Alaric got some servants to take the body down to the mortuary, out of sight, and out of smell-range. No disrespect to the poor bugger, but he was starting to smell a little. Instead of reconvening the council though, Merlin demanded on retreating to the back bedroom: just Arthur, Alaric and him. Arthur tried to argue- what good could just they do? Merlin insisted though- one of his funny feelings again.  Still muttering rebelliously, Arthur consented, throwing himself onto the couch, which was made of the same tough material they used for training.

"What now then, genius?" He asked sarcastically. Merlin quickly ushered Alaric through the door, then slammed it behind him. He ran a swift hand across the door, pouring out words of the old religion as he did. Once he'd finished, he whirled around to face their confusion, a strained look on his face.

"We can't trust them."

Alaric stood with surprising grace. "What? Em, that's the council of elders! Beaten in rank by only you, me, Eva and Paris!"

"We can't trust them."

"How do you know?"

Merlin shrugged, his fists clenched. "Felt it when we were talking before. Bad feeling. Very bad."

"You're sure?"

Merlin nodded, and Alaric sat back down, completely reassured. "Okay."

Arthur watched with confusion- this high and mighty prince of the moon seemed to take Merlin's word as gospel.

"Wait." Arthur said. "What about him?"

Merlin pulled a face, then gestured to Alaric in complete bewilderment. "Him? But he's Alaric." He said as if that explained it. To him, it probably did.

Arthur held his hands up in surrender, then accidentally let out a yawn. Merlin frowned at him, then sat beside him on the... was it leather?

"I found this." Merlin suddenly seemed to remember, jumping from the seat as if he'd received an electric shock. He darted over to a satchel thing he'd dumped on the vanity, then yanked a book from it.

"Emcarte... frpmphed-" Arthur leant sideways to attempt to decipher the title, but Merlin shook his head.

"Dead language."

"Oh."

"So." Alaric began slowly. "Er... why aren't our souls currently being ripped painfully from our bodies?" Some how, Arthur thought, he didn't think subtlety was Alaric's strong point.

Merlin shook his head as he flipped through the book.

"Book about magic, not of it."

"Oh, obviously. How did I miss that?" Arthur hid his smile, but couldn't help but be relieved that someone was as lost as he was.

The Prince and former king sat in awkward silence, trying not to look at anything in particular as they waited for Merlin to find whatever it was he was looking for. Silence reigned for about ten minutes while Merlin rifled through the volume impatiently.

"Got it!" He crowed in triumph, just as Arthur was contemplating going back to sleep. Alaric, with his endless supply of energy, leaped to his feet to see what he'd discovered, while Arthur reluctantly pulled himself from the leather sofas embrace.

"What is it?"

Merlin splayed the book across the vanity, then stabbed a vindictive finger at the picture. "Our criminal." He said with a flourish.

Bordered with gold leaf was a painting of mighty towers, a castle rivaling even Camelot's majesty, with a dense woodland, surrounded by high-reaching mountains. Arthur wondered briefly if Merlin had finally lost it.

Merlin's exulted expression met Arthur and Alaric completely blank faces.

"But- don't you get it? It's paradise!"

"...um." Arthur said slowly.

Alaric grinned. "Is there rainbows there, Em? Lots of pretty clouds?"

"Don't forget the unicorns." Arthur interjected, seeing common ground.

"Ah yes!" Alaric enthused. "Maybe that's how our mystery man died!"

"How?"

"Got stabbed by the pointy end!"

The snort escaped Arthur without permission, quickly stifled.

"A man is dead." Merlin said quietly. The two men sobered quickly. "Could you resist it?"

Arthur, sensing the question was directed towards him, stilled. "What do you mean?"

"If someone offered you your every desire- and even if it means your death, could you resist?"

"Of course." He scoffed.

"Could you really though?"

"I trained for over twenty years, Merlin, I am more than capable-"

"Could you resist heaven?"

"Yes!"

"If it was truly heav-"

"Alright!" Arthur interrupted with exasperation. "So if I see any pretty castles with pink unicorns flying around, I'll make sure to steer clear!"

Merlin smiled slightly, but persisted anyway. "But if you didn't know it was an illusion, you would have no defences at all. Easy pickings."

"But I do. So I'm fine."

"But if you didn't-"

"I do though, so shut up." Alaric inhaled sharply- clearly nobody had ever told Emrys to shut up before. Arthur doubted it too, but Emrys was still Merlin, somewhere, and Merlin still annoyed Arthur no end.

Merlin only smiled though, almost as if he'd missed being told to shut up. "Think about it, clunk-for-brains. It's the perfect weapon."

Arthur scrutinized this theory for a moment, then nodded.

