FIC: The Breaking Wave Chapter 4 (4/4)
Title: The Breaking Wave: Chapter Four (The Selkie Prince)
Characters/Pairings: Superman, Bruce Wayne, Arthur Curry (King Orin, Aquaman).
Rating: PG
Summary: Superman's world is turned upside-down when he meets a mysterious ambassador from Atlantis.
Word count: 1800
Continuity: DC doesn't seem to worry about keeping Atlantis consistent, so this Atlantis (and Arthur) are almost entirely my cobbled-together creation.
Notes: Written for the World's Finest Gift Exchange, Prompt F07: An AU in which young Bruce Wayne's ship sinks during his travels and he becomes Prince Arthur's tutor and foster-brother. The full mini-series can be found here.
Three years ago
Buruzh swam into the Great Hall, the guards bowing to him as he entered. The hall was empty now, the crowds of the day finally gone. The coffin at the far end was tiny; the man standing in front of it dwarfed by the immensity of the architecture.
Arthur--King Orin--looked up from his grandfather's casket as Buruzh approached. The golden circlet was very slightly askew on his yellow hair; Buruzh reached out and set it right.
"I won't get used to wearing the damn thing," Arthur grumbled.
"Yes you will."
Arthur stared down at his grandfather's crystalline casket again, at the body floating serenely inside it. "He was a good man. As good as he could be."
Buruzh nodded.
"I won't be as good a king as he was."
"Maybe not," Buruzh agreed. "And maybe you'll be greater. He set that in motion for you."
Arthur shot him a look from cool aquamarine eyes. "The land."
"Yes. It won't be long now until we have to deal with them." He put a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder and responded before the other man could say anything. "We'll be ready, my liege."
A telepathic snort. "Don't call me that."
"Ah, but I must. Protocols must be upheld. But Arthur--" Cobalt eyes met blue-green, "--know that when I say it, I always mean 'my friend.'"
: : :
He was packing a few belongings when the curtain parted to reveal Arthur. "You don't need to take everything," his king noted. "You're welcome back here anytime."
Buruzh placed a silver arm band in the small bag. "I know. And I will be back to visit. I promise. I just--" He broke off and left the sentence unfinished, staring down at his desk. "I wouldn't want you to think it was because..." This time his voice trailed off. He still wouldn't meet Arthur's eyes.
Arthur looked at him for a long moment. "My father used to tell me a story, when I was a little boy. He'd tell it to me and cry every time. The story of the selkie."
He moved to stand by his friend and continued, Buruzh still staring downward. "You may know that selkies are magical seals that can venture on land as beautiful humans, putting aside their seal skins for a time. One day a fisherman found a selkie's sealskin on a rock. For his own reasons, he hid it away, and when the maiden came seeking it, he refused, bidding her to stay. All her pleas and entreaties moved him not. So he kept her with him, and in time she grew to love him, for he truly was a good and a kind man. But he would sometimes see her staring out to the sea, her home, the place she truly belonged.
"It ended as such tales must always end. One day the selkie found her sealskin, locked in a chest. She wept as she held it, for she was fond of her life on land. But the call of her blood could not be denied, and all must return to where their homes are. The selkie disappeared and the man never saw her face again."
Arthur smiled slightly. "I always knew you were my selkie prince, Buruzh."
Buruzh swallowed. "Arthur..."
"Go back to your love, Buruzh, with my blessings." Arthur's voice was soft. "Go back to Gotham."
Buruzh put his arms around his king, rested his head on his shoulder. "My liege," he said.
Then he let go and swam away without looking back.
: : :
Bruce broke the water above Atlantis. The sea was unusually still today, glassy and smooth in all directions, the sky a cerulean bowl holding infinity.
He waited there, caught for a moment between the sea and the sky.
From the endless blue Superman descended, cape billowing around him. He lowered himself out of the sky until one red boot just touched the surface of the water. Ripples spread in perfect concentric rings from that touch, spreading outward. They lapped gently up against Bruce as Kal smiled and greeted him, and Bruce felt the now-familiar catch in his heart at the sight of that smile.
