King of the Seven Seas (EMH) Chapter 6: Brothers

[Third person POV]

“ARGHHHH!!” Arthur cried as he was jolted awake with electricity. When he came to, he was already kneeling—his arms wrenched behind him, bound tightly by thick cold chains. Heavy collars circled his neck and ankles. Every small movement sent a harsh rattle echoing through the chamber, the clinking of metal loud in the otherwise hushed grandeur of the place.

He blinked through the haze, his muscles still aching from the electrocution. As his vision cleared, he found himself in an immense hall—pristine and ceremonial in design. The walls were carved with swirling patterns of coral and seaweed, gilded with gold and deep blue highlights. Stained-glass windows filtered the underwater sunlight into streams of radiant color, painting the polished floor with dappled hues.

Banners depicting a golden scale—hung from towering columns, swaying gently in the underwater current. Lining the upper balconies, distant figures in regal attire watched silently, clearly nobles or ambassadors from the major houses. Their expressions ranged from curious to contemptuous.

Arthur turned his head and saw multiple armored Atlantean soldiers flanking him, each gripping his chains to keep him restrained. His silver trident, which once belonged to his mother, just a few feet away, laid out on the ground like it mattered nothing.

Then came the voice—calm, polished, and laced with disdain.

“Ah, you’re finally awake. I’ve been quite eager to meet you… The bastard child of my mother. My suppose Brother”

Arthur lifted his head, gaze sharpening as he followed the pristine white pathway that led up towards a throne. At the top stood a man draped in royal garments, his dark hair slicked back, his sharp blue eyes gleaming with both authority and disdain. He stood beside a grand throne shaped like a giant clamshell, its cushions a deep crimson that contrasted the throne’s shimmering white.

Sitting beside him, on the left of the throne, was Mera.

But she was not dressed as a warrior.

Instead, she wore an extravagant gown, layered and flowing like jellyfish tendrils, ethereal in design but clearly meant to impress and suppress at once. Her fiery red hair had been pulled into a thick, coiled bun adorned with sapphires and pearls. Jewelry glittered on her neck and wrists—ornamental chains disguised as elegance.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at the sight before letting out a short snicker. He couldn’t help himself.

Mera flushed instantly, her eyes darting away. She knew how ridiculous she looked. He could see the tension in her posture—she was clearly being displayed, not honored.

“I take it you’re my little brother then?” Arthur said with a grin, his tone biting with sarcasm. “Honestly… I’m kinda happy to see you. Despite the circumstances of course.”

Orm merely looked indifferent, his voice cold and laced with resentment. “I've heard many stories about you. All these years, I’ve carried shame in my heart—shame that my mother defiled herself with a surface dweller… and shame that I have a half-breed brother whose heart I once dreamt of skewering with my trident.”

He began to rise slowly, ocean-blue cape drifting behind him like a specter, shimmering faintly with each ripple of the water as he floated away from the throne.

“All these years,” Orm continued, voice low and venomous, “I’ve held nothing but contempt for her. Our mother had everything—a throne, respect, power. And yet she threw it away to wallow among filth, to soil herself—”

CLANG!

The chains snapped taut as Arthur surged forward with enough force that the guards holding him in place were dragged helplessly behind. A burst of bubbles exploded from around him, crashing into Orm with a surprising gust of current as Arthur stopped face-to-face with his brother, as that's how far the chains allowed to reach.

“Careful there, little bro,” Arthur snarled, his voice like gravel scraping steel. “That’s our mother you’re talking about. Show some damn respect… or I’ll be the one to teach you some manners.”

Orm scoffed, unfazed. “And how exactly do you plan to do that? I see you’ve brought our mother’s trident with you.” His tone darkened. “Did you come here planning to take the throne for yourself?”

Arthur smirked bitterly. “Please. You’re not worthy of the title of king. A true king doesn’t seek war. A true king prevents it.”

Orm circled him like a shark, voice rising with intensity. “And what do you plan to do about the atrocities the surface has committed against our people? For a century, they’ve polluted our waters, poisoned our children. And now—look around you—the skies burn, the oceans boil!”

As he spoke, the hall darkened, and holograms flared to life in every direction. Schools of fish drifting lifeless in blackened water. Turtles strangled by plastic. Oil slicks. Dying coral reefs. Harpoons piercing whales as blood clouded the water. Barrels of toxic waste sinking like anchors.

Orm turned back toward Arthur, face illuminated by the hue of the holograms. “And now you come here… taking their side?”

“There are no sides in war,” Arthur said quietly, his expression resolute. “Only casualties. If taking you down saves even a fraction of the lives at risk, then I’ll do what needs to be done.”

From the sidelines, Mera and Vulko exchanged a glance—both alarmed by the escalation. Mera’s hands clenched at her sides.

Orm moved closer again, his expression sharpened into something sinister. “Don’t you see? By standing against me, you’ve already chosen a side. You’ve already challenged the throne.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Then so be it.”

Orm’s eyes widened in mock surprise, voice theatrical. “Are you… invoking the Combat of Kings?”

Arthur struggled to get closer, his tone dry and sharp. “What. Needs. To. Be. Done” He spoke each word slowly, as if speaking to a child, deliberately baiting him.

Orm’s lips curled into an eager smile. “As you wish.”

“Your Majesty, wait!” Vulko interrupted, his voice edged with panic.

“Orm, please,” Mera added urgently, standing up.

Orm ignored them both. He spun dramatically and addressed the room, arms outstretched. “Don’t you see? If I defeat the Firstborn Son of Queen Atlanna—in front of all, in fair combat—then every kingdom will have no choice but to recognize me as the one and only true king!”

Vulko face strained.

“Your majesty, there is no honor in defeating the ignorant, your brother is clearly an imbecile” Mera stated calmly.

Arthur slowly turned towards her and gave her an incredulous look with a mix of surprise and mild offense. “Wow. Thanks.”

“Your Highness he doesn't know our ways” Vulko said in agitation.

Orm chuckled. “Then let him be educated.”

He turned back toward Arthur with a challenging grin. “So? Do you officially challenge me?”

Arthur nodded once, his tone defiant. “Yeah. I challenge you to your little ‘Battle of the Kings’—or whatever you call it.”

Orm smiled wide and loud. “Then it is done! The challenge has been issued… and I accept! Take him away and prepare him for the Ring of Fire!”

Arthur barely had time to scoff—“That sounds just lovely”—before the guards yanked him back, dragging him away in a flurry of water and motion. He grunted as he struggled slightly, but the chains held firm.

Vulko and Mera stood motionless, their brows drawn tightly in worry, watching as Arthur was pulled away, unable to do anything.