Chapter Text
When Orm received the order to sack Poseidonis, he reacted with little surprise, just a curt nod, and shut off the transmission. He hadn’t been in the sea in three weeks; a part of him relished his imminent return to water. For such a purpose, though, his stomach churned. But this was not the time for weakness. If he stumbled now, far worse things than the razing of of one outpost town lay on the horizon.
He stared out the window of the Apokoliptian warship, helmet in his hands. Earth hung there, in all its blue-green beauty. Only two years ago he had ruled Atlantis as king. Then, unexpected and (at the time) wholly unwanted, Arthur had returned with Atlan’s trident, took the throne, and imprisoned his brother in the underground prison known, with some bleak humor, as the Aquarium.
Those long months in lockup — he had turned it all over in his mind again and again, his father, his mother, his brother, his throne. Arthur and Atlanna visited when they could, but they were his only visitors, and the world outside turned inexorably on without him. He felt relieved to have no further responsibilities and deeply worthless to himself all at once. And Atlantis — well. Atlantis had moved on quickly enough. Evidently Arthur had displayed enough strength and martial prowess for the whole nation to regard him as the second coming of Atlan, something that stirred no small amount of bitterness in Orm’s heart. And he could do nothing but stew in it, moving around his cell in disciplined circles, refusing haircuts and entertainment, sleeping for precisely six hours every night and no more.
Then, eight months ago, the coming of Apokolips — one of fire and terror — changed everything. Steppenwolf had only been the beginning; Darkseid wanted the earth and all its riches. He wanted the power of the Motherboxes neutered and the heads of the members of the Justice League on his wall. Even from prison, Orm heard of the war beginning, and knew things were changing.
The next day, Arthur appeared, grim, at the other end of the cell, and said, “So I had an idea.”
Orm had given him a look, seated in his cell, which — for courtesy’s sake — was separated from others and large enough for exercise. “What idea?” he asked in as measured a tone as he could.
“Darkseid. You know. Big… grey guy. Fucked up face. Red eyes.” He gestured to his own face, as if that helped. “He kind of brought an entire fleet to attack Earth. We’re doing okay. The Green Lantern guys really helped.”
Darkseid was not a surprise. The Green Lanterns he had heard of too. “What was your idea?” Orm asked pointedly.
Arthur cleared his throat. “Mom thinks it’s a bad idea.” He paused, shrugged. “But four hundred and seventy soldiers were wiped out in the first day of fighting, boom, just like that, and they’re not even sending in their big guns yet. I — kind of am asking for help.”
“Fighting?” Orm was, after all, a soldier. He’d been fighting since he was a boy. He was wearied by the thought of returning to battle, but if it would get him out of here and into the world again —
“Not really. I think, if we played our cards right, you could slip right in with these guys.” At that, he pulled out a data device that, if Orm recalled correctly, Arthur had called a “soggy iPad,” and tapped around on it.
An image of several Atlanteans came up. Orm recognized them instantly. Of all the extremist groups in Atlantis, the Tethys Brotherhood was the least savory one, despising their own royal house and Atlantean heritage. They didn’t have a leader, nor were they well-organized, so they weren’t an enormous threat to the city. But they did believe that the Apokoliptian overlords of eons past had some divine right to galactic conquest, and upon Steppenwolf’s attack and defeat, had staged bloody and violent demonstrations that Orm had cracked down on. He had also executed at least four of them.
He looked at Arthur. “They all hate me.”
“Yeah. So I’ve been told. I’ve also been told that they’re in contact with one of Darkseid’s guys. They’re going to hand over a ton of information about our troops and the city, and then they’re going to defect, and it’s going to suck unless we do something about them.”
Orm frowned. “If you know about them, why don’t you stop them now?”
“One, there’s a lot more of them than we knew, and two, here’s the opportunity part. I wouldn’t ask this if it was anything but freaking Darkseid, but look—”
It clicked. “You want me to infiltrate them,” Orm interrupted before Arthur could finish.
Arthur shrugged again, folded his arms. “Yeah. What do you think?”
“I think they’d sooner kill me than believe I’d want to destroy—” He stopped himself from saying my city because he didn’t want to sound possessive, but Arthur seemed to get the point.
“Here’s the thing, though,” Arthur said, now taking his chance to interrupt. “We spin it like you hate me, which, not that hard. Enough rage against me personally to go up against Atlantis. Only you and Mom and maybe Mera and Vulko know the truth. If it’s just the five of us, it’s watertight. To them, it makes sense that you wanna burn it all down. So to speak.”
A heavy pause filled the air. Arthur looked optimistic, but also frazzled. Well, several hundred dead soldiers will do that to a king. Orm knew the feeling. He also knew that the likelihood of success for such a mission was catastrophically low, and that Arthur could not possibly know what he was asking of him.
