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“You were almost there, now pick yourself up and try again.”
The remnants of excess magic sizzle out against rock, glowing blues and yellows against the dark, unnaturally colored silt. Garth’s hands dig into the sand as he pushes himself off of the ground, mustering his strength to pull his body up. He feels the physical toll on his body from the energy expelled but holds it back as best as he can, fearful the wizard will make him take a break. Atlan was always aware to a fault, but as long as Garth was not falling off of his feet, training would continue.
He refused to stop until he got this spell just right.
He steadies himself, a deep breath inward and a focus on his magic. He feels the sparks beneath his scars, cascading down his hand and just under his eyes. After a few moments, he lifts his hands into the formation Atlan demonstrated just a few hours ago, and focuses. He hears a commanding voice not just through his ears, but through the psychic connection of the clear. Garth keeps the balance between both realms, just as Atlan instructed him to do.
“Focus. Keep your mind clear and all energy into your magic.”
Everything was just unnatural enough to know the world was off, but nothing outlandish. Garth could tell that he was in an offshoot of his own earth, not too far from home, but far enough that the fish and coral were just… not right. The time dilation (which Atlan had warned him about) was also just noticeable enough to be uncanny.
He found that The Grotto was a lonely place, but not ever as lonely as Atlantis. Though only he and Atlan resided there, he found peace in the quiet of the magic ruins and vast depths. At this point he’d been training for years, but never failed to marvel at the magical capabilities within each piece of coral and each grain of sand. He always took the time to appreciate any shell or remnant of creatures long passed, as Atlan’s teachings had given him a new mindfulness about the world around him.
At least in The Grotto, within the soft kelp and endless ocean, underneath the surface that no one could ever truly break past and bathed by the yellow sun filtered through, there was truly no one besides him and Atlan. He could say that his loneliness was not because of himself, destroyed relationships, or things once sacred crumbling. His loneliness was just a matter of circumstance; a matter of this realm being purposefully hidden from mortals that may corrupt it.
And, within that, Garth felt a bit of pride. A small flame, but one that told him he was worth something. A spark that reminded him that his isolation was because he was special. He was the only one fit to claim his birthright in Shayeris (whatever that meant), and he was the only one that the wizard of legend Atlan decided to train.
Though he’d never admit it, some of his pride stemmed from his anger at Arthur. It thrived in the boiling frustration of being cast aside by the first person to accept you. By the first person you felt at home with. It served to spite him; that Arthur’s own father had still chosen Garth to pass on his teachings.
Garth had only felt like he existed part-time. Though an original member, he was only a part-time titan. Though his first companion, he had been cast aside more and more by Arthur. He never felt truly needed.
Atlan proved that Garth meant something in the grand scheme of life. That was all he’d ever wanted.
Every time Garth caught a glimpse of his scars, the ones Atlan had given him in initiation, he felt belonging. He felt worth something. He felt almost as tall as his peers, and almost as important as the friends he holds so dear.
Every ripple of energy through his veins, every spell taught and carefully practiced, every skill perfected proved to the world (to Arthur. To the parents that abandoned him.) that he could be something. The tempest raging within his heart would not be overlooked, and could instead be channeled into something as powerful as the tide.
The sparks beneath his fingertips grow quicker, impatient. He feels them bounce off of his bones and within every nerve, itching to be released. Itching to be put into energy. Garth takes one last shaky breath before honing all of the built up anticipation– in both his heart and his palms– and shooting at Atlan’s target once again.
This time, the target shatters.
Any lethargy entering his body after the burst of power is quickly overtaken by elation. The joy of doing something right surges through him like energy firing off within his chest. The feeling is familiar; the same feeling when he’d make a smart decision during a fight with Aquaman or had a good idea. The same feeling of fireworks bursting and littering their sparks throughout his chest.
He turns his head to see Atlan smiling at him and his joy grows tenfold. The look on the older man’s face affirms that he did it– something– right. The smile was just close enough to a smile all too similar, and reminiscent of a memory Garth couldn’t quite grasp. It made something deep-seated within him feel whole. Throughout his life, affirmations were one of the only things Garth could feed off of, which, admittedly, was a practice Atlan was trying to work out of him.
But, a little praise never hurt anyone, and it definitely didn't hurt now.
“Wonderful job, Garth!” Atlan swam over and clapped a hand onto his shoulder, “Now that you've gotten the hang of it, let's take a break. Afterwards we can work to really hone the spell.”
Garth nodded, the remnants of excitement still lingering in his chest, but lack of energy quickly catching up to him. He heaved, body attempting to take in more air, though it wouldn’t make any difference underwater. He supposed it was a reflex from all the time spent on the surface.
Atlan waved his hand in a motion to follow, “Come. Let’s prepare something to eat and replenish your energy,” before beginning to swim towards their base.
As the two swam towards the ruins they called home, Garth watched his surroundings pass him by. The lack of other transportation meant he and Atlan swam everywhere they wanted to travel, which possibly meant long stretches of time with nothing else to do. Some days it was spent in conversation, some, Atlan taught him about The Grotto or his life, and others spent in silence. Atlan said it was part of his training and meditation to learn to sit in silence, so Garth didn’t argue.