"I guess so. So who's using it as a weapon then?"

"Not a who. A what." He turned the page and traced the words with a finger as he read. "They call it The Silence."

"Sounds cheerful."

"I know." Merlin sympathized. "You'd have thought they would call it the dregs of the earth demon here to consume your soul, but no."

"I like that one. Really trips off the tongue."

Arthur grinned involuntarily, then sighed and slipped onto the stool resting beside the vanity.

"So what is this silence thing, then?"

Merlin looked down at the book before him, then read aloud.

"The Silence needs to store up vast amounts of energy to rise from the depths of the earth, and consumes it quickly when it does. It lasts only five or so years before sinking back into its cave. There are three- discovered and recorded- 'silences' in the world, but each are capable of immense destruction, and collect enough energy to rise approximately every five hundred years. They are-"

"Wait a sec!" Alaric butts in. "That means- if it is a silence who knocked off pretty john doe here- you've lived through two of their rises."

"Oh yeah. Well the first one, that's a thousand years ago... yeah I didn't leave the lakeside around then. I was kind of out of it."

"You didn't notice 'immense destruction? What were you even-" Arthur thought back, did the maths, then promptly shut up.

Alaric broke the awkward silence. "What about the second one?" The strain left Merlin's pained features, and he placed a finger on his temple as he struggled to remember.

He brightened with understanding, then pain descended just as quickly.

"Oh." He said quietly.

"What is it?" Arthur asked immediately.

"Uh, it doesn't matter."

"It does matter." Arthur corrected him immediately.

"That was... that was just after-" his voice failed him, and his features trembled before he schooled them into position. He cleared his throat, then continued in a voice just slightly lower. "That was just after Robin died." He finally met Arthur's eyes, with a cloaked gaze, as if he anticipated ridicule. He didn't seem to understand there was nothing funny about the look in his eyes, the slight tremor in his fingers, the tremble at the corner of his mouth.

Without thinking, Arthur placed a hand on the arm Merlin had clamped on the chair to keep from shaking.

"It does matter." He said again. Merlin attempted a broken parody of a smile, then composed himself, organising his features, and recreating his business-like demeanour.

"Hang on one freaking second!" Alaric interjected, an incredulous look on his face. "Robin? As in Robin freaking hood?" Although Arthur didn't recognise the name, he could tell it was important. Merlin closed his eyes tightly, and as if awaiting execution, nodded, just slightly.

"I knew you knew him, Em, but why did you mourn him so much as not to notice hundreds of people dying around you?"

"He was one of my best friends." Merlin admitted in a small voice. "The merry men... It was so like the round table. I just had to retreat for a bit."

Alaric swore, pacing the length of the room. "And you don't think you could have mentioned this?"

"I couldn't. I- I just... couldn't." Alaric went completely still, then blew out softly. His face mirrored his friends pain, and he inclined his head formally.

"Forgive me, Em." They shared a look that Arthur couldn't interpret, then Alaric gestured for Merlin to keep reading.

He cleared his throat, then began to read aloud.

"Right, so this thing rises every five hundred years or so, and it kills by seducing its victims-  lulling them into a trance. It- hell- it creates this sort of vision, of every thing you've ever wanted."

"What happens to the victim?"

"Stops breathing. Heart stops beating."

"So dies, then?" Alaric summed up.

Merlin shook his head. "That's what truly marks it out, this predator. You don't die. You- you become as a lost one."

There was a haunted tightness to Merlin's face, and as he spoke those last words, Alaric stiffened, the colour draining from his face.

Arthur glanced wildly between the two.

"Am I missing something here?"

Merlin swallowed. "You just need to know that being lost... its worse than being dead."

"So how do we kill it?"

"Don't you get it?" Alaric sneered. "Don't you understand, Pendragon?"

Arthur could not help but raise his chin slightly. "Understand what, mongrel?"

"We don't fight them. We can't! No one can stand against them."

"So what's your solution? Please, I'd love to hear it."

Alaric looked down. "Its only five years."

Arthur prepared a scathing remark, but Merlin beat him to it.

"How many people would you have die, Alaric? No, we must fight back."

There was something raw and grotesque in Alaric's gritted teeth, clenched fists. "Yes, that is what you'd say. You've fought against every corrupted monarch, rebelled against every twisted oppressor. Things must change, you say! Over and over! You still haven't gotten the memo! Change is temporary, Em. No matter how many villains fall, you can rest assured there's another waiting in the wings! There's no point, Em! Goodness is fleeting, but evil- evil is everlasting."

Arthur expected Merlin to crumple beneath his friends scathing judgement- it is one thing to defend from external attack, but yet another to protect yourself from a blow delivered within. But instead he stood up a little straighter, fury, and a distant disappointment flaring in his eyes.

