to live like a shadow

“Merlin.”

Merlin jerked awake, heart pounding.  Was that Kilgharrah calling him?  He turned his head and peered into the darkness, his sleepy brain acclimating to his surroundings.  He let out a sigh and slumped into the mattress.  Of course.  He was in his own room in his own house on the small piece of property that he had owned for nearly 300 years.  Every few decades, he would change his name and age and pass the property down to a “distant relative.”  It was almost time for that process to begin again.

Yawning and rubbing his face, Merlin got up and headed to the toilet.  He had simply dreamed about Kilgharrah again.  Three times in the last month, he had been awakened to the voice of the long gone dragon calling his name.  For several years after both Arthur and Kilgharrah died, Merlin had dreamt of being summoned by the great dragon.  Back then, he would leap from his bed, excited that the voice had been a sign of Arthur’s return.  He had travelled to the lake of Avalon so often during those years that the queen had to sit him down and remind him that his new Court Sorcerer duties were more important than chasing ghosts.  Merlin leaned over the sink to wash his hands and stared into the mirror, eyes straining in the darkness to see his wrinkled and craggy face under the shock of white hair.  Gwen was long gone, as well.  Dead for over a thousand years.  So why could he still picture her smile when he couldn’t even remember what he’d had for lunch yesterday?

He reached for his glass and held it under the running water.  Two small sips was all he allowed himself, though.  Didn’t want to wake up again in half an hour needing the loo.  It really was time to magically restore his youth.  He enjoyed the leeway he got from the community as an eccentric elderly gentleman, but this old body was a pain.  Or more like twenty different pains all over, ranging from vaguely annoying to persistent torment.

Merlin eased himself back into bed, hoping sleep would come easily.  He wasn’t sure why he was dreaming of Kilgharrah again after all these years, unless it was just his subconscious telling him it was time for a reset.  He thought he might skip straight to his thirties this time, though.  He could come to town as an established doctor, ready to move into his great uncle’s house and treat patients in the local hospital.  He had seen the local twenty-somethings preening about town constantly filming their every move and decided he definitely wouldn’t fit in with them.  He had no desire to learn what a “tick tock” was.

*****

“Merlin.”

A month later, he was awakened again by the voice of the dragon calling him.  He sat up abruptly, which was much easier to do in his newly youthful body.  Something about Kilgharrah’s call was different this time.  It felt more urgent.

In the years since Arthur’s death, magic had faded from the earth.  As far as Merlin knew, he was the only sorcerer still in existence.  Of course, there were those around the world who had the potential, and they probably noticed a few oddities here and there.  Prophetic dreams or lucky moments they could chalk up to coincidence.  But as far as the conscious use of magic, Merlin was alone.  He’d used his magic throughout the years to help people in small ways when he could, but even his own power had decreased.  It took all the magical energy he had to make himself young last month.  He couldn’t use his magic for days afterward, even for something as simple as boiling water for his tea.

But in this moment, he felt his magic humming throughout his body like it had in his actual youth.  When Arthur was still alive.

Throwing on a pair of sweats and a hoodie, Merlin bounded out of his house and down to the lake.  He felt more energetic than he had in centuries, barely noticing the scenery along his well-worn path to the road and then down to the edge of the water.  He stood, peering into the thin fog covering the lake’s surface.  He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he watched the movement of the fog over the water until he realised he was holding his breath. He calmed himself and then sat on a large stone to think about Arthur.  Merlin pictured his face.  Remembered his laugh.  He smiled as he thought about all the teasing and the jokes they had shared.  He closed his eyes, focusing until he could almost hear Arthur’s tender voice.  The voice reserved for those moments of doubt when he turned to Merlin for reassurance.  That he was doing well.  That he was worthy to be king and to rule his people.  Merlin’s magic bubbled within him so much that he thought he might look down to see his skin shimmering.  He was almost certain that certain memories were making his eyes blaze gold.

Two hours passed and Merlin started to wonder if tonight was really the night.  Something was definitely happening as his magic swelled in power inside him, but perhaps this feeling was only the beginning.  Perhaps he had to do something to bring Arthur back.  Cast a spell or brew a potion or uncover a magical object that would trigger Arthur’s return.  He wished he had some sort of guide.  Something besides the disembodied voice of an always cryptic and rarely helpful dragon, that is.

