King of the Seven Seas (EMH) Chapter 21: Against A Horse

[Third Person POV]

“Wait, what could the Lady of the Lake possibly want with us?” Arthur asked, confusion lacing his tone as his brow furrowed. He leaned slightly forward across the table, curiosity and caution warring in his eyes. “Is she somehow aware that we were already seeking her out as well?”

Dane gave a small shrug, spearing another bite of food from his plate before replying. “I have no clue,” he admitted honestly. “I wasn’t exactly privy to the finer details of her summons. But if you’re already searching for her yourselves, then I wouldn’t put it past her to know of it. The Lady has her ways—mystical, subtle. She always seems to know what stirs the waters before anyone else does. And if the two of you are so far from home, chasing after her name, then it makes sense she’d be aware of your movements.” He gestured lightly with his fork before resuming his meal, the clink of cutlery briefly filling the silence.

Mera tilted her head, her eyes narrowing with sharp focus. “If you’re to guide us to her,” she began, her tone level yet firm, “then you must know how to get into Avalon. We’ve heard whispers of a passageway, but its secrets remain closed to us. We know it exists, yet we’re ignorant of how to access it.” She paused only long enough to take another delicate bite.

“There are indeed many ways to enter Avalon,” Dane replied, his voice lowering slightly as if he were speaking of sacred knowledge. “But the path I intend to lead you through lies within Stonehenge itself, where a portal to the dimension known as Otherworld resides. That will be our gateway.”

Arthur and Mera both leaned in slightly, their curiosity fully sparked. The flicker of wonder in their eyes did not go unnoticed by Dane, who smirked faintly before launching into a deeper explanation.

“To give you a brief rundown,” Dane began, setting his fork aside and folding his hands together, “Otherworld is no ordinary place. It is an interdimensional nexus, a crossroads of realities composed of numerous distinct provinces—each with its own unique history, geography, and rulers. It functions as a binding point, connecting not only to realms within our universe but also to alternate realities across the multiverse. Initially, in its earliest existence, Otherworld was nothing more than a pocket dimension containing only Avalon.

“For millennia, Avalon was synonymous with Otherworld, its only province and its shining jewel. That realm was a flat, mystical plane created by the goddess Gaea herself, shaped by the collective subconscious of the British Isles. However, as ages passed, Otherworld grew beyond its origins. It became a sanctuary, a place of refuge for those fleeing dying universes and collapsing realities. Those who found sanctuary there were granted autonomy, forming new provinces. Over time, these provinces gathered followers, nurtured their own identities, and evolved into fully independent kingdoms—each one as strange and wondrous as the next.”

Arthur let out a low whistle, his lips curving into a grin that betrayed his adventurous nature. “Now that sounds like an adventure waiting to happen,” he said with a spark in his eyes.

Dane’s smile widened, quietly amused by Arthur’s spirit. “Then an adventure you shall have,” he promised. “Once we’ve finished here, I’ll take you both to begin your journey.”

When at last they were done, both Arthur and Mera offered their gratitude. “Thank you for showing me a different side to surface-world cuisine,” Mera said warmly, dabbing her lips with a napkin before setting it aside. “You are a spectacular cook, Dane. If fortune allows it, perhaps one day you will be invited to Atlantis to experience our culinary traditions.” Her words carried the sincerity of royalty extending a genuine offer.

Dane smiled at the compliment, wiping his own mouth and neatly folding his napkin onto the plate. “Then I shall await that invitation with anticipation,” he said with a respectful nod. Rising to his feet, he glanced between the two Atlanteans. “Now then—shall we begin our journey?”

…

Soon, the three stood outside within the courtyard of Dane’s castle. The space was wide and carefully tended, green hedges trimmed to near perfection and vibrant flowers adding life to the stone surroundings. At the center stood a water fountain, its gentle trickle filling the air with a soothing ambiance. From the stables, a proud black steed trotted toward them with graceful steps, its wings—dark as midnight—rustling faintly.

Mera tilted her head, narrowing her eyes as she regarded the animal. “I’m not entirely sure a single horse will be enough for the three of us to ride,” she said skeptically, gesturing toward the beast.

“Hmm, you may be right,” Dane admitted, scratching his chin. “When I picked the two of you up before, I had to… improvise. Stacking you one atop the other was hardly the most dignified arrangement. This could prove tricky.”

Aragorn—the black-winged steed—snorted loudly, ears flicking back as though insulted. The horse turned its head dramatically away from Mera, giving her a pointed look over its shoulder before letting out a haughty neigh.

Arthur’s shoulders shook as he tried to contain himself. “Phttt—” he burst out in laughter, turning away and covering his mouth.

Both Dane and Mera blinked, caught off guard. Mera tilted her head, narrowing her eyes at Arthur. “Wait a moment,” she said slowly, “did you just… understand what it said? I thought you could only communicate with marine life.”

Arthur shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes and no. My powers… work a little differently than people think.” He sighed before continuing, “I didn’t necessarily understand the neigh in words, but I caught what it was trying to convey by reading its mind.”

Dane’s eyes lit up, fascinated. “Wait, are you serious? That’s incredible! What did it say?”

Arthur’s cheeks flushed slightly. He scratched at his cheek, clearly embarrassed. “I don’t… really want to repeat it.”

