Chapter Text
Time seems to move differently here in the surface. I had not realized that it has been six weeks since we had heard from Arthur. Of course, I am sure, he is in the middle of a busy time... any new King would be very busy. Most certainly in this unique point in the history of Atlantis.
Governing Atlantis is a fulltime work. I remember how I had spent every waking moment working and striving for what is best for the Kingdom. Of course, looking back now, I also remember spending a great deal of thought to how to make my father proud of me, especially in my youth.
Orm paused his writing as he tried to sort out the slight flow of memories from years so long ago. Moments and sounds of himself as a young boy standing before his father under the latter's endless scrutiny.
Step forward, Boy. Orm could taste the bitterness of the last word directed at him. Is that how a King of Atlantis stand? You're not wearing a crown yet but you could barely look up when I call you!!! Look at me, Boy!!!
But as Orm did, as his eyes met his father's, he heard a resounding slap then felt a stinging pain on his left cheek and the tangy taste of blood on his lip. I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry and as he chanted these words in his young mind's voice, the sea carried the stray drops away... and so he looked back at his father's face masking his grief-- for the mother he had lost, for the father he desperately loved and the innocence he did not even know taken from him-- with a face of fury.
It is only these past months of contemplation that I have come to terms with this. I have been angry almost half my life it seemed but anger, I also know is not enough to sustain anyone or anything worthwhile. Because now, in the clarity of the surface, as I watch the beautiful face of my home from these cliffs... as I begin to find ways to touch her and feel her eyes on me, I find there is more to me than my anger or fury or the losses I mask by them...
Orm began to feel a struggle within his mind not about the direction of his thoughts that he allowed to flow freely but at the words he needed to describe the draw he feels for Lena.. and like many times before, he was thinking of her again... but a scream from the other room quickly cut Orms reflections and without hesitation, he stood up and rushed out of his bedroom.
He found Lena by the side of her bed. The bedside lamp was barely emitting light into the room. On her bed was what looked like a drawing pad, a pencil and Lena was leaning on what looked like a skinsuit but Orm could barely make it out against he rumpled sheets. Besides, his concern was more on Lena's state, he could not see her face as she placed her head on her arms her hair loose and long covering her but she was sobbing quietly.
"Lena..." Orm softly called out as he slowly approached her lowering himself to his knees as he reached her side.
"Lena... please..." His hand was already reaching to he, a need to touch and to comfort overwhelm the fear. As his hand touch the side of her arm, Lena quickly lifted her head and turned to him.
Orm knew she heard him since her sobbing had stopped. His hands cupped her face, "Lena... I'm here.." Her eyes were opened but he could not tell yet if she was truly awake. Lena spoke and to Orm shock, she spoke Atlantean, her eyes were pure green now and she called to him "My Lord..." in a plea, a prayer... To this Orm felt himself move closer their noses almost touching as Lena placed her hand on his shoulder. "my Lord..." she repeated as Orm whispered words he uttered only in his dreams, "My Lady.." he closed the distance between their lips.