As daylight began to dawn, Merlin decided to head back to his house to get some sleep and later he could pull out the notes he had copied down long ago before Gaius’s books on the old religion began to fade and fall apart.  He had pored over those texts hundreds of times, looking for any clues that might explain Kilgharrah’s prophetic message that one day, Arthur would return again.  Merlin had found no mention in any of the ancient texts, either from Gaius or from other sources he had tracked down over the years, of a king returning from the dead or of bringing someone back properly from death.  So he had assumed the magic of Avalon would return Arthur on its own when the time was right.  He simply had to wait.

As Merlin walked slowly up the road toward his home, his palms tingled and his tummy fluttered.  These feelings had to mean something.  He had not felt this way in literally hundreds of years.  And it wasn’t just the magical power rising within him.  Thinking about seeing Arthur again was making him positively giddy.  He felt the same way he had as a teenager with his first crush on a boy.  The way he felt when he first started to fall for Arthur.  All jittery and flustered.  He was having a hard time focusing on anything other than seeing Arthur’s smile and feeling his arms around him.  Merlin laughed.  He thought that sort of heady, newly in love feeling was long behind him.  He couldn’t stop smiling as he turned onto the path toward his house.  Even if this was just the beginning of a process of bringing Arthur back, Merlin was filled with hope for the first time since, on the way to Avalon, Arthur had collapsed into his arms and told him it was too late and his magic couldn’t save him.

Merlin was reaching for his doorknob when he heard a voice.

“Merlin.”

Goosebumps erupted down his arms and legs.  This time the voice wasn’t Kilgharrah’s calling to him in a dream.  This was Arthur’s voice.  And it was right behind him.

Merlin whipped around and there he stood.  His golden king.  His best friend.  Merlin couldn’t breathe.  Was this real?  Was Arthur really standing in Merlin’s garden path in chainmail in the year 2022?  A sob bubbled from Merlin’s throat and he took one hesitant step forward.

“Arthur?”  His voice was barely above a whisper.

Merlin stepped carefully onto the first plank of the suspended rope bridge which was already swaying under the weight of Arthur, Gwaine, Percy and Elyan and decided to take a step back, waiting for the others to cross first.  Judging from the sound of trickling water, the gorge beneath the bridge wasn’t deep, but moss covered rocks jutted out from the walls, and the shade from the forest around them covered the gorge in darkness, preventing Merlin from seeing the bottom.  The trail they were hiking had not been well maintained, and Merlin wondered when this bridge had last been inspected, so he waited his turn to cross.

Gwaine’s laughter rang out suddenly, echoing through the forest.  Elyan and Percy chuckled at whatever story Gwaine was sharing this time, but Merlin noticed that Arthur’s laughter did not join the others’.  Arthur was tired and cranky and starting to lose patience with Gwaine’s near constant chatter.  Merlin probably shouldn’t have dragged Arthur out hiking today.   He’d had a long week stuck in his office conducting online budget meetings, so when Gwaine suggested a hike, Merlin thought a day exercising in the fresh mountain air would do Arthur good.  The stress of his week, however, seemed to have followed Arthur into the hills.  He had remained largely silent on their hike to the lookout point, and now he was in a hurry to return home.

A few steps beyond the bridge, Arthur turned with a weary sigh, but his eyes narrowed when he spotted Merlin still standing on the opposite side of the gorge.

“Merlin!  What the hell?”  He threw an arm out in exasperation.  “Are you taking a rest?  We need to keep moving.”

Merlin knew better than to antagonize Arthur when he was in this kind of mood, but he simply couldn’t help himself.  He was missing their usual banter, and Arthur did need de-stressing, so perhaps Merlin could tease him into a better mood.

He called out, “I wasn’t certain this bridge could support your weight.  I thought it better to let you get across so I wasn’t risking a deadly fall.”

As the rest of the group reached the other side, Merlin stepped onto the bridge.  He maintained eye contact with Arthur as he crossed, giving his boyfriend a cheeky smirk as a challenge.

