Lost Times, Aquaman (2018)
Friday, 31 July 2020 17:48![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
derwent_fTitle: Lost Times
Fandom: Aquaman (2018)
Pairings: Atlanna/Tom Curry; Atlanna & Orm Marius; Atlanna & Arthur Curry; Arthur Curry & Orm Marius; Tom Curry & Orm Marius
Rating: Gen
Summary: They try their best, but some moments are simply lost to time, never to be recovered.
“No, Arthur,” Atlanna laughed, “Like this,” and she sang the first line once more.
“Why do I have to learn this hymn again?” her son huffed.
“Because, as a king, you are expected to know it by heart.” Her voice softened, she added, “And because it’s your heritage, too.”
He grimaced. “Alright, alright,” and began singing. Atlanna did her best not to wince upon hearing Arthur’s atrocious Ancient Greek accent.
The front door swung open, revealing her youngest son, who froze with a perplexed look upon seeing the both of them on the sofa, Arthur’s mouth open mid-singing.
“I’m teaching your brother Atlantean hymns!” she explained cheerily. No sooner had she said that before another thought crossed her mind. “Why don’t you join us? I bet we can progress faster with you.”
A strange look fell on Orm's face. She had seen it before, in glimpses, yet she couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly. It was something akin to pity, with a smattering of regret, and (she hoped she was wrong) a spark of guilt.
“Who needs another teacher when they’ve got you?” he demurred, and before she could say anything, he crossed the room and only the sound of his footsteps on the stairs was left.
She didn’t realize she was staring until Arthur nudged her knees gently with his, a questioning look on his face.
“He used to love singing,” she said, so quietly that Arthur had to lean in a little. “Now I just realized that since our reunion, I haven’t heard him sing, not even once.”
Arthur’s hand, all rough palm and calloused fingers, engulfed hers. She let the warmth ground her.
*
Arthur grinned at him from the photo. He was wrapped in a red robe, a cap on his head. In the next photo, he was surrounded by others his age wearing the same robe and the same exhilarated grins.
Orm turned the page. Now Tom and Arthur were looking at him, the former’s arm wrapped around Arthur’s shoulder, the pride in his eyes evident even through the photo.
“When was this?” he asked the man sitting on the couch across him.
“Hm?” Tom craned his neck. Orm turned the album to face him.
“Oh, that’s Arthur’s high school graduation.”
“High school?”
“Yeah, here we don’t have tutors to teach our children, so they go to school, where they learn general knowledge until they’re eighteen. After graduating, they can go to work or to study a specific subject at college.”
Orm turned it over in his head. “So it’s when people start to be considered as adults?” Tom nodded. “And did Arthur go to college?”
“Nah,” Tom chuckled. “Don’t have the money. There’s student loan, of course, but I have an easier time believing pigs flying than Arthur holding an office job.”
He thought about the sprawling infrastructure upholding Atlantis, the countless scribes and officials running the well-oiled machines of government, and had to laugh too, because he couldn’t imagine Arthur doing any of those either.
He stroked the photo with his fingers. In another life, he and Atlanna would be in the picture as well, sharing their smiles. In a few years, it would be his turn to wear that red robe. He could see it in his mind. Mother, radiant as always, made even more so with sunlight glistening in her hair. Tom beside her, the same proud smile on their faces. Arthur’s arm draped around his shoulder. He could almost feel the warmth of the sun on his face.
*
Orm took off his shirt and Arthur couldn’t stop staring.
A scar ran across his back, from right shoulder to left ribs. On his right forearm were three vertical white dots, from the tips of a trident, perhaps.
His brother turned around, arms stretched out. Arthur handed him a shirt, and looked at the scars strewn around his chest and stomach.
He suddenly remembered the pros-and-cons display before he and Orm duelled. Coral heart medal war hero, one of the points had said.
But of course. His brother was the prince of Atlantis, trained since childhood on fighting and warfare. He wondered how old Orm was when he first went to battle. Maybe when he was picking fights with bullies in high school, Orm was already out in a battlefield, desperately fighting for his life. How did it feel, he thought with a sick feeling in his stomach, to drive a trident through a man’s heart when you are barely more than a youth?
He was lucky in a way, he supposed, that surface weapons did not hurt him. Orm had no such luxury.
*
“Who is it from?” Atlanna asked when she saw the envelope on the table.
Tom picked it up. “My cousin Jane.” He opened the envelope and scanned the letter.
“The one who lives in . . .” she reached for the strange name deep in the trenches of her memory, “. . . Auckland, right?” Tom nodded. “What does she say?”
“Just the usual catch up on family news.” He glanced at her. “She knew about your homecoming and asked when we’d visit.”
“Mmm,” she remembered her first time meeting Tom’s family. His parents had passed away years before, but the extended family remained a tight-knit unit. They picked up Jane and her mother, Linda, at the airport, and the trip home was filled with mother and daughter competing to tell the most embarrassing stories about Tom, until his face was so red Atlanna worried he’d explode.
Speaking about Linda, “How’s her mother?”
Tom sighed. “She passed away a decade ago, I’m afraid.”
“Oh,”she said, not knowing what else to say. The woman was old already when she first met her, but still. She closed her eyes and recalled the family tree Tom had drawn years ago for her. She wondered how many names were crossed out, and how many new ones added.
She opened her eyes. Tom was looking at her, eyes so tender she almost couldn’t bear it. “Shall I read you the letter?” he offered.
