He is woken by silence. The same as yesterday and the day before.
He hears cars in the distance, rumbling past in no rush to get to where they need to go. There's a small laugh that rings high across the nearby park, and angry yips from dogs too small to be making as much noise as they do.
Arthur sits up and runs a hand down his face. He isn't tired, but wishes for aches and pains that have long faded along with any signs of bruising.
He scratches his hair and gets out of bed, showers and shaves and makes toast with butter and jam. There's no rush to leave his apartment today.
He tries to calm the pins and needles of his expectant body. He goes for a jog instead.
The sidewalks are soaked in sunlight. Neighbours wave and smile his way as he jogs by and he returns with smiles and waves of his own. He winds his way through the park, and gets a little starry-eyed when he stares too long at how the leaves of old trees speckle the path with lights and shadow. The breeze is refreshing on his skin, but the heat makes him stop by the river to splash water on his face to shake himself awake. He wonders if the nightmare demon has returned. But he checks the totem in his right pocket, confirms the weight and odd bumps and colour of the inside compartment, and knows his reality is true.
It has been nearly two weeks without supernatural activity.
Arthur and his men had checked the radars five times before being ushered out of the communications tent by an annoyed and gruff looking man with the assurance that if and when something came up they would be the first ones to know. That had been day four.
On day eight, Arthur was positive something was wrong, and thus went to Merlin's office to consult the expert, because Arthur trusted Merlin's opinion about supernatural activity far more than any major or glorified lieutenant that couldn't be arsed to get off their big leather chair to check the screens.
To his surprise, Merlin had been standing in the lobby when Arthur arrived. He was saying goodbye to a slender eight-foot blue figure with webbed feet and fins when he noticed Arthur and called out.
"Arthur!" The sorcerer beamed and put a hand around his client to lead him, her, or it over for introductions. "Arthur, this is Freyja. She's visiting from her hometown in the Lake of Avalon. Freyja, this is Captain Arthur Pendragon of Camelot. He and his men are guardians of the Central and Southern realms of Albion."
Arthur balked at Merlin's introduction of him, speaking the title as if it were simply an extension of his name. Sure, Arthur was the Captain of his regime, well-respected among his men, and the preferred point of contact of Camelot's Mayor, Morgana, but he wouldn't exactly call himself a guardian of realms. He made a mental note to speak with the sorcerer about brandishing his name in such a way. Was that how he spoke of him to everyone?
The figure, Freyja, held her finned hands to her chest, and Arthur was reminded of 3-finger gloves that divers and snowboarded used in the cold. Freyja tapped her digits together and made an awed sound. When she spoke, her tone was light and reverberated in the air.
"Captain, it is a great honour to finally meet you. Master Emrys speaks very highly of you. Please consider the Limnads of Avalon at your disposal should you ever require our services." Her catfish whiskers coiled in something that may have been delight, but Arthur wasn't sure. He met her glassy black eyes and smiled.
"Likewise, my lady. Camelot is forever making strives to provide aid and welcome our brothers and sisters from neighbouring realms. Please think of Camelot as a second home." And because he wasn't sure what to do next, he bowed at the waist. This seemed to please the creature, if the curl of her whiskers and soft mewing were anything to go by. But Arthur found solace is Merlin's nod and wink, complete with a hand gesture signalling Arthur's action as 'perfect.'
It wasn't until they were back in Merlin's bedroom-slash-office did the sorcerer speak up again. "Freyja's actually the princess of Avalon, but doesn't like being treated like one. She always brings me conch shells when she visits, and kombu tea for Mordred."
Merlin waved a hand and a dozen shells of varying size, shape, and colour floated to the top of his mound of plush toys. There was one that looked like an angry gnarl of spikes that had no good reason for being included in the otherwise soft, comforting heap, and Arthur was glad he never walked bare-foot across the floor like Merlin did.
"Mer-lin," Arthur said. "How on earth do you manage not to impale yourself every time your walk across the room?"
"Wouldn't you like to know." Merlin winked. Arthur rolled his eyes.
The rest of the morning was spent chatting over cakes and tea -Mordred may have had a small meltdown when Merlin went to commandeer some kombu, but surrendered his teapot with a twitchy-eyed smile at his boss and a truly murderous glare at Arthur- where Arthur received confirmation that there really was no sinister supernatural activity to be reported within Camelot.
Arthur excused himself after Merlin took on his signature yawn-cries and Mordred took it upon himself to take his revenge. Arthur had to pat the back of his head a few times to snuff out the singed hair where Mordred had burned him with his glare.
It's now day twelve.
