PART ONE

Arthur had put his foot down.

He was going to go up to the damn surface and finally drink his father under the table. He sure had more to drink about now than his old man did anyway. He hadn't been around to see the reunion of his parents, or the days afterwards when he didn't want to even think about what they were doing. But Arthur needed a break. He needed a sense of normalcy that wasn't so normal to his life anymore. He wanted a beer, dammit. He wanted to relax.

His old man finally had the love of his life back while Arthur suffered an education of politics—a lifetime's worth—crammed into a few days. This was why Arthur hadn't wanted to be King from the start. He hadn't grown up in Atlantis like his brother, Orm, had. He didn't have the first clue as to how underwater kingdoms worked, let alone the biggest underwater kingdom.

That's where Vulko came in to save his sorry ass. Sure, Vulko gave Arthur lessons when he was younger, telling him how he'd one day be King of Atlantis, but they never touched on all the small stuff that could somehow make or break his reign or the daily tasks a leader must perform to keep his kingdom running smoothly. Hell, he could definitely do without all the pomp and circumstance. He felt like a clown dressed up as a king.

And still, it could've been worse. Much worse. Because what brightens up a stuffy conference room with an old man breathing down your back quizzing you on military sanctions like a beautiful princess? Alright, Mera was mostly trying to help drill said military sanctions into his thick skull as well, but she was sure nicer to look at that Vulko.

When he said that being King would be fun, he pictured more ass kickings. More of him directly affecting Atlanteans for the better. Hell, even more partying that involved heavily flowing alcohol would be fun. That was before he realized that Atlantis didn't have any alcohol. Apparently they didn't need it , so why would they want it? Arthur could think of about a hundred and ten different reasons why. The one time he'd brought it up to Vulko, the older man just gave him a look that meant shut up and sit down. Arthur had let it slide.

But he never really let it go. It would certainly make long ass days learning Atlantean customs much more manageable. Arthur hadn't done anything notable yet as King, other than dethroning the last King and self-titled Ocean Master. He still snorted in derision at the lame name Orm had given himself to take control of the seven seas. It sounded like something a seven year old would come up with.

He'd told Mera and Vulko that he wanted to bridge the two worlds—the land and sea—so that the Atlanteans would learn that the surface wasn't all bad. The best way to do that would be through education. If they could start working with the surface governments to exchange knowledge and learning, maybe in a few years the Atlanteans and land-dwellers would feel more comfortable about coexisting. Though it was kind of hard to do that when ninety-five percent of the Atlantean population couldn't survive on land without a hydro-suit. They were still searching for a logical solution to that problem.

But honestly, through all of this, Arthur was tired and a little bit homesick. He missed the pubs he used to frequent, the people he used to see around Amnesty Bay—the same people that were probably still picking through the wreckage from the wave his brother had wrought upon them that night Mera had come to him for help. He should be helping them rebuild their lives, but instead he was learning about how to be the king of the kingdom that terrorized his home. The only consolation was that he wasn't ever going to let anything happen to the world he grew up in again. As a King, he now had that power. Or at least, it was a power he would have if he ever figured out how to be a King.

A sharp awareness glinted in Mera's sharp green eyes, her gaze tearing him apart and then putting him back together again in the span of moments. She sat across from him, her hair floating in the gentle currents that circulated through the palace. She was too keen—or Arthur was just too straightforward with his emotions—and she called to Vulko that they were done for the night.

Arthur ran a hand down his face, stroking his beard absently. "No, I'm fine," he insisted. The more they covered, the sooner they'd be done. He didn't know what time it was, but his body could tell that it was late. He'd been sitting in a chair too long, his lower back and neck muscles tight.

A sharp eyebrow rose to meet his stare. Mera didn't miss anything. "You're going to fall asleep in that chair if your attention strays any further away."

"I'm listening," Arthur mumbled halfheartedly.

She gave him an unconvinced look and he relented. "Fine, we'll call it a night."

"I will prepare the council for tomorrow's meetings, My King," Vulko bowed deeply.