He let Kal lift him from the sea like the drowning man he had been since that day on the pier in San Diego, since his first glimpse of the sky in those blue eyes. He let Kal take him home.
: : :
"I don't have to come in." Kal watched Bruce stand on the doorstep of Wayne Manor, hand poised to knock. He'd been standing that way for some time.
"No, I'd like it if you stayed," he said, his voice just a touch nervous. Then he lifted the door knocker and brought it down with a sharp rap.
The door opened slowly to reveal Alfred Pennyworth, standing very straight and stiff. The scent of warm chocolate chip cookies wafted out around them.
"Alfr..." Bruce's voice gave out entirely. He coughed and tried again. "Alfred."
The butler bowed, very slightly. "Master Bruce. Welcome home." Bruce continued to stand on the threshold, speechless. Alfred's eyes narrowed. "I hope you won't stand there dripping sea water on the steps all night."
Bruce jumped forward as if he'd been jolted, despite the fact that his clothes were long since dried by the flight. "I'm sorry," he said, a young boy's chastened voice. He looked around the hallway, at the dark wood and gleaming brass. "I'm sorry," he repeated again, his voice deep with regret.
Alfred reached out and put a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "There's nothing to apologize for. You're home now."
"Yes," said Bruce. His voice was thick.
Alfred looked past Bruce. "Mr. El? I've just finished making cookies. Perhaps Master Bruce would like to give you a tour of the house after you have some?"
Superman waited to see if Bruce would respond, but Bruce was still staring around him, his eyes hungry. "If Bruce is willing, I'd like that."
"Oh yes," Bruce breathed, still looking. "I'd love to show you around my home."
: : :
The sun was setting by the time they finished the tour. Bruce led him across a broad expanse of lawn and to a gazebo overlooking the gardens, vast and terraced. In the distance, Kal could see a distant silver flash of sea. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, each enjoying the view.
"So what will you do now?" asked Kal.
Bruce frowned. "Alfred and Lucius Fox took good care of Wayne Enterprises in my absence. I'm a very wealthy man." He sighed. "When I was younger, I had dreams...that I could make a difference in Gotham. That I could be a force for good here." He looked out unseeingly over the dusk-dimmed gardens. "But now...it's too late. I've been gone too long. I've lost Gotham."
Kal leaned forward. "Don't say that. There are good people here."
Bruce shook his head. "The police department is hopelessly corrupt."
"I've worked with them before. There are a few good people on the force here that you can work with, I know it. Gordon, Bullock, Montoya--they're all dedicated to changing things. They just need a symbol, a rallying point."
Bruce stared up at the sky where the first bats were beginning to cut parabolas against the twilight. "A rallying point. Like the one they have in Star City?" He met Superman's eyes. "Like the one they have in Metropolis?" Superman nodded and Bruce exhaled slowly. "I do have...certain advantages in that area. The money is one. I'm also...stronger than a normal human, rebuilt to withstand the pressure of the deep." He looked down at his hand, fisted on his knee. "That could be useful."
"There's another potential advantage you have, if we're going to work together." Kal flushed slightly when Bruce looked at him. "Uh, are we going to work together? I shouldn't assume..."
Bruce's mouth tilted in a smile. "I hope so."
"Well, if we are, then I should probably tell you that I...have another identity. Not many people know about it. I work as a reporter at the Daily Planet under the name Clark Kent. I was raised as a human, actually, in Kansas."
Bruce looked somewhat surprised. "I can't see you ever fitting in in Kansas."
Kal felt obscurely flattered. "I've gotten pretty good at...blending in."
Sapphire eyes narrowed. "Show me."
Kal swallowed hard, then disappeared and reappeared as Clark in a blur of motion. "Most people don't really notice me like this. It makes it easier to...stay connected to humanity."
