King of the Seven Seas (EMH) Chapter 1: The Son of the Sea

[Third person POV]

A large black-and-red steamboat cruised slowly through the shimmering waters, its hull cutting steadily across the ocean’s surface. A thick, obsidian-black chain trailed from the bow of the ship, pulled taut as if it were tethered to something—or someone—deep below.

As the vessel drew closer to the rocky shoreline, the water around the chain began to stir, bubbling and swirling with unnatural force. From beneath the surface, a figure began to emerge, growing clearer with each passing second. The chain wasn’t just connected to the ship—it was seamlessly linked to the figure now rising from the depths.

First came the top of his head, wet blond hair slicked back, glistening in the sunlight like gold. His piercing blue eyes were revealed next, sharp and alert, followed by a square jaw framed with rugged sideburns and the beginnings of a beard. The water clung to him like a second skin, outlining every sculpted muscle and highlighting a physique carved through years of grueling effort and battle-hardened dedication. His powerful shoulders bore the thick chain like it was weightless as he continued to wade out from the sea, pulling the massive ship forward with nothing but his raw strength.

Cheers erupted from the ship's deck.

“WOOOHOOO!”

“GO AQUAMAN!!”

“You’re amazing!”

“It’s nice having a hero of the sea we can count on!”

Arthur Curry reached the shore, his boots finding solid ground as he gave one final tug on the chain, dragging the ship securely into docking position. His strong hands worked swiftly as he adjusted his grip along the links, ensuring the vessel was settled properly.

He looked up toward the crew, his brow furrowed with a smirk of mild annoyance.

“I’d appreciate it if you guys actually prepared ahead of time and didn’t run out of fuel halfway through your trip,” Arthur said dryly. “You’re lucky I happened to see your distress signal.”

As the men descended from the ship, laughter and relief filled the air. They greeted Arthur like an old friend—patting him on the back, clasping his hand, and exchanging jokes.

“Beer’s on us if you’re up for it!” the ship's captain grinned.

Arthur laughed, the sound deep and hearty. “How could I possibly say no to free beer?”

The crew erupted in celebration, clapping him on the back and guiding him away from the dock like a local legend returning home.

…

Later that evening, the tavern was alive with noise and music. Wooden mugs slammed onto tables, laughter echoed across the bar, and the smell of salt, ale, and cooked fish hung heavy in the air. Arthur sat surrounded by the ship’s crew, his presence larger than life among them.

“To Aquaman!” one man shouted, raising his mug high.

The rest followed with a thunderous roar, “TO AQUAMAN, THE SON OF THE SEA!”

Mugs clinked together, frothing ale splashing over the sides as they drank heartily.

Arthur exhaled sharply through his nose as he slammed his own mug down on the wooden table. “I already told you idiots—I hate that name! And quit giving me weird titles. If you’re gonna call me anything, just call me Arthur, alright?”

The men broke out into laughter, clearly unfazed.

One threw an arm over Arthur’s shoulders. “Come on, Arthur. You know we’re just pulling your leg. Live a little!”

“I’ve lived all I need to live, thank you very much,” Arthur muttered, lifting his fifth mug and downing it with ease.

“Bahh! What are you talkin’ about, son? You’re what, twenty-one this year?” the captain said, shaking his head. “I’ve known you since you were just a little ankle biter. Trust me—you haven’t even started living. You haven’t even brought home a wife!”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Like you said—I’m only twenty-one. What need do I have for a wife?” he muttered, his voice gruff as he took another swig.

As he lowered his mug, his eyes caught the television mounted above the bar counter. A news anchor was mid-report, with bold letters crawling across the bottom of the screen:

“The Fantastic Four Save the Day Again”

He stared at it for a moment, quiet.

The captain followed his gaze and hesitated before changing the subject. “Speaking of wives… how’s your old man holding up? I know he hasn’t really been the same since… you know.”

Arthur sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Same old, same old. Still spends most of his time staring out into the sea. At least he keeps busy taking care of the lighthouse. Gives him purpose, I guess.”

He looked down into the bottom of his mug, then back up at his crew.

“Speaking of my father,” he said, setting the mug aside, “I should go check in on him. See how he’s doing before it gets too late.”

“Awww!” the men all groaned in collective disappointment as Arthur stood up from the table.

“Come on, don’t leave yet!”

“Just one more drink, c’mon!”

“We haven’t even tried beating you in an arm-wrestling contest again!”

Arthur chuckled, slipping his arms into his jacket as he shook his head. “Why do you guys even keep trying? You know you’ll lose. Every. Single. Time.”

The group burst into laughter, some slapping the table.

“And you know I can’t stay long,” Arthur continued, slinging the jacket over his shoulders. “Just drink in my name and spirit. That should be enough.”

