Hey guys! Sorry once again for the wait (you really need to start pestering me more). Here be the next chapter of my valiant foray into topsy-turvy doom-town Camelot! It's a little shorter than most of the other chapters in this particular fic, but it's an important stage nonetheless. I really hope you enjoy it.

No A/N at the end today, so I'm just gonna say it all here: The Alp-luachra (a creature mentioned in passing) is not my own invention- it comes from Irish folklore, and is a type of fairy which takes the form of a lizard and, while you're asleep, crawls down your throat in order to munch on whatever you last ate. To get it out, you have to make it thirsty enough to leave by eating something salty. Lol.

Guest reviewer: Thank you very much for your comments. I can understand you feeling that Merlin is OOC, considering how much he differs from the series, but it is important to remember that the Merlin in this story has experienced an entirely different series of events, and has been changed by them accordingly. I believe I've dealt with all the character changes fairly believably, but everyone has a different take on each person. This is mine. And, as this is fanfiction (a format where people are pretty much doomed to be OOC at some point), I hope you can accept and endure what I've done. And bonus thanks for reading so far into the series even whilst thinking Merlin 'too OOC.' XD

Thank you to everyone else who read and reviewed, too. Please do keep the comments coming- I love finding out what you think works (or doesn't).

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin

Chapter 5

There was nothing on Earth which could ever reach quite the same pinnacle of boredom as flowed abundantly in the hell which masqueraded as Camelot's council meetings. Such was the conclusion Arthur had reached at a mere fifteen years of age, and he had yet to find even a single shred of evidence to oppose it. Outside of the occasional magic-related threat which sometimes interrupted said boredom, anyway. Maybe he could somehow convince his father to allow some of the Watchers to launch a phony, pre-approved attack? He could make up some argument about wanting to judge how well the council was able to respond in a crisis, and how they would utilise their own magical assets. Anything to relieve the mind-numbing dullness which was tax reports.

Still, all that was for another day. Today's hell was finally drawing to a close, and the reports were being put to one side, ready for the arcane-related documents to take their place. Still not exactly the most thrilling way to end a day, but at least for this part Merlin would have to suffer alongside him.

That is, provided the idiot actually managed to turn up on time. Their mental bond may have proved to be somewhat of a distraction at first- before they had discovered it was possible to block the endless stream of emotions to a certain degree, if they so chose- but it was an extremely useful tool if he ever wanted to know where the Warlock was. Or wasn't. And, right at that moment, where he wasn't was outside the council chambers, waiting for the doors to open. No, instead the moron was thundering through the corridors, no doubt with all the subtlety of a herd of rampaging bulls. It was just a shame mind-speak was forbidden within the council rooms, because Arthur was sorely tempted to launch into a long stream of mental taunts and banter.

Sitting back, Arthur watched as his father received the magical reports from his manservant, casting a practised eye over the contents to ensure that no-one had tampered with them since his earlier reading. Apparently satisfied (but not, Arthur noted, entirely happy), the King handed the documents to his son. The blond glanced through them with all the speed granted by a lifetime of training. It all seemed fairly typical- Nothing to Report, A slight increase in thistle-root demand, entrance into Alp-luachra mating season and... a request to investigate some unknown man from Elmsworth. Well that couldn't be good...

"Open the doors!"

Uther's harsh voice pierced through Arthur's worries, and the Prince snapped his attention back to the current, breathing an internal sigh of relief when he realised that Merlin had made it. With just seconds to spare.

There must be times, Arthur mused, when his father truly regretted the extravagant aura his castle provided to those who knew how to use its nuances well. Having a group of six extremely talented magic-users- each with their 'formal face' (as Guinevere liked to call them) on- be perfectly framed by one of the most impressive doorways in all the kingdoms? Well, that just had to be one of those times.

