The revelation hit the chamber like a tidal wave. Several rulers rose from their seats in shock, while others exchanged glances of pure disbelief. Queen Mera's scaled features showed open astonishment, her gill slits fluttering rapidly with surprise.
"Impossible," Queen Nerissa breathed. "The Amazons allow no man upon their sacred island. Their hatred of the male gender is absolute, born from centuries of abuse at the hands of mortals. For two of them to willingly travel with a male companion..."
"It defies everything we know of their customs and laws," agreed King Pelagic, his coral crown shifting colors with agitation. "Something unprecedented must have occurred to force such a radical departure from their traditions."
Orion stepped forward, his young mind racing through the implications. "Father, this changes everything. If the Amazons have broken their most sacred taboos by accepting male companionship, then whatever has driven them from Themyscira must be connected to the surface world's current crisis."
King Arnev studied his son's face, then turned his attention back to the messenger. "How far are they from our borders?"
"Less than six hours at their current speed, Your Majesty. They make no attempt at stealth and respond to no communication attempts. They simply... approach."
"Do they show any signs of hostile intent?" Orion asked.
"None that our scouts can detect, Prince. No weapons are trained outward, no battle formations. The vessel appears to be on a diplomatic mission, though that seems impossible given our histories."
Namor's voice carried the weight of four centuries of accumulated rage. "Diplomatic or not, they bring the stench of surface world corruption into our pure realm. My forces stand ready to send them to the depths before they can pollute our waters with their presence."
"And if they bring intelligence about the weapons that threaten us all?" Orion countered. "If they offer alliance against a common enemy? Would you destroy that possibility for the sake of ancient grudges?"
"Some grudges," Namor replied coldly, "are too deep to forget."
King Arnev raised the Ocean Master's Trident again, its divine glow commanding instant silence. "The decision before us is clear, though not simple. We must determine whether this unprecedented contact represents opportunity or threat." He looked around the chamber, meeting each ruler's gaze. "I will not act in haste, but neither will I ignore the potential significance of this moment."
Queen Serena spoke carefully, her words carrying the weight of scholarly consideration. "If the Amazons travel with a male companion, they may have already made contact with surface world authorities. They could possess intelligence about the new weapons we've been discussing."
"Or they could be leading surface world forces directly to our hidden realm," Queen Nerissa countered. "This could be an elaborate trap designed to breach our defenses."
King Arnev was quiet for a long moment, the great trident pulsing with inner light as he considered the options. Finally, he spoke with the authority of one who had ruled the seas for decades.
"Prince Orion will intercept the Amazon vessel and determine their intentions. He will be empowered to speak with my full authority in this matter." The king paused, then made a decision that surprised everyone present. "And he will carry with him a symbol of that authority."
Rising from his throne with ceremonial gravity, King Arnev lifted the Ocean Master's Trident from his lap. The ancient weapon hummed with power as he held it aloft, its three prongs gleaming with the blessing of Poseidon himself.
"Father?" Orion questioned, clearly startled by this unprecedented gesture.
"If you are to represent Atlantis in this historic moment, then you must wield the power to back your words," King Arnev declared. "This trident has been carried by Ocean Masters for three thousand years. It has commanded the tides, split mountains, and humbled gods. In your hands, it will ensure that the Amazons understand they speak with the full might of the ocean realms."
The other rulers watched in awed silence as the king descended from his throne and approached his son. No Ocean Master's Trident had ever been entrusted to another in living memory. The very act represented a level of trust and responsibility that transcended normal diplomatic protocol.
"Kneel," King Arnev commanded softly.
Orion dropped to one knee, his head bowed as his father placed the legendary weapon in his hands. The moment Orion's fingers closed around the ancient shaft, power coursed through him like liquid lightning. The very ocean seemed to recognize the transfer of authority, currents shifting throughout the palace as the trident acknowledged its temporary new master.
"Rise, Prince Orion, Herald of the Ocean Master," King Arnev intoned with formal gravity. "You carry with you not just my authority, but the blessing of Poseidon himself. Use this power wisely, for upon your success or failure may hang the fate of all who dwell beneath the waves."
Orion stood slowly, the trident's weight somehow both immense and perfectly balanced in his grip. He could feel the eyes of every ruler upon him, understanding that this moment would be remembered in the histories of all their kingdoms.