As he turned to leave, they raised their mugs high once more in his honor.

“To Arthur!”

“To Aquaman!”

“To the man who dragged a ship to shore like it was a rubber duck!”

Arthur just smirked and waved them off without looking back.

Outside, the night air was cool and briny, the moon hanging low and full above the ocean. Arthur’s cheeks and nose were tinged pink, the buzz from the ale warming his chest pleasantly. He walked with a lazy swagger, his boots crunching softly against the sand as he made his way along the shore, toward the familiar silhouette of the lighthouse in the distance.

But then—movement. A shift in the water just off the shore caught his eye.

He stopped, narrowed his eyes, and blinked.

From the waves, a figure began to rise. A woman—elegant and commanding—emerged from the sea like some mythical siren. Her vibrant red hair flowed down her shoulders like a cascade of living fire. She wore a sleek, sea-green outfit that shimmered with scale-like textures, hugging her form with regal precision.

Arthur stared.

Then turned on his heel.

“Nope,” he said flatly and started walking away.

“You haven’t even heard what I came to say!” she called after him, amusement dancing in her voice.

Arthur didn’t look back. “Don’t need to. It’s never anything good with you people. I can already guess what it is.”

“You don’t know,” she shot back with a scoff.

They both spoke at the same time.

“Atlantis is in great danger—”

The woman blinked, caught off guard. A smile tugged at her lips. “Am I that obvious?”

“Disgustingly so,” Arthur grimaced.

She moved closer, stepping fully onto the shore. “At least let me introduce myself, Your Highness. It is, after all, proper etiquette. My name is Mera—”

“Don’t care.”

Mera’s left eye twitched. “Don’t interrupt. I’m trying to warn you of a danger that threatens not just Atlantis—but you as well.”

Arthur opened his mouth to retort, but froze. Both of them did.

From the distance, a sudden cloud of dust exploded into the air—originating from the lighthouse.

“…Dad,” Arthur whispered, eyes wide.

Without another word, he exploded forward, sand erupting beneath his feet as he sprinted like a missile toward the lighthouse.

Mera clicked her tongue. “Looks like I was too late…”

She held her hands out. Her eyes glowed an ethereal aqua blue as liquid swirled in her palms. The water beside them surged with a will of its own, rising in a massive wave that crashed over both of them.

“The hell are you doing?!” Arthur shouted, startled as they were submerged.

“You’re an Atlantean. The crown prince, in case you forgot. You move faster in water. Now let’s go!”

Mera shot through the water like a living torpedo, her figure cutting clean lines beneath the surface as bubbles trailed behind her.

Arthur growled and coiled his legs beneath him like a spring before launching forward. The water bent around him as he caught up to her within seconds.

They veered upward together, heading straight for the cliffs near the lighthouse. In a powerful upward thrust, they burst from the water in a fountain of white spray and landed on solid ground near the impact site.

And that’s when they saw it—massive, grotesque tentacles wrapping around the lighthouse.

“Dad!!” Arthur roared.

His father was entangled in the monstrous limbs, dangling helplessly in midair.

Arthur wasted no time. He sprinted straight through a gaping rupture in the side of the lighthouse. Inside, shattered furniture and broken stone littered the floor. His eyes landed on a silver trident mounted on the wall like an old decorative relic. With one mighty pull, he ripped it down.

Outside, Mera was already engaging the creature, using her hydrokinesis to whip the seawater into blades and barriers, keeping it momentarily distracted.

Arthur leapt into the air with a guttural yell. He slashed the tentacle clean off, catching his father mid-fall and landing smoothly. He gently set his dad down.

“You okay?” he asked quickly, eyes scanning him for injuries.

“I’m fine… just caught off guard,” his father stammered, shaken but conscious.

Arthur’s relief was short-lived.

“Your Highness!” Mera called out. “More incoming!”

From the sea, armored figures rose—men clad in deep blue steel suits, their helmets glowing faintly. With perfect coordination, they leapt from the water like predators, landing with thuds and splashes.

Each aimed strange rifles at Arthur. The weapons crackled to life, converting seawater into condensed plasma.

Without hesitation, they opened fire.

Arthur stepped in front of his father and spun his trident in a rapid circular motion, deflecting the plasma shots like a cyclone of silver light. Behind him, his father rushed back toward the safety of the lighthouse.

Mera acted just as quickly—she lunged at one of the soldiers, grabbing his rifle, twisting his arm, and slamming him into the ground. She blasted him point-blank with his own weapon, neutralizing him.

Arthur charged forward, spinning his trident as he ran. He slashed down one of the attackers and flipped over the next, landing beside Mera.

Back-to-back, the two warriors stood surrounded on all sides. More soldiers emerged from the water, encircling them with growing precision.