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Arthur likes to think that he looks measured and cool, but he is in fact rapidly losing the fight against the damp warmth of the island. He may be sitting on a nice terrace overseeing a stunning stretch of the ocean, which would warrant a fresh breeze, you'd think, but all deities imaginable seem to have abandoned him and the air is stale and hot and heavy. As he has been waiting for Morgana for about five minutes now, he decides that sparkling water won't cut it— damn whatever his sister wanted to discuss or interrogate him about, it's time for a drink. It must be around 5pm in London anyway, so however she may sneer at him, it is not day-drinking.
As he peruses the cocktail menu and chooses an orangey concoction, he looks around for a waiter and his eyes land on the most infuriatingly gorgeous man he may have ever seen. Regardless of how many beautiful women and men he'd met (both) and bedded (the former only, unfortunately), this stunning creature outshone all of them. It takes all of his will to tear his gaze from the plush lips sipping the reddish liquid, where in between appears a sliver of white teeth biting on a slice of green apple (perhaps he should have chosen sangria after all), only for him to fixate on the bead of sweat dripping from a strand of inky hair, rolling down a sharp cheekbone, dipping back alongside the jaw, and following the sinuous line of the milky throat.
He’s so taken by the sight that he barely registers placing his order and receiving his own drink. His entire being leans towards the man, wanting to approach him, and it’s only the ironclad Pendragon composure that stops him from making a fool of himself.
Inevitably, inexorably, just like Antique Troy, even his composure falls as he meets those intelligent, stormy eyes. The stranger, turning imperceptibly towards him, gives him a smile that would have levelled cities in another time and place. A fatal, fateful greeting, just like how Helen doomed Paris from the start. Grabbing his ridiculous glass and its artfully placed orange garnish, he walks to the man and sits in front of him.
“I’m Arthur.”
“Hello, Arthur, I’m Merlin.”