Arthur’s tension seemed to melt as his shoulders relaxed and his eyes twinkled.  He stepped back onto the bridge, pursing his lips to hold back a smile.  “My weight?  Merlin, I’m afraid if you were to fall, it wouldn’t be because I’m too heavy for this bridge; it would be because you are clumsy.”

“Clumsy?”  Merlin could not hold back his grin at hearing Arthur’s lighthearted gibe.  “Since when am I clumsy?”

Arthur continued across the bridge toward Merlin, causing the bridge to sway with each step.  “You have tripped over the step in my living room more times than I can count.”

Merlin scoffed, “Who even has a sunken living room?  Are you living in the 1970s?  You might as well have shag carpeting.”

Arthur said the last two words along with Merlin just as they met in the middle of the bridge.

“You’ve made that exact joke at least a dozen times before, Merlin.”  He reached out to ruffle his hair affectionately.  “You’re so predictable.”

“Am I?  Could you predict this?”  Merlin was so relieved at Arthur’s shift in mood that he acted without thinking.  He bounced his legs, causing the whole bridge to ripple.

Arthur’s balance was thrown off and he had to fling his hands out, grasping for the ropes.  Merlin started to laugh, but then Arthur’s eyes went wide and he pointed behind Merlin, shouting, “the rope’s come loose!”

Merlin whirled around, hands out, ready to use his magic to secure the bridge.  His eyes darted along the edge of the cliff, looking for a loose rope, until the sound of Arthur cackling behind him made him turn around slowly with a resigned sigh.

“Really?  Joking about mortal danger?”

“You are too easy, Merlin.”  Arthur grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in to plant a kiss on his forehead.  He turned and started walking back across the bridge.  “Too, too easy.”

With a half-chuckle, Merlin followed him.  He should be annoyed with Arthur for such an irresponsible joke, but as this was the first time he’d seen his boyfriend smiling for a week, he decided to let it go.

“I think we’re all in need of stress relief right now.  Yesterday’s snowfall and this clear morning has provided the perfect conditions for an EPIC snowball fight!  Meet in the park at 11am.  Gauntlet has been thrown- are you up for the challenge?”

“Merlin?”  Arthur wandered into the kitchen where Merlin was making a cup of tea.  “Did you get this text from Gwaine?”

“Hmm?”  Merlin lifted his mug to his face to breathe in the comforting steam.  “I left my phone by the couch.”

Arthur held his phone out, so Merlin leaned in to read it.  He burst out laughing.  “A snowball fight?  I haven’t had one of those since I was about twelve.”  He shook his head and murmured, “Gwaine.”

He looked up to see Arthur staring at him, eyebrows raised.  “Do you think he’s serious?  He wants us to hike down to the park on a Saturday morning for an actual snowball fight in our thirties?  Or is this one of his bits, and we’ll get down there and he’ll drag us all into that pub of his for a disgusting lunch?”

Merlin shrugged.  “It’s Gwaine.  It could be anything, really.”  He set down his mug and slid his arms around Arthur’s waist.  “Either way, a stroll through our beautiful snow covered town, tucked up against my husband for warmth,” he wiggled his shoulder and hip against Arthur, “sounds like a lovely way to spend Saturday morning to me.”

“Okay,” Arthur planted a kiss on his forehead.  “You convinced me.”  He pulled back, suddenly serious.  “But, just in case he is planning a snowball fight, I’m going to put on my long johns and put some extra gloves in my pockets.”

He walked toward their bedroom, still mumbling about preparations for a snowball fight, and Merlin couldn’t help laughing.

***

As they walked into the park, Merlin and Arthur ran into Gwen and Lance, who were also bundled up and strolling arm in arm.

“Hi Arthur, Merlin!”  Gwen said with a grin.  “You ready for this epic snowball fight?”  She and Lance chuckled and shook their heads, clearly also thinking that Gwaine was only joking about that aspect of his invitation.

“Oh, Arthur’s well prepared.”  Merlin nudged Arthur with a gentle smirk.  “He even brought extra gloves.”

Arthur gave Merlin a pointed look, but then heaved a long-suffering sigh.  “Well, with Gwaine, you never know what to expect, and my sweet husband here gets chilled so easily and also can’t plan ahead worth a darn.”

