A/N: I wrote this story for a friend right after the finale because we were both devastated by how the series ended. We knew it was coming but still... So I wrote this alternative to make us both feel better. I have read many Merlin fanfics since, keeping the series alive in my heart but haven't had the nerve to publish my own. But after much prodding to share, here is that story. It is complete so I won't leave anyone following it hanging. It's four chapters long and each should come about once a week after final edits. I have no beta so all mistakes are my own. And finally, the disclaimer: I don't own Merlin (or it wouldn't have ended at all)
"Arthur?" Merlin desperately shook his friend's face and getting no response, felt for the pulse in his neck. "No," he shook his head back and forth in denial, "no, no, no…" His head dropped forward, his forehead resting on the blond hair as he cradled his king rocking back and forth on his knees.
"No!" he screamed up at the sky and summoning his magic sent every shred he had into the body in his arms. He cited no spell, merely exerted his will to give the magic but one directive. Don't let him die!
He had no idea what would happen and didn't care. Golden light enveloped the two of them and Merlin could feel the pull on his magic as it sought to do his bidding. The light in his vision started to tunnel as the strain began to take its toll. The rational part of his mind knew what he was doing was dangerous, that his magic was not capable of healing this wound and all he would accomplish was possibly his own death with the attempt. But he couldn't stop - he would hold the magic as long as he could because he had no other choice. He had to try.
Please Arthur, he willed, don't die, don't die. He repeated the mantra until the darkness that filled his vision became total and he passed out.
Arthur was floating. It was dark and peaceful and he felt warm, protected. He could still sense Merlin, still feel his arms around him, feel the grief wracking his slim frame. Please don't cry, he wanted to tell him. I'll be OK. But his body would not respond and he knew it was because he was dying. That part didn't bother him too much, he had always known he would likely not live to a ripe old age. But it saddened him to think of Gwen grieving for him and that he would never see her again. And he hated that Merlin was taking this so hard and that surprised him given how angry he had been with the man a few days ago. But the journey to Avalon had reminded him that no matter what else, Merlin was still Merlin and still his friend, more like a brother to him really. Merlin had felt it was his destiny to protect Arthur and he would see this as a failure. He would blame himself and Arthur knew it would haunt the former servant forever.
The darkness beckoned and he was no longer aware of his body at all. He thought he should be frightened but he wasn't. The dark wasn't menacing. It promised peace and rest and he realized he longed for it. So why couldn't he finish the journey? And was the darkness getting lighter? It was, he realized, like seeing the sun come up through closed eyelids. The light brought a different sense of peace, not one of rest, but of hope and healing. The light broke his lethargy and, suddenly, Arthur realized he wanted the light more than the dark and he started struggling towards it. It was like swimming from the bottom of a deep lake, closer and closer the light got and his lungs started burning for the air he knew was at the top. And then he was through. With a gasp, awareness flooded back to his body and he opened his eyes to a blue sky and bird song. I'm alive! He realized, stunned. Instinctively, his hand moved to the wound on his side but it was no longer there, he felt no pain.
Merlin! He remembered with a start, and as he struggled to rise, realized the soft pillow his head had been resting on was his servant's leg. Scrambling to his knees, his eyes quickly took in the still form of the warlock, sprawled on his back and unconscious. Moving to Merlin's head, he levered him up to rest against his knee and tried to rouse him to no avail. Reaching down, he took Merlin's limp wrist and felt for a pulse, letting out a quick sigh of relief to find one, albeit a weak and irregular one. He returned the arm to Merlin's side and in doing so, his eyes fell to a stain on the younger man's tunic. A stain that looked suspiciously like blood. Almost against his will he lifted the fabric, knowing what he would find and hoping he was wrong. But seeing the wound on the warlock's torso, a wound that could only come from a sword, he suddenly knew what Merlin had done.
He pulled his friend closer, holding him against his chest as grief threatened to overwhelm him. It is my destiny to protect you Arthur, he heard in his head. I always have and I always will. "No," he told the still form in his arms, tears streaming down his cheeks. "You don't get to keep doing this, sacrificing your life for mine." He loosened his grip enough to see Merlin's face as if talking to him directly would make him open his eyes. "I won't let you do this," he shook the warlock slightly. "Do you hear me? I won't let you die, not for me!"
Merlin remained unresponsive and pulling him in close again, Arthur found himself staring out over the lake. Blinking the tears from his eyes, the image of the island at its center swam into focus and he remembered why they had been coming here in the first place. That island! Arthur recalled. Something on that island can cure this kind of wound. And if it could save me, then it can save him too!
The tears suddenly stopped and the soldier took over with steely resolve. He gathered Merlin up, wary of the wound and trying not to jostle it though the young man was beyond caring. He seemed to weigh next to nothing and Arthur felt fear speeding up his heart at how frail the thin frame felt in his arms. He is a sorcerer, he reminded himself, a powerful one. If anyone can survive this, Merlin can. Resolutely, he stepped into the boat, not bothering to question the luck of it being there at all. Sitting in its hull, he settled Merlin against his chest and cast his eyes about for the oars. He was just coming to the realization that there weren't any when the boat started moving across the lake on its own. Arthur was startled for a minute, and then just accepted the magic. Wrapping his arms around his friend, he settled his chin on the dark hair and watched the opposite shore slowly approach.
He had not realized he had drifted out until he started back to awareness with the jolt of the craft beaching itself. Stone stairs led from the beach up into a wooded area and seeing no other real path, Arthur decided he would follow where they led. Lifting Merlin back into his arms, he quickly set off up the path towards the woods which quickly thinned revealing a ruin that appeared, once upon a time, to have been a temple. The place had the feel of something long abandoned and Arthur was beginning to wonder if this entire quest had been in vain. Maybe, once, someone had lived here who could have helped them, but it seemed that was no longer the case. He glanced at the burden in his arms. Merlin's head lolled back on the arm Arthur had supporting his back and, though it seemed impossible, he looked even paler than usual. There were dark circles under his eyes and a grayish tint to his lips. He looks dead, the thought crossed Arthur's mind before he quickly quashed it and instead moved further into the ruins. He crossed between tall columns that once had supported a roof but no longer. In the center of what he assumed was once the main room of the structure, a stone table was still intact. Approaching it cautiously, Arthur could see the table was covered in runes the likes of which he had never seen before. At a loss for anything better, he gently laid his burden down on the table, settling Merlin's arms comfortably on his stomach.
"Hello?" he called out desperately, his eyes searching the abandoned courtyard. "Is anyone there? Please, I need your help!" Silence met his call and he closed his eyes in frustration and hopelessness. He hadn't really expected anything different. Dropping his gaze back to his friend he tentatively placed his hand on the warlock's chest. There was still a heartbeat but it was ever so slow. Merlin's chest rose and fell erratically with a hitch, and Arthur, fearing each breath would be the servant's last felt his own breathing hitch with unreleased sobs of grief.