In front of the imposing United Nations building, a massive crowd waited under a low, gray sky. Journalists, the curious, protesters for peace or ocean protection—all waited with their eyes fixed on the sky and the Hudson River, from where the monarch was expected to arrive. The air was charged with palpable tension, a mix of historic excitement and apprehension.
Suddenly, the gray waters of the river stirred. Without ceremony, without spectacular fanfare, a massive silhouette emerged from the waves. Arthur Curry, Aquaman, did not burst forth brandishing his trident. He simply rose to his full height, water streaming from his golden armor and blond hair. He carried his trident not as a threatening weapon, but as a symbol of his office. His piercing blue eyes swept over the crowd and the building without betraying any emotion.
He was here. That was all. No speech, no giant wave. Just his presence, raw and undeniable.
A murmur, then a roar, rose from the crowd. Camera flashes erupted like an electrical storm.
Inside, in the Security Council chamber, the atmosphere was equally tense. Delegates, ambassadors, watched the giant screens. The Justice League, discreet but present, stood at the sides of the room. Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman, Utopian, and Hawkgirl formed a silent bulwark.
When Aquaman entered the room, the silence became absolute. He walked with a heavy, assured step to the podium, ignoring the whispers and stunned gazes. He did not sit. He stood facing the assembly, planting the tip of his trident on the floor with a sharp clack that echoed in the silence.
"I am Arthur Curry," he declared, his voice strong and clear, needing no microphone. It carried the echo of the deep. "King of Atlantis. I have not come here to negotiate. I have come to inform you."
He let his words hang for a moment, his piercing gaze seeming to address each person individually.
"The oceans do not belong to you. They are our home, our kingdom. We have lived there for millennia, long before you drew your first borders on dry land. Your pollution, your drilling, your fishing nets that ravage everything in their path... this stops. Now."
An ambassador tried to interrupt. "Now, see here, Your Majesty, you must understand the economic imperatives..."
Aquaman cut him off with a single look. The man fell silent, as if struck by lightning.
"I understand," said Aquaman, his tone growing more dangerous. "I understand that you only respect force. So here is my force."
He raised his trident. A blue light ignited around it.
"If a single one of your ships enters our territorial waters without authorization, it will be sunk. If a single one of your factories dumps its poison into the sea, it will be reduced to ashes. If a single one of your nets captures one of our people, the nearest coastal city will experience a tide like it has never seen."
The shock was visible on every face. This was not a speech of peace. It was an ultimatum. It was the law of the strong, stated in the very temple of diplomacy.
"This is not a threat," he concluded, lowering his trident. "It is a promise. The era when humanity could plunder the oceans with impunity is over. You have a choice: coexist, or suffer the consequences."
In the stunned silence that followed, Utopian, near Hawkgirl, murmured, impressed despite himself by the brute force of the truth.
"He doesn't waste time on pleasantries."
"No," Shayera whispered back. "And maybe that's exactly what this place needs."
As Aquaman left the podium under a barrage of shouted questions and protests, leaving a Security Council in a state of shock, the shadows of "THE LIGHT" must have been smiling. The King had played his part perfectly. He had just presented himself not as a partner, but as a threat. And a threat is something you neutralize.
The plan was in motion.