They all laughed at Arthur’s gentle teasing until they stepped past the break in the trees and saw Gwaine and Percy standing in a clearing next to two massive stacks of snowballs.  Elyan and Leon stood nearby, looking bemused.  Morgana paced behind them, either annoyed or cold, or both.

Gwaine threw his arms into the air.  “Everyone’s here!  Welcome to the first annual and, let’s face it, probably only Official Camelot Snowball Tournament!”

Merlin and the others burst out laughing.  “You really did mean a snowball fight!”

“Of course,” Gwaine boomed.  “What did you take me for?  A liar?”

“Well, there is precedent for you luring us together under false pretenses.”  Elyan pointed out.

“Fine, fine.”  Gwaine waved his hand.  “But this time I was serious.  Come on over and grab a snowball, everyone!”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”  Arthur said at the same time as Morgana asked, “But what are the rules?”

“Rules?”  Baffled, Percy gestured toward the piles of snowballs.  “Snowballs are here.  Grab one and throw it at someone.”

“No, no, no.”  Morgana strode forward.  “We have to pick teams and have a home base where we can meet up to strategise.  And we need rules about how many snowballs per person and whether we’re allowed to aim for the face.”  She glared at Arthur.

He responded with raised eyebrows and a quirk of his head.  “I still think faces are fair game.  As long as no one is adding rocks to the snow.”  He turned back to the group.  “But we do need to select team captains and home bases, and we also need to decide on an objective for this endeavor.  Did you bring flags, Gwaine?”

“Flags, teams, bases?  What are you on about?”  Gwaine exclaimed, laughing.  “It’s a snowball fight.  You just throw snowballs!”

“Without rules and organization?”  Arthur and Morgana were appalled.  “What are we toddlers?”

Merlin was having a hard time containing his mirth at his husband and sister-in-law and their obsessive need to be in control.  So he decided to step in.  “You’re right, Arthur.  We need teams and an objective.”  He exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Gwaine.  “Arthur, why don’t you and Morgana be on a team together.”

Gwaine picked up a snowball, and motioned for the others to do the same.  “And the rest of us have one objective…”. He stalked slowly toward Arthur as Merlin inched away from his husband.

Then Gwaine raised his snowball into the air and roared, “Get the Pendragon siblings!”

Everyone hurled their snowballs at once, and a snow-covered Arthur and Morgana flailed and tore off toward the snowball pile to retaliate.  Soon, the official snowball tournament dissolved into a complete melee full of shouts and laughter and flying snow.

Later that afternoon, Arthur sat on the couch, pouting.  “That was completely unfair.  Morgana and I were just trying to help get everything organized.  That didn’t warrant being attacked.”  He squirmed, rubbing his backside.  “I think I still have some snow down my trousers.”

Merlin chuckled, brought two mugs of hot cocoa from the kitchen and slid onto the couch, handing one to Arthur.

“You had a hot shower and changed clothes as soon as we got home.  I promise there’s no snow left.”  He took a sip of cocoa as Arthur still grumbled.  So he placed his mug onto the coffee table and scooted closer, wrapping his arms around his husband and nuzzling kisses down his neck.  “But if you’re still cold, I guess I can help warm you up.”

Arthur scrunched up his face.  “I don’t know.  You were one of the worst.  You shoved a snowball right up my shirt!”

“Did I?”  Merlin hummed into Arthur’s throat.  “I don’t remember.”

*******

Morgana leaned into Arthur’s office, trying to seem cool and casual.  “Hey!  If you don’t have plans for Saturday night, I’d like to take you out to dinner to celebrate your birthday.”

Looking up from his computer, Arthur narrowed his eyes.  “What, are you planning a surprise party for me, or something?”

Damn it, Merlin!  Morgana knew he wouldn’t be able to keep from hinting to Arthur about the party.  Inwardly, she began planning her revenge on Arthur’s best mate, but aloud she simply said, “Oh, did you want a party?  I thought we were too old for that sort of thing.”  She tilted her head as if she were considering Arthur’s request.  “I mean, it’s kind of last minute, but I might be able to scrape together a few people for a party.”

