Ugh, writers blocks a bitch

~~~~~~~

The next morning, they set off at the crack of dawn, neither mentioning last night. Replacing the fracturing silence though, was their usual chatter- slightly forced on Merlin's part, as were his smiles, but there none the less.

They left the horses with a friend of Merlin's- who, for some reason, asked no questions, but gave a knowing nod, and led them away. Arthur glanced at Merlin, but he had already clambered behind the wheel of his metal monster. Gritting his teeth, he followed, glaring at the thing as he did.

The journey- which previously had taken hours- flashed past. Merlin drove as if the contents of hell were just behind him, the insincere smile gone, and a steely determination taking its place. The few tentative stabs at conversation Arthur attempted were rebuffed with single syllable answers.

"Merlin." He said finally in exasperation. "What is going on?"

He knew Merlin had just lost a close friend, but like with Will- he went quiet and melancholy, still liable for a small smile, and... well. Why wasn't Merlin reassuring Arthur, pushing aside his grief like he always did? It wasn't that Arthur wanted him to- he couldn't bring himself to be that selfish- but it was so unlike Merlin to be this angry. He'd never seen him like it. Then again, Arthur thought, he'd never seen him at all until those last days.

"Something's wrong." Merlin spoke through gritted teeth. "Badly wrong. Don't you feel it?" Arthur paused; trying to see the world in the same sensual way Merlin did. But where Merlin saw the fading imprint of magic, the colour in every particle, the world spinning beneath their feet, Arthur could only absorb a pale imitation. The ground was stone beneath his feet, the world painted in shades of grey.

He shook his head. Merlin, disappointed but not surprised, waved vaguely at their surroundings.

"It feels... off." He stiffened in his seat then, his eyes seemingly struck with some horrible realization.

"Arthur... when we went into the tunnels, what time was it?"

"Dunno. Early evening, maybe?"

"What time was it when we came out?"

"... just the late morning. But... how?" Arthur furrowed his brows, trying to count backwards, desperately scrambling to collect the lost moments that had already trickled through his hands.

Merlin's voice was grim as he responded. "I think we've been in there longer than we thought. And look-" he reached over a hand, and gesturees to Arthur's face.

"What?" Arthur said, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

"Stubble. You were clean shaven when we went in, and trust me, you didn't grow that kiwi fuzz overnight."

Dread settled in Arthur's stomach. "How long were we unconscious, then?"

Merlin shrugged, anger returning to his features.

"Who knows?"

"You must have some idea!" Arthur snapped without thinking. But instead of firing back a retort, Merlin simply shrugged, once again cowering behind his poker face.

"Days, I'd say."

Arthur knew he was right- sensed it in the weight of his body, the dirt ingrained onto his clothes, but he still had to argue.

"It felt like minutes."

Merlin gave him a sympathetic smile. "I know. Part of the illusion."

"How haven't we died then?"

"Huh?"

"Food. Water?"

"Probably the goddess."

"You know, I'm really starting to not like this goddess." Arthur grumbled, folding his arms across his chest.

"I'm sure she's not too fond of you, either."

"Hey!" Merlin shot him a quick smile- a real one- then turned back to the road. They drove for another ten minutes, through small villages and towns, but mainly on the desolate little trails, alone except for the wind. They reached a bend in the road, and Merlin slowed automatically, then stamped on the brakes as a figure stumbled from the shrubbery.

Well, fell is probably a better word. A woman, shrouded in darkness, toppled from the bushes, landing hard on her torso. In response, the car screamed to a stop, the panic clear in Merlin's face.

Arthur exhaled roughly, feeling the edge of the belt cut into his chest, but he pushed past the pain with a grunt, and scrambled from the car. He waved away the smoke from the tires with one hand, using the other to cover his mouth.

He reached the woman, went to go to her, but pulled up short. Darkness pooled around her corpse like ink.

Merlin joined him, a firm hand clamped on his arm as if to prevent him from trying to help her. He needn't have worried- Arthur had no desire to touch the glassy skin or the black sheen spread about her lifeless body. But still... swallowing his revulsion, he shook off Merlin's warning hand, and knelt to close her eyes. Although a smile rested on her lips- her soul had been lost while dreaming of her utopia after all- there was something about those irises that seemed so sad, as if already lamenting the life she had lost.

"Arthur." Merlin shook Arthur's arm, probably to tell him to get away from the body, it could be dangerous, you could be hurt. A thousand years, and the boy still hadn't grown a spine.

"Arthur!" He yanked at Arthur's arm, but he ignored him, still knelt at the strangers side.

"Arthur!" Irritated, Arthur's gaze snapped up - only to see three advancing figures. They moved with a wooden gait, each step robotic and jerking like a puppet on strings. Outfitted in what looked like military gear, and each holding sort sort of metal object, but that wasn't what really drew the eye. It was their faces- except they had no faces. White material, either skin or fabric was pulled tight across their profile, allowing faint hollows for eyes and a small bulge for a nose.

"Arthur!" Merlin yelled. "Get down!"