Bruce was eyeing him closely, analytically. "Amazing," he murmured, taking in the thick glasses, the ill-fitting suit, the slumped posture.
"It did take a fair amount of planning, yes."
"No," Bruce said softly. "Amazing that you care enough to do all this, to stay connected to humanity."
"Humanity's...pretty impressive."
"Yes," Bruce agreed with a flash of a smile. "That's true." Then he frowned again. "Why are you telling me this now, and how is it connected to another advantage I might have?"
Clark grimaced and looked down. "Well, it's...I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it before, but...I can hear your telepathy."
Dark-winged eyebrows rose sharply. "Atlantean telepathy works for Kryptonians?"
"No, no. Just...just you. Just your thoughts." It seemed uncomfortably intimate to mention that, and Clark looked away.
"So...you can hear this?" Bruce's mental voice was resonant and rich.
"Yes." Clark couldn't seem to raise his voice above a whisper.
The chuckle was entirely in his mind; Bruce Wayne's face remained placid. "Well. This could be very interesting," he projected.
Clark leaned forward eagerly. "Yes, I agree! There could be some major tactical advantages if we were working together, an ability to share planning, to communicate tactics. Perhaps with some training I could send to you as well and--"
"That's not exactly what I meant." Bruce's telepathy was pitched even lower now, a purr that made the inside of Clark's head feel pleasantly fuzzy. "I meant this could be...very interesting."
His mental voice was black silk wrapped directly around the pleasure centers of Clark's brain, and he shuddered and felt his hands twitch. In response, Bruce laughed--an odd double laugh for Clark, hearing it in his ears and inside his mind simultaneously, like a sensuous duet. Then the laugh cut off abruptly and Bruce put a hand to his neck for a second, looking surprised. "What's wrong?" Clark asked.
"It's just--I haven't laughed out loud for fifteen years," said Bruce.
Clark reached out and rested a finger on the other man's throat, very lightly. "I hope you'll have many opportunities to do so in the future," he said.
This time he could hear the slight chuckle in his mind and his ears and feel it as well, a faint vibration under his fingertips.
"I suspect we will," said Bruce.
Characters/Pairings: Superman, Bruce Wayne, Arthur Curry (King Orin, Aquaman).
Rating: PG
Summary: Superman's world is turned upside-down when he meets a mysterious ambassador from Atlantis.
Word count: 1800
Continuity: DC doesn't seem to worry about keeping Atlantis consistent, so this Atlantis (and Arthur) are almost entirely my cobbled-together creation.
Notes: Written for the World's Finest Gift Exchange, Prompt F07: An AU in which young Bruce Wayne's ship sinks during his travels and he becomes Prince Arthur's tutor and foster-brother. The full mini-series can be found here.
Three years ago
Buruzh swam into the Great Hall, the guards bowing to him as he entered. The hall was empty now, the crowds of the day finally gone. The coffin at the far end was tiny; the man standing in front of it dwarfed by the immensity of the architecture.
Arthur--King Orin--looked up from his grandfather's casket as Buruzh approached. The golden circlet was very slightly askew on his yellow hair; Buruzh reached out and set it right.
"I won't get used to wearing the damn thing," Arthur grumbled.
"Yes you will."
Arthur stared down at his grandfather's crystalline casket again, at the body floating serenely inside it. "He was a good man. As good as he could be."
Buruzh nodded.
"I won't be as good a king as he was."
"Maybe not," Buruzh agreed. "And maybe you'll be greater. He set that in motion for you."
Arthur shot him a look from cool aquamarine eyes. "The land."
"Yes. It won't be long now until we have to deal with them." He put a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder and responded before the other man could say anything. "We'll be ready, my liege."
A telepathic snort. "Don't call me that."
"Ah, but I must. Protocols must be upheld. But Arthur--" Cobalt eyes met blue-green, "--know that when I say it, I always mean 'my friend.'"
: : :
He was packing a few belongings when the curtain parted to reveal Arthur. "You don't need to take everything," his king noted. "You're welcome back here anytime."