Arthur sighs and debates returning to the sorcerer's office, rubbing the back on his neck where the hair was just starting to grow back.
Not wanting to prolong the inevitable, Arthur flanks right at a fork in the road and makes his way to the other end of town.
He arrives to an empty office -not unusual for a Tuesday morning- and looks to the reception table to find a quiet, spacey-looking Mordred. The receptionist is as still as a statue, with closed eyes and shallowed breaths. Arthur rounds the table hesitantly, half expecting some horrible face-eating crab-spider hybrid to jump out at him.
"Mordred."
"..."
"Mordred?"
"...Mm."
"What's wrong?"
Mordred groans. He slumps and his head rolls forward, as if shushing Arthur saps all his strength. "Offices closed. Holiday."
"It's not a holiday today."
"Renovations."
Arthur looks around at the empty space. The chairs in the waiting area are perfectly straight. There's not a hint of dust or litter to be seen. If it weren't for Arthur and Mordred, the office space would be a ghost town. Someone hadn't even bothered to turn on the radio. "Are you sure?"
No answer.
The phone rings and Mordred makes no attempt to answer. They wait for the clanging to stop.
Arthur is perplexed by the situation. A quiet, reserved Mordred is not something he was expecting to face, but it fuels his suspicions that something may be happening in his town, even if he can't see it yet. He looks to the door and then back to the receptionist. He opens his mouth to speak, but Mordred suddenly falls forward, resting his head on crossed arms. It's not long after that Arthur hears soft snores from the table.
Exercising great caution, the Captain leans down and peaks under the table. He spares one last glance at Mordred then presses a tiny red button under the counter, and buzzes himself in.
He finds nothing peculiar when he enters. The curtains are where they should be, as are the untouched bed and the plain dresser. Relief washes over him when he sees no sign of lava, or a jungle, or artic winds. Still, he pads forward on alert. As he approaches the corner of the room crowded with stuffed animals and other plush objects, Arthur exhales in hopes to calm his heart. At least he's wearing his good runners in case he needs to make a hasty retreat.
Merlin is sleeping on his stomach and barely takes notice when the Captain sits down next to him. Even the small squeak from the mouse he sits on does nothing to stutter Merlin's slumber.
"Merlin?" Arthur rubs small circles along his sorcerer's back, hoping to wake him as gently as possible to avoid retaliation.
Just as with Mordred, no answer comes. Arthur tries again.
"Merlin?" He ruffles his hair next, but the only sign of life seems to be a quiet hum.
Arthur takes his hand away and rubs the back of his neck. He grabs a nearby stuffed key and gently pokes at the sorcerer. He even blows in the man's ear to see if he'll get a rise out of him. Nothing works. Merlin's body remains calm and wrapped in sleep. As dead to the world as a hibernating bear.
Arthur sags down the stuffed toy pile and slides down to the floor, propping an arm onto his bent knee. He sits for a while and even dozes off for a bit, wondering if answers will come to him in sleep. When he opens his eyes and looks up, he sees that Merlin hasn't moved from his position, a sphynx among a desert of plush cotton and beads.
Arthur rolls out his neck, gets up and does some stretches, cringing slightly at how his clothes have stuck to him. The sun had been warm and there had been a heat wave moving into the city. Despite the fresh breeze that morning, the humidity was surely upon them now. Maybe Merlin would let him seek shelter here until the sun set.
"Don't forget your sunscreen today if you're going out." He tries for conversation.
"..."
"Maybe I'll borrow one of these as a hat?" Arthur reaches down and pulls out a stuffed bird attached to a soft beige donut-nest, and pops it on his head. He waits for the sorcerer to move. To make some sort of protest that Maurice -the stuffed bird's name- was in no way a hat to be used in such a fatuous manner.
Silence.
Growing increasingly impatient, and just a little worried, he throws the bird to the ground and goes on the aggressive. He grabs the sorcerer and gives him a shake.
"Merlin!" When that doesn't work he hauls him off the pile, dragging down a few critters along the way. He's holding Merlin under the arms now, and swings him back and forth.
"Wake up!"
His shakes become more and more vigorous.
"Wake up you lazy daisy!"
"...Er...Arthur?" Merlin's smacking his lips and tries to rub the sleep from his eyes. Arthur lifts him up to a standing position and turns him around so they're face-to-face.
"Jesus, Merlin. I thought you were dead."
"You treat your dead by shaking them around like a martini?"
"A margarita where you're concerned, Merlin. Virgin at that." Arthur stands with his hands on his hips. "What's wrong with you today? You never take this long to wake up. And Mordred looks like he's been up three days straight and ready to collapse."
