been since I had a waffle?”

“Too long, by the sound of it,” Althera laughs.

“I should take a shower…” Orm frowns and she immediately wraps her arms around his arm to anchor him in place.

“Oh, have breakfast first, please. It’ll get cold,” she insists. He initially looks reluctant, but then agrees, allowing her to press him into a chair.

“Barry told me briefly about your night out on the town,” Arthur says, watching them intently, “You were in Ibiza, right?”

“Barry stayed longer than we did. Althera had seen the sights,” Orm says to Arthur, though he doesn't actually look at his brother. Instead, she can feel his eyes follow her to the table as she sits down beside him.

“He’s being polite. What he means to say is that I got into an argument with the owner of the apartment we were staying in and got us blacklisted, since he apparently has a lot of connections in the city,” she explains, lifting her hand and immediately redirecting it to the pitcher, noting that she had intended to grab Orm’s hand, at first, “I feel bad though. I feel like I ruined the experience for Orm.”

He shrugs, “I don’t want to stay somewhere you aren’t welcome. Besides, you made it interesting.”

Though she disagrees, she can’t help but laugh recalling their most recent mission ran for Bruce, “Not as interesting as when Erik threw Dick O’Hara out the window for lying about the loan we gave him.”

He smiles, leaning over his plate, “Did you really like that? I thought that was a little much.”

“No, it was perfect! Even Bruce thought it was great.”

She feels their knees bump under the table and the sensation makes her realize that maybe they’ve scooted a little closer together than they should be. She waves her hand dismissively and adds, “Of course, Arthur has no idea what we’re talking about.”

“Don’t mind me,” Arthur says, taking another bite and swallowing, “Just warn me if you two wanna start kissing.”

Heat spreads through her body like wildfire and she closes her hands into light fists to hide the glow in her fingertips, an obvious physical reaction to her embarrassment, “Very funny, Arthur.”

She takes a drink and looks sideways at Orm, who glares at Arthur.

“You are so childish,” he finally says, retrieving his mug, “I swear, Arthur.”

She clears her throat, straightening herself up in her seat so that their knees no longer touch.

“Anyway…” she starts, attempting to change the subject, “What’s with the surprise visit? Or did you just miss being the object of Orm’s derision?”

He gives them both another look before accepting the subject change, “Eh, lots of things are in the process of changing in Atlantis right now. Everyone is so… high-strung since a lot of traditions are being challenged.”

“Ooh, Atlantis and their traditions,” she hums, “Those traditions almost got all my Oceanic friends killed at one point, if you think about it.”

She takes a bite as Orm’s head tilts. She raises her eyebrows and he opens his mouth to potentially argue, but then frowns, “You might actually have a point.”

She giggles, then enjoys another bite.

“I actually came to ask for your advice, little brother,” Arthur says.

“My advice?” he blinks, “Isn’t that what you have Vulko for?”

Arthur’s already grunting before Orm can even finish his question, “Look, I’ve listened to Vulko’s opinion until he was blue in the face. I’m asking for your advice. Your opinion. And I have my reasons, alright?”

Orm frowns, but ultimately gives in. She tries to follow along with their discussion, but she expects that, even if she’d been born and raised in Atlantis, she would still be confused by the jargon. She’s glad they’re getting along, though, and insists they keep talking while she cleans up. At one point, they’re in such deep conversation that she takes a pic on her phone and sends it to their mother. She has a strong suspicion that she is the only person who texts pictures to Tom’s phone for Atlanna’s viewing, but she always seems grateful. Today she responds with a string of heart emojis.

She doesn't see herself stopping anytime soon.

Chapter Text

Arthur and Orm’s conversation lasts longer than she had expected. Having finished the dishes, scrolling through unread text messages, and flopping down on the couch, she leans over the head of the couch to watch them. She is alarmed when Orm pulls out a notebook and draws some shapes on it, aggressively pointing at it while Arthur stares at it and nods attentively.

Laughing to herself, she decides to go out to check the mail. On the way back to the house, she gets distracted by a small frog that looks like it wants her attention as it hops around the damp grass. Eventually, she decides it has nothing to say to her and she gives up her chase. When she re-enters the house, the vibe of the conversation has changed immensely. The two of them stand near the sink, speaking in low voices at each other before Orm notices her and nudges Arthur quite hard in the stomach.

Holding his stomach in pain, he looks over at her, “Uh, thanks Althera, and just Althera, for the waffles. It’s too bad I can’t stay for lunch.”

Orm glares, “I won’t believe it until you’re gone.”

“Tsk, so rude,” he says, turning and setting his glass down in the sink, “Nah, but for real, I’ll get out of your hair. I’ve got to work out this mess now that I have a clearer mind.”

He walks up to her and hugs her, and she groans when he makes her feet dangle above the floor, “I’ll see you two around.”

He leaves and Althera drops herself into the couch cushions, tossing the mail aside and looking up at Orm.

What was that about?”

“He is… bizarre.”

She raises her eyebrows and he laughs, sitting on the couch and laying with his head on her lap, “You’re a little bizarre yourself, Mr. Marius.”

“Am I?” he asks, pulling out his phone, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Uh-huh,” she rolls her eyes, picking her book up from the side table, “Anyway, how late were you up last night? You seemed out of it this morning.”

“I went to bed at 2, though I don’t know when I fell asleep. I have insomnia like Ori.”

She swats his shoulder softly and he chuckles, the two of them settling into a comfortable silence. After she’s finished reading a second chapter, she means to stand, but finds that he has set his phone aside and is now deep asleep. Not wanting to wake him, she tries to find some way off the couch but fails.

Giving in, she looks down at him, admiring every familiar detail of his face as he looks his most peaceful. The soft pink in his cheekbones and the planes of his cheeks. The ruler-straight ridge of his nose and the light color of his eyelashes fluttering in his sleep.

For the millionth time, she feels grateful to have him around. However, she is aware that she should maybe dial back on the amount of physical touch she maintains with him, especially around company. If only to avoid the silly comments of others.

She can handle the teasing just fine, but she’d hate for him to ever get uncomfortable.

Now, however, they are alone. She brings her hand to his head and combs her fingers through his hair, which is still a touseled mess from having been rudely awoken this morning. He inhales deeply in his sleep, then settles down into her again, finding a slightly more comfortable position.

Maybe she is a little over-affectionate with him. If he is uncomfortable with it, he would have communicated that with her, wouldn’t he? Because they’ve established that an open line of communication is important to them both.