Arthur stuck out his hand, trying to wave away the image of his childhood mentor bowing to him and calling him a king. "Please don't do that bowing crap. It makes me uncomfortable."

Vulko's eyes flashed and a smirk crossed his face before he bowed even lower. "Yes of course, My King. "

Arthur groaned at the jibe, which elicited a subtle laugh from Mera. When he shot her a look, she merely pretended not to notice him. She swam over to Vulko and took his hand in both of hers, thanking him.

"It's my pleasure, Princess," Vulko gave a last bow to Mera before leaving the room that Arthur had more recently started calling the torture room. She turned to him, an entertained glint in her eyes.

"I'm actually surprised at how willing you are to sit through these sessions," she commented.

"Nothing to do with willingness, everything to do with you making me."

"At least you'll listen to someone," she grinned softly, "even better that it's me."

Arthur rose to close the distance between them. "Never took you for a power hungry mermaid."

"Mermaid?" Her eyes rose to meet his, confusion mixed in her features.

"Nevermind," he shook his head, closing his arms around Mera's body and pulling her flush against his body. She came willingly, setting her head on his chest. She was so short that Arthur could rest his chin atop her fiery head; which is exactly what he did. They stood like that in the stillness for a while, Arthur's head emptying of everything he had to do and wanted to do for a few blissful minutes.

A pervading thought popped to the forefront of his mind. "How do you think I'm doing, you know, for a land dweller turned king?"

Mera pulled her head from Arthur's chest to meet his gaze. "I think you have the makings to become a great King. You've already proven that you can lead our people," she paused, as if to test her next words, "even if you can be an idiot sometimes."

Arthur's laugh rumbled deep in his chest, rising to meet Mera's self-satisfied smile. "I'm not sure that an idiot king will fare so well."

"If anyone other than me calls you an idiot, they'll have to answer to me." Her words were laced with an dark and dangerous promise.

Arthur grinned, planting a quick kiss to Mera's forehead before pulling back. "Wouldn't want to cross you."

"Then make sure you don't," she answered mischievously. Mera pulled the rest of the way out of his arms, assessing him at arms length before deciding, "you look exhausted. You should head to bed for the night."

He stared after her idly, a thought coming to his mind, one that sunk its hooks in him. Mera was halfway to the door before he stopped her. "Mera," he called to her. She looked back over her shoulder at him. "I want to take you to dinner."

Her eyebrows knitted together as she turned to face him fully. "We had dinner four hours ago, Arthur."

He shook his head. "No, that's not what I meant. I mean up on land. Maybe tomorrow?"

Her head was still cocked in that adorable confused expression she held anytime he spoke of something in his world that she didn't fully understand. "Why on land?"

Arthur reached back to scratch the back of his neck. "Well, because that's how it's done up there. And it's an excuse to do something other than these ridiculously long training sessions."

Mera watched him, her eyes skeptical and curious. "If you wanted to see your mother, you could've just asked."

"That's not what this is about—well, I would like to see my parents—but I want to show you more of the land I grew up in—without having to run for our lives in the process."

She must've seen the earnest in Arthur's words, because she nodded, "I suppose a trip to the surface wouldn't hurt. You've earned the break."

Arthur's eyes lit up, watching Mera agree. "Awesome. So then I'll pick you up tomorrow afternoon?"

That quizzical look was back. "Why would you pick me up? I don't need to be carried anywhere, Arthur."

Arthur shook his head. "I didn't mean it literally. Just that we would meet to head out together."

"Why wouldn't you just say that then?" She asked, chastising him.

"Just something we say on land," he explained.

Mera gave a small nod to the sentiment, and then before exiting, "you can 'pick me up' after our meeting with the palace guards tomorrow afternoon."

Arthur grinned despite Mera's obvious displeasure at using the saying. She was open to the possibility of learning, proof that Atlanteans and humans could coexist. "Sounds like a date."

She shot him a sharp look. "You know what tomorrow's date is, Arthur."

Instead of correcting her, he just nodded his head. "Right. See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Arthur."

"Goodnight, Mera."