Unless he did. In which case he was made of colder stuff than Orm had guessed.
He mulled the possibilities. Of course Arthur, who was smarter than he ever let on, could actually be a gifted war strategist at heart; his rule could prove the best thing for Atlantis in the long run. And the power of the Trident on his side too. A betrayal from a deposed king, when the new king was the long-lost half-brother he’d hated for years, would not be an impossibility. It wouldn’t even be far from the truth. And Darkseid was no joke, and Tethys could potentially bring disaster to the city.
So Orm said, “I’ll need to break out realistically. I know where to find the brotherhood. No one else can know, not the guards, not the Justice League. And don’t attempt to contact me. I’ll initiate — and it’ll be a long time before it’s safe to do so. They may suspect a mole at the onset. I’ll have to be convincing and bide my time.”
Arthur nodded slowly. He seemed to search Orm’s face. “Mom wants to see you. Before—”
He knew he was being ruthless, but he shook his head. “She visited me too recently. Even this visit is suspect. If the Tethys people are already giving information to Darkseid, I need to move fast.”
“So you’ll—” Arthur almost looked at a loss for words, still searching for something in Orm. “Don’t do anything stupid. And we can extract you — the League. Send a message if you’re in danger.”
It was like he expected more resistance, an argument, or something. Orm realized that this request required a measure of trust on Arthur’s part that he hadn’t shown before. He knew Mera still hated his guts — that was fair. He had treated her like a political tool. Atlanna was careful to be kind and forgiving, but her disappointment showed. For Arthur to ask this against their mother’s wishes — he must’ve been desperate. He must’ve been afraid.
Orm hesitated. He was fully aware that saying yes might lead to his death, but if war was coming to Atlantis, his city, his people, he’d much sooner die for them than rot in jail for the duration of the fight. So. Espionage. “Don’t do anything stupid?” He repeated Arthur’s words. “I’ll say the same to you. Atlantis… needs a fixed point. If you fail, everyone does.” He had intended it to be harsh, but it came out not mean enough. Poseidon, he was getting soft. Already he missed the city, the water, the sound of whale song in the distance. Creatures of Apokolips had no idea what they were destroying. But he’d die to protect it. A shred of his pride remained intact, if he could defend his city.
Arthur, to his credit, just nodded. “Mom… was just worried. Told me to tell you to be safe, and careful, if you went.” His eyes flickered to Orm’s, then away. “Look, the point of this is like — an emergency switch, okay? I don’t want you to sabotage anything or put yourself in danger. Just be our man on the inside and if it’s important and you can get it to us without them guessing — then we’d wanna know.”
Orm gave one short nod. “I understand.” And then, because the fear of never seeing Atlantis again had gripped him suddenly and powerfully, he added, “Keep the city safe. I’m — this isn’t worth anything if Atlantis falls.”
Arthur looked pained at that, and just answered, “I will. I think — uh.” He paused. “Just be safe. Mom would kill me if, you know.”
He didn’t want to think about it, so he just sighed. “She’s suffered worse losses.”
“I really don’t think she has,” Arthur returned. “I’m just saying. As your big brother. And also as your king. I am telling you to not do anything stupid, and to come back and help me protect the city afterwards. Okay?” He was trying to be gruff and serious. He actually looked a little hurt.
A pause, and then Orm relented. “All right.”
Arthur seemed satisfied and nodded. “So for the breakout…”
“The guards are competent but nothing beyond that,” he said dismissively. “But don’t tip them off. I won’t injure them permanently, but anything staged will be easy to identify.”
“I won’t. So — today?”
“I’m so enraged by your condescending words to me during your visit, I’ve decided to break out at once and betray Atlantis to the forces of Apokolips,” Orm said drily. “The sooner you storm off, the sooner this will be set into motion.”
“Gotcha.” Arthur moved back slightly, as if ready to leave, but paused at the threshold of the exit. “Will you — need anything else?”
“Some peace and quiet for my last hours here,” he said, and shot Arthur a gaze. “And, please, if Mera and Vulko aren’t in it already, don’t tell them, for Poseidon’s sake. Their attempts to lie to me about you were the most pathetic acts I’ve ever witnessed.” It’s a half-lie; he had been convinced for a while. His mistake.
Arthur half-shrugged. “Vulko doesn’t know. But Mera was there when I was brainstorming. Sorry.”
He still disliked Vulko greatly, so at least there was that. “Good. Anyone else?”
Arthur grimaced. “Yeah. I was at the League HQ. So — one of my other buddies knows.”
“Which one? The one dressed as a bat?” He hoped not.
“No, Diana, Wonder Woman. She’s cool.”
He knew of her — Themysciran. Protector of humanity. “Swear her to secrecy.”
