-This AU is set in the late 1910s/early 1920s I got this idea while smoking weed, and was enabled by robynexe_ -

-TW: Uh, the 'G' word is used once, there's period adjacent use of servants, and implied psychological abuse on Conner, but I think that's it-

Wallace West was by far the fastest paperboy in the neighborhood, he was up first thing in the morning doing his rounds, and when he finished that he had chores, but finally, around eight, he collapsed on the stoop to finally look at the slides his uncle had given him. 

His uncle had attended the Panama–Pacific Exposition a couple years prior, and had taken lots of celluloid photographs which he'd only just taken the time to develop. 

At the time Wally had been incredibly jealous that he wasn't able to attend himself, so these photographs were exciting. He always demanded his uncle bring him something to keep from attending these exhibitions, he was curious like that. Every time his uncle Barry got his hands on an issue of The Scientific American, he'd mail it to Wally when he was done with it, and the boy would read it cover to cover dozens of times. 

He flipped through photographs, smiling as at the blearily dreamy photographs, all of them slightly over exposed from the sun. They were by no means as clear as studio photographs done on glass plates, but they conveyed the feeling of the fair better than a studio picture ever could.

It was going to be another beautiful sunny day, and with all his chores done, and no school, Wally was content to flip through photos all morning.

Richard Grayson was out of bed, dressed, and skipping lightly down to breakfast before his guardian was even awake. It wasn't surprising: Bruce was somewhat eccentric, being well raised and well educated, and not too poorly socialized, he tended to spend most of the night elsewhere, or locked in his study.

Dick couldn't care; he was finally off school and back in town, and he planned to make the most of it. Alfred had insisted that Dick attend the same boy's school that Bruce had, but he at least had the summer more-or-less to himself. He couldn't lie that it was a relief, sure he'd made friends in school, but many other boys thought him nothing but a 'dirty gypsy', and the professors didn't do much to detract this. So yes, he was glad to be home.

"Good morning, Master Dick,"

"Good morning." He replied. Alfred the only permanent servant at the manor, having essentially raised Bruce, and running the household practically by himself; they only brought on extra servants for temporary work, as Alfred was so competent. Dick served himself breakfast off the trays and sat down. "What do we have on today, Alfred?"

"Well, I will wake Master Bruce in a quarter of an hour, and then you'll both be lunching with Master Queen at his residence in town."

"Oh, wonderful, I've a banging idea!" Dick declared, digging into his eggs and soldiers, "I was hoping to go into town today. Could you ask Bruce to let me to the pictures afterwards?"

"I'll propose it tot he master," Alfred agreed. "...banging idea..." he repeated under his breath, shaking his head at the boy.

Kaldur'ahm, being the only boy of his youth regularly allowed in his Highness' presence, and so he worked twice as hard to be seen as competent and helpful. 

He was up with the servants, first he'd go out on a short walk, and then he'd immediately get to work. He longed to go to the surface this morning-- to feel the sun skin-- but he couldn't right now, not only because the fishermen would be out, but also because he was left to manage most of King Orin's interpersonal affairs.

"Sir." He sprung on the man shortly after he'd broken fast, holding his salute until Orin waved a lazy hand and bid him at ease. 

"What have we on today, boy?" he asked good-naturedly. He liked Kaldur and was glad he'd brought him on as a sort of assistant. 

Kaldur cleared his throat to recite the schedule he'd spent the morning etching into his mind.  "You're to meet the brigadier general just after lunch, sir, and your address dissuading the spread of purism is this evening, I'll summon you the hour before."

"Good, good." The king invited him to sit, and he did. "Have you eaten?"

Kaldur was surprised b the question. "No, sir."

"Eat," The man said, gesturing to the unfinished trays on the breakfast table. 

"Are you sure?"

"You're a growing boy."

Kaldur was now much to shy to eat, but not wanting to be rude, he dished himself a small plate. 

Despite being only a scullery maid, Arty was by far the favorite servant in the Queen household; she was the only maid allowed to take the older master breakfast in his bedroom.

"Good morning, sir." She called, barging into the room. She'd gained a sense of comfort in her favoritism, she knew she could be cheeky and impolite with the master without being reprimanded by the cook or head maid.

Oliver, dead tired, rolled over in bed. He'd been out with old Brucie Wayne late into the night at a concert hall and had foolishly, after about a quart of something sweet and intoxicating, offered to lunch him and his ward the following day. "What time is it?"

