Chapter 147 - Lady of the Lake.

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A day before Harley Quinn found Beast Boy in the Batcave, Arthur had being struggling with understanding his new powers he got from the Lady of the Lake. It had almost been too sudden, but such was the state of things in the world now. He had to adapt and flow or get swept up in the storm that was approaching. 

The cave was filled with heroes now much to Batman's displeasure. He liked his quiet and now with the intervention of Blackfire, he had to hasten his plans since it would only be a matter of time the forces of Raven notices their movement. Arthur knew this and could only think about how Superwoman had fallen to the enemy and cursed his strength for not being enough to do anything the day Raven and her harem attacked the league. 

The only thing he could think of apart from the moments his wife was taken before him was mastering his new abilities. 

Arthur knelt on the cold stone floor of the Batcave, the rhythmic drip, drip, drip of the cave's water a metronome to the turmoil in his mind. His left arm, a river of liquid blue, pulsed with a power he couldn't command. It was a gift, and a curse. Batman's words echoed in the cavernous silence, a gravelly pragmatism that offered no comfort: "Get a handle on it, I don't need liabilities in this war." 

Very much like Batman, especially after what he had been through with Raven as well. He knew he meant well even if his tone was far from cheery, but it was an honest testament to his current abilities.

He'd tried. Gods, he had tried. He'd focused until his head ached, willing the dimensional rifts to open and close on command. Mostly, he succeeded in giving himself a migraine. Other times, the power would surge at the most inopportune moments, like a rebellious limb with a mind of its own, sending him to different locations. 

One time he was teleported to a room filled with men and one woman bathing in their cum, another time he was in a volcano but luckily, his durability was even higher now with Poseidon's blessing and at another time he appeared in alley near a couple featuring the lady giving her man a rimjob. Still he worked tirelessly to get a handle on it as fast as he could.

That unwelcome trip into Lex Luthor's bunker as he tried to calm his mind, landing him right in the middle of the supervillain-turned superhero's monologue about Superwoman, was a perfect, humiliating example. He was a king who couldn't even control the gates to his own castle.

A cold dread, familiar and unwelcome, coiled in his gut. The memory of Mera, his queen, surged unbidden. Not the smiling woman who shared his throne, but her final, horrific moments. He saw the wetness of his wife glistening off Starfire's cock, heard her alien laughter, a sound like grinding crystals. 

The image that haunted him most, the one that made the bile rise in his throat even now, was Starfire's form, monstrous with a deity-granted endowment, a grotesque parody of masculine essence, desecrating his wife poor pussy. 

His own body had been frozen, bound by psionic shackles, a helpless spectator. And the most damning, soul-destroying part? A flicker of traitorous pleasure, a base biological response to the rhythmic violation and sounds of flesh against flesh he'd witnessed. He hated himself for that flicker, for the way it made him complicit in his own powerlessness. He shoved the memory down, burying it under a wave of self-loathing. Never again. He would not be so weak.

"No more," he growled, the words swallowed by the cave's vastness. "I must succeed."

Closing his eyes, he pushed past the bats' sonar deep in the cave where he was alone, and the damp earth smell of the cave. He reached for the one connection that had ever felt true, the source of the power itself. Not the wild magic it had become, but its genesis. The Lady of the Lake.

He focused on her essence, on the memory of the cool, ancient water she had gifted him. He pictured the ethereal glow of her domain. Lady, he projected with all the force of his will, a king commanding a subject, a desperate man pleading with a goddess. I need you.

The world dissolved.

For a breathtaking second, there was only the sensation of being unmade, of every atom of his being scattered across an infinite canvas. Then, reality snapped back into place with the gentleness of a settling dewdrop.

'Please let it not be someone sucking themselves off now or using a fish to pleasure themselves… please, anything… please… Lady of the Lake…I really envy Batman's mind of steel.' Arthur pleaded in his mind, he had seen what some humans did in their spare time, how they indulged themselves and frankly, he was beginning to prefer the memory of his wife and Starfire.

The Batcave was gone. 

In its place was a dimension of pure, living water. It wasn't an ocean; it was a symphony of water in all its forms. The air, thick with mist and the scent of night-blooming water lilies, was warm on his skin. Above him, there was no sky, but a luminous, pearlescent ceiling that seemed to ripple with unseen currents. 

Waterfalls cascaded from floating islands of moss-covered rock, their never-ending roar a soothing counterpoint to the gentle lapping of smaller streams that wove through the air like silver ribbons. Light emanated from the water itself, casting dancing blue and green patterns on everything. Secluded ponds, so clear they looked like windows into another world, dotted the landscape. Some glowed with a soft, internal luminescence, while others were fed by geothermal springs, their surfaces steaming gently. This was a paradise carved from liquid light, a place untouched by the grime and strife of the surface world. It was sanctuary.

Arthur stood on a small bank of smooth, black stones, the water of a large, tranquil lake lapping at his boots. The liquid blue of his left arm pulsed in harmony with the gentle energy of this place, a welcome resonance after its chaotic fits and starts in his world.

A movement on the far side of the lake caught his eye. There, rising from the water as if born from it, was the Lady of the Lake.

His breath hitched. He had seen her before, in between dimensional jumps like a flashed scene, in the desperate moments when she had first granted him this power. But seeing her in person, in the full glory of her domain, was something else entirely. 

Her skin was the colour of a deep twilight sea, a smooth, luminous blue that shimmered with an inner light. Her frame was delicate, almost ethereal, but her body was a sculpture of impossible perfection. 

Full, high breasts capped with darker blue nipples that seemed to harden in the warm air, a waist that nipped in dramatically before flaring out to hips that were a promise of lush abundance. Her stomach was flat and toned, the muscles of her abdomen shifting as she moved, and between her legs, a small, neat triangle of darker blue hair framed the mound of her pale blue snatch. She was entirely, unselfconsciously, unapologetically naked.

Water streamed from her long, silver hair, tracing paths down the elegant line of her throat, over her collarbones, and between the perfect swells of her breasts. As she waded through the waist-deep water toward him, her movements were fluid, graceful, as if she were dancing with the currents rather than moving through them. She wasn't walking so much as gliding, a part of the very element she commanded.

Arthur, a king who had faced down monsters and stood with gods among men, felt utterly, completely out of his depth. Every witty opening line, every royal decree, every plea he had rehearsed evaporated like mist in the sun. His throat was dry. For the first time in a long time, his mind was utterly blank, wiped clean by sheer, overwhelming beauty. It was as if he was back in high school again, meeting his first crush.

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