"I will not fail you, Father," he said simply. "Or our people."
Queen Serena caught his eye and nodded with what might have been encouragement, her pearl-like gaze holding a warmth that strengthened his resolve. Even Queen Nerissa seemed impressed by the gravity of the moment, while Namor watched with grudging respect for the young prince who had just been entrusted with godlike power.
As Orion turned to leave, King Arnev called after him. "Remember, my son, the Amazons are daughters of Athena, goddess of wisdom and warfare. They will test both your intelligence and your strength. Be prepared for anything."
With the Ocean Master's Trident in his hands and the weight of history on his shoulders, Prince Orion of Atlantis departed to meet with the ancient enemies of his people, carrying the hope that this unprecedented encounter might change the fate of two worlds.
Namor's expression showed his displeasure with this measured response, but he bowed his head in acceptance. "As you command, Ocean Master. But I request permission to station my rapid response forces nearby, prepared to intervene if the Amazons prove treacherous."
"Granted," King Arnev replied. "But they are to take no action without express orders from Prince Orion or myself. We will not have this opportunity destroyed by precipitous violence, regardless of our historical grievances."
As the council session began to wind down and the various rulers prepared to depart for their kingdoms, Orion found himself both excited and apprehensive about the task ahead. The appearance of an Amazon vessel at this particular moment seemed like more than mere coincidence.
The great chamber gradually emptied as kings and queens took their leave, until only a few remained discussing logistics with King Arnev. Queen Serena lingered near one of the crystal windows, seeming to study the bioluminescent gardens beyond, though Orion suspected she was waiting for a moment to speak with him privately.
When the last of the other rulers had departed, she approached him with graceful movements that made the water around her shimmer like liquid silk. "A word, Prince?" she asked, her voice pitched for his ears alone.
Orion nodded, following her to an alcove where ancient coral formations provided some privacy from the remaining advisors. The space was intimate, lit by soft bioluminescence that cast gentle shadows across her features.
"I wanted to speak with you away from the others," Serena said, her usual diplomatic composure softening slightly. "The mission you're undertaking... it's more dangerous than most realize. The Amazons were known for testing anyone who approached their realm, and their warriors are legendary for good reason."
"You're concerned for my safety," Orion observed, studying her face in the ethereal light. There was something in her pearl-like eyes that went beyond diplomatic courtesy.
"I am," she admitted with simple honesty that made his pulse quicken. "You're young to bear such responsibility, and if something happened to you..." She paused, as though considering how much to reveal. "Your kingdom would lose a prince whose wisdom is already becoming legendary. And I would lose someone whose conversation I've come to value greatly."
The personal nature of her concern surprised him. "Your Majesty..."
"Serena," she corrected gently. "When we're alone like this, I'm just Serena."
"Serena," he repeated, her name feeling natural on his lips. "I promise you, I'll be careful. But this mission could determine the fate of all our peoples. I have to see it through."
She nodded, understanding flickering in her eyes. "I know you do. It's one of the things I admire about you." Moving closer, she reached out to touch his arm, her fingers warm against his skin. "Just remember that diplomacy can be as powerful as any weapon. The Amazons respect strength, but they also value wisdom and honor."
"I'll remember," he promised, acutely aware of her proximity and the way her touch sent currents of warmth through him.
For a moment, they stood in comfortable silence, the weight of unspoken feelings hanging between them. Finally, Serena stepped back, her regal composure returning.
"When you return," she said softly, "I would very much like to continue our discussion about the ancient texts. And perhaps... other matters as well."
"I'd like that too," Orion replied, meaning it more than he could express.
As they parted ways, Orion made his way to the palace's military quarters where his personal guard was already preparing for the mission ahead. Commander Tula, his most trusted lieutenant, approached with swift efficiency.
"My Prince," she said with a crisp salute. "The diplomatic escort is assembling. Shall we prepare for peaceful contact or potential combat?"
"Both," Orion replied without hesitation. "The Amazons have a reputation for testing the resolve of those they encounter. We must be prepared to demonstrate both our diplomatic intentions and our military capabilities."