Buruzh placed a silver arm band in the small bag. "I know. And I will be back to visit. I promise. I just--" He broke off and left the sentence unfinished, staring down at his desk. "I wouldn't want you to think it was because..." This time his voice trailed off. He still wouldn't meet Arthur's eyes.
Arthur looked at him for a long moment. "My father used to tell me a story, when I was a little boy. He'd tell it to me and cry every time. The story of the selkie."
He moved to stand by his friend and continued, Buruzh still staring downward. "You may know that selkies are magical seals that can venture on land as beautiful humans, putting aside their seal skins for a time. One day a fisherman found a selkie's sealskin on a rock. For his own reasons, he hid it away, and when the maiden came seeking it, he refused, bidding her to stay. All her pleas and entreaties moved him not. So he kept her with him, and in time she grew to love him, for he truly was a good and a kind man. But he would sometimes see her staring out to the sea, her home, the place she truly belonged.
"It ended as such tales must always end. One day the selkie found her sealskin, locked in a chest. She wept as she held it, for she was fond of her life on land. But the call of her blood could not be denied, and all must return to where their homes are. The selkie disappeared and the man never saw her face again."
Arthur smiled slightly. "I always knew you were my selkie prince, Buruzh."
Buruzh swallowed. "Arthur..."
"Go back to your love, Buruzh, with my blessings." Arthur's voice was soft. "Go back to Gotham."
Buruzh put his arms around his king, rested his head on his shoulder. "My liege," he said.
Then he let go and swam away without looking back.
: : :
Bruce broke the water above Atlantis. The sea was unusually still today, glassy and smooth in all directions, the sky a cerulean bowl holding infinity.
He waited there, caught for a moment between the sea and the sky.
From the endless blue Superman descended, cape billowing around him. He lowered himself out of the sky until one red boot just touched the surface of the water. Ripples spread in perfect concentric rings from that touch, spreading outward. They lapped gently up against Bruce as Kal smiled and greeted him, and Bruce felt the now-familiar catch in his heart at the sight of that smile.
He let Kal lift him from the sea like the drowning man he had been since that day on the pier in San Diego, since his first glimpse of the sky in those blue eyes. He let Kal take him home.
: : :
"I don't have to come in." Kal watched Bruce stand on the doorstep of Wayne Manor, hand poised to knock. He'd been standing that way for some time.
"No, I'd like it if you stayed," he said, his voice just a touch nervous. Then he lifted the door knocker and brought it down with a sharp rap.
The door opened slowly to reveal Alfred Pennyworth, standing very straight and stiff. The scent of warm chocolate chip cookies wafted out around them.
"Alfr..." Bruce's voice gave out entirely. He coughed and tried again. "Alfred."
The butler bowed, very slightly. "Master Bruce. Welcome home." Bruce continued to stand on the threshold, speechless. Alfred's eyes narrowed. "I hope you won't stand there dripping sea water on the steps all night."
Bruce jumped forward as if he'd been jolted, despite the fact that his clothes were long since dried by the flight. "I'm sorry," he said, a young boy's chastened voice. He looked around the hallway, at the dark wood and gleaming brass. "I'm sorry," he repeated again, his voice deep with regret.
Alfred reached out and put a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "There's nothing to apologize for. You're home now."
"Yes," said Bruce. His voice was thick.
Alfred looked past Bruce. "Mr. El? I've just finished making cookies. Perhaps Master Bruce would like to give you a tour of the house after you have some?"
Superman waited to see if Bruce would respond, but Bruce was still staring around him, his eyes hungry. "If Bruce is willing, I'd like that."
"Oh yes," Bruce breathed, still looking. "I'd love to show you around my home."
: : :
The sun was setting by the time they finished the tour. Bruce led him across a broad expanse of lawn and to a gazebo overlooking the gardens, vast and terraced. In the distance, Kal could see a distant silver flash of sea. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, each enjoying the view.
"So what will you do now?" asked Kal.
