Calixtus liked to think he was above panicking in the midst of a crisis. After all, his training as a knight had covered that extensively.
He still hovered nervously by the bed while the doctor his mother had called—after he’d burst out of the room in his bed clothes—looked over Aster. For all intents and purposes, Aster was simply asleep. At least, that was the way it appeared.
There was a peaceful look on his face and he’d not so much as shifted since Calixtus had first caught sight of him upon waking. Aster had never been the type to move around in his sleep, so it wasn’t particularly unusual. He simply refused to wake up.
“There doesn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with him,” the doctor said, standing from where he’d been leaning over Aster, and looking at Calixtus and his mother. There was confusion clear on the older man’s face.
“Then why won’t he wake?” Calixtus asked, sounding—and most likely looking—a slight bit unhinged. The doctor certainly looked startled, taking a small step back.
“I’m afraid I don’t know,” the doctor admitted with clear reluctance. “There is, as far as I can tell, no medical explanation for why your spouse remains asleep. At this point, I’d recommend you to call in a mage to take a look at him.”
Calixtus could have laughed at the suggestion. Mages were rare around those parts, with Aster himself being the only one Calixtus had heard of since he’d moved into the small town. Calling one in from the capital was a possibility, but it would take time for them to arrive. Time that Aster very well might not have.
The doctor left shortly after, Calixtus’ mother seeing him to the door while he stayed behind. He sat on a chair he’d pulled up to the bedside and looked into Aster’s face, waiting for him to open his eyes and greet him with one of his terrible jokes. Calixtus liked to think he would remain calm, but he was fairly sure he wouldn’t. Just as certain as he was that it was Aster himself who was responsible for his own state.
It was something that had been bothering Calixtus since he’d calmed enough to form a coherent thought. Aster had been acting strangely the previous night. Calixtus recalled the words Aster had spoken just before falling asleep—simple words of gratitude that had felt out of place even as Calixtus had drifted off to sleep. Now, he couldn’t help but wish he’d said something at that moment.
“What are you up to?” he muttered, still looking at Aster’s calm face.
The rest of the day dragged on, perhaps because Calixtus spent it waiting. There was something to be said for time seeming to slow down when one was waiting. A second could feel like an hour and a single day somehow felt like a year. Calixtus could hardly believe how time dragged on as he sat and kept watch over Aster.
“You’ll accomplish nothing by staying here.”
He looked up as his mother appeared in the doorway, watching him with an odd mix of exasperation and pity. Calixtus might have been offended by the latter expression if he’d had the energy to do so.
“He might wake at any moment,” he said. He very much wanted to be the first one to berate Aster for whatever it was he’d done to land himself in such a state.
His mother let out a small sigh, seemingly resigned to him not giving up his odd vigil at Aster’s side. She walked in and stood by the bedside at Calixtus’ side. For a moment, she simply looked down at Aster, her eyes oddly soft as she looked into his impassive expression.
“He looks younger like this,” she said after a minute.
Calixtus looked back at Aster and couldn’t help but agree. He also couldn’t help but realize that he didn’t even know how old Aster was. A part of himself that had been influenced too much by Aster’s particular type of humor almost wanted to laugh at that.
What sort of husband doesn't know his spouse’s age? Calixtus thought with fleeting humor.
“Will you send for a mage?”
Calixtus was brought out of his musings by his mother’s question. He looked up at her and caught her watching him expectantly. It was a fair question. He’d certainly had enough time to consider it, but Calixtus still wasn’t sure.
Whatever was wrong with Aster was most likely related to magic, but it was also very likely Aster’s own doing. As much as Calixtus wished Aster had bothered to warn him about what he was planning, he supposed it was very much in keeping with how secretive Aster had always been about his motives. Calling for a mage would most likely give them the answers they wanted, but there was the possibility that it would also end up exposing Aster to scrutiny he did not wish for.
“No,” he said after thinking it through. “I don’t think Aster would want that.”
“Does he have something against other mages?” his mother asked, clearly puzzled.
“Not as far as I know.” He very well could, to be honest. “But I don’t think he’s in danger.”