“Dude, I did.” Arthur looked peeved. “We care about you not getting hurt. Or in too deep. So just be smart, okay?”
“Frankly, I’m more concerned with your grasp on tactical strategy than mine.” Ah. There was the harshness. It came easily enough, when provoked.
Arthur just took it. “You… want me to pass anything on to Mom?”
He contemplated his options. I’m sorry, again. Don’t doubt me. Or If this is to be the end, remember me well. Or If I die I’ll do it for Atlantis. Don’t let me be a disappointment to you still.
Orm cleared his throat. None of those would be appropriate. “If I don’t make it back, just — thank her. For everything she’s done. Tell her — I did my best to return.” He forced the words out of himself. He didn’t want there to be no message, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to say sorry.
Arthur just nodded, turned to go. “Won’t happen. You’re coming back. Or I’ll kill you myself.”
Orm didn’t answer, though he had the chance to, watching Arthur disappear down the hall and around the corner. Instead, he fought within himself, wavering between a slight sense of victory and grief. To leave this cell, he had to leave Atlantis. And his mother, newly returned from the grave. And Arthur, newly a warrior king who had to contend with a bigger fight than any king of Atlantis had faced in a very long time. And beyond the city’s limits lay — who knew? An imminent death, or an Apokoliptian victory that he might accidentally aid by temporarily siding with them?
It roiled in him, and making plans to escape gave him no comfort. Not even when he’d requested a handcuffed break in the open yard and the guard assented readily, not even when he’d flipped the guard and slapped the cuffs on him instead, not even when, alarms blaring, he used the guard’s standard-issue weapon to knock out two more guards who came fast as they could — not even then did his thoughts drift far from his mother and brother. Perhaps they’d miss him. Perhaps their son being branded a traitor would grieve them.
Out of the Aquarium’s narrow caves and luminescent hallways, and into the murky seafloor of northern Atlantis, Orm moved with new purpose. He headed straight for the wreck of the Cecilia, where the Brotherhood congregated for quasi-religious meetings and devotion to the powers and gods of Apokolips. He’d find a new life in their ranks, or maybe a quick death. All depended on his wit and ability to convince them he hated Arthur, hated him enough to burn all of Atlantis down with him.
And that wasn’t true, really, not anymore. But accessing those feelings from months ago would be easy enough. He had to acknowledge that it was no longer true to begin crafting his story, though he gritted his teeth against it. Hating Arthur had been everything for so long. Had been a purpose to keep him alive.
On his way through the dark sea, he saw a glimmer of hope in the possibility of sabotaging the invasion, his skills being put to use for subterfuge. For Atlantis, he would lie and work for the enemy, for now. For Atlantis.
And if he returned home absolved of his past, so much the better.
#
Now, eight months later, he felt further and further from any kind of absolution.
Earth hung in space outside the window, and his armor weighed heavily on him. In eight months, he had sent four coded messages to Arthur, as spaced apart as possible for safety, with information on impending ambushes and one assassination attempt. Arthur was safe, for now; Atlantis had not fallen. The Justice League had kept Apokolips at bay so far. Even better, to his knowledge, DeSaad and Darkseid’s other minions didn’t suspect Orm. Rather, everyone on the warships were frustrated at the Justice League, especially Wonder Woman and the Green Lanterns and Superman. The League’s power was great — they took down squad after squad of Apokoliptian invaders. And Darkseid, wounded by Wonder Woman and her Lasso of Truth one month before, had begun rethinking their direct invasion strategy. They were faltering; that was good news.
Orm, however, had never felt weaker. Fighting Atlantis and bowing to DeSaad was tortuous. But what else could he do? If he left now, how much harder would it be to find another way to gather intelligence eight months into the war?
After another moment, he set his helmet on — red, ugly, like most things about Apokolips — and turned to take his shuttle back to the planet, where the traitorous Atlanteans awaited his new orders. They were four hundred in number and were the most despicable people Orm had ever met. Together they destroyed Atlantean sites and encouraged other criminals, cowards, and weaklings to join their cause.
They had even come to hail Orm as Ocean Master again, their royal leader specially appointed by Darkseid to bring Atlantis to its knees, and though he’d once sought the title at the cost of many lives, he hated it now. He didn’t know how much longer he could take this game, the lies, the violence against his own people. Not for the first time, he contemplated giving in and requesting extraction in his next message, but he would never allow himself to be so weak. The information he gathered was essential to Earth’s defense — to Arthur and Atlanna’s safety.
If I return at all, he thought, rallying himself to strength, it will be against my will — as a corpse. I will stay and keep up the fight. For Atlantis. For Atlantis. For Atlantis.
Atlantis. He closed his eyes and dreamed of home. Of the end of war.
Outside, the warships of Apokolips blocked out the stars, an impenetrable curtain around the planet. Death and doom lingered in the air. The war continued.