King of the Seven Seas (EMH) Chapter 2: Civil War

[Third person POV]

Mera raised her hand high, summoning the surrounding water that still clung to the battlefield. It rushed toward her in spiraling torrents, obedient to her will. With practiced ease, she sculpted the liquid into twin blades of solidified water, their edges gleaming dangerously.

Without exchanging a word, Arthur and Mera darted in opposite directions—two halves of the same storm. Plasma blasts fired toward them from every angle, but both warriors deflected the shots effortlessly with their weapons, moving like dancers in a deadly rhythm.

Arthur lunged forward and drove his trident straight through the chest plate of one Atlantean soldier, then lifted him effortlessly and hurled him across the battlefield. The body slammed into a group of enemies, toppling them like pins in a violent, crashing strike.

Mera, meanwhile, weaved between incoming fire with fluid agility. She ducked beneath a plasma beam, then with a precise strike, slashed one of the tubes feeding water into a soldier’s pressurized suit. The stream burst forth violently—but before it could touch the ground, she seized it with her magic. The water hardened into dozens of sleek, sharp needles, and with a flick of her wrist, she sent them hurtling into the enemy ranks, skewering them cleanly.

Despite the chaos, their coordination was flawless—as though they had fought together for years, each anticipating the other’s movements with uncanny precision.

As a second wave of attackers swarmed in, Arthur grabbed Mera by the arm and spun her around like a cyclone. Her legs extended outward, kicking enemies with brutal force as they tried to close in. Once the space around them cleared, Arthur hurled her upward into the air.

With a commanding gesture, Mera drew in all the surrounding moisture, forming dozens of jagged water weapons that floated around her in a halo. With a shout, she sent them raining down like spears. The attack ended the battle in a storm of precision and power.

Arthur caught her easily as she descended, one arm wrapped around her waist to steady her.

“Good work,” he said with a small smirk.

Mera returned the smile with one of her own. “I could say the same, Your Highness. It seems you’ve been trained well.”

“You can thank Vulko for that,” Arthur muttered.

But then—something caught his attention.

In the reflection of Mera’s eyes, he saw it: a massive shadow rising from the ocean depths.

“Behind—” Mera began to warn.

But Arthur was already moving.

He stepped in front of her instinctively, shielding her with his body as a sonar pulse burst from his head—a deep, resonant hum that rippled through the air. The massive tentacles closing in suddenly froze, quivering mid-motion.

Arthur frowned. “Bad girl. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Mera looked at him in surprise—but even more surprising was the monster’s reaction. The creature emitted a low, mournful cry, its body shrinking slightly as if chastised. The sorrow in its movements was unmistakable, and its posture shifted into something almost… apologetic.

“I don’t care if you were ordered to,” Arthur said, his voice firm with authority. “You attacked my father. That wasn’t done for survival—it was out of cruelty. Harm for harm’s sake. That’s not how you’re supposed to act.”

Mera’s eyes widened—not at the sea creature, but at him. There was something in his voice. Not just command—but compassion. It struck her more deeply than any display of strength could have. A soft smile pulled at the corners of her lips.

The creature chirped sorrowfully, rubbing a tentacle gently against Arthur as if pleading for forgiveness.

Arthur sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “You’re lucky my father wasn’t hurt. I’ll let this go—but only once. I’ll take the tentacle I cut off as payment, and in return, I expect peace.”

The monster gave a delighted squeal and wrapped one of its tentacles around him in a soft hug. Arthur patted it in return, as if comforting an oversized pet.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered. “Just behave yourself, yeah?”

Mera stood beside him in awe. “So… you can communicate with aquatic life directly. That’s rare—extremely rare. Even among royalty. This confirms I made the right decision in coming to you.”

Arthur stepped back as the sea beast slowly retreated. In the distance, the giant shadow faded into the ocean’s depths.

He slammed the base of his trident into the ground and turned to face her, his expression grim. “You’ve got one chance to explain yourself. Make it count.”

Mera didn’t hesitate.

“As of this moment, Atlantis is descending into civil war. It began shortly after the death of the former king,” she said quickly. “Your younger brother, Prince Orm, currently sits on the throne. He is my… betrothed.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“But his claim to the crown is weak,” she continued. “The seven kingdoms are divided. Many still believe the throne rightfully belongs to you—as the firstborn. According to Atlantean tradition, the firstborn child is to inherit the crown unless disqualified by grave circumstances.”

Arthur folded his arms. “And I’m ‘disqualified’ because I’m only half-Atlantean.”

Mera nodded reluctantly. “That’s the argument. Some support Orm because of your mixed heritage. Others want you to rule. And then… there are those who want the throne for themselves—outsiders, extremists, power-hungry opportunists. They’re exploiting the chaos, turning the kingdoms against one another. Atlantis is eating itself alive.”