"Why? It's not like-" One of the figures made a sharp movement, and a resounding crack lashed through the air. Merlin had already met the gestures with a hand of his own, and the air in front of them seemed to ripple, trapping a small gold object.

"What the hells-"

"Rifle." Merlin gasped. "Move, I can't hold it much longer!" He shoved at Arthur, who stumbled, but kept his feet and staggered towards the car.

There were more then, half a dozen pouring through the farmers gate, each holding a metal stick thing, each advancing with relentless ferocity. Arthur unsheethed Excalibur and let loose his battle cry, charging forwards. He was brought sort by Merlin's arm flung across his waist, dragging him backwards.

"You can't fight them! Get in the car!"

"But-"

"Go!"

Frustrated, Arthur swung himself into the passenger seat, then threw himself forward in panic as another crack rang out. A gold pellet embedded itself in the door frame, right where Arthur was standing. He hasn't even seen it move.

What was it, magic? Whatever it was, it was fast, faster than Arthur could believe, faster than he could fight. It was time to get out.

Merlin was still stood in front of the car, both hands held out, brow furrowed in the effort to keep the tiny pellets at bay. The air before him shimmered as each of them made contact, held in perpetual stillness.

"Merlin!"

The boy grunted with the effort of keeping the shield in place, but managed a nod, then retreated slowly to the relative safety of the Honda. It was then that Arthur saw him. A farmer, lips pursed in a whistle, strolling through the gate. Completely unaware of the danger he was in. By the time the shout had crossed Arthur's lips, the poor sod had already seen the puppets, and stumbled to a stop, his eyes wide with shock. It all seemed to happen in slow motion- that's the only reason Arthur could fabricate for his pathetic lack of action.

Instead of pulling up its rifle, the figure closest to the man reached out- not to hurt or maim, but with a lover's caress, touched the side of the man's face. Just once, just softly, but the effect was instantaneous. Darkness billowed around the two figures like smoke: black, impenetrable. In the next second it had cleared, and Arthur just had time to see the farmer slip to the ground, a delirious smile on his face.

In the second after that, Merlin stomped on the accelerator, and the car shot forward, squealing.

"What are you-"

"It's too late for him!"

Arthur closed his eyes as they went over the body- there was a sickening jolt, shuddering through the framework, then horrible stillness.

Merlin's face contorted for a moment, but soon solidified into fury, and this time he yanked the wheel, arcing the car towards the puppet that had stolen death from the innocent. He- it- smashed into the left headlight, as limp as a ragdoll, rolling across the bonnet before collapsing against the tarmac. The Volvo seemed to snarl, then raced forward again, free from its pursuers. Arthur darted a glance over his shoulder- eight of the puppets stood, in line, and although they lacked eyes or senses, they were turned towards the retreating vehicle. In terrifying synchronisation, they brought their rifles to their shoulders, and fired.

"Merlin-" The back windscreen shattered in a waterfall of glass and a cacophony of Merlin's curses and Arthur's startled shouts. Yelling, Merlin thrust a hand behind his shoulder, and a shield snapped into place. He pushed the car even faster, and when they turned the corner, Arthur was finally able to breathe properly. He'd been raised to face all sorts of dangers, but he'd never anticipated this.

"What... the hell was that?"

"The Silence."

"No, that's the seething evil monster we ran away from. What were they?"

Merlin shrugged helplessly. "Foot soldiers, I guess. The main monster thing, if you get close enough, you are taken- and that thing's growing stronger, trust me, but it doesn't have the souls it needs to expand. So if breaks off little bits of itself, animates them, gives them guns, and off they trot to reap some more innocent souls."

"Shouldn't we have killed them?" Arthur said, automatically feeling the responsibility.

Merlin shook his head and Arthur couldn't help but think there was something wild, something feral hidden behind those eyes.

"They're on their own, they're stronger. Not like the mother beast, which is immovable and still vulnerable. These are splinters- hardened soldiers. They can't be killed."

"Oh come on!" Arthur said, half a laugh in his voice. "Everything has a weakness. Nothing is truly invulnerable."

There was no trace of humour is Merlin's features. "They are. Even Excalibur- and that can kill anything, alive or dead- couldn't do it."

"Seriously? If it can kill anything, why can't it kill some creepy puppet things?"

"Because they're not alive!"

"You just said it can kill the dead too!"

Merlin kneaded his forehead with the palm of his hand, his frustration visible even to Arthur.

"They're not dead!"

"Oh, you know, feel free to explain at any point."

"Ugh." Merlin said, returning both hands to the wheel. "They aren't alive- but they aren't dead. I've seen something similar before. It's called suspended animation, and they are almost impossible to kill. Even Excalibur- she removes life and death- and this is neither. Death is the opposite of life- suspended animation is the absence of it."

Arthur thought hard, letting the words tick over in his mind.

"..right." He said finally, just to break the silence. "Where are we going now then?"

Merlin's voice was grim. "Wolf House. We need to tell them about Al- the situation."

Arthur let the slip pass, and pressed his cheek against the window, letting the coolness of the glass spread across his face.