Bruce frowned. "Alfred and Lucius Fox took good care of Wayne Enterprises in my absence. I'm a very wealthy man." He sighed. "When I was younger, I had dreams...that I could make a difference in Gotham. That I could be a force for good here." He looked out unseeingly over the dusk-dimmed gardens. "But now...it's too late. I've been gone too long. I've lost Gotham."
Kal leaned forward. "Don't say that. There are good people here."
Bruce shook his head. "The police department is hopelessly corrupt."
"I've worked with them before. There are a few good people on the force here that you can work with, I know it. Gordon, Bullock, Montoya--they're all dedicated to changing things. They just need a symbol, a rallying point."
Bruce stared up at the sky where the first bats were beginning to cut parabolas against the twilight. "A rallying point. Like the one they have in Star City?" He met Superman's eyes. "Like the one they have in Metropolis?" Superman nodded and Bruce exhaled slowly. "I do have...certain advantages in that area. The money is one. I'm also...stronger than a normal human, rebuilt to withstand the pressure of the deep." He looked down at his hand, fisted on his knee. "That could be useful."
"There's another potential advantage you have, if we're going to work together." Kal flushed slightly when Bruce looked at him. "Uh, are we going to work together? I shouldn't assume..."
Bruce's mouth tilted in a smile. "I hope so."
"Well, if we are, then I should probably tell you that I...have another identity. Not many people know about it. I work as a reporter at the Daily Planet under the name Clark Kent. I was raised as a human, actually, in Kansas."
Bruce looked somewhat surprised. "I can't see you ever fitting in in Kansas."
Kal felt obscurely flattered. "I've gotten pretty good at...blending in."
Sapphire eyes narrowed. "Show me."
Kal swallowed hard, then disappeared and reappeared as Clark in a blur of motion. "Most people don't really notice me like this. It makes it easier to...stay connected to humanity."
Bruce was eyeing him closely, analytically. "Amazing," he murmured, taking in the thick glasses, the ill-fitting suit, the slumped posture.
"It did take a fair amount of planning, yes."
"No," Bruce said softly. "Amazing that you care enough to do all this, to stay connected to humanity."
"Humanity's...pretty impressive."
"Yes," Bruce agreed with a flash of a smile. "That's true." Then he frowned again. "Why are you telling me this now, and how is it connected to another advantage I might have?"
Clark grimaced and looked down. "Well, it's...I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it before, but...I can hear your telepathy."
Dark-winged eyebrows rose sharply. "Atlantean telepathy works for Kryptonians?"
"No, no. Just...just you. Just your thoughts." It seemed uncomfortably intimate to mention that, and Clark looked away.
"So...you can hear this?" Bruce's mental voice was resonant and rich.
"Yes." Clark couldn't seem to raise his voice above a whisper.
The chuckle was entirely in his mind; Bruce Wayne's face remained placid. "Well. This could be very interesting," he projected.
Clark leaned forward eagerly. "Yes, I agree! There could be some major tactical advantages if we were working together, an ability to share planning, to communicate tactics. Perhaps with some training I could send to you as well and--"
"That's not exactly what I meant." Bruce's telepathy was pitched even lower now, a purr that made the inside of Clark's head feel pleasantly fuzzy. "I meant this could be...very interesting."
His mental voice was black silk wrapped directly around the pleasure centers of Clark's brain, and he shuddered and felt his hands twitch. In response, Bruce laughed--an odd double laugh for Clark, hearing it in his ears and inside his mind simultaneously, like a sensuous duet. Then the laugh cut off abruptly and Bruce put a hand to his neck for a second, looking surprised. "What's wrong?" Clark asked.
"It's just--I haven't laughed out loud for fifteen years," said Bruce.
Clark reached out and rested a finger on the other man's throat, very lightly. "I hope you'll have many opportunities to do so in the future," he said.
This time he could hear the slight chuckle in his mind and his ears and feel it as well, a faint vibration under his fingertips.
"I suspect we will," said Bruce.