As the Council of Magic, led by Merlin, made their way over to sit across from their non-magical counterparts, Arthur made sure to send a knowing smirk in his friend's direction. He would have to congratulate Crispin at some point- if the haunted expression in Merlin's eyes was anything to go by, the manservant must have done a number on him. No doubt the fool had run off on some magical non-emergency rather than find time for a decent dinner. Idiot.

Once everyone was seated, Uther gestured for Arthur to pass back one of the documents, and there was no doubt in the Prince's mind which one it was. Then, with that now firmly in hand, the King coughed once, glanced around at those assembled (quite blatantly avoiding Merlin's keen gaze as he did so) and launched into action with a brisk authority perfected over more than thirty years on the throne.

"Very well, then. We shall begin. Now," he fixed a deadly glare on the magical attendees, "I trust one of you will be more than capable of explaining this so-called 'urgent' investigation request."

And then they were off, dancing through topics of magic, money, medicine and monsters. Arthur interjected occasionally- largely in response to Lord Aldric sticking his big, ugly nose in where it wasn't needed- but mostly he let the magic-users hold their own. Each of them was more than capable, after all, and having him defend their reasoning all this time would only hurt their cause in the long run. And he was more than happy to intercede if either side's arguments got out of hand.

The meeting was just winding down when it happened. One of the lords- he'd stopped paying attention to which one- was droning on about the supposed benefits of cutting down the allocated space used to house various magical creatures when a jolt of semi-foreign alarm shot through Arthur's mind. As one, the Council of Magic froze, heads swivelling simultaneously towards one of their number-

-Tana. Who had suddenly spasmed into an almost statue-like state, nails gouging bloody welts into her palms and eyes ablaze with golden fire.

The magic-users were on their feet in an instant, alternately rushing to Tana's side and trying to calm the alarmed council members enough to convince them that the young Witch was not, in fact, attempting to launch some kind of attack. But it wasn't long, of course, before a harsh voice interrupted the proceedings.

"What in the blazes is-"

"Quiet."

Arthur wasn't sure what had done it- the tone, the situation, a secret shot of magic, or even just the pure shock that someone (a magic-user, no less) would dare to effectively order the King of Camelot to shut up- but the fact remained that, for quite possibly the first time in the young Prince's life, someone other than he, Gaius or Merlin had successfully rendered his father speechless.

And Destrian wasn't stopping there. As Tana shuddered and seized once more, he turned sharp eyes towards the others around them, quickly taking control of the situation.

"Keaton?"

"It's a strong one." Cloudy white eyes skittered across the scene. "She's in deep. Must be important."

"Michael?"

"Got it." With the kind of speed only mastered through years of practice, the redhead whipped a selection of herbs from the pouch at his waist, together with a miniature mortar and pestle, and began grinding down a few hastily torn-off leaves.

It was at this point, when Tana's breaths became little more than halted wheezes, that the regular council's alarmed accusations of treachery finally began to die down, the true manner of the situation sinking in at last.

Destrian's voice carried a hint of steel in it this time. "Michael."

"I know." Without ceasing in his work, Michael faced the two royals, needing permission from one of them if he didn't want to be penalized for magic use in this area of the castle. "Can I-"

Arthur replied before the question was even fully formed. "Whatever you need to do." Stupid rules.

In an instant, the herbs had crumbled into a fine blend, mixed with a few drops of moisture drawn from the air, and Michael was pouring it into Tana's mouth, leaving just the barest trace with which to draw a faint rune on her brow, Almost as soon as the mark was completed, the harsh rasping drew to an abrupt halt, easing into steadier breaths even though the girl herself remained unmoving. Arthur heaved a sigh of relief, watching as Michael moved calmly on to extricating hard fingernails from angry, weeping palms.

"Now, if everyone would be kind enough to stop gawping and instead take their seats, I shall explain the situation."

A firm stare from the older Warlock sent most of the room's inhabitants huffing back to their chairs (each one trying not to look as though they were doing so due to a magic-user's orders), casting not-so-inconspicuous glances towards Michael and Tana as they did so. Finally, Uther was the only non-magical member still standing.

