2013.07.10 - Tale of Two Kings

Namor sat, as he often did now a days, on his throne of coral, the Trident of Posiedon slammed into the ground hard enough to stick. This was his life now. The monarch of a dead people... or at the least, if that fair hair man was to be believed, a people that had no need of him.

Time had left him by, and with the exception of the occasional excursion to the surface to alleviate the boredom by saving beautiful woman, this was all that there was for him.

He hasn't forgotten the incident with the flying Atlantean...and the Leviathan. Orin had been rather busy playing 'damage control' with both Atlantis as well as the surface due to that particular antic. It's only been recently that he was able to find out more about the colony that was destroyed...only after most had evacuated. It was also nearly seventy years ago. If the other remembered that and with the power he held...Orin was curious.

A small group of armed guards accompanied their King as he made his way to the former colony to explore what might be left. The fact that there's something built from an outpost caused him to pause. The butt of the Trident of Neptune is tapped on the airlock as if to demand entrance that way.

Even as the Avenging Son of a lost people, one gets lonely. Perhaps it would be better to say especially as one. He stood, yanking the Trident of Poseidon, a symbol of his position and an artifact he quested for to save Atlantis. He then walked to the entrance of the airlock. Even if the grips of ennui, Namor was still royalty and would not rush for any reason, unless it was his own desire.

When he did arrive at the airlock it was still filled with sea water even though the rest of the villa was not. After it drained, allowed him in and refilled he opened the door.

A look of anger shot across his face when he saw Orin, "-You!-" he sneered, "What right do you have to come to -my- home and...."

It was then that Namor saw the guards he had brought with him, a combination of the skin colors that made up Atlantis. These were Atlanteans... "You are who you say you aren't you?"

Orin doesn't seem to mind waiting. He's not impatient about it or nervous....he just waits. Technically, the area is still under his jurisdiction, but he's not going to force his way in either. When the other comes out and starts, he just waits, an eyebrow arched, his arms crossed. As Namor looks at his guards, there's the hint of a smirk beneath his beard.

"I don't lie. I do think, however, that we should probably speak."

Namor nodded, stepping aside for Orin "That seems to be the case. If you would please enter. Though your guards will have to wait. There is only oxygen past the airlock, no water."

It was a truthful statement, and one of the hypocritical things about Namor's life right now, anger at the air-breathers... and his villa is all oxygen except for tanks and specific rooms.

Orin tilts his head some at that revelation and he nods to the Guards. They'll station themselves outside the airlocked door and they won't like it, but it's their King's choice. He'll then follow Namor inside but he can't help but ask, "Why is there oxygen inside?" He knows that he's an exception to the rule -- although there are some other Atlanteans who can breath in the water and outside of it.

Once inside, he pauses and looks around at the shelter, "So. You are Namor. I found reference to you in some of the histories. Most Atlanteans aren't so long-lived."

Namor answered Orin's question rather harshly, "Because despite what you said I assumed I was alone. Back in my day it took a worm down the throat or water on the gills to breath on the surface."

He stopped in his stride leading to -his- throne, "I thought I was alone... so only someone who could breath air could come here."

He turned when his name was mentioned, "You mean because I still look in my prime when my Grandfather was a frail main when he was my age. Yes, I have been wondering that myself. But I assume my hybrid nature has something to do with it."

He then continued to lead Orin to the middle of his sanctuary where his throne was, "No Atlantean I know of is as strong as me, can fly or absorb electricity either. I'm different. I always have been."

He certainly isn't going to try to claim the other's throne. This is his home...this isn't the Palace in Atlantis. Pausing near one of the tanks, he then follows Namor with a stately stride, "Do you want to be alone? It's a nice place. Large. I don't like the tanks, but...I'm not going to tell you how to run your home and they seem to be treated well." Blue eyes glance about a little more before he looks back, "I understand all too well about being different."

Namor sat in his throne, lovingly taken care of coral that was obviously grown from virtually nothing in the last few weeks. He set his trident down at it's side. The trident looks similar to Orin's own, almost like it was a reproduction or a twin, "And that's what I want to know. Who exactly are you? By my counts I've lost at least 35 years of my life. Assume my grand-father is dead, as is his cousin Atlan; if you are on the throne."

"And, since when did Atlantean's not care about the prophecies that a blonde king would destroy us? I could not imagine the Logomancer (sorcerer) or the Council would allow that."

He recognizes that he's being baited. Orin's eyes narrow and he gives a sigh, but he isn't going to rise to that particular bait. For one, it's too cliche. "Trevis was my father and yes, both he and his cousin are gone. You disappeared and when I returned, I was able to show the people of Atlantis that while I looked different...while I looked the child of the prophecy, I meant to do only well by my people despite the fact that they cast me out. So. You can imagine, I am quite protective over Atlantis and her people and that I mean to protect them from harm."

There is a pause before he adds, "You disappeared nearly forty years ago. Things have changed greatly in that time."

Namor paused and tilted his head slightly, one eyebrow raised high on his brow, "You really are Orin then. The blonde child that the Logomancer warned me about. He told me not to leave that day."

Namor was remembering now, more than he had already remembered, "The Child of Prophecy was born, it was a bad omen for me to leave that day. I laughed off his superstitions... and I never returned. I must be remembered so poorly in Atlantis."

He looked Orin directly and said, "I wandered the surface for that length of time. I didn't remember who I was. And I don't remember how I lost my memories."

"Was that Logomancer Atlan, perchance?" Orin inclines his head some at that. "But yes, I am he. I would appreciate not being disparaged so right in front of my face." And that's the one warning, polite as it is. "I found some record of you...but not all live as long as you. Some remembered...many didn't."

He meets the direct gaze, "Do you have your memories back now? Because I'd kind of hate to punch a guy who didn't know who or what he was about and you are coming very close to that." So maybe he gets another warning.

Namor's head lowered as some things were revealed, "The Logomancer at the time, he was called Atlan, yes. Though I'm sure he is gone as well... with Thak-kor and Trevis are gone... I assume my mother has passed as well? Fen?"

He already knew the answer and it hurt him so. No one should live past their families deaths. He was about to ask about Dorma before he picked up Orin's anger.

"It's good to know not everything changes," Namor stood to his feet and then asked, "Are you my cousin, Orin? Born thirty-nine years ago on the day I disappeared? I promised my people a celebration when I came home. All in your honor."

"Atlan wanted the throne for himself. I don't know if the prophecy came from him originally, but he wanted control of Atlantis and turned the people...and my parents against me. They left me for dead, but I survived." He doesn't need to go into the full story...not now.

Remaining still, his own Trident in one hand, he meets Namor's eyes, "We are cousins, it would seem. Many of your people escaped and created lives in Atlantis now."

Namor considered for a moment, "I... hope that is true. But this is my domain now."

He grabbed his own trident, "If you are my cousin Orin, then I give you back your life today. I will not destroy he who I allowed into my house!"

With an angry glare, one that is accepting the truth, "But, King of Atlantis... allow me to research you in the way you have looked at me."

Holding the Trident as intimidating as Orin himself can, "Until then... know that I -am- Namor, the Avenging Son of Atlantis. And I will harm no surface dweller until I find the truth."

"Are we in agreement?"

Orin arches a blonde eyebrow at the pronouncements and declarations, but now isn't the time to fight. He's doing his duty and the promise is a good start. "Harm no Surface Dweller -or- Atlantean and then we will be in agreement. I won't come to your home again...it is, as you said, your domain. But know that if you come to Atlantis with intent for malice, you -will- be apprehended." He doesn't give a bow, but he does incline his head, perhaps in acknowledgement of his blood relationship to the Avenging Son.