“Then let it.”

Arthur’s voice came out like ice, biting and sharp, laced with a cold finality that froze the air between them.

Mera’s eyes widened. “W-What…?”

Arthur turned away, scoffing with disdain. “Let Atlantis destroy itself. Its survival has nothing to do with me.”

He took a few steps forward, his grip tightening on the trident in his hand as he continued.

“You came to me because you think I should be King, right?” His voice grew heavier, darker. “Then answer this—why would I become King of a kingdom that wouldn’t hesitate to murder its Queen simply because she gave birth to a half-breed? Why would I raise a throne over a people who allowed my mother to be executed… for the crime of loving someone from the surface?”

Mera’s fists clenched at her sides. She bit down hard on her lip, eyes trembling with pain and urgency.

“Because if you don’t… you’ll be punishing those who are innocent,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm of emotion behind it.

Arthur’s brows furrowed. His gaze narrowed, a flicker of conflict flashing in his ocean-blue eyes.

Mera stepped forward, refusing to let him shut her out. “The order to kill your mother didn’t come from the people of Atlantis. It came from the King—from a bitter, jealous man who feared her love for the surface world. He had her thrown into the abyss… cast into a trench full of monsters as a sacrifice.”

She looked up at him with conviction. “The people of Atlantis loved your mother. She was everything a Queen should be—compassionate, just, noble. She fought for their betterment. They adored her. But they had no say in royal matters. The King’s word was law. Even if they mourned her, even if they begged for mercy… they couldn’t stop it.”

Arthur’s eyes dropped to the trident in his hands—silver and ancient, glinting faintly in the moonlight. His knuckles were white around its shaft, his jaw clenched tight.

“And it’s not just Atlantis that’s in danger,” Mera added, her voice lowering, thick with dread. “If Prince Orm solidifies his power, his next move will be war with the surface. He believes they are a threat that must be eliminated. If we don’t stop him, an all-out war between the sea and land will erupt… and no one will be spared.”

Arthur stared at the trident. The one that once belonged to his mother. The weapon she had passed down—whether by intention or fate.

“Arthur…”

The voice came from behind.

Arthur turned to see his father, George, standing in the doorway of the lighthouse, weathered arms crossed over his chest. He had arrived after hearing a stop to commotion, having heard everything from inside.

“Dad…”

Arthur's voice faltered, the weight of emotion finally creeping into his tone.

George raised a hand to stop him from saying more. “I know what you’re going to say. And don’t worry about me.”

He took a slow step forward, his weathered features softened by pride.

“Arthur… I raised you. I know the kind of man you are. You’ve always carried a sense of duty—stronger than you admit, even to yourself. And I also know you’ve already made up your mind. You’re just being a stubborn ass about it.”

Arthur blinked, caught off guard by the candid tone.

George chuckled, leaning on the doorframe with a nostalgic smile. “You know why your mother and I named you Arthur?”

Arthur rolled his eyes faintly, though a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Because you saw it on TV.” clearly remembering it although he shouldn't.

George laughed. “Yeah, well… that too. But the name stuck when I told her about the legend—the King Arthur of Camelot. A man who unified kingdoms, brought peace, and led with honor. Your mother loved the name. Said she could see that same strength in you, even back then.”

Arthur’s smile faded into a softer, more thoughtful expression.

“I’m telling you this,” George continued, “because your mother believed in you. She believed you were meant for something greater. That one day, you would be a King—not because of bloodlines or traditions, but because of who you are.”

He stepped back and gestured toward the ocean. “So stop being a damn hardhead and go be the King your mother knew you’d become. That kingdom—her kingdom—is part of her legacy. And maybe… saving it is how you carry that legacy forward.”

Mera smiled softly, silently moved by the man’s words. Her respect for George grew by the second.

Arthur exhaled slowly and ran a hand through his hair, slightly overwhelmed. He turned to George with a faint, crooked grin.

“What about you, old man? You gonna be alright on your own for a while?”

George scoffed. “What do you take me for, brat? I’m in my prime.”

Arthur raised a brow. “Yeah, the prime age of qualifying for senior discounts.”

“Pfftt—!” Mera stifled a laugh behind her hand, her shoulders shaking.

George’s lips twitched in protest, trying not to laugh. “Watch it, boy. You’ll be there sooner than you think.”

Arthur smiled, the heaviness of the decision now carried with pride.

He turned to Mera, the wind brushing through his hair as he looked toward the dark waters beyond. “Alright… I’ll come with you.”

His voice was quiet, but resolute.

“Let’s go to Atlantis.”