Merlin's heeling his eyes again and looks about ready to collapse himself. "N'things wrong. Just tired."
He yawns so wide a ringmaster could stick a chair inside his mouth and start charging admission to see the show. He suddenly falls forward and Arthur catches him with ease. Merlin immediately curls up into the crook of his neck.
"Merlin?"
"You smell of river stones." Merlin's nuzzling him, sending tickles across Arthur's neck and shivers down his spine. He carries the young man back to his stuffed animals and sets him gently on the pile. But Merlin's greedy when drowsy with sleep and clings on so Arthur has no choice but to lie down with him. They shift and reposition themselves a few times before Arthur wiggles himself into a makeshift seat in the plushie pile and brings a curled Merlin into his arms so that he is-but-not-quite carrying him.
"I went on a run today and stopped by the river -Merlin if I get stabbed by one of those sea shells-"
"D'nt worry. They're safe."
"Never mind them, I'd rather not explain to a doctor that I got stabbed in the arse by a conch shell." Merlin giggles, sending huffs of breath over Arthur's chest. "Merlin..."
"Do s'mthing for me t'day?"
Merlin's voice is soft on his skin. Delicate in a way one would never expect from someone capable of parting the sea with a crack of lightning or shifting tectonic plates as a result of a devastating temper tantrum. Like when an army of Sidhe took possession of his stuff animals and tried to turn them against him. Sidhe, Arthur learned, were a prime example of the Dunning-Kruger effect. Such tiny creatures capable of exacting small feats of magic immediately, and with great idiocy took it upon themselves to challenge the biggest fish in their proverbial pond. Arthur smirked at the memory. Poor suckers didn't stand a chance.
"Anything, love."
"Go to the shrine. Make some wishes for me."
Arthur groaned and threw his head back into something soft. "I'm not climbing all those stairs today, Merlin. We're in the middle of a heatwave."
The sorcerer nuzzles the crook of his neck for a moment longer, later releasing his hold on Arthur and slowly leaning back to swim into the plushie pool. Arthur lets him wiggle out of reach until his toes disappear behind a blue duck, a number of stuffed animals taking his place in Arthur's lap. Arthur's squishing the face of a purple orca when he feels a weight on his shoulder, and looks over to see a heavy-lidded Merlin blinking and smiling at him.
"Just a few wishes, Arthur. For me?"
And damn if Merlin's eyes aren't the purest he's ever seen, holding the life of galaxies and endless possibilities, wrapping around Arthur's soul in a vice grip. Arthur snaps his eyes away before he loses himself -it wouldn't be the first time.
Curse this sorcerer of his. Arthur breathes nosily and motions to get up. After a few flails and failed attempts, he manages to become vertical again and turns to see his sorcerer slinking down in his wake, upside down and ridiculously boneless. Though he hadn't slipped back into sleep yet, Arthur knew it wouldn't be long now. Actually, he's quite impressed Merlin has lasted this long to begin with.
Arthur turns his back to hide the traitorous blush creeping up his neck.
"Fine."
The climb up the mountain is interminable. Arthur is far from out of shape, but even he's dripping with sweat mid-way and in need of a break to catch his breath. He shades his eyes against the afternoon sun, feeling dizzy in the humid cloud surrounding him and the entire city.
When he crosses a bright red torii, Arthur knows he's made it. He makes quick work of the stone stairs and immediately feels the pull of an otherworldly force, wrapping him in hush prayers with promise of protection and well wishes. Arthur takes a moment to breathe in the air. While still thick with heat, the humidity has subsided, to which Arthur is thankful.
Camelot's Shinto shrine is a mystery to most of Camelot's citizens, made visible only by a select few granted permission to see the unseeable.
Arthur remembers the first time he came with Merlin. It was shortly after one of Morgana's sleepless cycles and when he'd been desperate for something to bring peace to his sister and Camelot's Mayor. Merlin had given him the sight by way of a kiss to the forehead, apparently marking him with a magical third eye.
He now knows the way to the shrine by heart. Arthur takes the trip down the smooth stone sando, washes his hands at the fountain, and pays respect to the komainu guarding the sacred halls. It's a short walk to the oratory but Arthur savours every step. The air is pure here and everything from the way the leaves sway in the wind to the soft chatter of forest life brings a sense of serenity to the area.
Arthur drop his offering into the small vessel in front of the structure, remaining mindful to step to the side of the box. He takes out a few incense sticks wrapped in paper and lights them.
Arthur waits for the final ashes to fall before reaching up with both hands to grab the thick braided rope and rings the bell. Despite the cheap clang of brass, the sound ripples through the air. The smell of sage and sandalwood fills his lungs.