"You majesty-"

"I do hope you have no intention of ordering me to sit down," Uther cut in icily.

Barely a fraction of a second passed before Destrian gracefully conceded the point. "Of course not."

"Then I shall remain standing, if it is all the same to you."

"Very well, sire," Destrian nodded, his own features showing every ounce as much dignified self-assurance as the King himself possessed. "If that is what you desire." Pausing barely a moment to run an eye over Michael's ongoing administrations, he continued on to address the room at large. "Now, rest assured that you have nothing to fear. Such a strong vision is indeed quite rare, but this situation is nothing out of the ordinary."

A vague recollection of momentarily blank eyes and a warning of a then upcoming storm flashed across Arthur's mind. "Wait a minute- are you saying that this is just one of her visions?"

"It is."

"Then how strong must this one be?!" The unspoken 'for it to cause such a reaction' hung heavily in the air.

"For that knowledge, I am afraid, we will have to wait and see." A pause. "Needless to say, it is my suggestion that we pay great heed to its contents. A vision of this strength is hardly likely to occur for some trivial matter."

"But I've seen her have a vision before. Its effect on her was barely even noticeable then!"

"Again, sire, it is a mere matter of strength. As Tana informed you upon her arrival, her visions are rare and unpredictable. Some will be over in the blink of an eye, and others... Well, you can see for yourself. To my knowledge, this is only her third since arriving in Camelot."

"Fourth," Merlin interjected. "She had a dream-vision a few weeks back about a small potential explosion in my chambers." He shot the others a sheepish smile. "Managed to avoid it, though. No harm done to any of the furniture."

Arthur resisted the urge to either knead his brow or else slap Merlin around the head, and instead chose to lean back in his seat, his gaze fixed once more on the frozen Witch and her attendee.

"And how long can we expect this... vision... to last?" Uther demanded, restraining himself to the barest twitch of a disgusted frown at one of the words he most loathed of late.

"We have no way of knowing, my Lord-" A sudden intake of breath cut through Destrian's intended platitudes, and the older man automatically jerked his head in its direction. "Although it seems we have just found out."

Tana was sitting up straight now, breathing steadying again as she took in her surroundings with half-dazed eyes. They eventually landed on the bandages, and she shot Michael a questioning glance.

"You hurt your hands," the redhead answered simply. "Not much damage- no magical treatment required."

Tana nodded once, then looked once more around the room, this time stopping when she came to the Prince. The uncomfortable feeling which had been settling in Arthur's gut instantly tripled in intensity. He should have known that this latest portent of doom involved him somehow. The really bad things always did, after all (a fact Merlin bemoaned repeatedly).And, if the million emotions shifting across Tana's face were anything to go by, this particular danger was not going to be even remotely fun for him.

Merlin was the first to break the tense silence, the prickling worry in his mind mirroring Arthur's own. "What did you see?"

Tana blinked. "I'm not sure."

"What do you mean you're not sure?!" Aldric exploded. "You've just spent the past five minutes shut up in some sort of vision-fit! How could you possibly not know what you yourself saw?!"

"The vision was vague," Tana explained patiently, completely unfazed by the volatile temper of the currently beet-red lord. "I need time if I am to decipher all I saw. I can explain only very little right now."

"Then explain what you can," Arthur requested gently. "And you can tell us the rest later. Anything you know could help us to combat whatever kind of threat this is."

Sombre brown eyes fixed on him once more, and Tana momentarily dipped her head.

"There is a shadow drawing near," she stated quietly, voice carrying easily through the otherwise silent room. "A dark mist gradually closing in, as it has been for quite some time. A person known, yet never truly known, for whom the pieces have finally fallen into place. The keys are complete, and the puzzle is set, ready to consume us all if that aching hunger is to be sated. Because the monster is awake, and with it... with it will come the wings of eternal night."

Silence fell for a moment more as those sorrowful eyes met Arthur's. "The beast will come for you soon...

"And there is nothing you can do to stop it."