"Just after ten, sir," she said, drawing the curtains back and allowing sunlight to spill into the room.

"Not too late, then."

Artemis, who was dressed at at work folding laundry before the sun was up, gave him a dubious look. "Yes, sir."

"Oh come Arty, don't stand around saying 'yes sir'," The master of the house pat the bed beside him, indicating for her to sit. Relieved to be off her feet, she practically flung herself on the bed. "There we go." He offered her some toast soldiers, which the girl gladly took. She, like many young girls, was working to help her mother make ends meet. She hadn't intended to become Oliver Queen's favorite of his house staff, nor did she expect to be treated such her age by him, but she wasn't going to look a horse's gift in the mouth(or whatever the saying was). It was one of the first times someone had seen her more as a girl than a servant. "Now, is Roy up?"

"He's eaten and gone out to meet some school friends," she replied, "saw him leave myself."

Oliver gave a hollow sort of sigh; with Roy now in university, spending most of his year on campus with only a few breaks back at home, he could barely stomach the empty nest as it were. That was one of the reasons he'd grown so fond of Arty, she had a rough edge like Roy had at her age, and she was usually the only servant he was glad to see. He had half a mind to take her as his charge, but he didn't want to frighten her off with his admiration

After he'd eaten, Kaldur made himself useful, following the king around, making mental notes and scheduling changes, and spouting 'indeed, sir' and 'yes, your highness' at the appropriate moments.

At lunch, Kaldur would usually stand with the servants incase he was needed, but with the brigadier general coming by, King Orin didn't want anyone listening in.

With an hour now on his hands, Kaldur rushed to the school grounds. It being about midday, it wasn't too hard to find his friends sitting in a dune of silt, gorging on their own packed lunches.

"Kaldur!" Tula called, greeting him with a hug. "You're meant to be working."

He explained the situation, sitting on the sea floor beside them.

"That's exactly what we need!" Garth exclaimed, "Time, just the three of us, to  properly catch up."

"I heard from our tutor that our queen said her husband thinks very kindly of you," Tula teased. "Remember your friends when he appoints you some lofty position!"

Kaldur laughed, he very much doubted this was the start of a political career for him. He just found comfort in helping and planning, and had found a way to get paid for it.

After lunch Oliver and Bruce had gone off to have a smoke and discuss business. Previously Dick would be left with Roy, but with the young man increasingly busy, Dick had gotten more creative.

He knew about Artemis; anyone in high society knew that Oliver Queen had began spoiling one of his housemaids. Many theorized all sorts of scandal, but the truth was far more innocent; with Roy off studying most of the year a sort of loneliness seemed to have been eating at his guardian. It wasn't such a surprise that he would lavish his affections upon the nearest youth as if it were his own.

Dick wandered the house for some time before he found the girl in an ensuite bathroom, on her knees, scrubbing a stubborn spot of mold where the tile floor met wall.

"I thought you were on plush these days," Dick said, startling her. "Are you telling me he still makes you scrub floors?"

"Chiles-- the butler-- will have my head if I don't have this suite spotless by the time Ms. Lance gets here." She replied. "I don't think he likes me-- none of them seem to like me-- I think it's because Master Queen likes me."

"Hold on, Roy's old governess is coming?" Dick asked. "But he's grown up." 

Artemis nodded, "she and the master have an understanding."

Dick gawked. "You mean they're engaged?"

"Not officially as I have yet heard," she clarified quickly. "But I saw them this past weekend by the croquet green, and she accepted many a kiss from him." 

The girl froze, listening, and then dropped to her knees again, pretending to scrub, just as one of her senior maids passed by the door.

"Looks like we can't speak here." Dick whispered. "When do you get off?

"It's my night off," She replied. "Most of the older staff are going to some servant's dance nearby, and the master gave us all the night off."

"Banging," Dick observed, "If you can meet me by the bay--  the usual one, right outside the city--  then you can tell me all about it while we visit himself."

"What about the others?" Artemis hissed. "It seems unfair to leave them out."

Dick thought. "We're going to the movies after Bruce is done here. I could slip away and send a couple cables?"

Kaldur was back at his king's side before the hour was up, terrified to be even a minute late.

"Yes, sir," he was saying for the thousandth time, following diligently behind his king, "would you like me to change your address to better reflect that?"

"No, no," he waved, "I'll just remember to change it in the moment."