Arthur was still looking at her with an all-knowing smirk on his face.  “Uh huh.”

She ignored his smug tone.  “Who do you want me to invite?  Gwen and Lance?  Merlin, of course.  Are you still dating that annoying Vivian?”

“No, I broke up with her weeks ago.”

“Thank goodness.” Morgana heaved a sigh of relief, though she already knew Arthur wasn’t with Vivian anymore.  She had asked Gwen if she had to invite her to the surprise party.  “Assuming no one has plans already, that’ll be six of us.  Is that enough to call it a party, or should I ask one or two more?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe—“

Morgana held up one hand and cut him off.  “Anyone but Gwaine.”

Rolling his eyes, Arthur sighed.  “What do you have against Gwaine?”

“Are you kidding?  He flirts with anything with a pulse!”

“You afraid he’ll be too busy flirting with the waiter and he won’t flirt with you?”

Now Morgana rolled her eyes.  “No, he’ll flirt with the waiter and me and you and Gwen and Lance and--”

“Fine.  Leave Gwaine out.  We’ve only been mates for fifteen years, but I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Morgana pursed her lips.  Actually this might work out fine.  She should let Arthur think she would host a party, and have him invite all his friends, but she would tell most of them to say they couldn’t make it.  Then he’d be surprised when everyone showed up.

“Whatever, Arthur.  Invite whoever you want.  Tell them to meet at the Slanted Anchor on Saturday night at 8, and I’ll pay.”  She whirled around to leave, muttering just loud enough so Arthur could hear her, “I’m Arthur.  I’m 33 years old.  I want my big sister to throw me a birthday party.”

Then Morgana whipped out her phone and started sending texts telling people to turn her brother down.

  *******

“He knows what you’re doing, you know.” Merlin flopped into the chair opposite Morgana’s desk later that day.

“Who?”

“Ar-thuur,” Merlin drew out the name as if she should have known who he was talking about.  “He knows you told everyone to say no to him, so he’ll be surprised when they show up anyway.”

Morgana swiveled her chair to face Merlin.  “Well, yeah.  Because you told him about the surprise party already.”

“I didn’t tell him,” Merlin said, widening his eyes with an overly innocent look.  “He’s fairly clever, you know.  And your little scheme is pretty basic, as far as surprise parties go.”

Excuse me?  Morgana glared at Big Mouth Merlin who couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it, and decided on a new plan right then and there.

  ******

  *******

Saturday morning, Gwen, Lance, Gwaine, Percy, Leon, Elyan and Elena joined Morgana in Arthur’s living room.  As guests arrived in their pajamas, everyone crept around, whispering excitedly about surprising Arthur.

“Morgana,” Gwaine said quietly.  “Are you sure Arthur won’t come out here in his underpants?  Or naked?”

She shook that image right out of her head.  “No, ever since the fire alarm went off one night when we were little, he sleeps in proper old man pajamas.  He doesn’t want to have to run into the street in nothing but his Spider man pants ever again.”

Gwen leaned in to whisper, “I can vouch for that.  When we were together, he slept in full pajamas every single night.  It was super cute.”  She grinned.

Gwaine snorted and moved on to talk to Leon and Percy, but Gwen nudged closer to Morgana.  “Are you sure it was okay not to invite Merlin?  He’s Arthur’s best mate.  I feel bad leaving him out of the party.”

Morgana felt a slight twinge.  She’d been feeling a little guilty about her decision to exclude Merlin, but she really wanted the party to be a surprise.  So she shook her head.  “No, he can’t keep a secret.  I’ll treat him and Arthur to dinner later, like we originally planned.  It’ll be fine.  Arthur can tell him all about how shocked he was to wake up to a party in his flat.”

Gwen looked dubious, but just shrugged and went along.

“Okay, listen up,” Morgana whispered to the group as soon as everyone had arrived.  “I’m going to go out and ring the doorbell.  You all find a place to hide, and as soon as his bedroom door opens, we’ll all pop out and shout Surprise.”