Two-two-one, Arthur recalls; two bows, two claps, one bow. He does just this before leaving. He descends the mountain along a long sloping staircase, stopping halfway to rest on the bench as before.
Arthur looks out across the horizon and along the city scape. Someone's taken a paint brush to the sky to blend shades of pink with the orange and blues. A few sparrows flutter past, soon taking refuge in the trees as dusk approaches. He smiles at the city he loves. From the faint blurred bodies shuffling through the streets, to the humble homes and strong towering structures hidden in silhouette.
It's a truly magnificent sight and he has no one to share it with.
A speeding bicyclist pulls him from his thoughts, and he turns to watch them pedal away. He stares until the shape disappears into the distance before getting up and continuing his walk. He's not sure how much time passes by the time he's finished his descent, but the sun was just about set for the day and the street lights were beginning to flicker on, signalling the start of night.
Arthur stares into the orange glow until his vision blurs. He sighs and begins the walk home.
He makes it all of two blocks before his stomach growls in protest, forcing him to stop at the convenience store for something to eat.
"Beautiful night, isn't it?" The store clerk asks.
He answers lamely and offers a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah."
Arthur walks out and takes a seat nearby. He slumps down a little, feeling heavier now that he's back in the heat and humidity. The sandwich is cold and flavourless, but settles in his stomach easy enough. The tea is too sweet for his liking, but it's cool and refreshing as it travels down this throat to his gut. His stomach makes a funny grumble and Arthur pats it in agreement. Despite the food, he still feels hollow.
He wonders why Merlin sent him to the shrine. Arthur was never one to believe in prayers and wishes, but the sorcerer was adamant in his belief -
"You do realize, Merlin, that I have a proper job? What's Morgana going to do when she finds out I'm skipping off for the day to the shrine to burn incenses and make wishes?" The Captain had his hands on his hips as he waited for the sorcerer to finish his incantation. Once completed, the sticks floated in the air in front of him, illuminated in a golden glow.
Merlin, surprisingly still conscious, sat amongst his stuffed animals. His voice held no heat when he spoke and instead warmed the room with that endearing smile of his, as if letting Arthur in on a little secret.
"Shut up, you prat. You already told me you'd do it. Besides." The sorcerer paused to yawn. "These wishes are for everyone. Morgana, Mordred, and all other supernaturals in Camelot. It'll help."
And Arthur straightened at this, remembering how the receptionist was all but passed out on his desk outside. Arthur swiped the sticks from the air and went to kneel down in front of Merlin. He waved them in front of him.
"Is burning these going to help whatever is going on with the supernaturals in the city?"
As if on cue, or some strange joke, Merlin's head drooped to the side and his body soon followed.
Arthur stared at the now-unconscious sorcerer.
"Shit," Arthur cursed, and left.
- Still, Arthur may not believe in the supposed power of thought and prayers, but he believes in Merlin and knows whatever the sorcerer's reason for sending him to the shrine, it must have been for some reason.
Arthur rests a little longer. He wonders how Morgana is doing. She hasn't been answering his calls lately, but Gwen assures him she's doing fine, even though her voice sounds taut over the phone.
He wonders about the staff on base who have been on sick-leave for the past little while: Elena, who's smile had gone from a beacon of hope and joy, to reserved and drawn. He even wonders if George was okay. Arthur couldn't actually remember when he'd last heard a joke about brass.
He wonders about Mordred, sharp-tongued and vicious, and how he'd barely been able to muster a word to Arthur when he showed up at the office. Completely unaware that Arthur had buzzed himself into Merlin's office-slash-bedroom where usually Arthur had to be blue in the face with pleas and threats before the receptionist relented.
And Merlin, slumbersome and slothful to a T more often than not, had been strangely light in Arthur's memory of that morning. He had always been a little on the scrawny side of the spectrum, but usually held a decent enough weight to him, with magic soaked into every fibre of his muscles and giving him a lean type of bulk.
Merlin looked so small and helpless on his pile of stuffies. His eyes, though not always full of sunshine, had always been the window to his emotions and Arthur couldn't remember the last time they showed anything other than a cloudy blue paleness. His skin had taken a greyish hue these days, and his hair lost its richness, the strange matted texture a contrast to its previous luxurious sheen.
On the walk home, Arthur realizes he hasn't had the need to wish or pray for a long time. Not since meeting Merlin.
The sorcerer had been a constant from the day they met. Arthur never had a doubt in his mind that if things got to be too much that Merlin would step in. He knew Merlin loved his sleep almost as much, if not more, as Arthur loved Camelot. But Arthur also knew Merlin would do anything for him -he's heard enough of Merlin's whispered promises in private moments in the dead of night to know. Just like Merlin knew Arthur would give up anything, even his city if he had to, to ensure Merlin's well-being.
