Namor had always been a disobedient child. His mother had taught and trained him to be a prince, but he only wanted to be a boy. When she assigned him better bodyguards, he nearly broke one’s finger just to escape to the bazaar and meet his lover.

But he was also curious. Born of two worlds — of air and of water — it was only natural for him to wonder about the realm above the waves, the world his father had come from.

One day, he escaped. He swam as fast as his body could carry him, away from the Atlantean capital. Up, up, up he went, until at last he broke through the surface. The sun blazed down on him, its light scattering across the water and making him squint. Through his lashes, he saw land. He had heard of this place — the domain of the air-breathers, the ones his people despised.

Still, he swam closer and closer until the sand brushed against his belly. Pushing himself upright, he stepped onto the shore. Tall stalks of wood with leaves at their crowns towered over him, and seabirds cried overhead. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the sun.

This place wasn’t so bad, he thought.