~~~~

"What about the soldiers?" He remembered to ask twenty minutes or so into the journey. Merlin shrugged.

"Vanished, I imagine. They'll know how to clear up after themselves by now." The bitterness in his voice was almost palpable, and Arthur let silence fall.

Ten minutes later though, Merlin started talking. And once he'd started, he couldn't seem to stop. He told Arthur of Alaric, of the adventures they'd shared, the things they'd seen, the oaths they'd forged. Yet through it all, as Arthur laughed, and scoffed, he couldn't hide a tiny niggle of jealousy. Stupid, he knew, but he couldn't help it. He should have been there. He should have become a pirate, helped discover Australia, been there whilst Merlin saved Elizabeth the first from an assassination attempt. But he wasn't. Because he had gone and bloody died.

Man, dying sucked.

When they finally reached the Wolf House, Arthur had a low ache in his gut, but a very genuine smile on his face. When telling the stories, Merlin would gesture enthusiastically, completely caught up in the past, smiling in that way only he could, like his face was about to split in two. Every so often, a haunted shadow descended, but was quickly banished by Arthur's next question- how did you escape, how did he react to that- and Merlin would laugh, and smile as he retold his next hair brained scheme.

His smile was a thing of the past though as they stood side by side on the front steps.

"Ready?" Arthur asked, trying to offer one last get out clause.

"Ready."

They went straight through all the security- despite wearing a different face, the power Merlin wielded was complete and undeniable, and they walked straight through. Merlin sent what he described to Arthur as a telepathic message- to ask the other councillors to an emergency meeting.

There was probably a law against sitting on the council table, but Arthur couldn't bring himself to care. Besides, if the mighty Emrys could do it, why couldn't he?

About ten minutes after Merlin sent the summons out, the first of the councillors arrived, dressed in the same weird fabric Arthur's shirt was made from.
"Who is-" he began, but trailed off as he caught sight of Merlin, sitting completely upright in a council chair. He didn't look like much, dressed in a grubby t-shirt, and 'jeans', but as he stood, the power he commanded was obvious.

"Emrys?" The guy stuttered, in complete disbelief.

Merlin seemed to think for a moment, then shook his head. "My name is Merlin. You're Jonathan."

The guy swallowed: he had pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, twisting his hands together.

"Is this a joke? Because you know I'm not very good at those-"

"Oh its no joke." Arthur grinned, unable to help himself. "He's really Merlin, and I'm Arthur Pendragon, recently returned from the dead to return order and reclaim my throne, resurrected by-" Merlin's elbow dug into his ribs, cutting him off mid-flow.

"What?" He asked.

"Shut up!" Merlin mouthed back.

Jonathan was completely pale. "You're him?"

Merlin nodded- clearly there were better things he wanted to be doing, but by that time the man had already crumpled to the ground.

"Did he just faint?" Arthur asked, revolted. "I didn't know I was that impressive."

Merlin smiled faintly, but then the double doors were thrown open, and at least a dozen people strode in, looking murderous.

"Who dares summon us like domesticated mongrels?" A woman snapped. She seemed to be the unofficial leader: she was stood in front of the others, hands on hips like she owned the place. Gwen could have her for breakfast. Arthur thought in disgust, looking her up and down. There was literally nothing to her.

Merlin turned to face her, looking distinctly unimpressed.

"What gives you, a boy barely out of your teens, the right to summon us like you're personal servants?"

"I'm Merlin."

The woman laughed out loud- a very stupid move. Merlin seemed to grow: propelled by his anger. The lights dimmed, casting looming shadows across his cheekbones until his eyes were almost black.

"I am Merlin." He said it quietly enough, but the words seemed to burn. "I am Merlin! I am Emrys! I have created mountain ranges and shaped civilisations! I have ended wars and I have waged them! I am over a thousand years old, and I am also in a really, really bad mood right now! So I suggest you shut up, and start listening!"

Utter silence greeted him. Even Arthur had no idea what to say. In that moment, Merlin was so much more than them, more than anyone of them- a lonely God among the mortals.

"Thank you." He said into the quiet, with forced calm. "Now please, take a seat."

Wordlessly, everyone sat around the council table, most dumbstruck. Arthur though, couldn't hide his pride.

"First off," Merlin began. "I bring bad tidings. The fourth prince of the moon- the great Alaric Tsraeyal... has become a lost one." His voice was tightly controlled, not letting slip any of the pain he was undoubtedly feeling.

The answer though, was not one he was expecting.

"Who?"

Anger flashed like lighting across Merlin's face, bringing the storm with it. He got to his feet, outrage stark on his features.

"Who was he?! He was a prince of the moon, leader of the blood of the wolf! He was a great warrior, a legendary leader!"

A small voice, timid, but with an edge of conviction broke the silence. It was the same guy as earlier- apparently he'd found a spine somewhere. "No he wasn't."

Arthur thought Merlin would explode. "How dare you insult him like that-"

"Insult who?" Jonathan continued. Arthur wanted to tell him to shut up while he still could, but the words wouldn't come.

"There are only two princes of the moon." Jonathan said, as if he was talking to a three year old. "In fact... according to the records... there is no Alaric Tsraeyal There never was."