In the armory, attendants brought forth the ceremonial battle gear that had been crafted specifically for the heir to the throne. The armor was a masterwork of Atlantean craftsmanship, its design both elegant and functional. The scaled plates were forged from a unique alloy of deep-sea metals, their surface bearing intricate engravings that told the history of the ocean realms. The chest piece featured the distinctive trident symbol of Atlantis, while the shoulder guards were shaped like stylized waves.
As Orion donned each piece, he couldn't help but think of the family legacy it represented. His grandfather had worn similar armor during the great conflicts of the previous century, and someday, if the fates allowed, Orion's own descendants might wear gear inspired by this very design. The thought both humbled and strengthened him.
The helm was the final piece, its golden surface polished to mirror brightness, with coral-like protrusions that served both decorative and protective purposes. When complete, the armor transformed him from a young prince into a figure of legend, someone worthy of wielding the Ocean Master's Trident.
"You look every inch the hero of ancient songs, my Prince," Commander Tula observed with approval. "The Amazons will see in you the full majesty of Atlantis."
Orion tested the armor's flexibility, ensuring it wouldn't hamper his movements in combat or diplomatic negotiations. The weight felt right, balanced and empowering rather than burdensome.
"How long until we intercept the Amazon vessel?" he asked.
"At our best speed, approximately four hours, my Prince. The escort includes representatives from each kingdom as you requested, all volunteers who understand the historic nature of this mission."
As his team completed their final preparations, Orion found himself contemplating the magnitude of what lay ahead. The next few hours could determine whether the underwater kingdoms remained isolated from the surface world's conflicts or became active participants in shaping the planet's future. More personally, they would test everything he had learned about leadership, diplomacy, and the careful balance between strength and wisdom.
The journey to intercept the Amazon vessel would take them through some of the most spectacular regions of the ocean realm. Schools of bioluminescent fish would light their way through the middle depths, while the great kelp forests would provide both beauty and tactical cover if needed. If the encounter turned hostile, the underwater terrain would give his forces every advantage. But if the Amazons came in peace, perhaps this meeting could be the beginning of something unprecedented.
—
Mediterranean Sea
The Amazon vessel cut through the Mediterranean waters with surprising grace, its hull designed by artisans who had perfected the craft over millennia. Steve Trevor stood at the bow, watching the endless expanse of blue stretch toward the horizon, the wind whipping through his hair as he tried to process everything that had happened in the past few days. His waterproof pack containing the crucial HYDRA intelligence rested securely against his side, but even that tangible reminder of his mission felt surreal compared to the mythological reality surrounding him.
Diana approached from behind, her footsteps silent despite the deck's movement. She had traded her ceremonial white chiton for practical sailing attire, a deep blue tunic and leather bracers that gave her an air of purposeful authority. Mala followed at a respectful distance, her experienced sailor's eye constantly scanning the waters for potential threats.
"You seem troubled, Steve Trevor," Diana observed, joining him at the rail. The use of his full name had become her habit, a formal courtesy that somehow managed to feel intimate rather than distant.
Steve glanced at her, struck once again by how the Mediterranean sunlight seemed to make her almost luminous. "Just trying to wrap my head around everything. A week ago, my biggest concern was whether my reconnaissance mission would be successful. Now I'm sailing with two immortal Amazon warriors toward a war I'm not even sure I understand anymore."
Diana tilted her head, studying his profile with genuine curiosity. "The conflict has not changed in your absence. The forces of darkness still threaten the innocent. Your Captain America still stands as humanity's champion against these forces."
Steve winced slightly at her words. This was a conversation he had been dreading but knew was necessary. "Diana, we need to talk about that. About Captain America, I mean. The man behind the symbol."
"Steve Rogers," Diana said immediately. "You spoke of him before. The brave soldier who was transformed by science into your people's greatest warrior."
"That's just it," Steve said, turning to face her fully. "He's not fighting. Not really. While real soldiers are dying on battlefields across Europe and the Pacific, Steve Rogers is performing in theaters, selling war bonds, posing for photographs." The frustration in his voice was evident, tinged with the guilt he felt at his own comparative freedom while Rogers was trapped in a role he never wanted.
Diana's brow furrowed in confusion. "But surely the transformation was meant to create a warrior, not a performer? Why would your leaders prevent their greatest champion from fulfilling his purpose?"