But Garth hadn’t quite gotten used to the silence. Though it surrounded the both of them, he couldn’t ever get used to the silence. It was never something he could grow used to. He always felt the itch under his skin when he had no one to hear or talk to. It was nothing like the comfortable silence of being with a loved one, no warm feelings of having them by your side, only quiet. A lack of anything at all.
Then again, that was probably something he also needed to get used to. So, he continued not to argue.
Thankfully it was over quicker than expected. As the two traveled, Garth could see the silver and grey ruins that the two of them were living in for his training period. They were run-down and crumbling, but still held unfathomable majesty. It was nothing like an abandoned building on the surface, but more reminiscent of an ancient artifact with pages of mystery. Probably because it was an ancient artifact, it also just happened to be where Atlan had set up base.
Garth thought the location was fitting for someone of Atlan’s age and prowess. It made Garth feel like a real apprentice in a fantasy novel, getting trained by an old master of a craft to pass on his teachings. When he thought about it more, that was what he was doing, almost down to every detail.
The two slowed their pace to enter the ruins, swimming through the halls to the kitchen. Thankfully, the undisturbed realm had kept them in sort of a stasis, protecting them from erosion and destruction from movement over time. Though not completely intact, many rooms and halls were completely usable, the kitchen being one of them. As they made their way, Garth flicked his gaze to each of the tapestries and scrolls hanging on the walls. Atlan had placed them before Garth’s arrival, as a reminder of the stories from underwater societies long past. Some even depicted stories from before Atlantis sank, which Garth recalled as he observed the work done on each sheet. Though his moments to look at them were fleeting, he could recall each and every origin story that the wizard had told him.
He didn’t know exactly what to call these ruins. It was old, remnants of a society long past with rich history he was only beginning to understand. Remnants so old they pre-dated Atlan himself, in his 40,000 years of age. The ruins were beautifully rustic throughout, with ancient drawings and etchings around every corner. Whenever Garth found a new detail he always asked Atlan for help on the origin, which gave him a new story to tell. Garth couldn’t exactly call them a house or a home (home is where the heart is?), but they weren’t much of a palace or castle either. Atlan had told him he had been hiding there for many years, which Garth could see in all of his possessions littering the rooms, but even then he felt awkward calling it Atlan’s home. If anything it was a hide-out, so Garth stayed with the safe answer of calling it their ‘base’.
After a quick (magic-aided) preparation of a meal, Atlan served Garth with a smile. Atlan was also teaching him how to use magic practically, but Garth had less of a grasp on that than what he was currently learning. Atlan told him that a meal always tasted better when you took the proper time to prepare it, but he'd gotten into the habit of using magic for convenience. If they hadn't spent too much time on training beforehand, Atlan would have Garth practice meditation while they prepared a meal.
When he was finished eating, Garth thanked Atlan for the food, and, with a sparkling swoop of magic, the wizard cleared anything left on the table.
Atlan stood up and ‘dusted off’ his hands, a habit Garth learned he had picked up to be more of a ‘finished’ signal than anything else, “Now, rest up. I’ll come retrieve you when it’s time to resume.”
“Huh? But didn't we just take a break?” Garth cocked his head to the side.
“Physical replenishment takes time. You can't rush your body, you can only rest properly so you return to your best self.”
Garth nodded. That made sense, especially considering all of Atlan’s other teachings. He emphasized on mindfulness, restfulness, and preparation almost every day. He supposed that was just the natural practice to become a wizard, which Garth wanted nothing more.
As he bid a temporary goodbye to Atlan, he recalled a conversation they shared when he was first awakening his magic. It was right after gaining his initiation scars, though before ever performing a spell. The older man’s words rang through his mind.
“Only act when you feel it’s ready to be released. Only summon when you know you can. Anything else is a risk to yourself and those around you”
Though Atlan was no stranger to risky maneuvers and trickery, his lessons were always taught with a careful precision. Garth learned quickly that his wisdom knew vast boundaries, which allowed him to go about life with ease.
“I behave the way I do because of my years of experience. You do not yet have that proficiency, so anything less than perfection turns into a liability.”
Garth remembers nodding in agreement, soaking in every word and taking it to heart.
“Don't get too worried, Garth. Remember that you're doing great.
“Yeah, you just have to scare some sense into me. I get it.”
After that, Garth remembered royally messing up the spell he'd attempted. Then messing it up again, and again, and again. That day had been a big lesson on stability. Garth’s powers had been untapped for so long that he had no clue what to do with them but the capacity for so much.
Instead of going to his room, Garth decided to go somewhere in The Grotto he could think. The realm was quiet enough that you could hear your thoughts anywhere, but there were optimal places (like underwater cliffs) and non-optimal places (like the ocean floor). To scratch the itch under his skin, Garth went out in search of the perfect place to rest and stare off.