No matter the problem, no matter the monster or dilemma, Arthur never had to hope or pray that things would turn out okay. Not really. So long as the city had Merlin, Camelot would never fall.
Arthur's head is a swirl of memories and thoughts when he goes to sleep that night. As he drifts off to sleep, he does something he hasn't done in a long time, if ever.
He closes his eyes and prays for a better tomorrow.
His prayers were answered in the form of a giant frog monster wearing an orange kimono.
Arthur was already across town when he got the call.
"It's a threat level 3, sir," Leon said. "Specializing in long-range attacks. We can't get anywhere near it. We need-"
"I know," Arthur finished. He looked up at the locked door. It was one minute to opening time.
"Do you think-"
"We'll find out," Arthur said.
He walked over to the intercom and rang the bell to announce his presence. Relief washed over him when he heard a familiar voice. It was full of snark and venom, but it made Arthur beam with joy.
"We're fully booked for the day. Go away."
"Mordred! I can't believe I'm saying this but man am I glad to hear your voice."
"..."
"Mordred? Hello?" Arthur jabbed the intercom a few times until a voice came through.
"If this is some strange proclamation of love, I'm really really not interested."
"What? Ew. No." Arthur stepped away from the intercom. He rubbed out his face before it got too contorted. He realized a moment later what he should've asked right away. "Wait, if you're back to normal, does that mean-"
"Yeah yeah," Mordred groaned lazily. "He'll be out shortly. Stay there."
Arthur bounced on the balls of his toes as he waited. Sure enough, Merlin walked out moments later, flipping the sign and unlocking the door on his way out.
"Merlin! You're alive!" The startled laugh was out of him before he knew it.
"Never died. Although it was a pretty tough week or so."
"I'll say. What happened?"
The sorcerer waved his hand in the air and after some contemplation, decided on a cryptic, "Triton's retrograde orbit reversed slightly and caused some distress. Took a few days for energies to equalize."
Arthur blinked. He shook his head.
"Okay. Cool."
An explosion in the distance caught his attention, and Arthur turned just in time to see a jet fall from the sky where it had gotten too close to the prodigious amphibian.
"Shit." He turned back to Merlin. "Do you think you could..." Arthur trailed off. He nodded towards the beast but lost steam when he finally took in Merlin's appearance.
While still not back to full health, colour had returned to his skin, along with brightened eyes and his signature grin. But that wasn't what caused Arthur pause.
The sorcerer dawned a brown leather bomber jacket, complete with a wool collar. His hands, covered in some type of driving glove, were up by his head, adjusting a large pair of goggles that sat atop a floppy looking pilot helmet.
God he looked ridiculous.
Arthur could kiss him.
Merlin shimmied the goggles in place over his eyes and clapped his hands. "Ready for take-off!"
As if on cue, something erupted from the rooftop behind him. By instinct, Arthur threw himself between Merlin and danger, only to see a fluffy white figure flapping over to them. He'd seen Aithusa before, but somehow the stuffed dragon had grown to the size of a small plane, no longer small enough to perch on Merlin's shoulder. Arthur realized that Merlin intended to take Aithusa to face off against the monster.
"By the Angels..." He whipped around to the sorcerer. "Are you out of your damn mind?"
"What?" Merlin's smile drooped ever so slightly as he cocked his head to the side.
From across the city, the giant frog swatted a building, sending it crumbling to the ground. The creature leaned against another structure, bending brick and mortar dangerously close to the Major's Tower.
Arthur winced. "Shit, never mind. Just go-"
Merlin cut him off without another word, walking towards danger without a care in the world. Aithusa hopped along the pavement, and Arthur was reminded of one of those cartoons of a chubby unicorn bounding along the grass. They stopped just before the treeline, and Merlin mounted his steed with ease. He looked back at Arthur and let his smile bloom.
"Vanquish Frogger and let you take me out for ice cream after? Totally!"
And just like that Arthur was left alone on the sidewalk, staring up at the sky as his sorcerer flew off to face the giant kimono-wearing frog beast. At some point Mordred had flung open the office door, ranting on about having a dragon-shaped hole in his ceiling and it somehow being Arthur's fault.
The Captain ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his neck. Maybe things being back to normal wasn't such a good thing after all. Nevertheless, he couldn't help the smile on his lips.
"C'mon, Mordred." Arthur slung an arm around the receptionist and dragged him down the street. "Let's go get ice cream. Apparently, I'm buying."