"Because they're terrified of losing him," Steve explained, leaning against the rail as the ship swayed gently beneath them. "The serum that created Captain America worked once. Dr. Erskine died before he could replicate it, which means Steve Rogers is irreplaceable. So instead of risking their only super soldier in combat, they turned him into a symbol, a fundraising tool."
The concept clearly troubled Diana deeply. In her world, warriors were meant to fight, champions were meant to lead from the front, and great gifts carried great responsibilities. The idea of wasting such abilities on theatrical performances was almost incomprehensible to her.
"This is wrong," she said simply, her voice carrying the moral certainty of someone raised with absolute principles. "A champion who does not fight is no champion at all. How can your people accept such a deception?"
"Most of them don't know it's a deception," Steve admitted. "The comics, the newsreels, the radio shows they all portray Captain America as this incredible hero fighting on multiple fronts simultaneously. The public believes he's out there winning battles single handedly while in reality he's stuck in a costume doing the same show eight times a week."
Mala, who had been listening from nearby while adjusting the sail rigging, finally spoke up. "This Steve Rogers, does he accept this role willingly? Or is he as much a prisoner of his transformation as he is a beneficiary?"
Steve considered the question carefully. "From what I could tell during our brief interaction, he's frustrated but resigned. He understands the importance of morale on the home front, and he's too decent a man to abandon his duty even when that duty isn't what he hoped for. But you could see it in his eyes the desire to do more, to actually use his abilities where they're needed most."
Diana's expression had grown increasingly troubled as she processed this information. "So while real warriors die fighting the forces of darkness, your greatest champion is kept safe, performing battles that never happened for audiences who will never see real combat?"
"That's about the size of it," Steve confirmed grimly.
"And you believe this arrangement serves justice?" Diana pressed.
"Hell no," Steve said emphatically. "I think it's a waste of everything Dr. Erskine died to create. Rogers volunteered for that procedure to fight in the war, not to sell it to the public. Every day he spends on stage is another day the real fighting is left to ordinary men facing extraordinary weapons."
Diana was quiet for a long moment, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon. When she spoke again, her voice carried a weight of understanding that surprised Steve. "Perhaps this is why I was meant to meet you, why the gods guided your path to Themyscira. If your Captain America cannot fulfill his role as humanity's champion, then perhaps it falls to another to take up that mantle."
"Diana," Steve said carefully, "I need you to understand what you're walking into. This isn't some mythological quest where good triumphs because it's righteous. This is a war where thousands die every day, where weapons exist that can erase people from existence, where the enemy has resources and technology beyond anything you've seen. Even with your abilities, even with your training, there are no guarantees."
"Were there guarantees when Antiope faced the first wave of HYDRA soldiers?" Diana countered. "When your Steve Rogers volunteered for a procedure that might have killed him? When you infiltrated that HYDRA facility knowing you might not return?" She turned to face him directly, her eyes blazing with conviction. "I have lived for centuries in paradise, Steve Trevor, surrounded by safety and certainty. But safety and certainty are luxuries the world cannot afford while Ares spreads his influence through men like your Schmidt."
Steve found himself caught between admiration for her courage and concern for her naivety. "You still think this is about Ares? About some cosmic battle between good and evil?"
"Is it not?" Diana asked. "You described weapons that erase existence itself, soldiers enhanced to superhuman levels but stripped of free will, a leader who seeks godhood through cosmic power. Tell me, Steve Trevor, how is this different from the ancient stories of gods and monsters, of champions and tyrants? The methods may be modern, but the essential conflict remains unchanged."
Before Steve could formulate a response, Mala called out from the stern. "Princess, we have company approaching from the north. Fast moving, but I cannot identify the vessel type."
Both Steve and Diana moved quickly to join the older Amazon, who was squinting against the afternoon sun at shapes visible on the horizon. What they saw defied immediate explanation multiple figures moving across the water's surface at impossible speed, leaving trails of disturbed water in their wake but showing no sign of boats or other conventional transportation.
Steve blinked hard, certain the Mediterranean sun was playing tricks on his eyes. "What in the hell?" he muttered, reaching instinctively for the binoculars he had salvaged from his crashed aircraft. The shapes in the distance looked like... people. Moving across the water. Without boats.