"You're right." He said finally. "There will always be more bad guys. They change. The situations change, as do the time periods, the big bad wolf. But people never really do. Because, no matter the time, the place, there will always be that little spark. Of resilience, of goodness, of hope. That's what makes our race different: because that spark can never go out. It can be transformed into an inferno, it can dwindle to the smallest flame. But it will never be vanquished, and therefore that little spark- that spark that resides within us all- that little spark is worth fighting for, and that will never change."

A deep silence greeted his words. "Hell." Arthur said. "That was almost impressive."

A mangled smile was tossed his way. "I'll have to work on it."

Alaric exhaled, but looked up, and met Merlin's gaze head-on. But when he discovered within them, not the anger that had exploded, but a melancholy disappointment, he subsided.

"Fine." He said though gritted teeth. "Fine."

Merlin's smile was radiant. "Excellent."

~~~~~~

Much to Alaric's shock, and quickly hidden hurt, Merlin downed a small potion, and the years melted from him. A rushed explanation, a horribly disorientating invisibility spell, and an three-hour long 'car' journey later, they arrived at the edge of a vast plain. There were some stables- Merlin had a rushed conversation with the owner, who seemed to recognise him, and procured three horses. After some brief directions, they set off across the plain.

"Where are we going?" Arthur yelled after Merlin, who had gone ahead.

"You know where." Merlin replied, as he turned in his saddle to throw Arthur a puzzled look.

"Yeah, hunting our favourite evil monster. But where are we going? And also, um... Where are we?"

"Its called Dartmoor." Merlin said, dropping back to ride beside Arthur.

"Why couldn't we take your metal monster?" He said plaintively.

"Do you see any roads? Anyway, you don't know how to ride a quadie, and this is the quickest way."

Although Merlin was speaking another language, Arthur nodded vacanly. He sighed, settling into the steady rocking of the horses movement. He caught a glimpse of Merlin, looking utterly content.

"What are you so happy about?" Arthur asked,  unable to hide his curiosity. Merlin shrugged, a grin finding its way into his face. It wasn't the same grin as earlier- that shaking, half there grin that looked as if he was barely holding back the tide of the years, but his old one. True bliss. Before he had reminded Arthur of grey skies. Not yet a downpour, but just reaching its limit, where it would collapse, and let loose its deluge. Now he was brighter- more the sun, breaking free of the clouds.

"Isn't it just like old times?" Merlin exhulted, cajoling a little extra speed from his mount .

With the exception of Alaric, who rode in grudging silence, Arthur had to agree. Riding through the country, off to vanquish the latest magical creature, with nothing but a bag of supplies and the horses.

"Sure." He said. "Just throw in a bandit attack, and one of us generally lying on the edge of death, and you got yourself a jackpot."

"Oh, don't be such a pessimist! You must have missed this!"

Merlin's grin was infectious: Arthur finally gave in and let loose one of his own.

"Maybe." He conceded. "Race ya?"

Merlin let out a laugh, then squeezed with his knees to urge his horse faster. "You're on." Arthur met his challenge, and thundered forwards, letting Alaric's grumbling fade into the distance. For a moment, he missed the afterlife, and his missing family, but could not concentrate on them with the wind tearing through his hair, and adrenaline pumping through his veins. He let out an exhilarated laugh, then pushing his horse even faster, followed Merlin across the undergrowth with all the ferocity of a man who has been idle for far, far too long. It was good to be alive.

~~~~~~

That night, they made their camp in a small grove beneath the stars, playfully ignoring Alaric's grumblings about a missing 'tent'- whatever that was.

Around high moon,  Merlin drifted off to sleep, his head resting against his pack. He'd tried to insist on taking watch, but Alaric would have none of it, apparently to make up for his previous 'wet blanket attack'. Merlin reluctantly agreed, but made him promise to wake him for his turn.

"Sure." Alaric snorted, as if butter wouldn't melt. Arthur's arguments went completely unnoticed throughout all of this; Merlin clearly wasn't going to let Arthur take a watch, and for Alaric- well 'Emrys's' word was law, wasn't it? Stupid bootlicker.

Arthur watched the fire, the flames dancing in the night, forcing jagged shadows to loom across the cave walls. It threw up sparks every now and then, with an almost inaudible crackle, reminding him of sword striking stone. Normally Arthur would have rolled over and abandoned himself to oblivion by now, but some rigid sense of honour kept his eyes from closing. It was stupid, he knew but he felt he owed it to Merlin. He had waited over a thousand years. Arthur could keep watch for one damned night.