Arthur sighed as he walked down the corridor toward his chamber.   Before lunch, several of his knights who patrolled the borders had brought news of disputes and skirmishes in the north.  Arthur had sent them back armed with maps and documents, with the hope that the disputes might be resolved without further violence.  Then before he even had a chance to eat, dozens of his subjects had shown up, begging for assistance after a river had flooded its banks and wiped out their entire village.  He was embarrassed to be caught unaware of the severe weather that had plagued the western mountains over the last month.  Arthur preferred to be more proactive when it came to caring for his kingdom.  He and his council scraped together funds to help them rebuild, and then Arthur made arrangements for the villagers to stay in the castle for a few days while they gathered supplies.

Arthur rounded the corner, finally in sight of his chamber.  He hadn’t eaten since breakfast and his stomach rumbled at the thought of his dinner waiting on the other side of that door.  He knew the cook had planned roast for dinner, and he hoped the extra guests from the flooded village had not delayed the food preparations.  Arthur couldn’t take any more surprises today.

He opened his door, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight before him.  His armour hung midair, polishing cloths moving on their own over the surfaces.  Various items of clothing danced in a line from the floor to the washing bin, through a wringer, and on toward the wardrobe, where they filled with air to dry before folding themselves into drawers or sliding onto hangers.  A large cast iron pot hovered slowly away from the fireplace.  Meanwhile, Merlin lounged in Arthur’s chair, casually munching on a piece of bread with one hand raised, directing the pot to land in the middle of the table.

“Merlin!”  Arthur shouted, startling him.  The pot dropped the last few inches.  Stew sloshed over the edge onto the wood and a clanging sound filled the chamber as Arthur’s armour hit the floor.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Merlin looked up, sputtering, as he scrambled for a cloth to clean the stew from the table.  “I wasn’t expecting you yet, Arthur,”

“Obviously,” Arthur muttered, leaning down to retrieve the helmet rolling toward his feet.  He sighed, surveying the mess around his chamber.  A mess caused by magic.  Merlin’s magic.

“You do remember you’re not my servant anymore, right?”

“Yes, Arthur.”  Merlin rolled his eyes as he took the helmet from Arthur’s hand and placed it on the table.  “I remember, but George and the kitchen staff were busy this evening, helping prepare rooms and meals for an entire village worth of people you decided to treat to a fabulous vacation in a castle.”  He leaned forward and pressed a kiss into Arthur’s cheek.  “Nicely done, by the way.  I heard you pulled funds from your own travel and clothing budgets to help rebuild their village.  Not many kings would make such a sacrifice for their people.”

Arthur scuffed his boot along the floor.  “I couldn’t send them back with nothing, could I?”

Merlin led him to sit at the head of the table, and with a wave of his hand, dished up a steaming bowl of stew.  “Of course you couldn’t.  One of the many reasons I married you.”  Another gentle kiss was placed on the top of Arthur’s head.

“You should have just waited until George was available, though.  Now this chamber is in a worse state than if you had just left well enough alone.”  Arthur motioned toward the mess of clothing and armour covering the floor.  “There’s a reason I gave you your own wing for your magical business.  You can’t seem to keep from dropping and spilling everything, even when you’re supposedly in your own area of expertise.”

With a dramatic swoop of his arms, Merlin cleared the entire chamber of all clutter in seconds.  “You were saying?”

“Show off.”  Arthur tugged on Merlin’s arm and pulled him into his lap for some proper kisses.  “Thanks for making dinner.”

Merlin shrugged.  “Least I could do.”  He tilted his head back as Arthur’s lips made their way down his throat.  “People were bragging about your peace-making skills and your generosity all day.”

Arthur sucked on the spot where Merlin’s neck joined his shoulder and grinned when he elicited a gasp from his husband.  “Are you trying to say you were proud of me?”

“I’m always proud of you, Arthur.”  Merlin’s hands made their way down Arthur’s chest and under the hem of his shirt.  “It’s just that a lot of your best skills aren’t the sort of thing I can go around bragging about, are they?”  He quirked his eyebrows and slid off Arthur’s lap, reaching for his hands to pull him to his feet.

“But my stew will get cold,” Arthur protested, even as he pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor as he followed Merlin to their bed.

One hand wave from Merlin and the stew pot was flying back to the fireplace.  Arthur grinned and decided Merlin could surprise him like this any day of the week.