“Yes, please,” she smiled.
Fandom: Aquaman (2018)
Pairings: Atlanna/Tom Curry; Atlanna & Orm Marius; Atlanna & Arthur Curry; Arthur Curry & Orm Marius; Tom Curry & Orm Marius
Rating: Gen
Summary: They try their best, but some moments are simply lost to time, never to be recovered.
“No, Arthur,” Atlanna laughed, “Like this,” and she sang the first line once more.
“Why do I have to learn this hymn again?” her son huffed.
“Because, as a king, you are expected to know it by heart.” Her voice softened, she added, “And because it’s your heritage, too.”
He grimaced. “Alright, alright,” and began singing. Atlanna did her best not to wince upon hearing Arthur’s atrocious Ancient Greek accent.
The front door swung open, revealing her youngest son, who froze with a perplexed look upon seeing the both of them on the sofa, Arthur’s mouth open mid-singing.
“I’m teaching your brother Atlantean hymns!” she explained cheerily. No sooner had she said that before another thought crossed her mind. “Why don’t you join us? I bet we can progress faster with you.”
A strange look fell on Orm's face. She had seen it before, in glimpses, yet she couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly. It was something akin to pity, with a smattering of regret, and (she hoped she was wrong) a spark of guilt.
“Who needs another teacher when they’ve got you?” he demurred, and before she could say anything, he crossed the room and only the sound of his footsteps on the stairs was left.
She didn’t realize she was staring until Arthur nudged her knees gently with his, a questioning look on his face.
“He used to love singing,” she said, so quietly that Arthur had to lean in a little. “Now I just realized that since our reunion, I haven’t heard him sing, not even once.”
Arthur’s hand, all rough palm and calloused fingers, engulfed hers. She let the warmth ground her.
*
Arthur grinned at him from the photo. He was wrapped in a red robe, a cap on his head. In the next photo, he was surrounded by others his age wearing the same robe and the same exhilarated grins.
Orm turned the page. Now Tom and Arthur were looking at him, the former’s arm wrapped around Arthur’s shoulder, the pride in his eyes evident even through the photo.
“When was this?” he asked the man sitting on the couch across him.
“Hm?” Tom craned his neck. Orm turned the album to face him.
“Oh, that’s Arthur’s high school graduation.”
“High school?”
“Yeah, here we don’t have tutors to teach our children, so they go to school, where they learn general knowledge until they’re eighteen. After graduating, they can go to work or to study a specific subject at college.”
Orm turned it over in his head. “So it’s when people start to be considered as adults?” Tom nodded. “And did Arthur go to college?”
“Nah,” Tom chuckled. “Don’t have the money. There’s student loan, of course, but I have an easier time believing pigs flying than Arthur holding an office job.”
He thought about the sprawling infrastructure upholding Atlantis, the countless scribes and officials running the well-oiled machines of government, and had to laugh too, because he couldn’t imagine Arthur doing any of those either.
He stroked the photo with his fingers. In another life, he and Atlanna would be in the picture as well, sharing their smiles. In a few years, it would be his turn to wear that red robe. He could see it in his mind. Mother, radiant as always, made even more so with sunlight glistening in her hair. Tom beside her, the same proud smile on their faces. Arthur’s arm draped around his shoulder. He could almost feel the warmth of the sun on his face.
*
Orm took off his shirt and Arthur couldn’t stop staring.
A scar ran across his back, from right shoulder to left ribs. On his right forearm were three vertical white dots, from the tips of a trident, perhaps.
His brother turned around, arms stretched out. Arthur handed him a shirt, and looked at the scars strewn around his chest and stomach.
He suddenly remembered the pros-and-cons display before he and Orm duelled. Coral heart medal war hero, one of the points had said.
But of course. His brother was the prince of Atlantis, trained since childhood on fighting and warfare. He wondered how old Orm was when he first went to battle. Maybe when he was picking fights with bullies in high school, Orm was already out in a battlefield, desperately fighting for his life. How did it feel, he thought with a sick feeling in his stomach, to drive a trident through a man’s heart when you are barely more than a youth?
He was lucky in a way, he supposed, that surface weapons did not hurt him. Orm had no such luxury.
*
“Who is it from?” Atlanna asked when she saw the envelope on the table.
Tom picked it up. “My cousin Jane.” He opened the envelope and scanned the letter.
“The one who lives in . . .” she reached for the strange name deep in the trenches of her memory, “. . . Auckland, right?” Tom nodded. “What does she say?”
“Just the usual catch up on family news.” He glanced at her. “She knew about your homecoming and asked when we’d visit.”
“Mmm,” she remembered her first time meeting Tom’s family. His parents had passed away years before, but the extended family remained a tight-knit unit. They picked up Jane and her mother, Linda, at the airport, and the trip home was filled with mother and daughter competing to tell the most embarrassing stories about Tom, until his face was so red Atlanna worried he’d explode.
Speaking about Linda, “How’s her mother?”
Tom sighed. “She passed away a decade ago, I’m afraid.”
“Oh,”she said, not knowing what else to say. The woman was old already when she first met her, but still. She closed her eyes and recalled the family tree Tom had drawn years ago for her. She wondered how many names were crossed out, and how many new ones added.
She opened her eyes. Tom was looking at her, eyes so tender she almost couldn’t bear it. “Shall I read you the letter?” he offered.
“Yes, please,” she smiled.