He didn't notice until a few minutes later that he was being watched. He owned none of Merlin's funny feelings, so settled for gut instinct. His gaze flicked up to meet Alaric's; who was unashamedly surveying him.

"Got a problem?" Arthur snapped without thinking about it. He bit his lip: that had come out ruder than intended.

"Nope." The werewolf replied easily, slumped against the boulder, looking for all the world there was nowhere he'd rather be. "Just..." He hesitated, as if trying to find words.

"Spit it out." Arthur said irritably, running a hand over Excalibur's hilt. Alaric saw the gesture- and of all things- laughed.

"Ooh." He hooted. "I'm quaking in my non-existent boots!"

"I am the king of Camelot!" Arthur said with rising heat, hating this newcomer more and more. He'd lost his entire world. All he had left was his pride- his legacy, and he wasn't about to let it be tarnished by some upstart with a stupid-ass ponytail.

"No." Alaric corrected loftily, tossing another stick on the fire. "You were the king of Camelot. You are also, coincidentally, a drama queen."

Arthur bit his tongue, withholding the insults that begged to be released. But, for some odd reason, this arrogant stranger reminded him of Gwaine, the knights. Of home. He looked up to see Alaric looking at him with open critisism.

"A thousand bloody years." Alaric said softly. "I don't get it."

"Get what?" Arthur shot back immediately, defensiveness rising within him.

His answer, however, wasn't as expected. He'd anticipated being, in Alaric's eyes, unworthy of Merlin's loyalty. Arthur had no arguments on that score, though, and wondered why Alaric bothered.

"I don't get how Em ever...gave so much of himself to you."

Arthur wrinkled his nose. "Um... what?"

Alaric exhaled sharply in frustration, waving his arms around as he tried to get his point across.

"I've watched Em for a long time now. He's changed, even in the last few centuries. He used to be so... alive. He lived his life as much as he could, trying to love the world around him. Now, I've lived as long life, Pendragon. You can sort of see life, after all that time; see how each life shines. And Emrys? His soul truly shone, set alight by the people around him. But each child who outlived him, each life he has laid to rest, each friend he has said goodbye to... when they leave this earth, they take a little bit of light with them. Those little lights in his heart keep going out, and soon he will have the ability, nor the will to replace them, when he knows they will one day again be diminished. But he kept loving, and he kept losing, because he's Emrys, and he didn't know how else to be."

His words all ring true, and its just so Merlin. So convinced to cure the whole worlds ills, that there is always hope.

"Not so recently though."

Arthur glanced up. "What do you mean?"

"In the last fifty years or so, he's been different: closed off. Self defence, if you will. You keep letting the world in, the world's going to leave it's mark. And there may be no physical scars, but believe me, Pendragon, they're there."

Arthur had absolutely no idea what to say. So he sat in silence instead, letting the words turn around in his head.

"You know, I think it was because of you he kept trying to fix the world." Alaric's voice breaks the silence.

"What do you mean?"

"He couldn't save you, so he embarks on a futile mission to save everyone else. But recently.."

"Recently what?" Arthur bit out, slightly scared of the answer. "He doesn't care about me any more?" He didn't know why it mattered to him so much, but the idea of an uncaring Merlin felt like a twisting knife in his gut. 

"Its not that, Pendragon. But there's only so long you can hurt, before you start to go numb. Alone became his armour, his defence against the cruelty of loss. He's still Emrys- still that mix of endearing clumsiness and hidden strength, still those random acts of kindness, and damn if he's not loyal to the end. Em-" Alaric's voice wobbled a little. "Em touches and changes the entire world with his kindness, but he no longer lets the world touch him. Everyone- well, anyone still aware of magic, knows his name, his generosity. But the list of people who truly know him? That's the very short list indeed."

"How'd you get on it?" Arthur asked, unable to help himself.

Alaric smiled unexpectedly.

"Ah, he thinks I do not know how he thinks, but he is wrong. I am Emrys's greatest sin. I am not immortal, but I am as close as anyone who has not been blessed by the Gods can get to it." He shrugged, a little helplessly. "Nobody can be truly alone, Arthur. You might as well not exist."

With that, he stood, and slapped a hand across Arthur's shoulder. "You get some rest, I'll take the watch." Wordlessly, Arthur laid on one side, and obediently closed his eyes. His thoughts, however, were whirling. His heart reached out to Merlin, but he didn't know how to make it better.

An unexpected surge of anger rose within him- how dare this white goddess give Merlin meaningless riddles, and demand answers? How could she give him the world as a burden, and expect him to bear the weight? He would be crushed. No longer. Arthur vowed to himself, there and then. He would share that burden. He would help him carry this world. He wouldn't let him be alone anymore.