His mother didn’t say anything for a moment, but Calixtus could almost see the wheels turning in her mind. She looked down at Aster, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed in thought. After a bit, her expression cleared and she turned back to Calixtus.
“Do you think this is something he did to himself?”
Calixtus couldn’t help but feel some pride in his mother’s clever mind. Even if, at the moment, he would rather she remain unaware of whatever Aster was plotting. He searched for a suitable answer but his silence, apparently, was answer enough.
“Calixtus, I don’t know what’s going on, and quite frankly I don’t know if I want to know.” She most likely wouldn’t. “All I know is that you’ve been acting very out of sorts since I’ve returned and I can’t help but wonder what Aster has to do with that. What is it that the two of you are up to?”
“We aren’t up to anything,” Calixtus said, and hoped very much that he made it sound believable. Judging by his mother’s expression, he did not. “Mother, I promise you I’m not plotting anything.” He couldn’t say the same for Aster.
“And what of your husband?” Calixtus took a second to curse his mother’s perceptiveness.
“What of him?” She shot him a look at his answer. “Aster just wants to stay here, peacefully,” he added, and was very proud of himself for how well he’d managed to walk the fine line between the truth and a blatant lie.
His mother searched his face for any sign of a lie. Calixtus did his best not to squirm beneath her gaze. At last, her expression softened just a bit.
“To be honest, I’m not sure I believe your story,” she said, and Calixtus wasn’t really surprised. “Much as I like Aster, none of this makes sense. I just wish you would trust me enough to be truthful.”
That hurt Calixtus more than he’d thought it would. He looked into his mother’s concerned face and couldn’t help but feel guilty about keeping so much from her. For a second, he debated telling her the truth—or what he knew of it. Then, he looked at Aster and knew he couldn’t. Not when, whatever Aster was hiding, mattered enough that he would put himself in such a state.
“I trust you, mother. You know I do,” he said in the end, and hoped that was enough. She gave him a tired smile.
“Well, I hope someday you trust me enough to tell me why you’ve gone and married such an odd mage, of all things.”
Calixtus laughed. He couldn’t help it, mostly because he had been asking himself that very question more and more often as of late.
The day turned into night and, all too soon, Calixtus found himself lying next to Aster once again. He’d considered sleeping in another room for the night, but he wanted to keep an eye on the mage. There was no telling what was wrong with him—if anything—or when he would wake. He didn’t want Aster to wake up alone and confused in the middle of the night. As it turned out, Calixtus shouldn’t have worried.
Two days passed without Aster so much as stirring.
By the morning of the third day, Calixtus was set to order a mage be brought in. Regardless of what Aster might want, Calixtus worried that his unnatural state would be too dangerous. He needed to do something in case something was truly wrong.
He was just writing a message to be delivered to the Magic Tower when, at last, there was a change in Aster’s condition. Unfortunately, Calixtus couldn’t say it was a pleasant one.
It started with a slight shift in Aster’s expression, a little twitch and the smallest furrowing of his brow. Calixtus froze as he watched, wondering if Aster was finally waking. He set aside his pen just as Aster shifted on the bed, thin hands gripping the bed sheets and face twisting into a look of anxiety. Calixtus reached out, setting a hand on Aster’s shoulder and giving him a small shake.
“Aster,” he called. In response, Aster began tossing and turning, enough so that Calixtus began to worry about what was going on with him. “Aster!” he called again.
There were hurried footsteps from outside and then his mother burst into the room.
“What’s going on?” she asked, eyes taking in the scene.
Before Calixtus could answer, there was a heavy feeling in the air, followed by a feeling Calixtus recognized immediately from his time as a knight. It was the same feeling he got when magic flowed from him with an ease he worried he’d never again know—an electric sort of feeling like the calm before a storm.
As Calixtus thought this, Aster jerked in his grasp and then was still. The magic filling the air dissipated and Calixtus felt like he could breathe again. Once again, Aster lay still in bed. When he looked back up at his mother he knew they were both thinking the same thing.
Aster would have a lot to answer to when he finally awoke.
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