Chapter Text
Full summary: In the wake of King Orm's defeat at the hands of Arthur, the new king of Atlantis thought it might be best to leave his brother in confinement until things calmed down. While Orm had been doing what he thought was best, and others like Nereus had agreed with him, he had still won the hatred of several of the tribes in the process for his actions prior to his dethroning. Even so, Arthur was the first to admit he was inexperienced in the many duties of being king and all of the accompanying politics that come with it. That being the case, he wasn’t foolish enough to not realize that Orm, experienced as he is at ruling Atlantis, would be an invaluable asset.
Orm, was far from the only help in this department. Mera, of course, was his most trusted adviser in how to play the dance of kingdoms and his mother was happy to give him whatever help he asked for. It was also true though that his mother had effectively been out of the game for the last twenty some years and he believed she deserved to have a happy life with his father. Orm may have come close to bringing all of Atlantis to war with itself and then against the surface world, but before that, he’d lived and breathed the prosperity of Atlantis and knew the inner workings better than anyone. Most of the people especially of his own city still think he had the right idea. And compared with the iron rule of his father before him, Orm was a just and good king.
So, true to his word, Arthur had a chat with Orm when things had stabilized a bit. To say things went smoothly at first between them might be overly optimistic but at least they weren’t actively at each other’s throats. Orm had his resentments, sure, but Atlanna had helped bridge the gap between them. She realized she couldn’t fix all the hurt her absence had done to her sons but she helped show how much she loved them and that, despite his father’s toxic influence, Orm was a good man and she was proud of him. Eventually, the two could talk easier and Orm, perhaps grudgingly at first is willing to offer advice.
As time went on, Orm’s confinement lessened, he was allowed around the palace under supervision from Arthur or Atlanna or Vulko. He may have wanted his throne back but he realized that he’d lost, and on some level didn’t want to disappoint his mother. Unfortunately, other parties were less content with his small freedoms.
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Elara started each morning in a state of deep meditation. She’d found it easier to begin her study of the waves while still mostly asleep. That way she was too tired for any preconceived notions to muddle things up and get in the way of clear sight.
The way of the Tidewatchers was an art, a gift, a blessing and real tricky pain in the butt and as such, it required due focus. Elara liked to allow the proper time each day to really hone in on what the ocean would tell her so she usually started each day with an initial search through the tides and then returned throughout the day to really parse through what patterns she uncovered amidst her other duties as a Tidewatcher.
This morning was not usual in the slightest. As soon as her hands grazed the surface of the pool she used for scrying, an almost electric shock ran up her whole body, raising her hair on end. This was no mere image, but a vision and it was clear, clearer than anything she’d ever seen.
King Orm was being escorted down a hall in the royal palace by Vulko and two other guards then suddenly there was a commotion at the other end of the hall. She couldn’t see who it was but could feel their anger radiating back through the tides to her.
A blast, Vulko was thrown free, the guards disoriented and scattered, and then a blade sharpened with hatred pierced Orm’s heart. The vision was fading, and Elara tried to grasp onto the slivers of it before they receded. The glimpses flashed and faded barely fast enough to absorb: Arthur bursting in with a roar, Orm not breathing, someone was yelling and then beautiful ocean blue eyes going dim.
She pulled her hands from the pool as if she’d been scorched. But she could still hear the yelling when with a start, she realized the shouts were hers. Her throat burned as a shaking settled over her whole being.
In all of her years of watching, Elara had never seen anything that clear, that vivid. She had always been better at broader patterns, at interpreting hints into a bigger picture. She’d never felt anything like that. There was no misinterpreting this- Orm was going to die and she knew she was meant to stop it.