"...are you sure, sir?" Kaldur asked cautiously. "the mind often escapes when we need it, and in front of so many people..."

His king thought, "you're right," he said at last, "I shouldn't risk it, not with a topic so delicate."

"Thank you, sir, I'll make the changes right away."

Orin smiled. There was a reason he kept the boy so close; he could worm his way into the king's head and convince him of things twenty shouting advisors couldn't, and he always seemed to fill in the blanks of what the situation needed so neatly. 

"You always know what's right, don't you?" He reached into his purse, removing a coin to tip the boy.

"Oh, sir, you needn't-- oh." Kaldur stood there as his boss pressed the cold coin into his palm and closed it.

"For services to your king and country," Orin said with a smile. 

Kaldur flushed somewhat. "I'd best make those changes before it slips my mind, excuse me, sir."

Clark called out as he returned home from work, only to find the flat peculiarly dark; lit only by one lamp, by which Conner was reading.

Clark didn't know in detail what had happened since he'd watched his infant brother be taken away as a young man, all he'd known was that his ma and pa were too far on in years to be take in and raise another child, and he himself, being only seventeen, was too young. 

From what Clark gathered life had not been charitable to Conner; he pieced together that the boy had bounced around a couple halfway houses, and had quickly developed a reputation for violent fits of anger, which landed him in the Luthor Laboratory and Sanitorium at some tender age.

When he was released, now sixteen, he'd managed through meager resources to track down his family. Clark couldn't let that burden fall to his aged parents, and thus his long-lost brother had been moved into what had once been a sort of study in his second room.

"Conner, I'm home." He called out, prompting.

"Oh, are you?" Conner asked, nose still buried in his book. 

"Yes, how about I make dinner."

"No."

"No?"

"Not hungry." He grunted.

A few people had asked if, aside from the anger, Conner was sick in the head; Clark was hesitant to answer, as he couldn't tell if Conner had always been that way, or if his time in the sanitorium had broken him down.

He's been trying to get Conner a job. Though Clark wasn't needy, he wanted some way to get the boy out of the flat and busy. So far every effort had struck out, thanks in no small part to Conner's ability to turn red hot over the slightest reaction and his habit of socking people in the lower mandibular. 

"How about I prepare dinner and you only eat if you feel like it?"

Conner shook his head is distracted approval, still focused on his reading.

"One hour, sir," Kaldur said, creeping through the doorway, "would you like to read over the changes? With everyone busy I was only able to show it to her highness."

"And what did she say?"

"She approved, sir."

"Well then, if Mera says it's right than it must be." Orin reasoned, quite preoccupied himself. "Leave it on the table."

Kaldur made another of those polite, but dubious looks. "Perhaps you should read it now, sir, before taking the stage. I mean, so nothing catches you off guard."

His king sighed: "again, Kaldur'ahm, you are right. I'll read it over immediately."

"Dinner," She declared, setting two plates on the modest table, sitting beside her uncle. "How was work?"

"Not so different than usual." John replied, setting his hat on the table. "We're still stuck on our arsonist from this past Thursday."

Megan goggled at her uncle. To her this was the exact sort of thing she'd read about in Penny Dreadfuls, or that you'd hear the Pinkertons handling, though her uncle really wasn't much more than a struggling PI.

"Tell me about the case!" She ordered "I'll help."

Megan hadn't quite found her place in America yet, but she was so glad to no longer face the racial tensions back home-- though of course, this meant entering a new place with it's own racial tensions. 

Still, she was happy in the city. Uncle John had been a willing guardian since she'd stepped off the ship, and had furnished her with the things a youth her age needed to feel at home. Perhaps her fashions were not quite as well maintained or shortly hemmed as the ones one saw uptown, but the simple pinafore she wore around the house made her feel so pretty. She had no shortage of things to do during the day, between trying to educate herself and help with menial chores, she was even on track to get a factory job this autumn.

"I wouldn't want to frighten you."

"You won't," she replied, "Tell!" 

"I think that went very well."

"Yes, sir," Kaldur said, "will that be all for tonight, sir?"

"You're always in a hurry to get away."

Kaldur's mother worried, with the surge in purist ideology, she wanted him home as early as possible, but he had ulterior motives too: night was the only time he could ascend to the surface. "I can stay if you need me, sir, but it's about time the servants get off, so I thought..."

"No, you're right," His king agreed. "We mustn't overexert your excellent mind."