"That's impossible," he said to himself, adjusting the focus. Through the lenses, what he saw defied every natural law he'd ever learned. Humanoid figures were riding through the water on the backs of massive sea creatures. Steve lowered the binoculars, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Still there.
"Okay," he said aloud, his voice carrying a note of barely controlled hysteria. "First immortal warrior women living on a hidden island. Now people riding whales like they're horses. What's next, the actual devil himself showing up for teatime?"
Diana's posture suddenly straightened, her enhanced vision picking up details Steve couldn't see. "Atlanteans," she said with unmistakable recognition. "I can see their banners."
"Wait, you know who these people are?" Steve demanded, his hand instinctively moving to his holstered pistol.
"The ocean kingdoms," Mala confirmed, lowering her drawn bow slightly but keeping the arrow nocked. "We have not seen their like for many centuries, but the stories speak of their mastery over sea creatures."
Steve raised the binoculars again, his hands shaking as he tried to process what he was seeing. "They're riding whales," he said in disbelief. "Actual whales. And that one in front..." His voice cracked as he focused on the lead rider. "What the hell is that thing? That's not... that can't be real!"
The lead figure rode something that defied every natural law Steve knew. It had the front half of a horse, but where the back legs should be there was a powerful fish tail covered in gleaming scales. Its body was pearl white with an iridescent sheen that shifted colors in the Mediterranean sun, and it moved through the water with impossible grace, half swimming, half galloping across the surface like it was solid ground.
"That's not possible," Steve muttered, lowering the binoculars to stare at Diana. "Horses don't have fish tails. That's not how biology works. That's not how any of this works!"
"A hippocampus," Diana said matter of factly. "The steeds of the sea gods."
"A what now?" Steve's voice pitched higher. "Sea gods? You're telling me that's actually a mythological creature? Like, from actual mythology? The kind that's supposed to be made up?"
"Of course it is," Steve muttered, drawing his pistol and checking the chamber while trying to keep his movements subtle. "Because at this point, why wouldn't mythological sea horses be real?" His voice cracked slightly. "They could be hostile. We don't know their intentions."
His military training was warring with complete disbelief. Part of him wanted to assess the tactical situation, while another part was convinced he'd finally snapped under the stress of his mission. "A week ago, the strangest thing in my life was rationed coffee. Now I'm wondering if Neptune himself is going to pop up and ask for directions."
As the riders drew closer, Steve could make out more impossible details. Warriors mounted on dolphins flanked the leader, while others rode massive sea turtles that moved with surprising speed. One figure appeared to be riding something that looked like a giant seahorse, its rider carrying what appeared to be a trident that gleamed with its own inner light.
"They're not attacking," Steve observed, his military training kicking in despite his mental reeling. "Formation's too ceremonial, too controlled." He kept his pistol ready but pointed down. "If they wanted us dead, they'd be coming in fast and hard with those tridents." He paused, watching the graceful coordination of the approaching figures. "Plus, you know, if I'm hallucinating people riding mythological sea creatures, at least my subconscious has decent tactical sense."
"Lower your weapon, Steve Trevor," Diana said quietly. "These are not our enemies."
"How can you be so sure?" Steve asked, though he didn't holster the pistol. "For all we know, they could be working with Schmidt, or they might see us as invaders in their territory."
Mala had relaxed her bowstring but kept the arrow ready. "The ocean kingdoms and Themyscira have a... complicated history," she said carefully. "Sometimes allies, sometimes enemies. Contact ceased long ago after the last territorial dispute."
Diana studied the approaching riders with her enhanced vision. "Look at their formation. If they meant to attack, they would not approach so openly or maintain such ceremonial spacing. This appears to be a diplomatic encounter."
Steve stared at her in amazement. "You're taking this remarkably well. Are people riding sea monsters just... normal where you come from?"
"The ocean kingdoms have existed as long as Themyscira," Diana explained calmly. "We occasionally received emissaries in ancient times, though such contact ceased millennia ago after... disagreements over territorial boundaries. They are masters of the sea and all its creatures."
"So they might not be friendly," Steve said, his grip tightening on his weapon. "Great. Just great."
"We will proceed with caution," Diana agreed, her hand resting on her sword hilt.