The itch was unlike the sparks and zaps of electricity that magic brought. It was more of a discomfort; a crawl. Something that burrowed and traveled beneath layers of skin instead of a shake in his bones. Like something wasn't put on quite right, and only this action would set it right again.
He only stopped when the itch stopped. Which is what landed him on a rock to perch on, overlooking a bed of flowing, seemingly endless seagrass. The sight was just enough for him to focus, but not to steal his attention. The movement in the water was hypnotic and Garth spent many moments just watching the grass bend and twirl in different directions as the current changed.
Then, his eyes were drawn upward. The vibrant green of the grass was bathed in a beautiful yellow that filtered through the water. Garth found his gaze lingering on the surface of the realm that bathed everything in light. The color was growing more golden by the minute, and Garth could practically feel the warm air on his skin from the rays of divinity up in the sky.
Garth knew that Atlantis was his home. He knew Poseidonis was where he belonged and his room in the palace was where he would stay until he turned to seafoam, but as he sits in The Grotto, watching the current pass by and the seagrass flow with the water, he finds himself yearning for something else.
He finds himself yearning for the surface.
It was impossible to surface in The Grotto. The sun passing through the water was merely a spectacle. Atlan told him after he’d first arrived that if you tried to swim to crest the water, you’d simply swim until you couldn’t anymore. The magical characteristics of the realm were always everpresent, and though he didn’t think it would, that one bothered Garth the most.
Garth missed feeling the air and sun on his skin. He missed grass beneath his feet and the breeze blowing his hair. He missed the cities on land and all the possibilities they held. He missed the people on land. He missed his Titans. His team. His family.
In this silence, the ache they left was debilitating.
He missed Dick, who was always the first person to notice anything wrong. Dick had learned all of Garth’s tells before anyone else, even some he wasn't aware of. Anytime Garth thought he was being good about hiding his feelings, Dick would come in and save him. Though Dick was the most secretive Titan for a long time, he never held back as a friend. He would always make excuses for Garth to come to the surface, insisting that he was necessary to a mission just so Dick could see his face. He was the first to include Garth, and the first to insist that Garth belonged.
He missed Donna, the way she understood Garth like it was nothing. The both of them came from completely different nations from the other Titans, and had bonded through sharing stories. Donna understood what it was to be homesick for two homes at once. Garth knew that he could always talk to her and she'd never judge him, being one of the most understanding people he's ever met. He remembers being 13 and too shy to speak to people on land, so Donna would be his voice, seeing that he just needed time. She was the closest thing to a sister he'd ever had.
He missed Wally, the way the two of them could make side commentary while Dick and Roy were arguing and Donna tried to mediate. Ever since they found out that Wally could run on water if he went fast enough, the two made every excuse to utilize it, even to this day. He was always the first to reach out, and always said he was ‘never too far away to be too busy’. He understood what it was like to have disconnect with your mentor without them being a father, sister, or other family member, but something more complex and in-between.
He missed Roy, who he clashed with for so many years that they couldn't do anything else but become best friends. Who would always make some stupid joke to make Garth laugh, which Garth would meet with one even more stupid. Who would always tease Garth relentlessly, but would never tolerate other people making fun of him. Who Garth would run around with pranking people, and who Arthur had fondly labeled a ‘bad influence’ early on. Ever since their rough patch ended (Roy was too insensitive as a kid and Garth was, in his own opinion, too sensitive), neither of them could be away from each other for too long.
Roy, who had the most beautiful and darling daughter that Garth had adored since he first met her. A daughter that made Garth want to be a father one day, and who he loved to play with. Roy, who was so strong for all of the difficulties he'd been through, especially becoming a dad so young, but always rose to the challenge. His unshakable determination was nothing to scoff at and Garth had always admired it. Roy’s unwavering honesty made it so Garth never had to worry that he was telling the truth.
Compared to Arthur’s initial belief, Garth thought Roy was one of the best influences of all. Roy made Garth want to be a better person. He made him want to grow into someone who spoke up, who helped, who was strong for the people he loved. Garth attributed most of his strengths to the Titans, but so much of that stemmed from his care for Roy.
It wasn't just his drive that made Roy amazing, either. He had a quality of care that you couldn't find anywhere else. Garth was one of the few people that had actually seen him act without trying to prove himself. He'd seen Roy in the kitchen during the quiet hours of the night and had long conversations that only the two of them knew about. He'd seen aspects of Roy that he wouldn't let anyone else see. He'd known things that he'd keep close to his chest forever, things that only made him love Roy more.
He missed the feeling of his touch. He missed the casual pushes, punches, high-fives, and hugs. He missed the fact he didn't have to ask to lean his shoulder on his or be ashamed about falling asleep. He missed the way Roy would laugh when he woke up– never a cruel one– and the feeling of it jostling Garth ever so slightly. He missed the apologies for shaking him while he groaned about waking up, and he missed Roy’s hand rubbing circles into his back to try and soothe him back into unconsciousness.
He missed looking into those green eyes and feeling seen. He missed the soft look that felt like there was nothing more important than looking at him. Like Garth was the only person in the entire world.
More than anything, he missed Roy.