Mera crossed her arms, her expression hardening. Her sharp eyes shifted from Arthur to the horse, then back again. “Arthur,” she pressed, her voice cool yet demanding. “What did the horse say?”

When Arthur refused to meet her gaze, she narrowed her eyes further. “Arthur.”

With a reluctant sigh, Arthur finally relented. “Fine. It said—and I quote—‘You’re fat and heavy, and I still managed to carry you. So I don’t see why you’re complaining.’”

Dane and Mera turned to look at the horse in disbelief as it tossed its head with a scoff, deliberately turning away as if refusing to acknowledge their presence.

“Aragorn!” Dane scolded, his tone stern, though his steed only flicked its ears dismissively as if the reprimand meant nothing.

Mera’s lips twitched, her glare sharp as she narrowed her eyes at the animal. “And what exactly did I do to offend it?” she asked coldly.

Arthur, struggling to keep his composure. “You practically said he isn’t enough to carry the three of us—basically calling him weak—and hurt his feelings.”

Mera scoffed, tossing her fiery red hair over her shoulder. “What a sensitive horse!”

Aragorn immediately snapped his head back around, fixing her with a fiery glare. He neighed loudly, the sound sharp and indignant, making it abundantly clear he was not going to let that insult slide.

Mera didn’t even need Arthur’s translation this time. The message was written plainly in the creature’s posture and in the sharpness of its neigh. Her glare hardened further. “Then don’t call me fat!” she shot back hotly. “Maybe if you weren’t so sensitive, you’d realize I wasn’t calling you weak—you’re just small!”

The insult landed like a spear. Aragorn froze for half a heartbeat, then let out an explosive neigh that rang across the courtyard. He stomped the ground furiously, his hooves striking with enough force to send tiny vibrations through the earth. His wings flared and his neighs grew louder and more unrestrained.

Arthur winced as the horse’s thoughts rang through his head like thunder, basically saying: “SMALL?! I’ll show you who’s small!!”

“Whoa, easy! Down, boy, down!” Dane barked, tugging on the reins, straining to control the enraged steed as Aragorn reared back, pawing the air with his forelegs.

“You want to go, huh?!” Mera snapped, her temper flaring. Her fists clenched as she rolled up her sleeves  “I’m not afraid of you!”

“Mera, really?” Arthur muttered in exasperation, moving quickly before she could escalate further. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hauled her back, her legs kicking wildly through the air.

“Let me go, Arthur! I can take him!” Mera growled, glaring daggers at the horse even as Arthur struggled to keep her contained. “How dare he call me fat and heavy!”

Arthur, red-faced from both the effort and embarrassment, tried to restrain her as she squirmed. Dane, on the other hand, had one hand braced on Aragorn’s reins and the other raised in a calming gesture. The scene was chaos: a princess trying to brawl with a winged horse.

He and Dane gave each other a restrained and awkward grin due to the situation they've found themselves in.

Finally, with some effort, the courtyard fell into a tense stalemate. Mera and Aragorn ended up on opposite sides, both turned away from one another, both glaring off in opposite directions. Simultaneously, they let out matching scoffs of disdain.

“I’m not riding that thing,” Mera said flatly, arms crossed in defiance.

Aragorn let out a sharp neigh in response, which translated to: “I’m not letting her on me!”

Arthur and Dane exchanged looks—equally exasperated, equally amused. At the same time, both men sighed heavily and rubbed their foreheads. Their mirrored actions were so identical that they both let out a small laugh between them.

“So,” Arthur said, forcing a thin smile as he tried to mediate, “what alternative do you suggest, Mera?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted with a huff. Then, after a pause, her sharp gaze flicked toward the center of the courtyard. Her expression shifted, her eyes gleaming with sudden inspiration. She turned toward Dane. “Do you mind if I borrow your fountain?”

Dane, eyebrows raised in curiosity, gestured with an open palm. “By all means.”

“Thank you,” Mera said with a tight smile as she strode toward the fountain.

Dane leaned subtly toward Arthur, lowering his voice. “What exactly is she planning?”

Arthur’s lips curled into a grin, already anticipating what was about to happen. “She’s creating us a ride.”

By now the sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting golden light across the courtyard. In its glow, Mera’s eyes burned like twin blue flares. Raising her hands, she called to the water, her voice commanding in silence. The fountain’s waters stirred violently before surging upward, swirling and twisting under her control. Before long, the liquid hardened into gleaming shapes—a majestic water construct, a massive sea-horse sculpted from living water, glistening as though made of sapphire glass.

The construct glided gracefully toward her, rippling with unnatural strength. Mera mounted it with practiced ease, her expression smug as she looked down at Aragorn. “See? I have no need for you~” she taunted, her voice lilting with playful cruelty.

Aragorn narrowed his eyes and let out a low, rumbling snort of challenge, his wings ruffling with irritation.

“And the best part?” Mera added, stroking the neck of her watery steed with a triumphant smile. “It doesn’t complain or start petty arguments.”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “Mera… I just want to make it very clear that you’re arguing with a horse. A horse.”

Mera sniffed, tossing her hair as she looked away. “Then it shouldn’t have called me fat and heavy.”

Arthur groaned, muttering under his breath, before turning toward Dane with an apologetic expression. “I’m so sorry about all of this.”

But Dane only laughed, genuinely amused and shaking his head. “No need to apologize. Honestly, this is far too entertaining”