Kaldur, flattered, thanked his king repeatedly as he backed to the door. 

As soon as he was out of sight, the boy took off like a torpedo.

It wasn't easy for all the teens to get out of the house at night, let alone out of the city. Artemis came on the train straight from work; she was on the same train-- although a couple cars behind-- Conner, who was escorting Megan, and Megan, who was afraid of travelling by herself at night in a new country.

They met Wally at the train station, he'd run from home. It wasn't a long walk to the bay, and good conversation made the time pass twice as fast.

Dick was waiting by the docks, having stuck out after his guardian earlier that evening after dinner. 

"West!"

"Grayson!"

The two boys embraced. They'd befriended each other a few summers earlier, back when Dick was still being dressed in sailor suits and knickerbockers, and they'd exchange letters when he went away to school.

"Has he surfaced yet?" Megan demanded.

"Not yet,"

The youths waited, staring at the still, risen tide with anticipation.

Suddenly the surface  broke, and a dark figure in the water was approaching the dock fast. Conner braced one foot on the dock and put his hand out, rolling up his sleeve.

A hand shot out of the wake, locking onto his, and Conner hauled the siren out onto the dock.

Megan lifted her skirt to avoid getting soaked, she shrieked with excitement.

Kaldur wasn't actually allowed to go to the surface, but ever since He'd met the friends, he'd go to the dock every night of the summer just incase one of them would be there. Tonight he was delighted to find not one or two, but all five of his land-walking acquaintances. 

Kaldur didn't look like the mermaids seen in picture books, not like the sirens described in folk tails, but there was no denying that the boy was from below the wake. He was the gang's secret of sorts, they'd each been at the water the day that Kaldur got caught in a fisherman's net, and had freed him, the event was what had gotten the youth to befriend each other.

"Kaldur!" Wally exclaimed, helping their aquatic friend onto the dock. "Hungry?"

Kaldur didn't know many words of the surface language, but he understood that one. "Hungry." He repeated, his words slanted and difficult.

"Well that's just fine, I've got just the thing." Dick stooped to a basket of sorts that he'd left on the wooden boards. He removed a cloth bag of, releasing a heavenly floury odor into the chilly night air.

"Alfred's scons?" Wally demanded.

"Slowly, Kaldur gets his first!" Dick uncapped the dish. "Kaldur," he said, holding out the bag with one hand and feeling behind him for the clotted cream and jam (he'd raided the pantry as soon as Alfred began his nightly chores).

Kaldur took one of the soft, dry things from the bag, surprised by how delicate it was. "What is?" He asked. They were his two most frequently used words as he tried to learn the fundamentals of language.

"Scone," Dick said, splitting one open and smothering it with cream and strawberry preserves. Kaldur dubiously followed his silent directions. When Dick stopped and took a bite, so did Kaldur. All at once it was sour, and sweet, and crumbly and sticky and so, so dry in his mouth. He took the thermos offered and drank from it until his mouth and throat cleared. "Like?" He asked.

Kaldur nodded, "like."

Wally took that as his invitation to grab a scone for himself, and soon six teenagers were sitting on the dock, enjoying their treat as the last whisps of sunlight vanished over the horizon.

IMAGE ID: A photograph of a sketchbook page, on it are two pencil drawings coloured with gouache paint.
One of them is Dick Grayson, his hair's been slicked down and he wears a grey-ish brown cap, outercoat and trousers which tuck into red argyle socks. He has one hand in his pocket and looks perturbed.  
The other figure is Artemis Crock, her long hair pulled into a bun, she wears a period maid uniform, complete with while apron and hear cover. She's smiling with both hands behind her back.

IMAGE ID: A photograph of a sketchbook page, on it are two pencil drawings coloured with gouache paint.
The first is Kaldur'ahm, dressed in raggedy, torn-up surface clothes, it is clear this is not his regular clothing. He looks concerned, hugging his arms
The second is M'gann in her human form, hair pulled up in a late-Edwardian style, she wears a simple, light-pink pinafore

IMAGE ID: A photograph of a sketchbook page, on it are two pencil drawings coloured with gouache paint.
The first is Conner Kent, he wears a reddish sweater and dark workman's overalls. He looks unimpressed, with his hands in his pockets
The last is Wally, his hair's been parted on the side, but maintains its roughness. He appears to be leaning on an unseen wall. He wears an orange sweater, and brown trousers tucked into yellow argyle socks.